The Bikini Diaries (10 page)

It was even bearable to have entertained—very briefly—the idea of being with another

girl when she'd found herself wondering if the pretty salesclerk at the Beach Bazaar was flirting with her.

But to do what she'd just fantasized about doing was...
unthinkable.

Except for the fact that she'd thought it.

And the sky hadn't fallen, the world hadn't ended, life was going to go on.

Which made it, like everything else she'd experienced in the past twenty-four hours,

shockingly... freeing. Just to think about. Just to play with in her mind. Just a little.

As she stepped from the shower, reaching for a plush towel, she caught a glimpse of

herself in the mirror and realized that a naughty little smile played about her lips.

It was true. You really couldn't go back into the box.

She wore a simple summer dress of cotton with thin shoulder straps and a small flowery

print. She'd gotten it last year for her annual beach sojourn with her sister and nieces, and feared it was more pretty than sexy, but she hadn't counted on needing more than one

sexy dress when she'd gone shopping yesterday.

Thankfully, it was close-fitting and the bodice low cut, giving her some cleavage, or she would have felt positively frumpy in it after her more recently worn apparel.

When she went downstairs to meet Brandon at seven sharp, her chest practically sizzled

at the sight of him. She knew he was hot, but when she was away from him, it seemed her

memory didn't accurately capture the
zing
he sent through her when they were face-to-face. From those blue, blue eyes to the dark stubble on his chin to everything down

below, he was easily the most attractive man she'd ever known. And despite the fact that his rather immense cock had been a little difficult to take at first, now the very knowledge of what lay hidden in his pants made her pussy swell, just thinking about it.

When he flashed an appreciative smile, she could tell— thankfully—that her appearance

hadn't instantly doused her sexy image. Still, as she climbed into the golf cart next to him, she couldn't help saying, "Hope the dress isn't too Mary Sunshine."

He cocked a grin in her direction. "I think you'd look hot in anything. And besides," he added, turning his gaze to the cart path that ran through the resort, "all I ask from a dress is that I can get under it with ease, and this one qualifies." With that, he smoothly slid his right hand up over her knee and higher under the cotton skirt.

The unexpected touch shot straight to the apex of her thighs. "God," she breathed.

"What?" he asked.

She turned to look at him as the cart puttered along, and spoke low. "You make me wet."

"Jesus," he muttered, flinching. 'Are you trying to make me wreck this thing?"

"It's your own fault," she pointed out with a soft laugh, "for instituting touching this early."

He shrugged, a small grin tugging at the comers of his mouth. "You're right. Remind me not to touch you for the next few hours so we can have a civilized evening out like

normal people before I fuck your brains out again."

She nearly shivered at the promise, and cast him a look. "Talk like that isn't helping the situation. My panties are going to be soaked by the time we reach the restaurant."

He shot her a suggestive glance before looking back to the path. "Guess you'll just have to take them off."

Her whole body tingled as she lowered her chin, delivering a coquettish expression. "You are a naughty, naughty man."

"That's
your
fault, bunny."

Walking into the village tonight felt entirely different than it had the previous evening.

Last night she'd been openly on the prowl, seeking sex with a stranger, needing

something new and dangerous. Tonight she looked more like everyone else in the resort,

dressed like the young wives and mothers out with their families, and she was on the arm of a handsome man. Tonight felt... safer, yet even more exciting. Because tonight there

was no fear, no anxiety over the unknown, just a mouthwatering anticipation for what

was to come.

When they approached the outdoor hostess station at Sharky's, the pretty young girl

working there looked awestruck by Brandon, then—despite the long list of names in front

of her—told him she'd get him the next available table. Wendy blinked in surprise,

watching as Brandon waved off the offer. "No need to keep all the people who got here first waiting longer than they already have. Just add us to the list and we'll come back in half an hour. Although," he added with a wink, "a table by the water would be nice."

"Of course, sir," the girl said.

As Brandon took Wendy's hand and led her away, she asked, "Um, what was that about?"

He gave his head a short shake. "I come here a lot and they know me, that's all."

She raised' her eyebrows in question. There were plenty of places where
she
went often, without getting treatment like
that.

"I'm an excellent tipper," he added with a laugh.

'Apparently," she murmured, still stunned.

But her mind quickly moved onto other things, like the fact that Brandon was
holding her
hand
as if they were some sort of romantic couple. And that—despite herself—she liked it. In fact, she just liked being out with him. She enjoyed perusing some of the gift and specialty shops with him—although she was thankful that her orgasm in the shower had

helped her remember she was here to work, which meant checking the place out, and this

was a good opportunity for that. And she liked when they stumbled upon a band playing

pop hits in a parklike square in the center of the village and settled on a bench to watch little kids dancing to the music. He held her hand the whole time and something about it made her feel... full inside. Not in a sexual way, just in a... human connection way.

She bit her lip, pondering her emotions. This
is just sex, just sex, just sex.

And she was sure, despite a moment of curiosity, that it was just sex to Brandon, too. A nice evening out between lovers didn't make it any more than that. After all, she'd had

nice evenings out with
tons
of people in her life, from her mother to casual friends, and a nice evening was simply... a nice evening. No more, no less.

Sharky's was exactly what Brandon had promised—a casual outdoor eatery on a large

covered deck edging the bay. A band of guys in their forties played standards like

"Brown-Eyed Girl" and "Suzy Q," and while some people ate, others had fun on the small dance floor, and still more strolled through the restaurant to reach the narrow pier that led out over the water to a marina. It was the type of place decorated with fishing net and

starfish and various shark-themed items, as well as a few pairs of women's panties, which were pinned up on an out-of-the-way rafter, high enough to avoid turning the restaurant

into an un-family-friendly place.

