Key West

by Lacey Alexander

  Just last night she’d lay in bed, unable to sleep until she’d gotten out one of the vibrators she’d brought home with her from Key West. Easing it up inside her, she’d turned it on and sank her fingers into her wetness, stroking her needy clit to thoughts of Chris fucking her hard and deep in the Garden of Ecstasy, on his boat, in the ocean.

  She’d brought home all three sex toys, and the bralette Chris had bought, although they seemed so out of place in her old life. Old life? It was her real life. Wasn’t it? The truth was, she missed the sun and the salty air. She missed the tropical heat and the mystical atmosphere where everything from quaint and historical to wild and sinful cohabitated with ease.

  God, her pussy was on fire again already, just thinking about him and the island that had taken away all her inhibitions, and if the feeling didn’t fade soon, she’d have to close the shop for a few minutes and sneak off to the back room and take care of herself again. How empty that sounded, though—when she knew she could have the real thing, if only she wasn’t so afraid.

  The next time the little bell above her door rang to announce someone’s entry, she looked up to find her mother, carrying a picnic basket.

  She blinked. “What’s going on? What’s with the basket?”

  Her mom smiled. “It’s nearly lunchtime. And it’s beautiful out—no humidity, seventy-five degrees. Feels more like April than July, and I thought we should get out and enjoy it.”

  Carrie blinked again. She hadn’t even noticed the weather.

  With her mother’s prodding, Carrie closed for lunch and they walked up the street to a small park to share the picnic her mother had made. She loved her mom, but it wasn’t like her to just show up for lunch like this, and why did she seem so cheerful? It wasn’t her usual way.

  They’d just sat down at a picnic table and started eating when her mom said, “I’ve been concerned about you since you got back, Carrie. You aren’t yourself. It’s understandable, I suppose, under the circumstances, but I’m just a little worried. Is it Jon, dear? I know you thought you’d be married now, that you’d be starting your new life together, but—”

  “It’s not Jon,” she cut her mom off.

  Her mom tilted her head. “What, then?”

  Carrie took a deep breath and figured there was no reason not to be honest. “It’s a guy I met in Key West.” She went on to explain how fun and lively Chris was, how caring, and how he’d asked her to stay and she’d turned him down despite being in love with him. “Because the idea of leaving everything behind is scary, and given how stupid I was about Jon, well…I just don’t want to make any more mistakes.”

  Her mother drew in her breath, took a bite from her egg salad sandwich, and stayed quiet for a long time. Just when Carrie began to think she might never reply, she said, “You know, a few months ago, I probably would have advised you to stay here and forgive Jon, to follow the plan laid out for you—just like I did with Liz back when her engagement broke up. Back in my day, that’s what women did. They didn’t have the same options, they didn’t support themselves or start businesses—even if they had a job, in the end they started having babies and depending upon their husbands to provide for them.

  “But I’ve seen how happy Liz and Diana have become not following my advice, and I want you to be happy, too.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I guess I’m saying, I can’t advise you. I’m not as smart as I used to think I was. My only advice would be—follow your heart. I’m beginning to think that the heart knows best and maybe it shouldn’t be ignored.”

  * * * * *

  Two weeks later, Carrie drove over the last bridge to Key West with a backseat full of summer clothes for comfort, a trunk full of books for starting over, and a new hair color for courage. The last thing she’d done before leaving home was have her hairdresser dye her locks from a pale strawberry-blonde to a warm auburn, thinking a new woman with a new life should have a new, bolder hair color as well. Dickens slept in the car carrier she’d bought, in the front passenger seat, strapped in with the seatbelt. He’d made the trip surprisingly well with some help from a kitty tranquilizer she’d gotten from the vet.

  She had a plan and she was following it closely. The first thing she’d done was some internet research. The second was to sell her bookstore for a tidy sum to a local businessman who owned a number of other shops on the same street.

  Now that she was back in the tropical paradise of Key West, her first task was to find a cheap hotel where she could afford to stay for a few days until she found other accommodations.

