Secrets in Sunset Beach 2

by Ivy Riggs

  She bit her lower lip, a shiver running down her spine, excited butterflies in her stomach.

  Chasity's eyes flashed, and her lips spread in a knowing smile. Her lashes lowered. "Tell me everything!”

  Heather gasped, laughing as she pushed Chasity's hand away. "I don’t kiss and tell."

  "Come on," Chasity whined, stretching the words far longer than they needed to be. "You know he's talking about it too, with his brother – who, by the way, is also a smokin' hot piece of steak I'd like to sink my teeth into. Is he single?"

  "Does that matter?" Heather asked with a raised brow.

  "I suppose not," Chasity replied with another of her wide grins. "But now I'm absolutely going to need details. You know, for science." She lifted her hands, forefingers extended on each. "Stop me when I get to the size."

  She drew them apart slowly, and Heather shook her head.

  "Come on. If Derick's got a big dick then Jake probably does too. I'm not riding a rodeo with a colt. Give me a guesstimate." She shook her hands for emphasis.

  Heather sighed, wondering how the hell Chasity managed to get her to talk about shit like this. She held Chasity's wrists and corrected their position to her best estimate.

  Chasity let out a low, impressed whistle. "Lucky girl."

  "That's all you're getting from me," Heather said sternly, releasing her wrists and reaching for her beer.

  "Oh, no. Nuh-uh. I'm not letting you get away that easy." Chasity caught Heather before she could take a drink, the beer slopping messily over their hands as she giggled and pulled Heather to her, their knees colliding. Heather huffed, setting her beer down as Chasity wrapped her free hand in Heather's hair and planted a messy kiss to her cheek.

  "You're terrible," Heather said, smiling.

  "I've always been terrible," Chasity laughed.

  Heather couldn't help but agree. They'd been roommates in college and Chasity never made it much a secret that she would take all comers. Sharing a room with someone with such a high sex drive had given Heather a lot of sleepless nights and even more thoughts.

  Her phone chimed from her bag, which had fallen to the floor, and Heather pulled back so she could check it. Chasity nudged her stomach with her toe, pouting as Heather fished out her phone and checked her messages. She smiled, seeing it was from Derick: About to close up shop. Driving Jake home. Dinner?

  "I have to go," she said.

  Chasity sighed, rolling her eyes. "Dick trumps chick," she said knowingly, and Heather rolled her eyes. Chasity sat up, grinning. "You think Derick would be down for a little double trouble?"

  "Despite what you might think, you are not allowed every eligible bachelor in Sunset Beach," Heather replied, worming her way free and getting to her feet, glad that she was still sober enough to drive. "And I thought you were gonna go after Jake."

  "Am I allowed?" Chasity asked with false innocence.

  "Sure," Heather said. "I can even make sure he's at the bar tomorrow if you want."

  Chasity squealed in delight, getting to her feet and throwing herself into Heather's arms. She hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek again. "Baby, you're the best!"

  Heather smiled and deposited Chasity back on her couch. "I'll see you later," she said.

  "Try and get a pic for me!" Chasity called, as Heather shouldered her bag and headed for the door. "I want to know what I can look forward to!"

  Chapter Three

  H eather smiled as she pulled up in front of Derick's house, seeing him perched on the front stoop waiting for her. He gave her one of his winning smiles, dimples cutting into his cheeks, and rose from the step, jogging down the cracked and weed-overgrown walkway until he reached her car. She unlocked the doors so he could get in.

  "Hey," he greeted her, reaching across the console to pull her into a kiss. She smiled, putting her car back in drive and peeling away from the curb. He settled low in his seat, knees spread out, slouching. "How are you?"

  "Good," Heather replied, halting at the end of the street and checking each direction before pulling out. She turned right, heading out of the little suburb Derick called home onto the single lane road that went past the beach and, eventually, past the entrance to her own gated community. She kept driving, up toward the woods that sat like a dark blanket of green velvet on the rising hills. It was just past three in the morning, but both of them were night owls. "How was the bar?"

