Releasing her breasts, he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her, hard. She found herself biting at his lips, and he bit back, pinching, piercing, in a struggle that was as much an attack on each other as a kiss—and then he softened it, changing the kiss to something passionate and deep, all tongue and swallowing softness.
“Ahhhh!” The high-pitched cry left her when that hot, wonderful kiss took her over the edge into heated pulses and blinding sensations of orgasm. She thrust her pussy warm against him, riding it out, soaking it up, emitting more of the high moans that matched the throbs ricocheting through her body.
She’d just opened her eyes to meet his when he let out a low, ferocious growl that she knew meant he was coming, too. He pushed her hips down, down, down, slamming up into her in brutal strokes that made her go lightheaded, feeling more well-fucked than ever before.
When he finally went still and laid his head back, she relaxed against him, her body still tingling with amazement. It kept getting better and better with him.
He lifted his head to flash sexy eyes and a wicked smile. “What the fuck
was
that?” he breathed.
“I don’t know,” she purred, “but we should do it more often.”
Chapter Nine
Chris had to work on Wednesday—he had a snorkeling cruise at lunchtime, was scheduled to work the kiosk for an hour after his return, and then an afternoon shift at the Lazy Lizard—but Carrie had promised him she was more than content to spend the day at the pool and meet him at the Lizard later.
“I need the rest,” she assured him.
He grinned. “Am I wearing you out, angel?”
“
Oh
yeah.”
“Well, don’t forget the sunscreen. We can’t have you getting burnt.”
She tilted her head slightly, casting a soft smile. “Out of curiosity, are you like Shay? Do you not like tan lines?”
He let his grin widen. “Actually, I
love
tan lines. I noticed yours from the start—the way they sort of highlight your breasts and pussy.”
“Good. Because I’ll probably have much more defined ones by the end of the day.”
He grinned. “Not that I’d ever discourage you from getting naked on my boat.”
“I’ll remember that.”
He kissed her goodbye and she yelled, “Happy snorkeling!” as he left.
As he made his way home to shower and get ready for the lunch cruise, he realized he was
still
hard for Carrie. His cock just couldn’t seem to get used to her. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing anything like it.
When the cruise started, he felt thankful he was a baggy shorts kind of guy, given that it was a family activity with plenty of moms and dads and kids on board. He’d worn an extra big shirt, too.
And when he showed up at the Lizard, Shay, who knew him so well, noticed right away, big shirt or not. “That hot little chick has you in perpetual hard-on mode, doesn’t she?” She wore her usual saucy look—she had a way of flirting even as she was being jealous, of delivering every word in a sensuous tone.
“Yep,” he said simply, circling behind the bar.
She met him at the pick-up station with an order. “Two Long Island iced teas and a strawberry margarita. Did you fuck her all night?”
This was starting to get a little out of hand. He loved Shay—she’d been one of his first friends when he’d moved here—but she was starting to worry him a little where Carrie was concerned. “Why?” he asked pointedly. “Are you jealous?”
She responded with a thin-lipped smile. “Maybe.”
“Why?” He tilted his head. “You and I aren’t…” He wiggled a finger back and forth between them. “We’re friends, and we were convenient sex partners once upon a time. Why on earth would you be jealous?”
She swallowed visibly, retaining her always strong, confident expression. “Don’t worry, babe, it’s not like I think you and I are…anything. It’s just that…” Her face went softer, as did her voice. “I’ve never seen you like this. And I’m not sure I like it. It makes me feel…” She rolled her eyes, presumably at her own honesty. “It makes me feel…left out, not important or something.”
He let out a sigh of exasperation. “How the fuck can you possibly feel left out after yesterday?”
She tilted her head, her brown eyes going sad. “I guess I don’t like change much. Never have. I liked knowing you were there if I needed you. For sex or anything else. And even after we stopped fooling around, you never got serious with anyone, so I…I guess I always felt like I was number one in your life, sex or not. Maybe I’m just afraid you won’t be there for me anymore.”
