Wrecked With You

by J. Kenner

  He chuckled. “Do you want me to?”

  “Never,” she said. “I want you to keep going and going, and you won’t ever stop because I’m never going to beg.”

  “Yes, you will. Do you know how I know?”

  “How?” Her voice was breathy, and he knew that she wanted him to touch her again.

  “Because I know you.”

  She laughed. “Do you? So soon?”

  “Yes.” He was certain of it. He’d known at the moment he saw her on the tennis court. He knew this woman. But he damn sure intended to know her better.

  Right now, though, he wanted to be inside her.

  He moved up her body, then loosened the straps at her wrists so that she could flip over. He tightened them once she did, leaving her spread-eagle on the bed with her arms crossed above her head. At the same time, though, he removed her blindfold, because he didn’t think he could go a moment longer without seeing her eyes, her expression.

  “Are you going to retie my ankles?”

  “No,” he said. “I want to feel your legs wrapped around me when I fuck you. But I don’t intend to do that until...”

  “Until I beg? You’re going to get blue balls,” she said, a tease in her voice.

  “A small price to pay.”

  He got off the bed and looked in the goodie bag that the resort had provided. He hadn’t paid too much attention when Mindy had handed it over, but he thought that he had seen—yes, there it was. A small bottle of erotic massage oil, the kind that heated up when rubbed into the skin.

  He pulled it out, taking a condom, too, since he certainly intended to need that soon enough, then he climbed back on the bed between her still-spread legs. He put the oil on his hands, then stroked slowly up her thighs, barely brushing her sex before moving up her abdomen higher and higher until he reached her breasts.

  She arched up as he massaged them, paying close attention to her nipples, knowing that the heated oil on that sensitive spot would most likely drive her crazy. Then he used his hand to focus on one breast while he closed his mouth over the other, tasting and sucking, his tongue teasing her nipple as she writhed beneath him. Then, when he had his fill of her—would he ever really have his fill of her?—he slid off the bed and stripped off his own clothes.

  When he returned, he moved higher up her body so that he could claim her mouth with his. His cock was right at her core, teasing her, and she wiggled against him, her body wanting to draw him in. He shifted, pushing himself down the bed a bit so as to reduce the amount of friction she felt.

  As he’d expected, she whimpered in disappointment.

  “You know how to get me back,” he teased.

  “No fair.”

  “I’m pretty sure that all’s fair in bed. Is there something in particular you want?” he asked innocently.

  She moved her hips her body arching up and her thighs squeezing against his hips. He planted another long kiss on her mouth, then pulled back, sucking hard on her lower lip before kissing his way down her body, all the way down her clit. He licked and sucked until she was bucking against him, her legs wrapped tight around him.

  When he stopped teasing her clit with his mouth, she writhed as if silently begging. And, yes, she whimpered.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You know that if you lose the game, we both win.”

  “Bastard.”

  He laughed, then gently blew a thin stream of air on her sex.

  “Damn you. Please.”

  “Are you begging?”

  “Dammit, Tony.”

  “You called me that on the plane,” he said. “I meant to tell you then, only my closest friends call me Tony.”

  “Oh.”

  He lowered his voice, giving it a sensual edge. “I very much like the way it sounds on your lips.”

  For a moment she said nothing and then, “Please. Tony, please, please fuck me.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said, “it would be my very great pleasure.”

  He slid up her, both their bodies slick from the massage oil. Now his cock was right at her core, and he was about to lose his mind from wanting her. At the same time, he wanted to draw it out, to increase her pleasure, but he couldn’t wait. She stole his control. And soon he was deep inside her.

  Her hips arched up, and her legs gripped him like a vice, as if she could pull him all the way through inside her, deep enough that they would become one. He bucked against her, thrusting in and out, his body tightening with a growing explosion as she clawed at his back and cried his name until finally, finally, she shattered in his arms ,her body clenching around him and bringing on his own seriously epic supernova of an orgasm

  The next thing he knew he was lying by her side breathing hard, unable to remember when he had ever felt so satisfied.

