He stumbles back through the door as she pushes past him. “You’ll regret this, Amalie.”
“I already do, more than you can even imagine. But not for the reasons you want me to.”
After less than a minute of tense silence the door of her bungalow opens and Armstrong steps out in the dark night, walking briskly down the dock, nearly breaking into a run. I’d like to follow after him and kick his ass for her, but I stay where I am, aware I’d only be doing more damage.
I’m not sure what to expect from Amie at this point. Not that I expect anything from her after that bullshit, but I wait until he’s long gone before I fire off a message.
You okay?
It feels like forever before she responds.
I don’t know. Did you hear any or all of that?
It’s an honest answer. And it doesn’t make it any easier to decide how to proceed. I give her another minute before sending a message:
I did. I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ll understand if you want space right now.
The dots appear and then disappear three times before a message finally comes through:
I probably should.
That’s not a yes. It’s not a no either. It’s conflict. Understandable, reasonable conflict. I wait for more, some kind of confirmation that she wants me to stay away after what just went down with Armstrong.
After several long minutes I hear nothing and assume her silence means I’m staying put. Except a timid, barely there knock has me out of the chair and across the room. As much as I know she’s probably coming here for comfort, not sex, my body doesn’t seem to recognize that. Maybe she needs a shoulder to cry on. I can be that. I can be a friend if she needs one tonight.
Amie doesn’t say anything as she steps inside. Pain makes her eyes shiny, the emotional kind, the embarrassed kind.
“I feel guilty for wanting this, for wanting you.” She runs her fingers across my jaw and rests her palm on my chest. “But not enough to stay away. What does that say about me? What kind of person does that make me?”
“It makes you human, Amie. Armstrong is a self-serving bastard. He’s good at manipulating.”
She drops her hand and remains silent, maybe absorbing the truth. We haven’t talked about her relationship with Armstrong apart from vague, snide comments. I don’t want to remind her why this is a bad idea, which is what his showing up has done.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I worry—selfishly—that his brief appearance will ruin this. I don’t want to lose any of my time with her because Armstrong’s idiocy has gotten in the way again.
She shakes her head, glassy eyes shimmering. Her fingertips flutter to her throat, then drop to touch the back of my hand.
“What can I do for you?”
Her tongue drags across her bottom lip. White teeth press into plush, wet flesh. Her gaze darts down and then back up, uncertainty mixing with need. How someone can look so innocent and be so incredibly sexy is a mystery I’m glad I get to discover. She wraps her fingers around my wrist and brings my hand up, curving my palm around her delicate neck. “Tell me you want to fuck me,” she whispers.
I sweep my thumb along her throat. “Amie.”
Her eyes flutter shut. “Tell me. Please.”
The truth is, this little slice of pretend we’re living in is quickly becoming real for me. But I can’t tell her that. She’s in no place mentally or emotionally for anything more than physical gratification, and putting that on her will destroy her. She’s so fragile already. So I give her the thing she needs from me, an escape from the dark place she’s going in that beautiful head of hers.
I brush my lips gently over hers. “I want you.”
Her breath leaves her on a tiny gasp when I press my fingertips into her jaw and tilt her head back.
I take a step closer, forcing her back against the door. “You know what I’m going to do?”
She makes a wanton, desperate sound. I feel it, all the way to my bones. I know all I am is a distraction from reality, but I still want her, even if I shouldn’t.
I press my hips into hers so she can feel how hard I am for her. “I’m going to fuck you.” I bite her chin and kiss my way to her lips. “And you’re going to love it.”
* * *
“Tell me you’re not hooking up with her.” Bancroft sounds pissed.
Of all the things I shouldn’t be doing, sleeping with Amalie is at the top of a very long list. As is taking her out for dinner, buying her clothes, flowers, spending nights staring at the stars, taking her to sister resorts and comparing spa services, introducing her to the managerial staff, and spending the night in her bed. Or mine. Also, fucking her up against my door after Armstrong shat all over their relationship, and then again in my bed, and again in the morning is also not the best in terms of planning. Especially considering how I’m enjoying the sleeping part as much as I am the fucking. But I have no desire to stop and neither does she, so I’m going to continue to take advantage of this arrangement until I can’t anymore.
“Isn’t that what college kids do?” I suppose it applies to this situation regardless.
“Just answer the damn question.”
“And what if I am?”
“You better be kidding, Lex. She’s still married.”
I scoff. “Do you have any idea what kind of bullshit Armstrong has been pulling on her?”
“Amie called Ruby this morning. Apparently he showed up last night.”
“So you know he admitted to screwing around on her with multiple women.” I drop down into a chair because I’m pacing, and my voice is rising.
“It’s a good thing he’s not in this country or I’d give him the beatdown he deserves. Ruby’s also encouraging Amie to hook up while she’s out there in Bora Bora.”
“I’m sorry, what?” That explains what she was doing in the bar with Fuck-me Eric the first night.
“She told Amie to let loose. Go wild. Get laid like it’s spring break.” He doesn’t sound impressed with this advice.
“Well, I guess it’s her vacation, she should feel free to hook up with whoever she wants.”
