by Shandi Boyes
Fuck. Me.
Even if she’s wearing panties, I won’t be able to stop this. There isn’t a battle in the record books that could explain the level of fight I’d need to stop this.
She kisses me furiously like her lips aren’t laden down with the half bottle of tequila sitting in her gut. Her mouth should taste salty or sour—perhaps even bitter. It’s neither of those things. It tastes sweet like watermelon on a blistering summer day. It will quench my thirst no matter how dire it is.
I guess I should just kiss her then. Bang out the thoughts that have kept me awake the past few weeks. Take back some of the control she stole.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll kiss her until my thirst is satiated, then pull back.
Easy.
I’m an idiot. There’s no returning from this. Our tongues dance too intricately to pretend one taste will ever suffice. I’ll be left begging for another and another and another until I’ve pleaded so much, I’ll be on one knee instead of two.
With that scary notion in the forefront of my mind, I inch back. It’s more painful than my ankles snapping upon landing two years ago. When I shake my head, denying the plea in her eyes, I hear a familiar crack. It’s not my ankles fracturing, though. It’s Jamie’s heart.
“Please, Colby. I want you.” She says my name on a moan like she’s on the cusp of climax after nothing but a kiss.
With words eluding me, she hoists her skirt up her thighs, then cuddles them around mine. She’s wearing panties, but since they’re lace and soaked through, she may as well not be. I groan when the heat of her pussy braces against my dick. It’s fighting my zipper, endeavoring to be freed and sunk into the scent that’s kept it restless for weeks now.
We kiss for a few more minutes, moaning with every intimate grind of our bodies. We’re dry-humping like teens at the prom, but it’s the best make-out session I’ve ever had. I fuck, and I fuck good, but this is different. I don’t feel like I’m performing an act. I’m enjoying this as much as Jamie, like my dick doesn’t need to leave my pants for me to come.
That will never happen, though.
All men fuck for pleasure, but real men ensure it’s for both him and his lady.
Every sweep of her tongue against mine has my hips lifting off the bed more. We lick and rock, lick and rock until I’m not the only one waving a white flag in defeat. With her head burrowed in my neck, and my name huskily leaving her lips, Jamie does one final grind before the moans I’ve imagined in vivid detail fill my ears. She stills as an uproar of devastation overtakes every inch of her. She’s hot all over, my earlier worries about her hypothermic state done and dusted. She’s the sexiest I’ve ever seen her, and I can’t wait for stage two.
I wait patiently for her to come down from the cloud. I’m a gentleman like that. Why exhaust her of something I plan to make her do at least five times tonight?
When thirty seconds pass with no signs of life, I drop my eyes to Jamie. When another ten seconds tick by, I peel her off my chest by her shoulders. When her nose is dislodged from my neck, I realize what a fucking idiot I am. She’s not floating on a cloud. She’s sleeping on one. Or should I say, snoring on one?
Keeping my disappointment on the down-low, I use my crane-like dick to hoist her from my crotch to her pillow. She snuggles in close, my name leaving her mouth in a moan similar to the one she released while coming. It tightens the front of my pants even more, while also reminding me about how close I came to royally fucking things up tonight. As if it isn’t bad enough she heard me murmur her name while cum streamed out of my cock, I nearly slept with a drunk girl.
I don’t do that.
Consent is sexy
Consent is right.
Fucking someone when they’re plastered isn’t, especially when you care about that someone enough you want to save them from the misery that will become your life.
After pulling a blanket over Jamie’s shoulders, I walk into the bathroom to clean my teeth and scrub my face. I could take care of the throb behind my zipper as I did earlier today, but I won’t. Its ache is a reminder that Jamie won’t be the only one who’ll forget our kiss. It will disappear from my mind eventually too. It just won’t be because of an excessive amount of alcohol.
The following morning, I’m awakened by the hum of excitement. Usually, I’d relish a noise that guarantees a day of adrenaline-packed fun. This morning, I’m not so eager. I’ve been sidelined from activities to ensure Jamie complies with Nixon’s advice on her having a low-impact weekend. I’m not annoyed, far from it, but it’s that notion that’s panicking me just as much as the fact I didn’t run for the hills last night.