  Once she got that accomplished and got Dickens temporarily settled, she contacted the realtor she’d e-mailed before driving down, and she looked at the empty store spaces he’d scoped out for her. She promptly selected the most expensive one, right on Duval Street, and signed the lease.

  Finally, she pulled her hair back, put on a pair of sunglasses, and walked casually into the Lazy Lizard on a hot afternoon, hoping like hell Chris wouldn’t be there. No sign of him behind the bar—good. Now she only had to find out when Shay would next be working.

  That’s when she spotted Shay herself delivering drinks to a table full of guys. She wore a short, low-slung denim miniskirt and a thin, fitted tee bearing a picture of Marilyn Monroe in the famous white dress, standing over the street vent that blew it up around her. Shay’s dark nipples jutted clearly through the white cotton on either side of Marilyn.

  When she turned to walk past, Carrie lifted her sunglasses and said, “Shay.”

  Shay stopped, blinked. “Sweets? Is that you?”

  Carrie nodded. “I need your help.”

  “Please tell me you’re here to fuck Chris’s brains out. He’s been hell to be around lately.”

  “Really?” It was a relief to find out that maybe he still missed her, just like she missed him.

  “God, yes. He’s just a big lump of surly, and I can’t stand it much longer.”

  Carrie let a small smile escape her. “Then maybe you can help me by putting me in touch with Scott. I was afraid to call—afraid Chris would answer. And I need his help planning a surprise.”

  The concept of a surprise had been Diana’s brainchild, when Carrie had called her in Vegas to share her decision. “You need to do something shocking and seductive,” she’d said. “Something to really knock his socks off.” She’d known instantly what her course of action would be.

  Shay smiled. “Oooh, sweets, I love surprises, even when they’re not for me. Sit down and have a drink—I’ll call Scott right now.”

  * * * * *

  Chris leaned back against the bar on the Party Barge, crossing his arms. He didn’t want to be here; in fact, he’d originally talked Jake into taking his place on the brightly colored boat yet again, until Scott called, saying Jake couldn’t make it.

  “It’s time for some tits, guys!” Scott’s voice boomed through the microphone. The partiers on the boat cheered. As usual, they’d consumed half a vat of rum punch and had already played the banana game and Spin the Bottle, so they were thoroughly worked up, ready for the wet t-shirts to come.

  Maybe those wet t-shirts would do something to get his mind off of her, he told himself. He didn’t really believe it, of course, but what the hell—surely he could still enjoy watching girls bare their breasts. Shit, maybe he’d even try to get into party mode for a change; maybe he’d find some hot, drenched babe and hook up with her for the night.

  Maybe…but he doubted it.

  The truth was—he just didn’t feel the same about casual sex since Carrie. He didn’t want it anymore. Damn, he thought, washed up at thirty. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head slightly. He had to shake this off. He just didn’t know how.

  Scott’s voice sounded again, above the hard rock music that played. “Up first, we have the lovely Carrie!”

  Great, just what he needed. A girl named Carrie getting hot and sexy on that stage just like his Carrie once had.

 
Sighing, he looked up as a cute redhead danced onto the stage, wearing red bikini bottoms and a tight white cutoff tank top bearing the words Sexy Devil in red. She was undeniably hot as she sashayed up to Scott, who did the honors, dumping a bucket of water down over her large round breasts, now clearly visible through the thin cotton.

  The hot girl danced around the stage, working her ass and jiggling her breasts for the howling crowd…when he finally took a really good look at her.

  His mouth dropped open as he drew back in shock. Was he seeing things? Or was that girl…his girl? His Carrie. His angel—turned devil.

  He shook his head, still watching her little show. As Scott prodded her, saying in to the mike, “That’s right, baby, show us what you’ve got!” she molded her breasts in her hands, then eased one down to her crotch, stroking it once, lightly, to the roar of the guys on the boat.

  Chris stood stunned, trying to figure out if he was imagining things or if that might really, possibly be the woman he loved—when she turned and made bold eye contact with him.