  “Untie me,” she murmured, and somehow his fingers and brain cooperated to manage the task. She rolled toward him,then curled up next to him, her eyes closed as she trailed her fingers over his chest. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s not a damn thing wrong with the world at this moment.”

  He chuckled, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m flattered.”

  She shifted enough so that she could tilt her head and meet his eyes. “I admire a man who does what he promises. You definitely made me beg.”

  “And you let me do whatever I wanted,” he countered. Not that she’d had much choice, since she was tied down, but he also knew she’d enjoyed it. “There’s something else I want you to do,” he told her.

  Her brows rose with interest. “Again so soon?”

  He chuckled. “I want to hear your reason.”

  A flicker of confusion crossed her face before her features went hard with understanding. “Reasons?” she asked, though he was certain she understood.

  “For playing the submissive,” he whispered, bending close and murmuring the words near her ear. “The woman I pay to do whatever I want. In the limo you said you had your reasons beyond the fact that it makes sense for the mission.”

  She pulled back, and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she lifted her shoulder as if it was all just casual. “You never really know what a man is like until he has complete control.” She looked hard at his face, as if daring him to challenge her. “That’s when he shows his true colors.”

  He hesitated, then asked, “Who hurt you?”

  She swallowed, then pushed him over so that he was lying flat again. She straddled him, her ass teasing his cock back into attention. Slowly she bent forward as if to kiss him, but she pressed her lips to his ear instead. “I’ll work with you,” she whispered. “I’ll help you. I’ll even fuck you. But I am not going to lie down on a goddamn therapist’s couch with you. You want to tell me your problems, fine. I’ll listen. But don’t expect me to share. I don’t want to, and I don’t need to. Understand?”

  He cupped her ass, her curves fitting nicely into his palms. Then he turned his own head to whisper. “Understood.”

  With a gentle motion, he maneuvered her off of him, then reached over to turn on some music. He’d plugged his phone in to charge, and now he connected it to the room’s sound system and turned on a playlist of Nina Simone.

  “Nice,” she said as he turned the volume up loud enough to drown out their whispers.

  “I enjoyed having you tied down,” he whispered. “At my mercy. I liked it because I know it heightens what you feel. How that pleasure flows through you. That’s why some people are into BDSM,” he continued, though she hadn’t asked. “I get that. But I got enough of pain as a kid. Some people with my background would have turned it around. Owned it, even. They’d find pleasure and release in either that lifestyle or even in just light play.”

  He swallowed, remembering the beating he’d taken from his father. Remembering walking in on his dad accidentally when he’d been with a woman he’d strapped to a wall, her back bloodied from a whip. And he recalled the time that it hadn’t been an accident. The time his father had made Tony, all
of eight years old, stand there and watch.

  “That’s not me,” he said simply as she turned her face away from him.

  She stayed that way for so long, he almost thought she’d fallen asleep. Then she said, so softly he could barely hear over the music, “I think we had similar childhoods.”

  He said nothing for awhile, merely stroked the length of her arm. Then he asked, “What did you mean when you said you’d earned a living as a hooker?”

  She rolled over, her eyes lit with fire. “Was there anything about those words that were unclear? And no, I’m not going to elaborate. This isn’t the part where we exchange life stories. This was sex. Great sex, yes. But just because I spread my legs for you doesn’t mean I’m going to share my history. Got it?”

  “I do,” he said. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to learn more later.

  Chapter Ten

  Advance Reader Copy

  Mindy is bright-eyed and perky when we see her the next morning. Since I’ve only had one cup of coffee, I’m not yet bright-eyed. And I’m very rarely perky.

  We pause for chitchat, and Tony asks if the three single women have arrived at the resort yet. Mindy probably thinks that we came to Debauchery with nothing more than a threesome on our minds, but that’s the point of this resort, and she’s eager to help.