Things with Jamie have always been complicated. We’ve had a natural, unexplainable connection from day one, but last night ramped it up to an entirely new level. Even knowing no matter which path I take, it will always be the wrong one doesn’t have me reaching for the brake. That’s inconceivable. Un-fucking heard of. It has me wondering if she’s the reason my cock’s been disinterested in the game it’s been playing the past eight years. I guess faking a stomach bug so I could go home and stroke one out about my ‘supposed’ friend should have been the first sign I was swimming in unchartered waters.
I wish things could be like they were in the shower, that nothing but my insatiable horniness matters. Unfortunately, this is real life. It isn’t a romantic movie, much less one of those raunchy novels Jamie talked about incessantly during our many ‘dates.’
That’s probably half my issue. Her excessive gloating about her book boyfriends had me thinking how awesome it would be to be one. Picture this—a four hundred and fifty-page paperback novel with a foldout section so the readers could visualize my cock in all its glory.
Just thinking about buying this book brightened your morning, didn’t it? You’re welcome.
With my steps no longer weighed down with misery, I make my way into the living area of the cabin. This is the standard type of cabin you’d expect to find in the foothills of Northern Cali. It’s boastful, gleaming of money, and capable of attending to numerous guests’ needs at once. It once represented its owner to a T.
As I make a beeline to the coffee machine, my eyes lock in on a visual I didn’t anticipate seeing until the sun was high in the sky. Jamie is at the side of the kitchen, looking over some paperwork with Tyrone. She acts like she hasn’t noticed my gawking stare. I’d be inclined to believe her if I hadn’t seen the goosebumps on her neck rising. They’re as strained as her nipples are budded—a telltale sign she’s sensed my presence.
“Morning.” I help myself to a mug of coffee before joining them at the dining table. My swagger is awfully cocky for a man who was left hanging last night. “What are you looking at?” They have a heap of forms on the table—official-looking forms.
I freeze with my mug halfway to my lips when Tyrone says, “Jamie is signing an indemnity waiver so she can jump with us this morning.”
Although I’ve been dying to take her on a jump since we landed in the ocean seven weeks ago, she can’t jump today. “You can’t jump, Prim. You’re injured… and hungover, aren’t you?” My last two words are brimming with suspicion. Her eyes are the clearest I’ve seen them, and although her hair is a wild mess, her face isn’t harboring a single side effect of a woman who drunk half a bottle of tequila.
“I’m fine. I feel great.”
You have no clue how fucking hard it is not to bang my chest right now. What did I tell you? Backed-up orgasms weigh a ton. She may have only had one last night, but she’s light and flighty.
“And I paid for an adventurous weekend, so aren’t I entitled to one?”
“There’s plenty of fun we can have without putting your safety at risk, Prim.”
There I go again with a needy, underhanded comment that reveals why I had no chance of sidestepping the event that occurred last night. My tone could have only been more insinuating if I bent her over the table and swiped my cock across her clit.
“Once your stitches have bee
n removed and you’ve been given the all-clear, I’ll take you for a jump.”
This is the only time in my life I wished skydiving was referred to as anything else but jumping. I want to jump her all right, just not out of a plane.
One of the many things I admire about Jamie shines in her eyes when she says, “Colby, you’re being silly. I honestly feel fine.” She’s not buttering me up, she’s being straight-up honest.
I can’t say the same thing about Tyrone. “She also signed a waiver, so she’s good to go.”
I glare at him, revealing we’ll have more than words if he doesn’t get his hands off Jamie. He may only be rubbing her arm to assure he has her back, but my fucked-up brain isn’t seeing it that way.
“I don’t give a fuck what she signed, she can’t jump.” I stare at Tyrone for another ten seconds, expressing the words I can’t say in front of witnesses before shifting my focus back to Jamie. “Altitude can increase cerebral blood flow, meaning you risk further injury if you had even the slightest concussion yesterday. I’m not willing to risk your safety for a stupid jump.”