“Except for you, though, right?” There’s the hint of suspicion I was waiting for.
“She doesn’t want to hook up with me.” Shit, I sound angry. I need to level out.
“You’re sure about that? Kinda looked like it in that bridal suite.”
“Get off my dick. She was upset and not thinking clearly. She’d just been humiliated in front of everyone she knows and she was out for vengeance.” I don’t tell him I let her have it, hard and repeatedly. While we’re both adults who are capable of making adult decisions, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be truthful with my brother. I doubt Bane would intentionally out me, but it’s better to keep this quiet just to be safe. I don’t think my father would be very impressed if he found out my attention was quite so divided. I’m here to avoid the bullshit, not add to it by sleeping with Amie.
“This is a business trip. I helped her out when our dickhead cousin showed up. Her situation is fucked and I’m not interested in more drama than I already have.” I really have gotten myself in a lot deeper than I meant to. And the repercussions of this, if anyone finds out, are further reaching than Amie can understand. My history with Armstrong is tumultuous. He’s too self-absorbed to believe this wasn’t just a revenge screw.
Bane’s silent for a few seconds. “Are you spending time with her?”
“I have meetings and work. I can’t lie on the beach and ward off the predators. She’s a big girl, and I’m not her babysitter. I can’t protect someone who’s not interested in being protected, Bane.” It’s true. I made an attempt to protect her from me at the very beginning, but she sure didn’t make it easy.
“I get that. Just watch out for her if you can. Ruby’s pretty worried. I don’t know that Amie makes the best choices when she’s stressed out.”
“So one second you’re concerned I’m going to hook up with her and n
ow you want me to be her guard dog. Make up your mind, little brother, either you want me involved or you don’t.”
His sigh echoes my frustration. “Sorry. I’m stressed because Ruby is stressed. Apparently Amie doesn’t want to deal with the Armstrong situation, and whenever Ruby brings it up she changes the subject.”
“Can you blame her?”
“Nope. Not at all, but Ruby says this is worse than the way she usually manages things.”
“Worse how? It’s not as if there’s a precedent for her circumstances.” I can’t imagine it’s every day the groom gets caught cheating on the bride at the wedding.
“I get that and I don’t know exactly. She’s just . . . quiet. Ruby’s worried she’s in a bad headspace. Just . . . don’t let anyone take advantage of her if you can help it.”
“I’ll try and keep an eye on her.” And every other part of my body. “Do you know how bad the rumors are? How are the Mooreheads spinning this in the media?” I’ve done the requisite searches, but I haven’t seen anything that corroborates what Armstrong said about it being a recording of the two of them. I can’t imagine anyone believing it.
“It’s mostly social media gossip, but everything is pulled down as fast as it goes up. I can’t fathom the money they’re parting with to keep this so quiet.”
“Maybe they’ll bankrupt themselves in the process.”
“Wouldn’t that be some justice. Armstrong is heading back to New York today, according to Mom, so at least Amie won’t have to deal with him anymore.”
That’s good news for Amie, great news for me.
Bane moves on to the much safer topic of business.
But the things he says about Amie stay with me. I know I told her I was fine with being a temporary diversion, but I’m not so sure I’ll be able to leave this thing between us here like I’m supposed to.
Fifteen: Toys Toys Toys
Amie
“Are you sure you don’t want me to meet you at the airport?” Ruby asks for the third time.
“I get in at seven in the morning, there’s no point.”
“What if Armstrong shows up?”
“He’s not going to show up.” It’s something I’ve considered might happen, but in the two weeks since I threatened a restraining order I haven’t heard from him at all. I haven’t heard from his lawyer either, even though I know he’s back in New York. Ruby’s kept me abreast of all the happenings, whether I wanted to hear about them or not. But I have a feeling she’s censored quite a bit, and my knowledge is blissfully limited.
Ruby sighs. “Okay. Fine. But message me as soon as you land, and again when you get back to your apartment.”
“Of course I’ll message, but you’ll be asleep, so it’s not like it matters.” I fold another dress and tuck it into my suitcase. Most of my clothes are packed. The only things left are the dress I’m wearing tonight and my outfit for the plane tomorrow.
And my tickle trunk of toys, but I’m not packing that until later.
“So what’re you doing on your last night?”
“I don’t know. I might go to the bar, have a couple of cocktails, and then stare at the stars and reflect on my time here.”
“What about Hottie Hook-Up? Is he still there? You should get in a few last orgasms before you leave.”
Ruby kept on me about hooking up, so I finally relented and admitted I might’ve slept with someone. I told her his name was Dick, mostly because I was floundering and it was the first thing I came up with since Lex has a very nice one. Ruby decided it wasn’t appealing, so she called him Hottie-Hook Up. It felt good to tell her something, even if it couldn’t be the truth. If I tell Ruby she won’t be able to keep it from Bane and then the circle of secrecy expands too much and becomes murky. I can’t ask her to lie to Bane for me, it’s not fair.
“We’ll see.” I’m purposely noncommittal, because talking about it makes me feel guilty for lying, but it’s too complicated. And it’s not like it’s going to happen again after I leave this island.