  God, it was her. Looking gorgeous and sexy and like a dream come true. She was here!

  Smiling boldly, she reached out and pointed directly at him. Then she turned her arm over and curled the same finger toward herself, beckoning him. Letting a smile of his own unfurl across this face, he took long strides toward the stage.

  Stepping up on the platform, he drew her soft, wet body into his arms, looked into those hot emerald eyes, and lowered his mouth onto hers, as hungry for her kiss as a man could possibly be. He kissed her hard, his mouth demanding, his tongue invasive. He let his hands slide down onto her beautiful ass and picked her up, her legs wrapping tight around his waist.

  He carried her down from the stage, feverishly kissing her all the while. Only when he’d taken her to the back of the boat and lowered them both onto the bench in that same semi-private spot where they’d first gotten intimate, did he stop kissing her.

  Her arms lay twined around his neck, her breasts beautifully on display behind those tantalizing red words. “Nice shirt,” he said with a grin.

  She returned the smile. “I thought it was apropos.”

  Moving his hands up from her waist, he let his thumbs rake over her dark, distended nipples. “Maybe, but you’ll always be my angel.”

  She bit her lip, looking like some amazing cross between the innocent Carrie and the vixen he’d uncovered inside her. When he stroked his thumbs over her hard, cotton-covered peaks again, she let out a heated sigh and said, “I thought you weren’t allowed to touch.”

  “I don’t care anymore. Why are you here?”

  “Because I let go.”

  “What?”

  “You made me let go of so many old ideas of what I should be, but I couldn’t quite let go of the rest of it, couldn’t quite take the risk of starting a new life, until I went home and saw how miserable I was without you. So I’m back.”

  “What about your business?”

  “Sold it. And I’m starting a new business. I just signed a lease for a shop on Duval. I’m going to call it Hemingway’s Books and Booze, a combination bookstore and bar.”

  A huge laugh escaped him. She was a genius.

  “We’ll have a drink of the day, and also an erotic book of the day—because, well, this is Key West, so it only seems right. I might even let you tend bar for me,” she said, running her hands over his chest through his tank top.

  “That works out well,” he informed her with a smile, “since I’ll be giving my notice here and at the Lizard soon. As soon as I make that last boat payment, I’ll make enough just off my snorkeling trips. But tending bar for you—well, that would be a labor of love, angel. Because I do love you, you know. And I should have told you before you left. I love you, Carrie. I love you.”

  Carrie’s heart sizzled at the sound of those perfect words. Suddenly, all fear and trepidation vanished. All that really mattered was what he’d just said and the knowledge deep down inside her that it was real and that it would last—forever. “Oh baby,” she breathed, “I love you, too. So, so much.”

  With a heat-laced smile, he pulled her in for another hot kiss, his tongue sending licks of flames straight to her pussy. She couldn’t help leaning in closer, pressing her cunt against the familiar and oh-so-wonderful column of hardness at the front of his shorts. “God, I’ve missed your cock,” she purred.

  He let out a sexy growl in reply, and without warning, planted his hands back on her ass, picked her up again, and carried her through a doorway behind the bar, into what appeared to be a small galley containing a refrigerator and a counter.

  He’d just lowered her to the counter and started to kiss her, when a sharp voice cut in. “What the hell are you doing, Chris? You know you can’t touch a passenger.”

  She looked up to see an older man with salt-and-pepper hair who she recognized as one of the Party Barge’s owners, who she’d seen on her first excursion. Yet to her surprise, Chris pulled her into a warm embrace and looked up at the guy with a smile. “It’s okay, Ben, because this woman is going to marry me.”

  She gasped and pulled back slightly to stare at him. “Marry?”

  He answered with a short kiss. “Maybe not right away. I know you don’t like to rush into things,” he said with a wink. “But eventually—oh yeah, angel. I’m gonna marry you.” Then he looked up at his boss. “Ben, I’ve been waiting to get my hands back on this girl for what seems like a long time now, so…could I impose upon you for some privacy?”

