Sin at Sea (11 page)

When I opened my eyes, Mr. BE was staring down at me smiling. He was propped on an elbow and began stroking my cheek with the back of his other hand. “Morning, gorgeous,” he said quietly. “We’re in Grand Turk.”

Bounding from the bed, I threw on the bathrobe. “Oh my God! What time is it?” I ran to the balcony and threw open the door. Sure enough, we were docked. Judging by the colors, it was definitely the Caribbean. All the buildings were in shades of pink, blue, green, and peach. There was a big beach with white lounge chairs in neat rows across it. “Ah,” I said with a sigh.

Walking back into the room, I dropped the bathrobe and my panties while I walked over to my bag. After rummaging around in it for a moment, I found what I was looking for, my black bikini. He cleared his throat.

“It’d be a shame for that beautiful naked body to go to waste,” he murmured as he walked over to me and dropped his boxers.

“Yeah?” I said with a smile.

“Look,” he said, showing me the watch on his wrist. “It’s only 7am. We can’t even debark until 9am. We don’t have to be back on board until 4:30pm…” He began caressing my naked skin. Soon, I was covered in goose bumps and shaking with need.

His head bent as he began kissing me. He was playful at first, then with a growing sense of urgency. He bent his head further as he began to lap at my nipples, then suck, and finally applied just the right amount of pressure with his teeth. We were just about to climb onto the bed when there was a knock at the door.

“Really?” He asked aloud. “Bathrobe,” he said to me, pointing to the one on the floor near the balcony door.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I’ll grab one from the closet,” he said with a shrug. Then he turned toward me. “Not that I’ll be able to close it,” he said with a chuckle.

Pulling open the closet, he took the one remaining robe and slid into it before tightening the belt around his waist. With his erection poking out of it, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I righted my robe and watched him answer the door.

“Hey,” Jolie began when he had the door propped open two or three inches. “so which excursion did you sign up for?”

“Jolie, we haven’t even managed to get up yet,” he said with an edge of frustration to his voice.

After glancing down briefly, she looked him in the eyes once more. “You seem to have gotten up just fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

With a giant sigh, he stepped aside and let her in. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he said to me. “A really cold shower.” Then he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

“Nice, Jolie. Thanks for that,” I said with a smirk.

She shrugged. “I’m just killing time. I haven’t seen you much and I thought we were planning our next move,” she said sadly.

“Who hurt you?” I asked. Jolie never missed me as much as she did when someone let her down.

“Her name was Misty. She was perfect…hot body, great smile, and an awesome sex drive. Then I saw her with someone else at breakfast.” She sat heavily on the bed.

“You’ll be fine. This is just fun, remember?” I smiled at her.

With a scowl, she said, “I remember. Do you? Because you two seem pretty hot and heavy. You two are breaking all the rules.”

Smirking I said, “Rules are meant to be broken. Cheer up. And unless you have any objections…let’s move to Vegas. I think we’re just the right age for it. Plus, it’s not the kind of place we’d ever want to settle down. What do you think?”

Jolie seemed to be trying out the idea in her mind. Slowly she smiled. “Yeah, I can see that.” She laughed for a moment. “Sin the Vixen in Vegas. I can’t wait.” Standing, she looked at me and went in for a hug. “Okay, maybe I’ll see you two in Grand Turk.”

Then she headed to the door. “Bye, handsome mystery man!” She shouted at the bathroom door as she headed out of the stateroom.

I chuckled. There wasn’t much else to do in that situation. “Are you clean?” I asked, as I opened the door and leaned into the bathroom.

Standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, he smirked at me. “As a matter of fact, yes I am,” he responded.

“Good,” I said, “because I’m really dirty.” Then I knelt down in front of him and pulled the towel off of his hips. Taking him in both hands, I opened my mouth wide. This was going to be a great day.

We had a nice quiet breakfast. He was super calm, more relaxed than I had ever seen him. Naturally, I felt the need to comment on it. “Having the testosterone sucked out of you is a good look for you,” I joked.

He heaved a completely euphoric sigh. “You are a good look for me,” Mr. BE said seriously. He took my hands in his. “Thank you for this week,” he said staring intently in my eyes. “You will never understand how much this means to me.” He broke the stare and looked away.

I studied him. What was going on? Was he hurting like I had been? “Listen, you’ve done wonders for me, too,” I said. It was too serious. I needed to have fun. “Let’s go do Grand Turk.” I nodded to the shore from the lido deck.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked with a questioning face.

Smiling, I responded, “Wherever our feet take us.”

Those feet…they really knew where to go. Since it was early and a nice comfortable temperature when we debarked, we decided to do some sightseeing first. Unlike past stops in the Bahamas on previous cruises, Grand Turk was beautiful. Everything was new and well maintained. There was tons of shopping, and I don’t mean souvenirs, I mean real shopping…like major name brand companies and designers. It was so nice that we couldn’t even find a souvenir lighter for the fancy cigar he had hoped to light. The duty free shop was incredible…an amazing selection of perfumes, makeup, liquor, and jewelry. I wandered around sniffing and touching until Mr. BE caught up to me.

