Hush

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2011 Amarinda Jones

ISBN: 978-1-926950-13-6

Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston

Editor: Kimberly Bowman

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

HUSH

Amarinda Jones

Copyright © 2011

Eliza couldn’t move. Her arms were stretched above her head, ropes around each wrist. She pulled hard on the ties that bound her. They were firm and her wrists burned with pain. She looked at the man whose eyes were on her pussy. It was bare. He had ordered her to shave the dark brown curls off. And she had obeyed. That had been so unlike her. But then, she wasn’t the same person since meeting him. Lust had a way of changing mind sets.

He didn’t touch her yet his gaze was hot on the tender pink flesh of her cunt. She wanted to close her legs and deny him the access to look and touch. But she couldn’t. Her legs were splayed out by ropes around each bent knee which pulled her limbs apart, hiding nothing.

“I don’t want this.” They both knew her words were false.

“Hush.” The tips of his fingers caressed her leg.

“It hurts.” But it was a good hurt. A pain that made her feel more alive than ever.

“No it doesn’t.” He sounded confident of that fact.

How is it possible he knows me so well?
“But —”

“Hush.”

“This is wrong.” A normal woman wouldn’t allow this treatment.
But then, I’m not normal.

“Is it, baby? This is what you said you wanted.”

“Yes but—”

“You asked me, a complete stranger, to tie you up and fuck you.”

Eliza’s face burned with the heat of those words. “I was—”

What? Horny? Drunk? Mad?

“You were desperate for a man’s dick inside you.”

Bingo
. “A gentleman wouldn’t put it that way.”

“I’m not a gentleman and neither are my friends.”

“Friends?”

“That’s right, baby. You want to be fucked? I want to make sure you remember this moment forever.”

“I thought—”
Actually I hadn’t been thinking at all
.

He laughed. “That’s your problem, baby. You think too much. We’re going to change that.” He climbed onto the bed between her legs. His hand was so close to the hot, wet core of her. Unconsciously she lifted her pelvis up for his touch. He laughed. “Oh I will fuck you but not just yet. Boys, come on in and meet our playmate.”

Boys?
Eliza’s eyes cut to the door as it opened. Three men walked in. “Um—”

“You said you wanted it hot and hard.”

“Yes but—”

“Hush.”

“Fuck! I am so boring.” Eliza McQuade blew out a deep breath as she turned her rental car into the driveway of the Sea Shanty Inn Roadhouse. She had been driving from the airport for an hour on what to her, as an Australian, seemed like the wrong side of the road. As she drove Eliza contemplated her conservative frump existence. She had been in the same job for what seemed to her like a thousand years but in reality was only ten. Eliza felt old and yet she wasn’t. She was thirty-two and tired of the life she had been living. Or, in her case, not living. There was no fun or excitement. It was dull and dreary and consisted of dragging herself to work each day, doing a job she hated. That wasn’t living. She was slowly dying inch by inch. Realistically, Eliza knew hundreds of people were caught in the same rat trap existence.

“But I can’t live their life. I can only live mine and I want more.”

So, when her next vacation was due, instead of staying home and renovating her house as she normally did, Eliza chose the United States of America as a travel destination. She wanted to be somewhere different from her Australian home in Brisbane.

Eliza also had the great need to go somewhere where nobody knew her. She wanted to shake up her life, and if she failed in breaking the conservative capsule she was encased in, then at least no one she knew would know it. Her basic plan was to live loud and wild and do things she had only ever speculated on before.

Like sex. She wanted more and different from the careful vanilla sex of Damien, her on and off boyfriend of the last year.

Damien had been agog when she had announced she was going on holiday alone to the US. His main concern was the exchange rate of the dollar and whether it was smart to travel when “you could lose money on a bad deal.”

Eliza’s main concern was about making real her fantasy of having sex with a stranger.
I want it. I need it. How the hell do I
get it?
Did you walk up to a man and just ask? Was there a look a woman was supposed to give? Damien was simple and predictable. Sex was scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday and occasionally Sunday if he had no report to finish. Not that it was Damien’s fault. She had always known he was grey, colorless and boring and she had latched on to him as a safe harbor, using him to save her from well-meaning and nosy friends who wondered why there was no man in her life. Damien, in essence, was her ‘beard’, the boyfriend who made her look normal.

“Whatever that is,” Eliza snorted as she parked her rental car and took in the roadhouse before her. It was tacky and touristy and was exactly as the brochure pictured it. The theme was sand and sea.

“And lots of pelicans, apparently.”

There seemed to be at least ten stuffed pelicans, in various degrees of flight, tacked to the side of the Inn. But then, so far, Resort City, the supposed
pearl in the oyster of Florida
, as another described it, was not quite all it seemed. Sure, it was near the ocean. The information she had read had it sited on regenerated swampland. And, while there weren’t exactly the golden beaches of back home in Australia, there was a folksy charm to the wooden boardwalks and striped beach umbrellas that dotted what she could see of the shoreline.