  Slowly, the older man cracked a smile. “Sure, Chris,” he said, then walked out.

  Carrie could still hear the raucous sounds of the wet t-shirt contest outside as Chris whispered in her ear, “I need to fuck you now.”

  She lifted her ass, to help him ease her new bikini bottoms off, then she reached down and pulled her clingy wet shirt up over her breasts. Feasting his eyes on them, he let out a hot sigh and closed his hands firmly around them, sending a flash of heat through her body. “My pussy is throbbing for you,” she purred. When he glanced down, she coquettishly said, “Freshly shaven.”

  “Mmm, sexy,” he replied, then slowly stooped down to deliver one sweet, hot kiss between her parted thighs, directly on her clit.

  She let out a soft moan as the much-missed pleasure echoed through her, and when she watched him open his shorts and pull out his enormous shaft, hard and ready for her, she spread her legs wider. “Fuck me,” she whispered.

  As he pushed his cock slowly into her tight opening, they both let out deep, low groans. After a few weeks of no sex, her cunt had constricted a little, but his cock stretched her back out now, in the most delicious, filling way. “Ah, I love this tight little pussy,” he whispered breathlessly.

  “My pussy loves you, too,” she cooed.

  Placing his hands at her hips, he began to fuck her, slow and deep, slowly getting her cunt re-accustomed to his size, until she wanted more, wanted him hard and fast, and told him so.

  They looked into each other’s eyes as his strokes grew longer, more demanding, his thrusts soon making her cry out with all the pleasure she’d missed so desperately. She wrapped herself around him, absorbing each hot lunge as he worked her body against his. She writhed against him, harder, harder, pushing his shirt up as well, raking her nipples against his bare chest.

  Just like so many other times when they’d fucked, when she least expected it, he eased one finger into the tight fissure of her ass, magnifying every sensation tenfold. “Oh, God,” she said, her orgasm coming on instantly. “Oh God, baby!”

  As the hot climax crashed over her, she leaned her head back, lost in the heat, lost in the consuming waves that radiated from her clit out through her torso and limbs. She heard her moaning cries—she couldn’t have held them in if her life had depended on it. She relished the supreme intimacy of having their bodies interlocked, of having him bring her to orgasm, perhaps more than ever before, having thought she’d never feel this wonderful satiation with him ag
ain.

  “Ah, angel, here I go, too,” he murmured, then slammed his cock into her hard and deep, nearly lifting her off the counter, and making her feel him so far up within her body that she thought she’d never been fucked so well by him.

  “God, I love you, baby,” he whispered, panting, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

  She gently kissed his neck. “I love you, too.”

  When Chris finally lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, he didn’t bother drawing his cock out and it still felt pleasantly large inside her.

  He squeezed her breasts softly. “Do you have any idea how much it turned me on to see you up on that stage for me, angel?”

  She sighed her pleasure at his touches. “Mmm, I’m glad. It turned me on, too. Although…” She paused, needing to tell him how she felt. “I’m afraid this might be my last wet t-shirt contest.”

  “Oh?”

  This was the only part she was still a little nervous about. She desperately wanted to make him happy, but… “I hope this won’t change your feelings for me, but as much as I’ve loved getting wild with you, having all these exciting, sexy experiences, I sort of feel myself moving into a whole new place now—a place where I kind of want to…just be with you alone, without a crowd. Know what I mean?”

  He laughed. “Actually, I do. If you’re gonna marry me, I’m not sure I want to share anymore, either.”

  His words filled her with joy, but … “So you aren’t afraid that’ll be boring?”

  He gave his head a knowing tilt. “Hmm, basking in the sun all day, and serving up liquor and steamy books with you at night, then going home and fucking each other’s brains out? Nope, doesn’t sound boring at all, angel. And hey, if we start feeling adventurous again, we can just be like Amy and Cole—we can hang out with people who like to watch.” He concluded with a wink.