  “Actually, Tracy Ann is in her room. Apparently the flight was bumpy and she’s taking a nap to ward off nausea.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” I say. Since we have absolutely nothing to go on about these women, Tony and I had resorted to guesses. And since Tracy Ann’s initials are the same as The-Asst, she came in at the top of our list of who we want to meet first.

  But if you’d like to meet Amy,” Mindy continues, “I happen to know she’s by the south pool.” She gestures helpfully to the south side of the resort. “There’s a group getting ready to play our famous Dessert Delight game. You should join. It’s one of our most popular getting to know you games.”

  I look at Tony, only to find him looking back at me. “What about Thea?” he asks Mindy. “Is she here yet?”

  “She’s scheduled to arrive on the evening shuttle,” Mindy tells us. “I expect you’ll find her at the nightclub tonight. Almost all our evening arrivals visit the nightclub.”

  She looks between the two of us, and I can’t help but feel a bit chastened. Tony and I had arrived in the evening, but we’d foregone the nightclub.

  “Tony and I amused ourselves last night.” I meet his eyes and feel the burn of connection race all the way up from my toes to my tits. I clear my throat, trying to remember what we were talking about.

  “The cabana’s great,” Tony says, coming to my rescue. “Very well-stocked for fun.”

  She beams, as if she’d picked out the massage oil and bondage straps personally.

  “Can you point us toward the south pool?” I ask, trying to shift us back to the main topic. “We’ll head over there to meet Amy.”

  “I’m sure you’re going to love the dessert game,” Mindy says, and as she starts to walk away, expecting us to follow, I once again meet Tony’s eyes. This time, I mouth, “Dessert Delight game?” He shrugs, but looks as amused as I feel.

  We follow Mindy down the winding walkway to the south pool. Even though Tracy Ann is our best guess for Tony’s contact, it really could be anyone. So I’m mentally crossing my fingers that Amy acknowledges the clues that Tony intends to drop.

  Since The-Asst hadn’t established any protocol through the dark web message board, Tony and I worked out a plan last night to work identifying information into conversations. Like, for example, we intend to mention snakes. The actual word serpent would be nice, too, but harder to make sound natural.

  And, of course, there’s bonus points if we can figure out a way to talk about message boards or the dark web while chatting her up.

  Hopefully Amy will take the bait and prove that she’s the one. Because the sooner we can get on with the business of obtaining her information about The Serpent, the better.

  The pool we arrive at is kidney shaped, with a jacuzzi at one end and a low diving board at the other. It’s surrounded by a wide, flagstone deck upon which sits a number of lounge chairs with over-stuffed cushions. Beyond that, there are rows of cabanas that shade wide, comfy-looking loungers. Each cabana has curtains that can be tied back for a breeze or closed for privacy.

  The deck on the ocean side of the pool is currently covered with mats and towels. There are five people standing around, all dressed in skimpy swimsuits. I assume that one of them is Amy.

  In the other areas, people are swimming and sunbathing in the nude. The sounds of sex come from the closed cabanas. And, frankly, the sounds and sights of sex are coming from a few of the open ones as well. Couples. Threesomes. Even a foursome. And I’m not certain if these folks are just exhibitionists or if the open curtains are an invitation to join. Either way, I’m not even remotely interested.

  Which, considering I’ve never met a sexual encounter I didn’t like—or, rather, a consensual sexual encounter—my complete lack of interest is a bit odd.

  I’d normally put it off on the stress and concentration of the job, but on this particular assignment, that excuse doesn’t make much sense.

  The truth is, it’s about Tony. I’m not done with him yet, plain and simple.

  I don’t see him as a permanent thing, of course. Hell, I don’t really see anybody as a permanent thing. But when we’re not on the clock, I intend to take full advantage of the fact that I’m sharing a room and a bed with a man with definite skill in the sex department.

  I got a taste last night. Now, I’m craving a more robust meal.

