Last Ticket to Paradise

by Carol Ericson

  His hands curled around her waist, and he hoisted her up to the edge of the Jacuzzi. “Hang on.”

  He paddled to the other side of the tub and climbed out, steam rising from his body like he was some sexy creature from the deep, his firm buttocks bunching and releasing as he walked across the balcony to grab some cushions from the patio furniture.

  This view rivaled the one over the balcony wall any day.

  He hopped back into the hot tub and made his way back to her, holding the cushions above his head. He reached past her and positioned the cushions behind her on the tile.

  “Lie back and enjoy.”

  “It’s my turn.” She flattened her hands against his solid chest. “I’m supposed to be pleasuring you.”

  “Darling, just having you in my arms is a supreme pleasure, and don’t worry,” he grabbed her ankles, “I’ll be getting plenty of pleasure.”

  Georgette lay back against the cushions, her legs dangling over the edge of the hot tub. As Jake moved between her thighs, she ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, guiding him toward her aching pussy.

  When his tongue touched her flesh, she shivered and cupped her breasts in her hands. His tongue and fingers besieged her, prodding, poking, licking, and she thrashed her head from side to side as passion surged through her body. When he suckled her between his lips, she exploded.

  Her orgasm shook her to the core, but it didn’t drain her like it had the previous time with Jake. Instead, every nerve in her body caught fire, and she dug her nails into Jake’s scalp.

  “I want you, Jake. I need you inside me.” She’d never meant anything more than those words ripped from her throat by desire.

  He rose from the water, his erect cock like a steaming rod. She hoisted up to her elbows as he slipped his hands beneath her bottom and scooted her back.

  Kneeling on the ledge in the water, Jake nudged the swollen folds of her lips with the tip of his cock, as if she were a virgin. In truth, she was a virgin when it came to this level of passion.

  Without breaking eye contact with her, he slid inside, filling her, completing her. She squeezed around him, inviting him deeper. She whispered, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to break.”

  Her words released the animal within. With a guttural grunt, Jake thrust into her to the hilt. His size jolted her, but her slickness eased his passage, and she took all of him and wanted more.

  While he thrust into her, he also made love to the rest of her, kissing her face, stroking her hip, dipping his head to toy with her nipples. Her body burned in response to his attentions, and she felt a growing need in the pit of her stomach. She’d never come with a man inside her before, had never been whipped up to this level of desire.

  Sensing the tenseness of her body, Jake brushed his lips against her earlobe. “I want you to come again. I want you to come all over my cock.”

  His words broke her. She released with a cry, her legs wrapping around Jake’s hips as he moved in and out of her, coaxing every last drop of desire from her.

  As she started to relax, her body turning to warm honey beneath him, his frame stiffened. His thrusts became harder, stronger, more insistent.

  He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, nudging her head up. “Look at me while I come inside you. I want to see your face as I fill you up, make you mine.”

  Their eyes locked, and she drew his thumb between her lips and sucked on it to the rhythm he set between her legs.

  A flush rose from his chest, which dripped with sweat or water, she couldn’t tell. It suffused his face. The line of his jaw hardened. His eyes, still gazing into hers, turned a dark, stormy blue.

  He howled his orgasm as he pumped into her over and over, digging his fingers into the flesh of her derriere, forcing her along on his ride. He came long and hard, as if wanting to make sure he emptied everything inside her.

  While in the waning stages of his orgasm, he kissed each of her breasts and pressed a kiss against her lips—the stamp of Jake. He was claiming her as his own. And she wanted to claim him, too.

  Curling her arms around his neck, she kissed his face, skimmed her teeth across his collarbone, ran her tongue along the glistening skin of his chest. She nibbled at one brown nipple and traced her fingers along the crease of his backside.

  He hugged her to his chest, and they both fell backward into the hot tub, still connected to each other in the most intimate way.

  Jake rolled onto his back, floating on the surface of the water with her perched on top of him. “That’s quite a finish.”

  She slid off of him and landed on the step. Dropping her lashes, she said, “What would you say if I told you I want more?”

  “I’d say, give me about thirty minutes and a gallon of water to drink.” He cupped his cock in one hand and stroked it.

  “I could do that for you.” She rubbed her palm across his tip.

  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And we have a whole king-size bed to do it in. I wasn’t kidding about that water. We only had salt water to rinse the ash from our mouths.”

  She reached over the edge and lifted her glass. “And wine.”

  He stood up, the water sluicing off his muscled frame. “Let’s shower and get comfortable. I can run down to your room and pick up a bag—clothes, toiletries.”

  “Toiletries?”

  “After Jean-Claude’s...accident and the fire, you don’t think I’m going to allow you to stay in that room by yourself, do you?”

  “I-I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I’ve been thinking of nothing but your safety...well, and your body, and making love to you, and tasting you, and kissing you, and...”

  She held up a hand. “If you want to get out of this hot tub in the next few seconds, you’d better stop talking.”

  “Your beautiful skin is going to start wrinkling.” He climbed from the water and extended his hand to hers, pulling her up.

  They hugged and gazed at the view. Georgette pointed to a hump in the water. “Is that another island? I meant to ask you before.”