It’s not his fault I’m far more interested in him than I should be. I’m sure the feelings will wane once I’m home and he’s not my sole source of support. I think I’ve assigned him some kind of savior role, which is making it feel like feelings, when really it’s my desperate need to cling to something that isn’t my very shitty life. The one I’m going to have to face much sooner than I’d like.
“What about Lex?”
“What about Lex?” I wish I could keep my voice from rising octaves whenever he’s mentioned. I’ve tried hard to avoid talking about him. It makes my heart hurt that I have to leave what we have here, but we’ve agreed it’s for the best.
“Will you see him before you go?”
It’s a good thing we’re not video chatting this conversation, because Ruby would see right through me. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s been pretty busy with work stuff. I’m sure he has better things to do than entertain me on the last night of my failed honeymoon.”
“It’s not a failed honeymoon, Amie. It’s not your fault Armstrong is a douche.”
I might not be at fault, but despite Lex’s ability to be an excellent distraction, I’ve had more than enough time to consider my own part in this travesty of a wedding. I ignored so many signs along the way. And this time with Lex reinforces that. He’s so easy to be with. I don’t have to watch myself, or be anything I’m not when we’re together. “You know what I mean. Anyway, I should go. I need to finish packing, then I need to get my drink on so I can sleep through most of the flight tomorrow.”
“Okay. I love you. Go get laid one last time. I’ll see you soon.” Ruby hangs up before I can respond with anything pithy.
I check the time. I have two hours before Lex is supposed to be back from his meeting. He was going to reschedule, but I told him not to. I don’t want to interfere with his work, and canceling it would mean spending more time together when really, what I need is to separate myself from him, not hold on tighter.
This has been the fastest, most orgasm replete vacation of my entire life. I don’t want it to end, and not just because of the incredible sex. I like Lex. I like hanging out with him, and watching him work is sexy. Actually, Lex is just sexy period. Sexy Lexy is what I call him in my head, but not out loud, because he doesn’t like that nickname at all.
Regardless, it doesn’t matter if he’s dressed in a suit, wearing his glasses, screwing around on his laptop, wearing a pair of board shorts, naked and fucking me—he’s just sexy. And kind, and sweet, and smart, and fun.
And tonight is my last chance to appreciate all of those incredible qualities.
I don’t want to go home.
Home means facing my messed-up life. Home means no more Lex. It means appointments with lawyers and an annulment and looking for a new job. Going back to New York means facing a reality I’ve been avoiding—rather successfully—for the past few weeks, apart from the two occasions in which Armstrong kindly showed up to remind me how upside down my life is.
So tonight I’ve decided I’m not going classy. My plan is to be the dirtiest, naughtiest version of myself, because I can’t deal with Lex’s sweetness tonight. It speaks too much to the part of me that would like this to be something more. Instead, I pull on my skimpiest dress and skip the bra and underwear, just in case he thinks we’re doing anything apart from ordering room service. Then I dump the contents of my tickle trunk of sex toys on the bed so I can select a few fun ones. The plan being to fuck our way through my last night here. If this is the only way I can have him, then I’m going to have him as much as humanly possible.
Tomorrow I can be sad about it being over. Tomorrow I can be angry at Armstrong. Tonight I’m going to enjoy what’s left of my time with Lex.
Forty-five minutes later I’m still standing at the edge of my bed, trying to make important decisions. My comforter is covered in orgasm-providing devices. They’re organized into three groups; the ones Lex has already tried out with me, the ones I think we
should try tonight, and then the ones I’m not totally certain I should bring into the mix. Group one is considerably larger than groups two and three combined.
I keep looking at the stainless-steel butt plug, trying to decide if I want to move it from group three to group two. I bite my thumb, staring at that innocuous piece of virgin steel. It’s about the right size. Almost perfect.
Lex has mentioned this particular toy at least ten times over the course of this vacation. Maybe more. It’s always been in passing, a whisper in my ear when he’s fucking me, telling me how good I feel, how fantastic my ass looks. I’ve been adventurous in my toy selection. Lex is hands down the most fun bed partner I’ve ever had. He never, ever disappoints. Which is why I keep coming back to this. To the possibility that maybe I should give him this one thing I know he wants, because if I’m honest with myself, I want it too. And it’s the one thing Armstrong has never had.
I’m still biting my thumb when the door to my bungalow swings open. I glance at the clock, wondering how long I’ve been standing here, musing over the butt plug. Lex is early. By an hour. He shuts the door behind him, takes a step and then stops, a smirk curving the corner of his sinfully sexy mouth as he motions to the bed. “Had an eventful afternoon?”
I quickly gather the group two and three items. I’m still on the fence about the stainless-steel number, and several other items.
“Don’t feel like you have to put them away. It’s not like I haven’t seen most of it before.”
I can’t get all of the toys to fit in my arms. I consider shoving them off the side of the bed, but at least one is glass, and I don’t want it to break, no matter how sturdy it is. I have to stretch to reach the black rubber cock. It was a bachelorette party gift from Ruby. She thought it was hilarious because it sparkles, she calls it my disco dick. It’s not particularly exciting apart from that, but I brought it anyway.
The Shacking Up Series Page 48