Chris blinked. What was she talking about? “Just where is it you think I’ll be?”
She pursed her lips. “With her.”
It was like a little stab in the heart when he reminded Shay, as well as himself, “She won’t be here very long, Shay. She’s on vacation, remember?”
“I know. I guess you’re right. It’s just a feeling I have, though—like maybe you’ll leave
with
her or something.”
He shook his head. He was crazy about Carrie, more than he liked to admit, even to himself—but Key West was in his blood and when he’d moved here, he’d known it would be for life. “I’m not going anywhere, so you can relax. Okay?” He added a smile, hoping to snap her out of her maudlin mood. “By the way, she thinks you don’t like her.”
Again she rolled her eyes. “I practically made out with her. What does she want, a love letter?”
He chuckled. Shay, Shay, Shay. She was hard to take sometimes, but Chris knew that deep down she was as vulnerable as anyone—and she’d apparently forgotten she’d just let it show. “Just…be nice to her, okay? She feels like she’s in some sort of competition with you or something, and I could enjoy the memories of our little threesome more if I thought you two could be friends.”
She shrugged. “She’s a bit innocent for my taste, but…I like her fine. Maybe even more than fine, if you want to know the truth. For an innocent chick, she’s not afraid to play, and I dig that. Now make my drinks—I have thirsty customers waiting.”
Chris reached under the bar, grabbing two tall glasses for the Long Islands. When he rose back up, Shay still stood there, but her usual sassy smile had returned. “By the way, if you really thought this was going to be over between you and sweets at the end of the week, you wouldn’t give a shit if she and I could be friends.”
With that, she turned and walked away, her hips swinging back and forth with their usual flirtatious sway.
* * * * *
Carrie walked into the Lazy Lizard ready to knock Chris’s socks off. Somehow, every worry, every doubt, every leftover concept from her life before him, had faded with their lovemaking last night and she was feeling wilder than ever and ready for action. She
wasn’t
going to think about the future—tonight, only the here and now mattered. He’d shown her that good girls could be bad without repercussions and that she didn’t have to be such an angel to win his affections, so tonight she planned on living it up.
They made eye contact as soon as she entered the open-air bar, and she gave him a flirtatious smile as he watched her approach. “Hey, bartender,” she said, climbing up on an empty stool.
Leaning over the bar, he gave her a short but hot kiss hello, his tongue meeting hers. His grin told her he knew what she was up to, trying to surprise him with her outfit. “
Very
sexy look, angel. But I’m not sure I can call you ‘angel’ anymore.” His gaze glittered with unconcealed lust.
She wore a sexy black lace camisole, see-through except for the lined cups that held her breasts, with thin shoulder straps and a deep plunge in the center for lots of cleavage. It was technically underwear, but Carrie had decided to be daring and make it
outer
wear instead. Beneath her tight black mini, a garter belt hooked to fishnet stockings she’d bought a couple of hours ago at the same sexy clothing shop where she’d purchased her high-heeled black leather boots. She was dressed for sin.
“Oh, you can call me angel,” she told him playfully. “But now it’ll just be one of those little ironies, like when somebody nicknames a fat guy Slim or a tall man Shorty.”
He chuckled, reaching over the bar to take her hands in his. “Listen, I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice low.
She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Don’t kill me, but…” He glanced toward Shay, currently delivering drinks to a table full of college-aged guys. Tonight she wore a stretchy-looking skin-tight red miniskirt, a little white tank top, and what Carrie thought of as stripper shoes—tall, red, strappy platform heels. “Shay wants to hang out with us tonight. And as luck would have it, we’re working the same shift, so she gets off at the same time I do.”
“Well—”
“But the reason I didn’t turn her down,” he said before she could reply, “is because she wants to make nice with you.”
Carrie laughed. “I was going to say that I don’t mind at all. Whatever you want to do tonight is good for me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So this is my reward for giving you all those screaming orgasms?”