  “It’s my island.”

  She pinched his bottom. “Like Palumba is yours?”

  “No, that’s literally my private island. It doesn’t have a name, but the locals call it Palarita.”

  “I can see why you don’t name it that—you don’t want the association with Palarosa.”

  “I’ll take you there someday.”

  As he grabbed his shorts from the tile, Georgette gasped. “The postcard.”

  “Postcard?”

  “Jean-Claude’s postcard, the one I gave you in the water.”

  “If it’s still in one piece.” Jake zipped open his pocket and pulled out the folded postcard. “It’s damp, but the card stock is heavy, so it’s still viable. Don’t know what you hope to get from it, though.”

  She held out her hand for the card, and Jake dropped it in her palm. “I just thought it was curious that it’s the same postcard as the last one Jamie sent home to Mom. There are tons of postcards in the shop. Why this one for both my sister and Jean-Claude?”

  Jake shrugged and hung his shorts over his shoulder. “I’m going to get us a couple of bottles of water, and then I’m going to your room to get your stuff. Don’t take a shower without me. I want to make sure every inch of your body is clean.”

  Georgette’s face warmed, and she squeezed her thighs together. It was silly how Jake’s words could cause a flood of tingles coursing through her body. Of course, it could be the words in combination with that magnificent naked male body in front of her, Jake’s cock, even now, semi-erect.

  Before he left for her room, Jake wrapped her in a silky kimono that carried a sweet scent that she didn’t dare question and instructed her to secure the top lock behind him.

  She locked the door, grabbed her bottle of water, and sat cross-legged on the bed. She picked open the postcard and flattened it on the bedspread—yep, same one as Jamie’s, the one that had been stolen from her room.<
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  She gently turned the card over. The water had blurred the ink, but Jean-Claude had written something on the back.

  Squinting, Georgette read aloud, “Dear..., Palumba is... Wish I...”

  Georgette sighed and flicked the card with her fingertip. She couldn’t make out enough of the letters to make any sense of the words.

  A gentle knock on the door launched her from the bed, and she peered through the peephole. Jake stood back, her carry-on bag in hand.

  She unlocked the door and swung it open. “Find everything?”

  “The essentials, although why I’m bringing you clothes is beyond me. I kind of like you without ’em.”

  “Do you say that to all the girls?” She tipped her head to one side, the glibness of his flirtations—and the kimono—causing a ripple of her old self-doubt to squirm through her body. Old self-doubt? She still held on to it like a shield, and thirty minutes of frolicking in a hot tub with a hot man couldn’t banish it that easily.

  “That smarmy, huh?” He held out her bag. “Clothes and toiletries. If you need anything else, send me back.”

  “I’m sure what you brought is fine. I’m not staying in your room forever.”

  He jerked his head up and dropped her bag. “Sorry. Where do you want it...for now?”

  Had he expected her to move in here? For how long? The duration of her trip? There could be nothing beyond that.

  “Oh, just put it on the floor by the bathroom door.” She waved her hand toward the cavernous bathroom. “I looked at Jean-Claude’s postcard, but nothing jumped out at me except that it’s the same as the last one Jamie sent our mother.”

  “Does it have writing that you can actually read?”

  “He wrote on the back, and I can make out some of the blurred words, but not a lot.” She swept the card from the bed and held it out to him, pinched between two fingers.

  He snatched it from her, and she dropped to her knees in front of her suitcase and pulled out her toiletry bag. “I’m going to brush my teeth and then hit the shower. D-do you still want to join me?”

  Without looking up from the postcard, he said, “Of course.”

  Georgette bit her bottom lip. He sounded less enthusiastic now. Had he been offended when she’d mentioned she wouldn’t be in his room forever? Why would he be? He didn’t want her in his room forever. Wouldn’t want her in his life forever.

  She’d posed a challenge to him—the uptight, bookish, schoolmarm type. He must be amused now, and a little disappointed at how quickly she’d capitulated to his charms.

  “What about these numbers?”

  Georgette clasped her toiletry bag to her chest. “Numbers?”

  “Yeah, four random numbers in the lower corner of the postcard.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As the silence between them stretched to several seconds, Jake glanced up from studying the card. Georgette’s white face sent his heart galloping.

  “What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?”

  “No.” She hugged her bag tighter to her chest. “But the numbers. Jamie’s postcard had numbers—four numbers, I think my mom said—at the bottom, too.”

  Jake wrinkled his nose and squinted at the digits in the corner of the card. “Looks like five, six, or maybe that’s an eight, two, and... I can’t read the last number, too smudged. Can’t be a year. Might be an address, but it’s just the number.”

  “Why would both of them have written a number on that particular postcard? Were they trying to communicate something? Record or remember something?”

  “Are they the same numbers?”

  “I don’t know.” Georgette licked her lips. “Jamie’s postcard was stolen from my room.”

  Jake raised his brows. “Someone broke into your room and stole something? How come nobody notified me?”

  “I didn’t report it to the hotel. It was just the postcard. Nothing was disturbed, and I wasn’t even sure there had been a break-in.”

  “Then why do you believe someone stole the card?” Jake tried to keep his voice steady, but the idea that someone had been able to sneak into Georgette’s room caused his blood to boil in his veins.