  "Busy," Derick said, sighing and putting the saddle of his thumb beneath his chin, slowly pulling his head to one side until his neck cracked. He groaned gratefully and rubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. "Racked in about six grand."

  "Awesome," Heather said, smiling. Tourist season was always a good time of year for the Hummingbird, even on weeknights. The people who flocked to Sunset Beach in the summer didn't have to worry about things like mortgages, work, or holding back from their indulgences. The Hummingbird promised high-quality cocktails and excellent service and was a favorite for most of the residents during every other time of the year, and word of mouth was a powerful thing.

  Derick smiled at her and reached out to lace their fingers together on the gearshift. "How's Chasity doing?"

  "The same," Heather said, tone softening with affection at the mention of her friend. Derick hummed, fingers flexing between hers. The night was cool and muggy, the breeze coming in through their rolled-down windows saving them from the worst of the humidity. Heather turned at the main road that led to the highway going up and down the coast, the road widening into three lanes on either side. The exit to the camping grounds was the second right and she pulled onto the ramp, the forest immediately welcoming them with open arms, saving them from the worst of the moving air. The breeze stopped except what was caused by the motion of the car, and Heather rolled up the windows, knee beneath the steering wheel to keep the car steady as they drove deeper into the forest.

  Derick made a curious sound and turned to see that behind Heather's seat was a picnic basket and a rolled-up blanket on top of it, patterned in red and white plaid. He smiled. "Dinner under the stars?"

  "It's a nice night," Heather replied. "And quiet."

  Derick nodded.

  Heather cocked her head to one side, following the well-known route up to the Sunset campsite where there was the best view of the beach from the mountains. They passed only one camper caravan parked close to the entrance; the rest of the sites were empty, since it was a weekday and camping still remained a largely weekend-oriented event. She drove up the rise, her car rumbling in light protest, and came to a stop at a pull-off for site marker seventy-two. It had a station sticking out of the ground to allow waste connection, an empty community trash can, a dead black firepit that hadn't been used since last summer if she had to guess, and an absolutely breathtaking view through the gap in the trees out onto the ocean and the glimmering lights of her gated community, with all its docks and harbors, expensive yachts anchored and idling on the gentle waves.

  She killed the engine and Derick got out of the car with her, helping her find a patch of dirt that was dry and flat enough to unroll the blanket onto. It was plastic on the downside to prevent seepage, and he spread it out, weighing it down in one corner with the basket, Heather's bag in another corner, and two loose rocks to keep the curl of the last two corners down.

  Heather knelt, grinning when Derick followed suit. He had changed since his shift – Heather had commissioned three t-shirts for him with the Hummingbird's logo, and he had swapped it out for a light blue shirt that highlighted the glassy ocean color of his eyes. It was clearly an older one, soft from many washes and sagging around the collar and sleeves. He was wearing his normal jeans that he wore on shift – Heather wasn't picky about what her employees wore as long as they had the Hummingbird on them somewhere.

  He stretched his legs out with a sigh, and Heather opened the basket, revealing two homemade ham and cheese sandwiches, a box of water crackers, and a small sleeve of goat's cheese with a bottle of agave syrup, and two bottles
of dark red wine.

  Derick grinned at her, teasing and lopsided. "Fit for a king," he said with a laugh.

  "I'm a simple woman with simple needs," Heather replied, tossing her hair.

  Derick shook his head, caught her hand, and kissed her knuckles. "I wasn't making fun."

  She smiled and leaned over the basket to cup his face and kiss him before settling on her heels and unwrapping the sandwiches. There was a little bowl in the basket as well, and Derick opened the bottle of agave, pouring out a generous amount. He squeezed half the cheese from its sleeve and added it to the bowl, mashing it around with his finger to spread it out, and licked his finger clean.

  The wine was a twist-off, and Heather busied herself with that, huffing when she realized, "I didn't bring glasses."

  Derick blinked at her, his eyes widening with mock horror. "Oh, no, you'll give me your girl germs!"