“Try this one,” he said as he squirted me with a tester.

I was taken aback. “That was worse than walking through a Macy’s,” I complained. Then I sniffed my arm and all was forgiven. “What is that? I love it.”

“Bulgari,” he announced proudly. Then he walked away. I watched him put the tester back, then grab the biggest bottle they had off the shelf.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention to a guidebook. Traveling the Caribbean was one of my many dreams. Maybe I should pick the book up for future getaways with Jolie. Before I could make that decision, he was ready to try another store.

We went to a series of stores where he would wander off, leaving me to shop on my own and then catch up with me later. I tried not to be too nosy…no man wants that kind of wife, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was a bit curious. Okay…more than a bit. When he’d catch me looking…bordering on peeking…he’d laugh and tell me that it was a surprise.

Apparently I need to be the kind of wife that is into surprises instead of a spoilsport. To get my mind off the packages, I suggested that we stop at the first bar we found to get a drink…and maybe a snack. “You’re starting to wear out. I can feel it. Your enthusiasm for the day is waning. Let’s stop shopping and enjoy some sun and beach. I saw some beach chairs from the boat. Let’s find them!” I said eagerly.

“Whew. I mean, it’s getting hot and I would love a drink. And to see you in that bikini…” He laughed.

Hooking my arm through his we turned a corner…and there it was: Margaritaville! “You have got to be kidding me!” Then I squealed like the girl I am and started tugging him behind me. “We have to go here!”

“What’s so special about Margaritaville?” He asked. “I was rather hoping we’d find some quiet little beach bar…” He shrugged.

“You will love this. I promise,” I assured him as I dragged him to the door. We paused for a moment as I snapped a few pictures of him in front of the parrot, next to the sign, and in front of the fountain. Then, we entered through the store.

The Grand Turk Margaritaville was so different than what I expected. Of course, I had only been to one previously in Myrtle Beach. This one had a pool. People were lounging around, sipping drinks, working on their tans in this gorgeous tropical location. More than anything, I was excited to join them.

“How’s your skin?” I asked.

“Soft as a baby’s bottom. What kind of question is that?” He asked with a laugh.

Shaking my head, I said, “I mean do you burn easily. I don’t want you getting skin cancer.” I pulled out the bottle of SPF 30 I had in my bag and started applying it liberally while we stood off to the side. “Where do you want to sit?”

Mr. BE glanced around. “I’m torn,” he said finally. “I mean over there is the beach and all those really inviting lounge chairs. Over here, the pool, the radio station, the party atmosphere. What if we sit over here on the edge of the pool so we can enjoy both?”

“Perfect,” I said sincerely.

We dropped our bags, I sat down and he went to the bar to get us drinks. While he was gone, I laid out our towels, took off my sundress, and sat on the chair. I pulled the lotion out and began to slather it on my shoulders and my chest. Then I felt strong hands on my back and smiled as I relaxed into it. “Thank you, handsome, “ I said as I grabbed his wrist to kiss his fingertips. That’s when I realized that I didn’t know those fingers. To begin with, this guy was a nail biter. Mr. BE had beautiful hands.

Suddenly I was holding the wrist very differently, like it disgusted me. I stood very slowly, so as not to cause a scene, and then I turned to look at the guy who just imagined he could run his hands over my body without permission. There was no holding back. I could feel the look of disgust on my face. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” I asked through gritted teeth. “You don’t just lay your hands on a woman you don’t know. That is assault. Had your hands gone lower, I could probably make a case for sexual assault.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I suddenly felt very exposed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I interrupted. “I don’t need to hear anything…not even an apology. Just go away before my husband gets back with our drinks.”

It was too late. Mr. BE was back. He passed me a huge margarita in a blender cup. Normally, I would have been all excited over the souvenir cup, but the tension was such that I could have cut it with a knife. I started to pack up our beach towels and the sunblock into the beach bag, but he gestured for me to stop. So I did.

The guys were having a standoff, staring each other down, seeing who was going to break first. They seemed to be equally matched size wise, but after watching the Rocky films, I knew better than to place my money on the big guy. Finally, the tension was broken when the handsy dude offered to buy Mr. BE a drink.

“Sure,” he said, unimpressed. Then he gestured to me and said, “Come on, babe.” He took the beach bag from me. It seemed to be something that he would have done anyway, not a show of ownership. I have to tell you, I appreciated it. The weight of the bag, those straps cutting into my shoulder, it was a worry of the past. I had a man now, a husband even, to help with the heavy lifting. A woman could get used to this.

Know what else I could get used to? The Caribbean. The bar looked like something out of a movie or print ad even. It was this open-air bar with a grass roof. The sky was gorgeous. The temperature was divine. I just loved everything about the place, the moment, and maybe even a little…the man I was with.

So we stood at the bar and the man ordered a shot of tequila. Mr. BE did the same. The gauntlet had been thrown. Pride was at stake. I started sucking down my margarita. This could be a long day.