Once, it had been called Brownsville. That was before the founding fathers considered nearby Miami was taking too much of the tourist trade and they decided to try and equal the score at the turn of the century. They had. To a degree. Resort City was the budget conscious traveler’s destination when they weren’t quite able to afford the glitz of Miami but wanted more than just a motel swimming pool. And that was Eliza. She had some money but not a lot. This trip was more of a sexual odyssey than a photo opportunity. As corny as it sounded, she wanted to find herself.

“Through sex.” Her mother would have had a heart attack if she had said that. But then her mother, to Eliza’s knowledge, only had sex once and that was to procure the obligatory child her husband wanted. “I so do not want to be like my mother.”

Eliza got out of the car. The black cotton of her tailored trousers and shirt stuck to her skin. She always wore black. Her mother was always harping on to her it was slimming and “as you’re quite a big girl, Eliza, you need to hide some of that.” Why, Eliza was never quite sure. She was who she was, flab and all.

But, like boring sex, she was out to change her wardrobe. She was tired of hiding.

“Maybe I’ll buy something white and quintessentially tacky like a sequined halter neck top and white spandex mini skirt.” She smiled as she pictured herself squeezed into such an outfit. “And my hair. I may just chop it off or wear it out.” She had soft, shiny brown shoulder-length hair. She knew it was an asset, but still she bound it up into a tidy bunch on her head like the rest of her tidy world.

“Well, from today, no more tidy careful Eliza.”

She headed into the roadhouse. She needed water and the directions to the Busty Gladys Hotel. The name made her smile.

This was no pre-packaged homogenous, well-known corporate hotel that catered to the boring. The Busty Gladys was reported to have “old world mariner charm with the sensual appeal of a buxom harlot welcoming you into her loving arms”. At least that’s what the brochure said and that was what sold it to Eliza. That and the photo of the carved, half naked, larger-than-life, tacky statue that looked like it would have adorned the bow of a ship.

“I need charm and I need sensuality and especially sex.

Dirty needy sex. Just how to get it.” She pushed open the door of the Sea Shanty Inn contemplating that and ran straight into another woman. “Sorry.”

The other woman smiled. “That’s okay.”

Eliza righted herself and looked at her.
Whoa
. She was everything Eliza wasn’t. She was petite with long black hair down to her ass. Her breasts thrust magnificently out from a tight, cream colored halter-neck top that showed off the tanned flesh of her skin, warm and inviting. And her shorts? They were teeny weeny blue denim that barely covered her butt.
Talk about worlds
colliding
.

“Um well, again sorry.”
Yep, I’m so sorry compared to
you. But I will change that–though I doubt I can get my fat ass into
shorts like that…maybe one leg. And my boobs? In a halter top?

The drag alone would hold me back.

The woman smiled and passed by, a waft of sweet scent catching Eliza’s nose. “Damn, I want to be like that.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing–have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Eliza watched her go then turned to the serving counter.

“She’s a stunner,” the man waiting beside the cash register said.

“Yes.” Eliza knew the same terminology could not be applied to her.
Such is life.
“I need the directions to The Busty Gladys Hotel please.”

He looked surprised. “You’re staying there?”

“Yeah.”
What of it?

“You don’t seem the type.”

“There’s a type?” How neat and tidy for his little world to have people placed into labeled boxes.

“Well, it’s a little raunchy and crazy there. You may want to think about staying at the Holiday Inn down the road.”

“How do you know I’m not raunchy?”
Or at least planning
to be?

“I don’t. You an Aussie, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve met a few of them and they can always hold their own.”

“Damn straight.”
Bring on crazy and raunchy I say
. “Now, where is the Busty Gladys?” It annoyed her that the man had made a judgment on how she looked.
I want to be wild and out of
control. I want dick.

Tobias Renfrew’s eyes locked on the buxom woman dressed in black. He was just getting over the hangover from hell and for hours just keeping his eyes open was extremely painful, but when she walked in, his attention was caught.

“Who is that?” Tobias loved all women no matter the shape or size and while many made him glance few made him wonder.
She’s all tits and ass. I love it. I want it.

“Looks like a stuck-up broad,” murmured one of his drinking companions from the previous night.

“Yeah who dresses in black at the beach?” another added.

Tobias grinned. Resort City was hardly the beach. It was a would be if it could be try hard version of its bigger sister Miami.

He would never have found his way to this town if he hadn’t followed a certain woman on her way back from his friend’s wedding in Miami.

She had been one of the guests as well. A hot, blonde with great legs, suckable boobs and a smile so full of promise that it made his dick immediately rise to attention. So, Tobias had stalled his plan to head back to Denver instead deciding to follow the chance of hot pussy from the wedding. It turned out Doris’, the blonde in question, hometown was Resort City and she was the receptionist at the Busty Gladys Hotel.

But none of that meant much to Tobias. Where his dick ruled, he followed, and he wanted the blonde. And the blonde wanted him. Only problem was, after following her back to Resort City and the Busty Gladys, he found out one very important thing about Doris. She was a he and having another man’s dick pressed up against his was not a pleasant experience for Tobias. Hence, the reason he’d gotten drunk—very drunk—with a bunch of like-minded men of the town. While Tobias was a firm believer in people having sex with whomever they wanted, he didn’t do men.