When it was done, the ice was gone, and she was drenched between her legs. She sat up in the chair, but didn’t pull her skirt back down, not wanting to get it wet before her sunset cruise. Where she would see him again. The man she’d just masturbated to thoughts of.
She shook her head, feeling sane once more, not quite sure where such a brazen act had come from. Must be the sun and water, she told herself. Must be the shock of what had happened yesterday.
A glance to the other balcony ensured she was still alone, thank God. Had she actually wanted someone to be watching her?
No, it was only a fantasy, not a real desire.
Reaching up to her hips, she eased the wet panties down and off, and went inside to dry herself.
Well, one thing was for sure—she was already discovering that there was life after Jon, sexual desire after Jon.
Just knowing that made her feel a little stronger than she had only a few hours before. But as for what had taken place out on the balcony, well—sexual display just wasn’t part of who she was, so she told herself it was an aberration, one that would be her last.
* * * * *
Chris McCann stood behind the shaded bar on the
Party Barge
dipping up rum punch as the partiers boarded. The colorful catamaran, painted in bright shades of red, yellow, and purple, was strung with mini-lights, strands of colored beads, and plastic Hawaiian leis. Rock music blared from speakers situated throughout the boat.
Two pretty girls wearing bikini tops and shorts approached. “Rum punch, please,” said the more petite of the two, dark hair falling around her face. She nearly perched her triangle-covered breasts on the bar while he served up punch from the big vat at his side. When he passed them their drinks, he noticed both girls’ nipples shone through their tops.
“I hear there are games?” said the other girl, a blonde with a large chest barely contained in her black Lycra suit. She raised her eyebrows at Chris.
He laughed softly. The two looked like prime candidates for the sexy competitions that would take place once they’d set sail and given people enough time for a few drinks. “You two should play,” he said in friendly reply.
“Are
you
playing?” asked the dark-haired girl. She’d now planted her elbows on the bar, squeezing her breasts together, clearly wanting to show him her cleavage.
He grinned. “Nope, I’m working.”
“A shame,” said the blonde. “You look like a lot of fun.”
The two girls’ eyes continued flashing sexual invitations until finally he gave them another smile and said, “Uh, not to be rude, ladies, but I think the guys behind you are waiting to get some punch.”
“Oh!” The dark-haired one giggled as the chesty one drew her out of the way, and the group of guys behind started flirting with them as Chris dipped up their punch. Once they’d all disappeared from the bar, he took the opportunity to glance toward the boarding ramp. He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself keeping an eye out for the cute girl in the angel shirt.
Because
she was cute, he supposed. And because she’d maybe even been a little nervous, too. And you didn’t get a lot of
cute
and
nervous
in
Key West
, where most girls were
sexy
and
ready
. Not that he minded a girl who was sexy and ready, but…something about the angel girl had caught his attention. Variety was the spice of life, after all, and he’d instantly been able to see she was different than the women he’d grown used to down here.
As if thinking of her had made her appear, she stepped on board just then, to be greeted by his best friend and roommate, Scott Fletcher, who stood welcoming the cruisers and handing out cheap leis. She wore the same outfit as before, the word “Angel” hugging her breasts so sweetly he was almost jealous of the tight little shirt. Her short skirt showed off shapely tan legs and he almost wished he’d told her to wear a bikini, like girls often did on this cruise, because he definitely wanted to see more of her body. Strawberry-blonde ringlets fell to her shoulders and he noticed, happily, that she’d shed the sunglasses—he wanted to see more of her eyes, too.
Once she left Scott, she took on the same slightly nervous look as before. He could tell she was trying like hell to hide it, but she clearly wasn’t comfortable being by herself. Which begged the question, why
was
she by herself? It also made him wonder if he’d been a little too quick to suggest the
Party Barge
. Maybe he was reading her wrong, but he suddenly got the idea she might not be a partier.
Then again, he’d seen more than one girl come onto this boat all shy and quiet before they got started drinking and flirting with guys, ending up half-naked or more on the deck. So he shouldn’t size up his cute little angel-girl too quickly.
“Angel,” he called softly.
She looked up and spotted him across the boat. A pretty smile unfurled across her face as she approached.
“Glad you made it,” he said with a grin.
“Anyone sitting here?” She motioned to the few stools at the bar.
“Nope.” Most of the
Party Bargers
came to the bar for their drinks, then headed back out into the sun. “You’re welcome to, though, if you want to keep me company while I hand out punch.”
She climbed up onto a stool, leaning her elbows on the bar. Green—her eyes were a great, marbled shade of green, and she was even prettier than he remembered.
He motioned toward the big vat of red liquid next to him behind the bar. “Rum punch?”
“Sure.”
As he passed her a full cup, their fingers brushed and without quite planning it, he let the touch linger. “I’m Chris, by the way.”
“I’m Carrie.”
“Where are you from?”
“
He nodded. “So, Carrie from
Key West
, alone—as she’d told him earlier—had him intrigued.
She looked pensive. “To tell you the truth, I’m not much of a partier. Or a drinker.” She concluded by taking a big sip of the rum punch and the irony made them both laugh. “It’s good,” she said, pointing to the cup.
“Mixed the tub myself,” he said, winking. “And our rum punch has been known to
turn
people into partiers,
and
drinkers. But…if you’re really not into that, this might not have been the best cruise for you.”
She raised her eyebrows in playful accusation. “You’re the one who picked it for me.”
“I know.” He flashed a sheepish, teasing expression. “But you
looked
like a fun girl. I went with my first impression.”