With her silence revealing she’s teetering toward my side of the argument, Tyrone places himself between us—again. “This isn’t your choice, Colby.”
“Yes, it is,” I roar at Tyrone, startling Jamie and the handful of people who have gathered to watch our exchange. “You’re only encouraging her defiance to prove a point.”
He thinks this argument will have me admitting I’m developing feelings for Jamie. I am, but there’s no fucking chance in hell I’ll admit that in a room full of spectators.
“Safety is more important than the stupid game you’re playing, Ty.”
I shift my eyes to Jamie. She’s peering at me with the same stunned expression the blonde bimbos behind her are wearing, it’s just different. Like she’s more pleased than shocked. “I’ll take you skydiving when the time is right. Now is not the right time. You know me. You know I’d rather have my nuts crushed in a grinder than give up an opportunity to jump, so you also know you can trust that I’m not denying your request for no reason. It’s not safe. I can’t put it any simpler than that.”
I want to punch myself in the throat when a collective sigh rolls out of the mouth of every female surrounding me—excluding Jamie. From their reaction, anyone would swear I’m down on one knee proposing instead of doing the job I’m paid to do. This is my event. I am the head coordinator, but even if I weren’t, my opinion wouldn’t change. This isn’t a risk I’m willing to take. I’d rather tell Jamie my deepest, darkest secret than have her jump so soon after an injury.
Some of the heaviness on my chest lifts when Jamie steps closer to me. “If we’re going to miss out on an adrenaline-packed day in the sky, I’m going to need your guarantee our day will be just as adventurous on the ground.”
I’m about to say “deal,” but she presses her finger to my mouth before I can. “I haven’t finished with my demands just yet.” My lips raise against her finger, loving her sassy attitude. I can’t believe I ever thought she was a stiff. “The next time ‘The Git Up’ comes on, no matter the time or the place, your ass better be next to mine doing the hoedown. You let the team down last night, Colby. That’s unforgivable.”
The seriousness in her tone makes it seem as if we competed against Royce and Linda last night. In reality, it was a handful of drunken teens who most likely still have their heads hanging in a toilet bowl.
“Deal?” She holds out her fist for me to knock, her eyes sparkling with more life than I’ve ever seen them show.
I should add my own negotiations into our deal, but for the first time in years, I let my heart win the battle it’s been waging with my head since I was a teen. “Deal.”
Chapter 25
Jamie
Excitement roars through my body when Colby bumps his fist against mine. I want to say because the most arrogant, boastful man I’ve ever met just agreed to my every whim a mere second after admitting my safety is more vital to him than an activity he’d rather die than live without, but that would be a lie. It’s from having my finger pressed against his mouth—a mouth I was staring at differently only yesterday. My God, if my vivid imagination is anything to go by, Colby McGregor is a stellar kisser.
Eager to leave before the many eyes gawking at us see my heated cheeks, I drop my hand from Colby’s mouth. “Give me five minutes to brush my teeth, then I’ll be good to go.”
When he waves his hand across his body, signaling for me to lead the way, I arch a brow. “I need to brush my teeth, too.” He swivels his finger around his ridiculously handsome face. “This alone has girls looking past ghastly morning breath, but as I said earlier, I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks today.”
His last few words are garbled when I punch him in the stomach. “You’re a pig.”
Colby grunts like one before shadowing me into his room. I move through the cabin remarkedly quick for someone who should have a hangover. My head is throbbing. It’s just barely felt since the rest of my body is thrumming with a delighted zap. It’s a hard sensation to explain, one I’m certain I’ve never experienced before.
After wetting a toothbrush and loading it with paste, I twist to face Colby. “Did I say or do anything stupid last night?”
“Depends on what you class as stupid?” The quickest flash of disappointment flares in his eyes as he joins me next to the vanity. “What do you recall about last night?”