  Tony takes my hand as Mindy leads us to a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties with short, curly hair that accentuates her high cheekbones and a diamond studded nose ring.

  She’s wearing a sarong skirt and a bikini top, her skin glistening with sunscreen. She’s incredibly tan. Her smile is bright and cheerful as we approach, and Mindy waves a hand to indicate me and Tony.

  “Amy, so good to see you! Meet Kari and Tony. These are the two I told you about as we were walking to your cabana.” Tony, of course, is using his real first name just in case The-Asst knows who he is. Another attempt to correct for her failure to establish a protocol.

  Amy flashes a sunshine bright smile at both of us. “I’m so glad to meet you. It’s so odd coming to a place like this for the first time, much less all on my own, but I only recently decided to quit my job and work for myself, and I thought I deserved a treat before I dove in. So here I am.”

  She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed but even more excited. She also looks completely comfortable in her skin, and while this may be her first time at Debauchery, I doubt that this is her first time playing sex games with strangers.

  Then again, maybe she’s just the outgoing type.

  Mindy leaves us to introduce ourselves to the rest of the group. There’s Scott, a burly man in his 30s with a nice smile and the air of a mall cop. He came with the very young and curvy Beth, who unlike me really is a paid escort, and if I’m wrong on that I’ll eat my very sheer sarong.

  Roy looks like a male version of Beth and probably is. He’s accompanying Clara, a brunette with eyes that are too small for her face and a mouth that’s too wide. She keeps eyeing Scott, and I get the feeling that she’s very much looking forward to whatever part of this game will pair her with him.

  All of the introductions are accompanied by hugs and groping and a few very intimate kisses, which I return. So, I notice, does Tony. Though every time I look at him, I find him already looking at me.

  Needless to say, this isn’t how I usually act at parties, but when in Rome...

  The welcome ritual complete, Scott lays down the rules. Apparently, it’s called the Dessert Delight game because of fresh strawberries and cans of squirtable whipped cream that top a nearby table.

  “We all have a number,” Scott tells us, then proceeds to coun
t off from one to seven. As he explains it, persons one to three lay down, each with our own can of whipped cream. While on the ground, we decorate a few key body parts.

  The other three stand in line and come to each of us in turn, “eating” their dessert. They can even embellish with the berries if they want to. Once the last person in line has visited everyone, then the first person in line lays down, and the last on the ground stands up. Rinse, lather, repeat.

  Obviously, the game becomes more intimate depending upon where one puts the whipped cream. And, of course, the game is played in the nude.

  I glance up at the shining sun and wonder about what kind of burn I’ll have in the morning. Still, a job’s a job, and once I’m assigned number three, I untie my sarong, strip off my bikini, and lie down on the mat, trying to seem nonchalant. As if this is the kind of game I play every week after book club.

  In truth, I’m not really nonchalant at all.

  I’ve done many, many things for work and for survival that required me to be naked when I didn’t really want to be. But even I’m a little intimidated by the thought of stripping down to play what seems to be nothing more than the equivalent of a high school game of spin the bottle. Honestly, I’m just not that social. I want to do my job. I want to find The-Asst.

  And then I want to go back to the room with Tony.

  The realization shocks me a bit, and I look up at where he’s standing, trying to read his face. Is he intrigued by this game?

  Is he looking forward to licking and touching these strangers? Or is he only looking forward to touching me? Tasting me?

  For that matter, is he looking forward to me at all?

  I’m more disturbed by the possibility that he’s not even thinking about me than I should be, and I can’t stop wondering about my reaction to him. Am I losing my edge? Or, more accurately, has he stolen my edge?

  I don’t know.

  The only thing I’m certain of is that I want him.

  Beth, already naked even though she’s standing, passes out the whipped cream cans to the three of us who are prone. I’m in the middle position. And since I don’t know who my first partner will be, I decide to go easy on the whole thing and put whipped cream only on my breasts.