“Something like that.” She glanced at Shay again, now able to make out that she wore no bra beneath her fitted tank, and that it said
pussycat
across her chest in red. “But, uh, what do you mean, she wants to
make nice
?”
“Well, she actually thinks you’re pretty cool, when she’s not busy sharpening her claws in front of you.” He winked.
“Yeah, that pussycat shirt fits in more ways than one, doesn’t it?”
“Turns out we were right and she
was
sort of jealous, but I think she’s over it now, and I’d love for you two to like each other.”
The sentiment touched her, and she refused to let herself to even begin wondering why it mattered if his fling liked his friend, what that implied. “Like I said, I’m up for anything tonight.” And she did mean
anything
. Her pussy—bare beneath her short skirt since she’d decided to surprise Chris by wearing no panties—tingled with anticipation, wondering what a night on the town in Key West might hold.
Just then, Shay approached, plopped her drink tray on the bar, and slid her arm around Carrie’s waist, leaning in close. “Hey sweets, would you mind if I hung out with you and Chris for awhile tonight?” To Carrie’s surprise, her flirtation lacked its usual hint of insolence.
Also to her surprise, it suddenly made Shay’s company a lot more appealing, even as wild and unpredictable as she was. “I just told Chris that sounds like fun.”
Shay smiled, raking her gaze down over Carrie’s breasts to her fishnet-clad thighs. Carrie’s gaze dropped, too, noticing that when she sat down, her skirt had ridden up just enough to reveal the garters stretching to connect with the sexy hosiery. “Angel, my ass,” she said, laughing. “You look
too
hot tonight.”
With that, she whisked off to continue working, and Carrie almost tried to will the slight swell of her cunt away, an old habit of worry and shame, but then she remembered—she was up for anything tonight; she’d promised Chris and it was a promise she intended to keep, both for his sake and for hers. She needed this, needed to allow herself to abandon all limits, all fears, without regrets. And she knew Chris was just the man to help her.
* * * * *
An hour later, after the sun had set and the crowds had taken to the nightlife on Duval Street, Carrie walked up the thoroughfare with Chris and Shay. Chris held her hand, making her feel protected when men’s eyes raked over her sexy outfit with blatant lust.
They strolled past bars and dance clubs that filled the warm tropical air with loud music, laughter, and cheers. Peeking in one bar, Carrie caught sight of a bikini contest, in another she saw people engaged in what appeared to be a drinking competition.
As they approached the strip club Carrie and Chris had walked past once before, Carrie couldn’t resist letting her gaze rise to the shadowy second story windows where the partially closed shutters allowed her a glimpse of female curves bathed in multi-colored lights.
“Come on in, girls. You’ll like what you see as much your guy will. You two luscious ladies look ready to party, and trust me, your man will thank you.”
It was the same hawker from the other night, standing at the bottom of the steps that led to the second floor club. He sported a long, dark ponytail and multiple piercings, and the sign above his head said
Sirens
.
“Let’s go in,” Shay said.
Chris looked to Carrie. “Uh, that all right with you?”
She smiled, curiosity and anticipation making her breasts feel heavy in the tight cups of her top. “Yes. I told you, whatever you want to do tonight, I want to do, too.”
Chris paid the doorman and Shay led them up the steps. As Carrie climbed the crisp white wooden stairway, she was amazed at how quaint even the building that housed the strip club was. Key West was a place of contradictions, she thought—of quaint clapboard homes, of wild debauchery and sin. Maybe, she thought, that was why she felt so alive here—the place had brought out the contradictions inside
her
, too, and made her see them, accept them, begin to move past them. A week ago, entering a strip club would have been unthinkable, but now, today, her cunt twitched, wondering what sensual treats lay inside.
As she’d noticed from the outside, the room was filled with lights—swirls of red, yellow, purple, and blue bathed the stage and the dancers currently on it.