He lowered his pointing hand to my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Calm down. They can’t get in, and these things are near impossible to capsize. They’re only babies anyway.”
The panic subsided, and I peered into the murk, trying to spot the scaly bastards. “I can’t see them.”
Andre pointed to a patch of dirt between gnarled tree roots. One of the alligators moved, and suddenly I could see all three. They were just sitting there, chilling. One of them had its mouth open. They looked about two feet long.
“These look like they’re about two or three years old. The males can grow to about fifteen feet. The biggest one I saw was way out in the bayou a few years back. Dale and I went fishing, and we spotted this huge bitch. Must’ve been twelve feet. We just dropped our rods and got the hell out of there.” He whistled. “Now, that one may’ve been able to capsize us.”
“Uh . . .” I turned my worried gaze in his direction.
“We don’t see any that big around here.” He waved me off before I could voice the concern. “Honestly, around here, I’d be more worried about spiders and snakes falling from the trees.” I followed his gaze upward, the anxiety returning. The foliage was so thick anything could be up there. And now that he mentioned it, I could see cobwebs everywhere, stretching between branches and glistening in the sun.
“I remember this one time—”
I clamped a hand over Andre’s mouth before he could say more. “Stop. You’re freaking me out.”
He gently tugged my hand away and dropped the teasing smirk. “Alex, you’re safe. Yeah, there are dangerous things out here, but I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t put you in danger.”
I nodded and took a deep breath, turning back to the baby gators.
“How was your lunch with the Pratts?” he asked after a beat of silence.
I laughed. “About as scandalous as Ren hoped it would be, I think. Did you know his parents are loaded? They own a hotel chain.”
“Yeah, I know. He doesn’t keep it a secret or anything.”
“God, he and Toni are so similar.” I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t let either of them hear you say that.” He chuckled. “I gotta ask, Alex. Are you two getting in too deep?”
I turned away from the gators to look at him. The airboat swayed gently, but Andre’s gaze was unwavering. Was it me he was worried about? Or Ren?
“It’s just a bit of fun.” I shrugged. “I’m marrying another man in a month. Even if I did like . . . someone more than just for fun, what’s the point in entertaining the thought?”
“So you’re just sowing your royal oats before you settle down?” He flashed a grin. I wasn’t sure I’d convinced him, or myself for that matter. Thinking about going back to my heavy responsibilities always made my heart clench, but thinking about never feeling the kind of passion I did with Ren, never feeling as seen or accepted as I did with Andre—it added another layer of dread that was almost too much to bear.
“Something like that.” Why was I suddenly whispering?
“Then why aren’t you screwing around? Plenty of guys would jump at the chance to have you take them upstairs.”
“I don’t know. There’s just something magnetic about Ren, you know?”
He nodded slowly, bringing his head closer to mine. “Don’t I ever.”
“Not that I’d be opposed to hooking up with someone else . . .” I deliberately glanced at his lips. We were inches apart. I could smell that intoxicating manly scent of his.
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
The roar of another airboat broke the charged moment, and we pulled apart. Andre gestured to the earmuffs, and I focused on making sure they were right over my ears, trying to ignore how I could feel my pulse in my groin, the tight shorts only making it worse.
Andre started up the engine and pulled our airboat to the side as another one came into view.
It was carrying six tourists and a driver. As they approached, my gaze snagged on a woman in the front row. She looked familiar—dark hair pulled back, heart-shaped face, full breasts covered by one of my favorite silk shirts.
Shit!
Our eyes finally connected, and both hers and mine widened at the same time. Their boat was barely ten feet away now. Oren looked different from the pictures I’d seen online. He was dressed casually in khakis and a short-sleeved shirt, his auburn hair messy under the earmuffs, his smile relaxed as he looked in the opposite direction.
As he started to turn his head, Toni glanced between us in a panic. At the last second, I leaned forward and ducked behind Andre’s knee.
The other engine roared past, and I sat up as they sped out of sight. I took a deep breath while Andre pulled the boat to a stop near the entrance to the narrow channel.
I gave him a wide-eyed look, but he was chuckling as he took off his earmuffs. I removed mine and whacked him on the shoulder.
“Hey! What was that for?” he asked, even as he kept laughing.
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s a little funny. I mean, of all the places for you two to bump into each other, you end up face-to-face in the damn bayou?” He burst out laughing again, and this time, I couldn’t resist his infectious mirth. I laughed too.
Once we calmed down, I wiped the tears from under my eyes. “We should probably head off so we don’t accidentally cross paths again.”
He nodded. “Or . . . we could have some fun.”
I narrowed my eyes but couldn’t help returning his mischievous grin.
The next thing I knew, we were zipping around the waterways, darting past their boat every chance we got. We were going way too fast for anyone else to notice our resemblance, but Toni’s face got more and more furious every time we came into view. I could’ve sworn I saw them holding hands once, but we were moving so fast I was sure I was mistaken.
Andre and I roared with laughter after every pass, getting way too much enjoyment out of torturing Toni. It was a little reckless, but the wind whipping through my hair felt incredible, the sun glinting off the murky water was beautiful, and Andre’s shoulder shaking in laughter against mine was electrifying.
