The Bikini Diaries (23 page)

He shrugged, but didn't look worried. "True. But how about this? You golf with me in the morning, then you can investigate incognito for the rest of the day."

She sighed. "Fine." But it wasn't really. Because apparently that meant she was spending the night with him. Risking attachment. Then spending the morning with him. Risking

more attachment
Your job, from this point forward, is to make sure this stays just about
sex. Sex, sex, sex. Nothing more. Nothing emotional

So her plan was ... to keep fucking his brains out.

And when she looked at it that way, it didn't sound too difficult.

I have had two men inside me at once.

I have craved two cocks.

I have felt them erupt on me like hot volcanoes, and I have rubbed their mingled come

into my skin.

I never knew. How much I could want such things. How dirty I could be.

Does "the forbidden" exist only in our individual minds? I fucked two men last night

and the world didn't end, I still woke up and ate breakfast this morning; my life is

going to goon.

Is it that simple? If you decide it's not forbidden anymore, does that make it so?

Chapter 10

The next morning, Wendy and Brandon showered—together—where she braced her

hands on the tile wall and he pushed his cock into her from behind, and she remembered

to keep it all about sex, even bathing.

They stopped by her condo on the way out so she could change into shorts and gym

shoes, then they had breakfast at a delightful in-resort eatery called the Cracked Egg.

Over breakfast, they talked a bit more about Brandon's early years—in the small southern Alabama town where he'd been born and raised. It sounded quaint and picturesque, and

having been a city girl all her life, Wendy found herself almost envying his small-town

upbringing.

"Why'd you leave?" she asked.

"I told you before—the beach is in my blood. Always was, as long as I can remember."

Which made sense to her—something about the beach simply suited him. He' belonged

here.

"My family's still there, though," he added, "so I get home for holidays, and my mom's birthday."

"Brothers and sisters?" she asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"One of each, and I'm the youngest."

"And the most successful, I'm betting."

He grinned. "Yeah, everybody at home makes a big deal out of what I do, but I've found that success in life is pretty much in the eye of the beholder. My brother runs a feed store and has five kids, and he couldn't be happier. My sister's dream was always to teach high school English—and that's what she does, so she's very satisfied."

When Wendy had first met Brandon—or even yesterday, finding him in that huge office,

looking so crisp and handsome in his suit—she'd never have suspected humility to be part of his makeup. Yet on this particular topic, it shone through, and she found it unduly

appealing.

They talked a bit about her then, too—she'd grown up in a bustling Chicago suburb with

her parents and older sister. "Where I lived a completely average middle-class life. Girl Scouts, piano lessons, that sort of thing."

He lifted his gaze from his coffee cup to her eyes. "There's nothing average
about
you, bunny."

Given that she'd always felt very average—happy but indeed
average—
the sentiment touched her. And it also made her a little wet in her panties, given that she knew at least part of it had to do with the passionate sex they'd shared.

When they walked into the pro shop at the golf course overlooking the bay, they held

hands. And when the older man behind the counter smiled at them, even before realizing

it was Brandon Worth who'd come to play a round of golf, it made Wendy realize—the

two of them were getting too cozy here, just as she'd feared. They looked like a romantic couple.

You have to make this about sex again. Just about sex,

"We'll play the front nine," Brandon told her, motioning to a huge diagram of the course mounted on the wall in a thick wooden frame. "It gets hot early this time of year, so every golfer here starts out at the crack of dawn. We'll be behind them all, so we can take our time and not feel rushed."

"Sounds good," she said absently, wondering,
How exactly do I make
golf
about
sex?

Just then, her eyes fell on a rack of women's golf clothing, most specifically on a little white skirt that would generally be deemed way too short—
unless
it was for golf or tennis. She wasn't sure why that made it okay, but she knew it did. And the shorts she

wore were perfectly stylish, but they didn't feel
sexy.
The flirty white skirt
would.

So she found one in her size, along with a pink pullover designed to hug the body—the

perfect sexy little golf outfit—and spotting a dressing room in one corner, she called over to Brandon at the counter, "I'm going to try these on."

He only chuckled. "You're a shopaholic, aren't you?"

Not
usually. But starting to be.
She'd never liked clothes so much before she'd started wearing ones that looked hot on her.

The ensemble fit like a glove, and in her opinion, made her look like one hot golfer. She tore off the tags to take to the man behind the counter, but left the clothes
on.

And just before opening the door to go back out, she followed yet one more instinct—she

reached up under the skirt and took her panties off, shoving them in her purse.

Risky? Definitely. But she wanted to make sure Brandon thought way more about

fucking today than about anything like romance.

When Brandon saw her, he gave her an appreciative once-over, then spoke low enough

for the older guy not to hear. "How the hell am I supposed to concentrate on golf now?"

You're not. Mission accomplished. Or the start of it anyway.

She golfed even worse than Usual. Because wearing a tiny little white skirt with nothing on underneath, it turned out, was pretty damn arousing. By the time they were on the

fourth hole, she was tingling and swollen between her legs. Brandon had no clue,

though—he seemed focused on the game, and was busy giving her pointers and thinking

she cared about her score.

It also turned out that Brandon had been right about a couple of things. It was hot out, even in the morning, which she knew from being on the beach early in the day—but
here,
there wasn't even a sea breeze to cool them. And the golf course was pretty much

deserted except for them. She hadn't quite imagined there would be
no one
else playing, but when she mentioned it to Brandon, he said, "Most people who golf here are serious about it, and they know what the weather is like. It's different in early spring and fall, but this time of year, it's a ghost town on the courses after nine thirty."