She stabbed her fists playfully at her hips. “I didn’t say I wasn’t fun. I guess I’m just…not sure what to expect from this.”
“Well, I could tell you, but that would ruin the suspense, wouldn’t it? And what’s vacation without a little taste of adventure?”
She looked only half convinced, even as she said, “I suppose.”
“And hey, who knows, maybe you’ll get into the spirit of things if you try. I’ll even help.”
“How will you help?”
“However you want me to.” He let the corners of his mouth curve into a thin smile as his eyes bore into hers. What the hell did he like about her so much? Maybe the fact that she wasn’t coming onto him from the word go? Again, not that he disliked forward women, but flirting with her was different—in a good way. More innocent, maybe, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he could push up her little angel shirt and take a peek at what he suspected were a lovely pair of breasts, didn’t stop him from wondering how it would feel to sink his cock into what was certain to be a pretty little pussy. Hell, maybe the air of innocence about her made him want it
worse
. “Tell me something,” he said, peering a little deeper into her eyes. “Are you really such an angel?”
She tilted her head, looking delightfully uncertain and making him wonder just what secrets she might have to hide. “If I’d known this shirt was going to…
brand
me, I’d have worn something else.”
His let his gaze dropped unabashedly to her breasts. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “Because you look hot in it.”
He enjoyed the thin veil of pink that suffused her cheeks. Damn, when was the last time he’d seen a girl blush just because he’d said she was hot?
She cast a shy smile. “You know, it was actually sort of a joke—a shower gift from my sister.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Shower? As in
wedding
shower?”
She took another long sip of her drink, which he thought might be starting to make her more relaxed. “Yeah—Diana’s the family wild woman, and I’m just the opposite, so she thought the shirt would be funny.”
He glanced down at her left hand, but no ring resided there. “So, are you married yet?”
Don’t be married
, he thought. He’d done a lot of wild things in his day, but he didn’t do married women.
She shook her head. “Not even engaged anymore. That’s why I’m here. I’m technically on my honeymoon, but I don’t have a husband.”
Thankful but curious, he tilted his head. “Uh, what happened?”
His angel sighed and lifted her gaze to his, suddenly looking frank. “Well, I was at the church yesterday, wearing my wedding gown, ready to walk down the aisle. But I misplaced my bouquet and when I started searching for it, I opened a door and found one of my bridesmaids giving my fiancé a blowjob.”
He blinked and pulled back, stunned, and hoped his eyes conveyed his condolences. “Damn, that’s brutal.”
She shrugged, now peering down into her drink as she swallowed another sip. “Yeah. It was pretty awful.”
“What did you do?”
She took another deep breath, and he felt sort of bad making her talk about it, but on the other hand, he wanted to know. “Well, it was chaotic, as you can imagine. I ran out, he chased me and begged my forgiveness, and I told him to go to hell. Diana threatened to kick him in the balls, and my other sister, Liz, took care of announcing that the wedding was cancelled.”
He set another drink in front of her, even though she wasn’t quite finished with the first. “Here. You need this. Hell, you
deserve
it.”
“Diana talked me into coming on the trip anyway, since it was already paid for.”
“But no one came with you? One of your sisters couldn’t tag along?”
She shook her head. “They both had to fly home for work tomorrow. But I thought maybe that was for the best, that maybe I could use the time alone to unwind.”
“You know, Key West is a great place to do that. A great place to just forget about your problems and have a good time.”
She gave a wry chuckle. “Well, I don’t think I’ll actually have a
good
time, but I can at least sit by the pool and clear my brain.”
He gave his head a knowing tilt and hoped she would take his next words to heart. “I seriously suggest you try to have some fun here. That’s the best way to get that jerk off your mind.”
She glanced down, looking slightly bereft, and Chris was trying to think of something else comforting to say when he caught sight of Scott waving him over. They were ready to depart.
Reaching down, he closed his hand gently over hers. “Hey, excuse me for a few minutes, okay? I have to go help with the food. But I’ll be right back, so stay put.”
Carrie watched him walk away, her hand still tingling from his touch, her heart beating slightly faster than normal. The juncture of her thighs rippled when she remembered her fantasy from earlier, imagining him watching her masturbate, imagining him doing the same. She bit her lip, aware that her nipples had gone hard as pebbles against her bra.
She couldn’t believe she’d just spouted out the tragic results of her wedding day like that, but he’d seemed so nice and earnest, and…well, clearly, the rum punch was going to her head.
She knew it
had
to be, because she was actually beginning to wonder if maybe Chris was right, if maybe she should be working harder to have a good time. Sure, she’d come on this boat, but the truth was, it had probably been mostly to see
him
again. Maybe she should use this time on her own to just…cut loose a little, try some new things. Could she transform herself, even for a night, into Diana, the wild child middle Marsh sister? Of course, it sounded like Liz had been getting pretty wild, too, lately. And if straitlaced Liz could come out of her shell, surely Carrie could, as well.
She took another sip of her drink and gave her head a quick shake. Did she really want that? To go wild? Was it possible her masturbation on the balcony
wasn’t
just an aberration?
All she knew at the moment was that her crotch was pulsing and she didn’t even know why. But if Chris tried to seduce her right now, she might just let him.
As Carrie drained her first drink and started on her second, the dark-haired guy who welcomed her onto the boat appeared with a microphone on the deck in the distance. When she’d boarded, he’d smiled into her eyes before lowering a plastic lei onto her breasts so carefully that they’d tingled. He was just as sexy as Chris—only instead of a beach boy, he reminded her more of a yuppie gone bad. She could picture him in a suit and tie as easily as the tank shirt and shorts he wore.