Their table indeed sat next to the wooden railing by the water, inviting a pleasant breeze beneath the large awning. They both ordered seafood and drank rum-laden 'hurricanes,

and when Brandon asked her how her work was going, she still decided to keep it vague,

answering simply, "Fine."

"Good meetings today?"

"Productive," she answered shortly.

"Do you work for the mafia?" he asked, smiling. .

She gave him a
very-funny
grin in return. "I just prefer not to mix work with pleasure."

He nodded. "Not a bad rule to live by. I'm pretty much the same way myself."

"Then I won't ask you about your work, either. So... tell me how you met Pete. He said he'd known you since college, but you two seem... very different."

Brandon leaned his head back in a light laugh. "We met when we were in college—but

we didn't go to the same school. We both worked summers here, though, right on the

beach, setting up and taking down all those chairs and umbrellas."

She raised her eyebrows. "That sounds tedious." But at the same time, she was thinking:
Now I know where you both got all those muscles.

"It was hard work—but a great summer playground, too."

"It's a pretty good playground
now,"
she added.

He nodded. "Of course, Emerald Shores wasn't here back then—this stretch of the coast was a lot less developed and most of the hotels and small resorts were a few miles farther west, and that's where we worked. As for us being different—yeah, we're not exactly

twins. But we both have strong work ethics, entrepreneurial attitudes, and... good taste in women." He lowered his chin conspiratorially. "I thought he was gonna steal you away this afternoon."

She simply propped her chin on her fist and cast a catlike smile. "Well, let's just say it's a good thing you showed up when you did."

The band played through dinner, and when the first notes of "Heard It Through the

Grapevine" filtered through the air, Brandon held out his hand and said, "Let's dance."

She couldn't help being surprised. "Really? Because you don't seem like the dancing type." They'd slow danced last night, of course, but this was different.

He shrugged. "I'm a little drunk. And I always liked this song when I was a kid."

She wasn't usually the dancing type, either, but his honesty made him too cute to resist.

Especially when he started to sing to her on the dance floor, replacing the "honey, honey"

part with "bunny, bunny." They didn't really dance so much as move together, his hands at her hips and her arms looping around his neck. And it should have been a playful, silly, easy thing... except that there was really nowhere to look but into his eyes, which were as warm as they were sexy. Exploring their depths made her wonder about him. What kind

of work
did
he do?
Was
he an entrepreneur, as he'd implied? Was he insanely rich? An overpriced golf-cart rental was one thing, but getting special treatment when you walk

into a restaurant was another. What was his family like, his childhood? How had his

voice sounded before he'd left behind that Alabama accent? She knew he loved the beach,

but what else did he love? His mother? Puppies? James Bond movies?

Stop this. You aren't supposed to want to
know him,
or even know stuff
about him.
He's
your stranger in the night, your physical-pleasure-only fuck. And you need to keep it that
way.
Good God, the
last
thing she needed was to go home attached to her hot beach lover.

After tonight, you'll probably never see him again.
Yes, he'd wanted more after last night, and it turned out she had as well, but one more night of sex with him would be enough to quell any curiosities, and certainly enough to prove to herself that she was more than

capable of getting hot guys, having hot sex, living the dream, she could quit all this

looking-into-his-eyes-and-wanting-to-know-him-better crap.

So when the song ended, she was glad to hear the band say they were taking a break.

Which meant no more dancing. Which was good.

"Walk out on the pier?" Brandon asked, taking her hand.

Okay, walking out on the pier she could do. It was dark out there, and maybe it would

give her the chance to remember what she was here for: sex. Sex, sex, sex.

And in fact, as they strolled out into the dark sea air, occasionally passing another couple or family but mostly finding themselves alone, that was exactly what she found herself

thinking about—his body, and hers, and what they'd started today out in the ocean but

hadn't finished.

So when they reached an intersection where the pier split off, one branch stretching to the marina across the water and the other leading out to a point overlooking the bay, she had no objections whatsoever when Brandon led her down the more private route, not

stopping until they reached the end of the pier.

Leaning against the railing, she drank in the moment. Sounds and lights from the

restaurant in the distance behind them. A sense of quiet, lavish luxury from the yachts

docked at the marina. And before her, a wide-open bay that felt like... possibility.

Brandon wrapped warmly around her from behind, just as he had in the water this

afternoon, already hard against her ass. Mmm, yes, nothing like an erect penis to get a

girl back in a dirty mood. She couldn't resist rubbing against him a little—he felt too

good not to.

As he used his hands to caress her body, he leaned near her ear and whispered. "You didn't come without me, did you?"

She considered lying. It wouldn't have mattered; it would have just been part of the game.

But something compelled her to honesty. Odd, but even as she pretended to be someone

she wasn't with him, when it came to sex she'd been brutally open with him so far, and

something in her wanted to continue that. She peeked over her shoulder, feeling a bit

sheepish about the answer, though. "Um... yes."

He didn't appear overly surprised or wildly disappointed. He simply said, "When?"

She bit her lip. "In the shower."

His head tilt was half chiding, half playful. "Damn, you didn't last long."

She found herself turning in his arms to face him, lifting her palms to his chest. "The water just felt so good and..." She stopped. She liked being sexually honest with him, but how far did she want to go?

"Tell me," he said, his voice deepening. "Tell me more."

Something in the request made her flow with fresh moisture. Maybe it was the invitation

to totally let herself go, to hold nothing back, nothing at all. She reminded herself of what she kept telling
him. You're a bad girl, you're a bad girl Be that. For him. Completely.

"The water felt good," she said, peering up at him, "and I was all soapy and soft. My pussy was throbbing and..."