  She laughed and flicked the cap at him in answer. He caught it and set it in the basket so they didn't lose it. "I think the ship has sailed on that." Derick grinned at her, and Heather took a long pull from the wine bottle, letting the rich fullness of the wine flood her mouth. She gasped, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and gave him the bottle as she took a bite of her sandwich.

  They sat like that, in contented quiet, swapping the bottle between them and eating their food. Heather hadn't brought napkins either, but she liked the way Derick looked at her when she licked and sucked her fingers clean.

  She cleared her throat. "Marcos texted me," she said.

  Derick pressed his lips together, his eyes on the ocean, where the moon was full and cast in watery reflection along the surface. It really was a beautiful night; they were far up enough that the light pollution of Sunset Beach only cast a small halo above the horizon, and the stars blinked at them playfully from the vast expanse of darkness that made the nighttime canopy.

  "Some guys came in, around the lull," Derick told her. Heather nodded, pulling her knees up so she could rest her arms on them. "Looked like they were in the mood to cause some trouble. I handled it."

  "Handled it how, exactly?" Heather pressed.

  Derick sighed. "They ran with Jimmy's crew," he said. Heather pressed her lips together – Derick had told her everything about his cousin, about how he had stolen her father's car, how Derick had turned him in. Her father had made sure Jimmy was looking down a long line of hard time for all his priors combined with the most recent offense. "They were looking for him. I told them he was in jail. Then they left."

  He shrugged, and Heather didn't sense any lie in his words. Derick wasn't a particularly good liar – he survived by just not telling people things. But he always told her things, when she asked. And Heather was good at reading people. Being a bartender was like being a therapist at times, only she gave people alcohol instead of drugs to self-medicate.

  She sighed. "I wish you'd called me."

  Derick's cheeks flushed guiltily, and he swallowed another big mouthful of the wine before handing it back. "I will, next time," he promised her. Their eyes met. "I don't like the idea of you getting caught in my bullshit. They were big guys and if it had just been you…."

  Heather smiled. Mister White Knight indeed.

  "I can handle myself," she said confidently, taking another drink. The bottle was empty now, and she set it in the basket, opening a second. Her tease of a buzz from Chasity's place was coming back full force now, numbing her teeth and making her head and stomach feel heavy. Derick's eyes had taken on that haze of tipsiness too, his cheeks a delicate pink from alcohol. He looked good like that – he looked good all the time, but she knew how pliant and eager he got when he drank.

  She set the bottle down and prowled over to him, settling in his lap. Derick grinned up at her, dimples cutting into his red cheeks, and she cupped his face and kissed him, grinding down onto his lap with smooth, lazy rocks of her hips. He gasped into her mouth, big hands flattening across her thighs. Heather had changed, once she knew there was a dinner date in store; she had gone to Chasity's house in her normal shorts and t-shirt, but now she was wearing a wrap dress, a tie around her waist the only thing keeping it in place. Derick's fingers curled around the tie, tugging gently until it unraveled. He pushed at the short sleeves, so Heather's shoulders and back were exposed. She wasn't wearing a bra and he growled roughly, dipping his head so he could suck a warm, wet kiss to her collarbone.

  It was hard to hide marks in a place like Sunset Beach, where any covered skin hinted at bruises and love bites, and it was an oddity to see anyone in something larger than a swimsuit. Derick had always been careful about that – they both knew Heather's father wouldn't approve of their relationship and Heather didn't like people prying into her business. She could only imagine what Chasity would do or say if she saw them.

  But it was a beautiful night and Derick's sucking kisses sent heat straight down Heather's spine, making her thighs tighten around him, her breath turning soft and shaky. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and yanked his head up, kissing him hard and forcefully enough that he fell back against the picnic blanket with a rough laugh.

  His hands raked up her back, then under her arms, one flattening on her waist and the other cupping her breast, thumb working around her nipple in a slow circle that made her shiver, sharp pleasure settling low in her belly. Her hips jerked helplessly, grinding against Derick's thickening erection. Her mouth went dry.