  “Because, if you haven’t noticed, I’m very particular about my things. I know where I left that postcard, and it was gone.”

  Jake studied the numbers again. “These aren’t coordinates. I can look up this address on the island, but these could mean anything.”

  “What were those two up to? And where is Jamie now?”

  “Hold on one minute. I can do a little easy research on Jean-Claude right now.” Jake placed the card on the nightstand and picked up the phone. He punched the numbers for the front desk, and Leila answered. “Leila, can you bring up Mr. Moreau’s account for me, please?”

  “Sure, boss. You’re not going to make him pay for that bungalow, are you?” Leila clicked her keyboard. “It’s up. What do you want to know?”

  “Is he all paid up for his previous stay with us?”

  “Umm, no. He has a credit card on file with us from six months ago, and he used the same card for his stay last month, but the charges haven’t been cleared yet.”

  “What does that mean?” He glanced at Georgette, frozen by the bathroom door.

  “It looks like these charges are pending. In other words, his credit card didn’t go through.” Leila cleared her throat. “It wasn’t me.”

  “I’m not trying to assign blame, just gather facts. How much does he owe us?”

  Leila whistled. “Over three hundred grand.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “His bungalow was almost three thousand a night, and he was here for almost a month...expensive meals, champagne, gifts. There’s a piece of jewelry listed for over a hundred grand.”

  Jake ground his teeth together. At least he had the necklace back. “So, you’re telling me Jean-Claude Moreau had no money.”

  “Had no credit, apparently, but at the end of his previous stay, he started paying cash for everything. I have his receipts in front of me. Same lavish lifestyle, but funded with cash instead of credit, which is a good thing, as we’d have been on the hook for even more.”

  “Thanks, Leila.”

  “What’s going to happen to his bill if he...dies?”

  “I guess we’ll figure that out if it happens.”

  When he hung up the phone, Georgette dropped her bag and crossed the room. “Jean-Claude didn’t have any money?”

  “Not sure, but he was running up credit card debt he couldn’t pay. Then it seems he came into some cash—a lot of cash.”

  “And now he’s lying in a hospital bed hooked up to machines, and Jamie is missing.”

  He ran his hands up her arms beneath the silky sleeves of the kimono. “I think I need to pay a visit to Hallie LaCroix’s mother.”

  “Why?”

  “Somehow, Fiso and his wife are connected to all this. There is no way Hallie’s disappearance and Fiso’s death are random occurrences. Palumba’s crime rate is low—a few drunks in public, a couple of thefts from the stores, and some drug arrests. Maybe Hallie’s mother can shed some light on her daughter and her actions before she disappeared.”

  “If you’re going to talk to her, I want to come along.” Georgette jutted out her chin.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts. “Can we take that shower now?”

  Georgette nodded, and he yanked off his shorts and slipped the kimono from her shoulders. He led her into the bathroom, swooping down to pick up the toiletry bag she’d dropped. After they brushed their teeth, Jake cranked on the dual showerheads and snatched two clean towels from the stack beneath the vanity.

  The shower opened to the rest of the bathroom, no door or curtain around it. He nudged the small of her back, right above the pert curve of her delicious derriere. “After you.”

  Shuffling onto the tile, she held out her hands to the spray of water. “It’s huge.”

  He looked
down at his cock, already stirring to life. “Thanks, but I think you mentioned that already.”

  Two red flags flew on her cheeks, and she reached around and smacked his ass with the palm of her hand. “You’re bad. I meant the shower.”

  Laughing, he grabbed the body wash and squeezed a generous amount into his palm. He soaped up his hands and massaged her shoulders. “Did you think I was kidding about cleaning every part of your body?”

  She sucked in her bottom lip. “I hope not.”

  As she stood in front of him, eyes closed, warm water cascading down her back, he ran his hands down her shoulders to her hands. He clasped them together between his own and kissed her soapy fingers.

  He skimmed his hands over her breasts and beneath them, swirling his fingers around her nipples until they crinkled into rosy peaks. He twirled them between his thumb and forefinger until she caught her breath and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

  The ease with which he could arouse her surprised and delighted him. He’d expected that a tightly wound woman like Georgette, one without a whole lot of experience, would be slow to ignite. Instead, a simple touch, a word even, caused her to squirm in her panties.

  His fingers slipped between her legs, bringing her to climax. He held on to her as she rocked against him, her arms twined around his neck.

  She opened her eyes and cupped his face with one hand. “How do you do that to me? When we stepped into the shower, my mind was scattered in a million different directions, and yet you managed to banish all my worries.”

  “You speak to me without saying a word—your body, your whiskey eyes, your lips, quivering and tender one minute, pursed and taking me to task the next. You make me hard with one look. You set my nerve endings on fire with a single kiss. You shatter my defenses when you allow me to enter you.”

  Her lips formed a perfect O. “I do all that to you?”

  “And more.” He massaged her scalp with his fingertips. “Now, let me wash your hair and dry you off. I think we’ve spent enough time in water today, don’t you?”

  She drew herself up. “I think I can wash my own hair and dry myself.”