I poke my toothbrush into his stomach. “That Mrs. Palencia needs to encourage you to work on more than your rumba.”
“That fucked-up shit they were doing last night wasn’t dancing.” He snags his toothbrush out of the holder before squirting a generous helping of paste on it. Once he’s dunked it under the stream of water, he pops it into his mouth. Even doing something as mundane as sharing a vanity sink is exciting when it’s happening with him. “How did you even know the moves they were doing? Never saw you as a line dancer, Prim.”
“Uh… Blanco Brown tells you what to do in his song. It’s not hard.”
Feeling playful, I do the two-step, then the cowboy boogie, breaking out the moves Colby refused to do last night. Before he can deny my request, I swing him around as Blanco is demanding in my head before scooting back to do the dorkiest form of the hoedown, spasming knees and all. After throwing down my toothbrush, I take a sip out of the imaginary cup in my hand.
“Come on, Colby. The song might only be in my head, but you’re not keeping your side of our deal, which means I have the right to enroll in jump school.”
I’m anticipating for him to deny my request, so you can imagine my surprise when he steps to the left before stepping to the right. For someone who can fake apprehension like he’s vying for an Oscar, he has no problems boogying to a song we can only hear in our heads. When we’re instructed to take it down, he gets his ass closer to the floor than I do.
By the time ‘The Git Up’ finishes playing in my head, I’m sweating like a pig and smiling as I’ve never smiled before. “Why didn’t you do that last night? We could have won if you weren’t scared about performing in front of an audience.”
Colby rinses out his toothbrush before spinning around to face me. “I’m not scared about performing in front of an audience. Just figured you’d rather have a private show… again.”
When he hits me with a flirty wink, it isn’t just my skin that gets extra sticky, so do my panties. It isn’t the naturally ingrained ambiguity in his tone making me hot all over, it’s memories too real to be fake.
Colby’s steps out of the bathroom freeze when I say, “We kissed.” He’s not the only one turning solid when reality dawns. “Sorry, let me correct that. I kissed you. Here… in your room… on your bed.” I’ve always hated my mom’s condition, but I loathe it even more now. Having any memories blurred is horrendous, much less ones I’d give anything not to forget. “Why did we stop? What happened? Did I do something wrong?”
Colby squares his shoulders be
fore flashing me his infamous smirk. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. We just—”
Colby stops talking when my mouth falls open. “I fell asleep. Oh my God. Please kill me.”
I’m serious this time. This isn’t a drill.
Colby steps closer to me, all casual. “It’s not a big deal.”
I shove the rest of his assurance into the back of his throat with a stern glare. “It’s not a big deal? How is this not a big deal? I kissed you. Then I brought myself to climax on your zipper.”
Colby scoffs. “Don’t give my zipper all the credit. Some of your moans rightfully belong to my cock. He’s sporting battle wounds today, so the least you could do is stroke his ego.”
I continue talking as if he never interrupted me. “Then, I fell asleep. My God. This is really bad.” I crawl under the blankets to hide my inflamed cheeks, beyond mortified. “You can go now. Let me die of embarrassment in peace.”
“You were drunk, Prim. Crazy shit happens when you’re drunk.”
He joins me under the sheets, smiling in a way that makes me want to kiss him again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he’s relieved I remembered our exchange. I wonder if he’d still be smiling if he discovered I would have kissed him even if I wasn’t drunk? Alcohol might have fueled my motives last night, but tequila isn’t the sole reason I kissed him. It just made me brave enough to put motions into play I’ve dreamed about for weeks.
Taking my silence as mortification, Colby says, “If it makes you feel any better, you can return the favor tonight. I promise to be snoring the instant the first squirt of cum leaves my dick.”
I whack him—hard. “You’re an asshole.”
His laugh slicks my panties with moisture. “Says the lady who left me hanging. It’s lucky I know how to take care of business, or I might have woken as a cripple.”
Colby is joking, but my stupid body doesn’t register it like that. It grows heavy with sweat as images of him pleasuring himself filter through my head.