Well, all the more easy for me to get your mind on sex, if I don't have to worry about
anyone seeing anything.
When she'd taken off her panties, it had been with an eye toward discreetly flashing him at some point, or maybe just taking his hand and sliding it

between her legs while they were in the cart. But now she could be more aggressive. And

the more she played with being aggressive, the more she liked it.

So it was on hole seven, which was beautifully verdant and pristine—
and
remote, the green itself circled by a thick growth of trees—that she decided it might be a good place to make her move.

Before deciding exactly what that move
was,
though, she reached in the cooler they'd brought along, grabbing out a bottle of water. Sweltering, she held the cold bottle to her neck, and then to her chest, where her top opened in a V She sighed as the icy bit of

wetness refreshed her a little.

"Knock that off, bunny," Brandon said with a chiding grin from a few feet away. "You look too good wet. You're gonna give me a hard-on."

She glanced at him expectantly. "Is that a problem?" "Right now?" He looked amused.

"Yeah. I'm golfing." She tilted her head. "So you'd rather golf than fuck?" "I take my golf game pretty seriously." His expression was playful, but he clearly meant it, too. She'd been able to tell since the first hole that this was something he didn't do halfway. Now that she thought about it, Brandon didn't do much of anything halfway, and she decided

that must be the secret to his success.

Still, she couldn't help taking this as a direct challenge. So when they approached their balls—both on the green, but a good distance from the hole—she slowly bent over at the

waist to adjust hers just slightly, her ass pointed in Brandon's direction. She knew the move would surely put her damp pussy on display.

Then she waited for a reaction—but got none. And when she finally looked up, she found

his full attention on his own ball—he was obviously planning his next shot. For crying

out loud.

Rolling her eyes in annoyance—since she hadn't expected this to be so hard—she rose

upright, returned to withdraw the putter from her rented golf bag, and took her shot. The ball curved more dramatically than she'd anticipated, but still stopped near the hole,

which sported a bright red flag.

"Nice shot, bunny," Brandon said. "Go ahead and hit it in."

After removing the flag, she did so, surprised the putt actually resulted in success since she was thinking much more about sex than golf. Like she wished Brandon was.

So she decided it was time for drastic measures.
No
hesitation.

As Brandon carefully sized up his putt, she scanned the area once more to make sure they were totally alone—then she took her top off and tossed it on the grass. Her bra,

followed, leaving her bared from the waist up in the hot sun.

This
Brandon finally noticed. She'd never seen his eyes go so wide—as big and round as... golf balls. "What the
hell?"
he asked.

Wendy felt utterly wanton in a whole new way to be topless in broad daylight, wearing

only a tiny skirt and tennis shoes—especially in a venue often viewed as being serious

and sophisticated. A glance down revealed her nipples to be fully erect, pink and stiff in the bright sun. Before answering Brandon, she walked calmly to the hole and sat down—

her legs spread around it in a wide V "Thought I'd give you something fun to aim for."

Finally, she saw the light of lust in his eyes. "I'm supposed to be able to focus with you sitting there looking so fucking naughty?"

She blinked innocently, playfully, feeling all the more shameless. "Well, if you can't focus on your game, try focusing on
this."
Then she reached down to lift her skirt, knowing she surely created the most obscene sight ever to be witnessed on this course.

"Jesus God," he murmured, his eyes dropping between her legs, and she knew she finally had him where she wanted him. He stood gaping at her, his putter dangling limply from

one hand. "Where on earth are your panties?"

"I took them off in the dressing room."

His jaw dropped. "So you've been naked under your skirt the whole time we've been out here.”

She simply nodded, appreciating the escalating heat in his expression. "Now," she said, smiling, "aim for my pussy."

His mouth went slack. "It looks wet."

She licked her lips. "It's drenched for you."

"Shit," he muttered.

And again she said, "Make your putt. Aim for
my
hole."

They were both perspiring already, but she could have sworn he started to sweat more

heavily.

Giving her another look laced with hunger, Brandon positioned his club, then putted the

ball. Both watched as it rolled across the green, curving less than hers had, heading

straight for the hole—and falling neatly in, directly between her legs.

"Damn," he whispered, shaking his head in clear disbelief. But his eyes stayed trained on the juncture of her thighs.

"Come get it," she said, her voice raspy with desire—and not specifying whether she meant his ball or her cunt.

And he didn't ask. Just dropped his putter and strode toward her.

A second later, he went to his knees and then all the way down onto his stomach, bending low across hole seven to drag his tongue up her pink center.

She moaned and leaned back on her elbows, lifting slightly and watching as Brandon

licked her again, and again, then used his tongue to simply massage her clit.

"Oh—oh God!" she cried out, but tried to keep it down in case anyone was within hearing distance. "Oh baby, that's so good," she told him. "Lick me."

, Arching her back, she cupped her breasts in both hands and kneaded them,

overwhelmed by how exciting it was to be mostly naked and having her pussy eaten right

out under the clear blue sky. The beaming sun seemed to shine a spotlight on their sex—

making it all the more raw and animalistic, and leaving her to realize that the dark of

night, even in a lit room, somehow turned the act more shadowy and secretive. But there

was nothing secret about
this.

Within moments she was on the edge of ecstasy, soon toppling over, sobbing as the hot

pulses of orgasm echoed through her blood, her muscles, her skin.

When it passed, Brandon rose back up to his knees, but everything in his demeanor had

changed—he had suddenly transformed back to the more sexually commanding Brandon

she'd come to know. "Get up," he told her, pushing to his feet himself.

After which he grabbed her wrist to pull her toward the golf cart, and for a second she

wondered if they were going to leave without her top, which remained back on the

green—but then he positioned her where he wanted her. He faced her toward the cart's