Our good mood lasted well into the night. It was midweek; the live act at the Cottonmouth was a solo performer on an acoustic guitar, and the crowd was mellow. The last patrons left before one, and I locked the doors as Andre started tidying up.
I cleared the last few abandoned glasses and bottles on my way back to the bar. We didn’t usually do a full clean at the end of the night, preferring to do the hard scrubbing and restocking the next day when all the staff weren’t tired after a long shift. But Andre started to stack the glasses into the dishwasher, and I grabbed a clean cloth to wipe down the tables.
We worked at a leisurely pace, chatting and laughing about our adventure on the airboat that morning.
When all the tables were clean, the bar gleaming, the dishwasher on its third load, I removed my apron. I was getting tired, but I didn’t want to go upstairs, so I hoisted myself onto the bar and had a big glass of water.
Andre glared at me. “I’m gonna have to wash that again.”
“Just do it in the morning.” I chuckled as he squatted down next to me, peering into the beer fridge. “You’re not going to restock now, are you? It’s nearly two.”
Instead of answering, he closed that fridge and scooted in front of me, nudging my boot so he could open the other one. I moved out of his way and ended up with my feet spread wide on either side of the fridge.
“Andre.” I pushed the fridge closed with my foot. “What’s gotten into you? Aren’t you tired?”
He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, propping the other on his hip. “I dunno.” He sighed. “Just don’t feel like going to bed.”
He was so close I could feel the heat of his body at my knees. His eyes were level with mine, thanks to my perch on the bar, and we stared at each other for a charged moment. He’d been flirting with me for weeks, and I wa
s pretty sure he was delaying going upstairs just like I was, but that little voice of insecurity still wondered, still made me fear rejection . . .
But I was here for a reason, risking so much for a month of freedom. I had to seize every opportunity.
“I don’t feel like going to bed either.” I grabbed a handful of his red T-shirt and spread my knees as I tugged. He was easily twice my weight, but his boots shuffled forward, and he leaned into my space willingly.
“So what should we do instead?” He gripped the bar on either side of my hips but didn’t touch me. His naturally deep voice had dropped to a lusty growl; it traveled straight through me, spurring my own lust and settling between my legs.
“For starters, a little less talking.” I placed my hands on his neck and did something I’d been fantasizing about since I met him. Taking my time, I ran my hands down his front, over his defined chest, down the hard bumps of his abs, all the way to the waistband of his low-slung jeans. I wriggled my fingers under the cotton of his shirt and rubbed my palms up his sides. Every part of him was hard and smooth like marble. He sighed into the touch, and his eyes lowered. When I got to his chest, I could feel his breaths coming shallower and faster, his chest rising and falling under my hands as my fingers brushed over the wiry hair, then trailed back down.
Bit by bit, he leaned farther into me but still didn’t put his big hands on my body. With deliberate movements, giving him plenty of time to step away, I unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down.
He was commando, nothing between me and the warm, hard flesh just beyond the zipper. My lips parted on a sigh as heat and moisture pooled at my core.
Being with Ren was dirty and exciting. This? This was erotic and sensual in a whole other way.
I wrapped my fingers around the base of his dick. He pressed his forehead to mine.
I stroked him up and down slowly, taking in every inch of his hardness and committing to memory what it felt like in my palm. He was about the same length as Ren, but thicker. Why did I keep comparing them?
I pushed his pants down his hips a little so I could have better range of motion. I stared at what I was doing—at the precum leaking out of the tip, at the contrast of my lighter complexion against his dark skin—mesmerized by the way his hips started to rock back and forth in time with my hand.
“I know you said less talking, but I have to ask.” His breath washed over me, his lips inches from mine.
I moaned something that could pass for a sign to keep talking.
“Can I kiss you?” He leaned away and gave me a clear-eyed look even as his hips kept rocking slightly.
I slowed, then stopped, my hand halfway down his length. I frowned and shook my head slightly. “Can you . . . I have my hand wrapped around your cock, and you’re asking if you can kiss me?”
“Consent is very important to me.” He wasn’t teasing or cracking a joke; there was no mischief in his gaze. He still hadn’t touched me.
“Oh . . . shit, I . . .” I’d basically molested him. He was respectfully checking if I was comfortable with his advances, and I’d just shoved my hand into his pants. I loosened my grip and almost pulled away, but he wrapped a hand around my wrist gently but firmly.
“I would’ve told you if I wanted you to stop.” He smiled, wiping away my anxiety.
I bit my bottom lip and gave him one more deliberate stroke. “Yes, please kiss me. Fuck me, Andre.”
“Yes, ma’am.” That growl was back, making me clench my thighs.
He released my wrist and palmed the back of my head, his other hand gripping my waist as he leaned in. There was no hesitation, no restraint, when Andre finally kissed me. His lips were firm and demanding, his tongue sure and confident in its caresses. The hand at the back of my head held me in place as his mouth devoured mine. I kept stroking him, but my movements became jerky and uneven. I was too distracted by the all-consuming kiss.