  "Please tell me you…"

  Before she could answer, Derick grinned and settled his hand on her hip, releasing her so he could lift up and reach into his back pocket to pull out a shiny foil wrapper. She laughed, straightening up and pushing her hair back so it fell down her spine.

  "Boy Scout," she teased.

  "The power of positive thinking," Derick replied, his voice heavy with seriousness, though his eyes gleamed with mirth.

  Heather grinned and sat back on his thighs, pulling at Derick's jeans button and zipper and dragging the halves apart once they were undone. Derick sat up, helping her push the waistband of his underwear down until she could wrap her fingers around his erection, stroking the smooth, warm skin to full hardness.

  Derick opened the wrapper and rolled the condom down his cock, jaw clenching, breath escaping him in a rough gasp as Heather straddled him again, kissing him passionately. She reached between her legs, finding her underwear wet and clinging. She pushed it to one side and Derick wrapped his arms around her, groaning softly as she gripped his cock, angled him, and sank down onto him in one smooth motion.

  She sighed, closing her eyes, for a moment just sitting as he combed her sweat-damp hair from her face, planting open-mouthed kisses down her neck. He filled her up so nicely. She gave an experimental clench around him and felt his entire body draw tense as a bowstring beneath her.

  She grinned and nipped at the red skin beneath his ear. "Lie back," she commanded, and he obeyed instantly, so she could see how the moonlight made his eyes shine and lit up his flushed face. She smiled, adjusting her position so his hips dug into the backs of her thighs, and she could put her weight on his chest, giving her enough leverage to ride him.

  "Fuck," Derick breathed, one hand cupping her ass to help her move, the other wrapped in her long hair so he could pull her down for a kiss. She groaned as he planted his feet, taking over the rhythm with fast, desperate thrusts. She wrapped her hands around the top of his head, keeping him still and kissing him breathlessly as he released her thigh, knowing she could stay put, and worked two of his fingers between their stomachs.

  She cried out, trembling as his fingers found her clit – she'd trained him well, he knew just how to touch her, knew how lightly or roughly, knew when to circle and when to let her grind against him. She moaned lowly, one arm stretching out above them and gripping the blanket tightly as he kissed her lips, jaw, and neck. She started to tense up around him, bearing down with all the inevitability of a summer storm.

  She collapsed against him as she finished, panting harshly
and squirming against his hand as she became too sensitive to touch. He smiled at her, eyes dark and soft with affection, and craned his head up to kiss her deep and long, slowing as he gave her time to recover.

  She sighed, biting her lower lip, lazily rocking against him to drag out the last waves of pleasure that caused her muscles to spasm around him. Derick's jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, lashes low as he tried to keep still, but Heather was good at reading people, Derick especially, and knew he was just waiting for the first signal from her that he could keep going.

  She pushed his t-shirt up from his waist, rumpled and creased until she could touch his chest. Derick was strong, just the right side of lean. He had good shoulders and a broad chest from his job before tending bar, in construction. He had the build of a working man, not some soft suit-and-tie, not too skinny and slender.

  He hissed as she dragged her nails down his chest, and she felt how his cock twitched inside her, his stomach tensing. She planted her knees and rose up, sinking back down teasingly slow, and again, as Derick's breathing grew ragged, the normally glacial blue in his eyes completely overtaken by pupil.

  "Heather," he gasped, as she did it again. "C'mon, baby, please."

  She laughed and leaned down, cupping the back of his neck and kissing him again. It was all the permission he needed – he flattened his hands over her ass, still covered by her dress, and held her still as he thrust up, growling as she kissed him. As she bit lightly at his neck. As she pushed his shirt up high enough to bare his collarbone and planted a bruising kiss just below it.

  "Fuck, fuck…" His thrusts slowed, grew jerky and off-rhythm. His nails dig unto her skin through her clothes. He sighed, pushing her down all the way, head tipped back as he came, and every muscle in him went lax.