He was dominating without being aggressive, bold but not cocky with every movement, every stroke of his tongue, every pass of his hand up and down my side until it gripped my ass and held on. He was everywhere, his fresh apple smell mingling with a hint of sweat from a night working behind the bar.
Now that I’d given him the green light, Andre was taking charge, full speed ahead like a racecar.
He broke the kiss but trailed his lips and teeth down my neck as I tried in vain to catch my breath. He deftly unbuttoned my shorts and leaned away, making me lose my grip on his impossibly hard length. I lifted my hips, and he removed my shorts and underwear in one go. He had to pull off one boot to get them over my foot but abandoned the other, leaving the scraps of fabric hanging off my ankle. The smooth metal of the bench was warm under my ass.
I yanked on his T-shirt again, and he pulled it over his head in that effortless way men had—gripping the fabric at the back of his neck and pulling it off in one smooth movement.
He managed to grab his wallet out of the back pocket before I shoved the jeans down to his knees, and he extracted a condom and slid it on. The muscles in my vagina contracted and relaxed almost involuntarily. I could hardly wait to feel him slide inside.
“I want you inside me.” I voiced my desire, and he flashed me that grin I’d grown to love as he stepped between my knees again.
“So fucking impatient,” he growled. With a big hand on each knee, he pushed my legs open as wide as they’d go. I leaned back, my shoulder blades connecting with the high part of the bar, and wrapped my hands around his wrists.
He dragged his hands from my knees to my hips, his thumbs caressing the inside of my thighs. One hand kept going, shoving up under my tank top to palm my breast. I sat up long enough to unhook my bra and remove the last pieces of my clothing, then returned my hands to his wrists. I loved how the muscle and sinew danced under my palms as he touched me.
The hand at my breast kneaded with firm pressure while the one at my hip cupped my pussy. His hand was hot against me, but he didn’t torture me long. He dragged his palm up, gave my clit a firm rub, then moved his fingers over my folds until they found my dripping entrance. We both moaned as he spread the moisture.
I released my grip on his wrists, one hand going to my free breast to play with my nipple, the other caressing Andre’s arm all the way up to his shoulder and back down, feeling the smooth muscle. He pushed two thick fingers inside me and rubbed my clit with his thumb.
“Oh god.” I jerked my hips against his hand.
He worked me until I was panting, right on the edge of an orgasm, my pussy squeezing his fingers, and then he removed his hand. Before I could protest, he gripped his cock and rubbed the head of it against me, coating himself in my arousal.
I pulled him against me so I could kiss him. As our lips met, tongues tangling, he pushed his hips forward and slid inside me effortlessly. Our hips flush, completely connected, deliciously stretched—it was so satisfying yet nowhere near enough.
I rolled my hips, begging him to move, grind, thrust, something. The man had steely self-control.
Both hands gripped my hips, but his mouth kept devouring mine as he pulled out and slammed back into me. I moaned and closed my eyes. He pulled out and shoved in again, a little faster this time. I gripped his strong shoulders for balance.
Andre pulled out and, again, rammed his hips forward, faster and harder. With the next thrust, he pulled my hips against him, raising the intensity once more.
Our kisses got more and more sloppy—teeth biting lips, tongues licking, hot breath mingling in between.
The fervor of Andre’s thrusts increased until he was fucking me hard and fast, my breasts bouncing as I moaned into his mouth unabashedly.
I gave up trying to hold on with my hands or knees, giving up to him completely, letting him move my body against his and trusting his strength would keep me from falling.
Every thrust ground against my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through each and every nerve ending until I was an incoherent, writhing mess. Heat spread from my core t
hrough my entire body, and I had to pull away from Andre’s devouring lips to throw my head back. I rested it on the bar, jutting out my chest as I cried out. The timber ceiling went out of focus as my orgasm washed over me in waves, each one more intense than the last.
He rammed into me one last time, his chest pressing against mine as he roared through his own climax.
His arms wrapped around my middle as I caressed the short hair on top of his head. We held each other close as we came down, our breathing slowly returning to normal.
After a few moments, he pulled away and kissed me on the lips tenderly. I closed my eyes and sighed.
He pulled his jeans up, not bothering to fasten the zipper. I managed to push into a sitting position, but my legs felt like jelly—hell, my whole body felt like jelly. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it up the stairs, but Andre gathered our discarded clothes, dropped them into my lap, and picked me up bridal style.
He carried me all the way up and into his apartment. We didn’t speak while we showered together, but we didn’t shy away from touching each other, caressing and kissing.
After we dried off, he took my hand and guided me through the dark space to his bed. I fell asleep almost immediately.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept before I woke up to Andre’s mouth between my legs, his tongue drawing me into wakefulness in the best possible way, but it was still dark outside. After two orgasms, he cleaned me up and insisted we go back to sleep. It was well past midday when we finally woke up again, tangled up in the sheets and in each other.
…
T: You are such a bitch!
A: I’m sorry! It was Andre’s idea.
T: Whatever. I saw you laughing. You gave me a fucking heart attack!
A: I feel awful. I really didn’t mean to. It was just a bit of fun. We made sure to go too fast for him to see me properly.
T: It was still risky, Alex!
A: You’re right. I’m sorry.
Just Be Her Page 20