Cabana Boy

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Cabana Boy Page 5

by Jenny Gardiner


  Cricket went back to the staging area to check on the waitstaff to be sure everything was under control.

  “Go,” Darby said, swishing her away. “We’ve got this under control back here. Go mingle with people and enjoy your moment to shine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s all fine. Go find your fiancé. I’m sure he’s waiting to spend time with you.”

  Cricket smirked at her. “I’m busting a gut at your bad joke. Ha ha.”

  Darby made a big smooching sound with her lips. “Get outta here before I bust you in the kisser.” She gave her a wink.

  Cricket couldn’t see where Fletcher and his boss had disappeared to, so she slipped out of the main hall to make a stop in the ladies’ room.

  Locals kept stopping her to praise her fare, but at last, she got to the bathroom and entered a stall, peed quickly, then went to wash her hands. Only to encounter a certain leopard who probably didn’t change her spots. Too late, Cricket realized she had a security pass around her neck with her name on it, as Justine glanced down at it.

  “Ahhhh... So you are the elusive fiancée Cricket?” Justine said, reaching to read her pass. She sized her up from the top of her head to the tips of her boots—dressing fancy for Cricket was a short dress with cowboy boots. At least it beat dressing like a cougar.

  Cricket extended her arm to shake hands. “Hi! Cricket Ferguson. And you are?” She knew damn well who she was, but she was going to play coy.

  Instead of shaking her hand, though, Justine took it upon herself to assess Cricket even more intimately. She crossed her arms and slowly strolled around her, her head following her as she turned. That uncomfortable sense of being appraised for auction made her skin prickle. Once Justine had made a full circle around her, she paused, facing Cricket, then reached out an extended finger to the edge of her cleavage, tracing her long gel nail along the edge. It was about the weirdest thing anyone had ever done to Cricket.

  “What spectacular breasts you have,” Justine said, rendering Cricket speechless. “Your little Fletcher failed to tell me what a smokin’ hot body his fiancée sported.”

  What the fuck was she supposed to say to that? She stood frozen in place, hoping like hell someone would come rescue her.

  “Maybe the three of us could play together sometime,” Justine said, practically purring as she leaned in closer to Cricket’s ear, her fingers massaging Cricket’s scalp. “Fletcher’s so amazing in bed, I can only imagine how much fun it would be to add you to the tableau.”

  Um, what? So Fletcher had slept with her? Ewwww. Seriously? Had he no shame? And she wanted to do a threesome? With her? And Fletch? Cricket needed some disinfectant, stat.

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve got it all wrong.” Cricket primped her messed-up hair then turned and hightailed it out of the bathroom, grateful she at least peed before that unnerving encounter. She needed to escape the cray-cray lady pronto. On her way out, she ran headlong into Fletcher, who was exiting the men’s room.

  “Ho-ly shit,” she said, grabbing Fletcher and pulling him back into the men’s room then locking the door. “What the fuck is the deal with that psycho you work for?”

  “I’m guessing that means you met her?”

  “I didn’t just meet her—I was appraised like some sexual slave and then she cooed about how much she wanted to have sex with you and me.” Cricket was panting hard, anxiety overtaking her initial shock and rage. “And she said how good you were in bed. You actually slept with her?” She glared hard at him.

  Fletcher winced as he scrubbed his hands over his face, then ran his fingers through his hair. He lifted his right hand in the air. “Cricket, I swear to God, I’ve never slept with her. Seriously—did you get a look at her? She’s three times my age and tries to be hip and young, but she’s horrible.”

  “Understatement of the year,” Cricket moaned. “Here I was all excited to have this great contract, yet now I learn this deal has tentacles a mile long. She only did this to get her claws into me too. Likely one more way to get to you.”

  Fletcher pulled her into his arms. “I swear to you I won’t let her near you.”

  “God, it was so awful, Fletch. She did this thing.” She reached for his hand and pulled it toward her, guiding his pointer finger along the cleavage edge of the bodice of her dress. “She dragged her finger along here, slipping it beneath the fabric like she owned me or something. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”

  “That’s the last she’ll do that to you, Crick. I promise. I’ll go deal with her immediately.”

  Cricket looked down to realize that she’d literally guided Fletcher’s finger on a walking tour of her breast. All of a sudden it seemed like a perfect plan.

  “Umm...” Cricket said, licking her lips. “Maybe not quite yet.”

  Chapter Nine

  Fletcher was torn between outrage and horniness. Not two minutes ago Cricket had told him how his boss basically assaulted her, which made him want to up and punch the woman in the face. She had some nerve. But then Cricket was reenacting the offending behavior and somehow it seemed so right for his fingertip to be taking a leisurely stroll along the edge her dress, right along her tits. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  He looked at Cricket, who two minutes ago had outrage and fear written across her face but right now had that look of desperation that he knew from years of being with her: If she didn’t get her hands on him ASAP and vice versa, she was going to explode.

  Fletcher didn’t, however, want to be presumptuous.

  “Permission to come aboard?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Provisional permission granted.” She reached behind him and slid her fingers below the waistband of his jeans.

  “What are the provisional conditions?” Please, God, let it be in his favor.

  “That you do that thing you used to do.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to her. “Why, what thing was that?”

  “This.” She guided his hand beneath the edge of her dress to cup her breast, then led his other hand beneath the bottom edge of her dress, leaving him to find precisely where she needed him.

  He let out a groan. “Oh God, Cricket,” he said into her mouth as his fingers slid beneath the edge of her panties into her already slick center. “You’re so wet.”

  “Just thinking about what you would do to me made me that way. I’ve been on edge all day fantasizing about this.”

  “You have been?” he said between kisses, before moving his mouth toward her breast, which he’d slipped over the edge of the bodice so his mouth would have easy access.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve had a man’s hands on me, and I thought how perfect it would be to get you to fill in the void. I mean you’re here, I’m here, and I sure could use the help.”

  His lips trailed kisses along her breast till he reached her tight nipple and his mouth latched on to suck hard. She groaned out loud, which hit him right in the cock. He could not believe he was doing this, here, now, with Cricket Ferguson. Not that they hadn’t found all sorts of unusual and of-the-moment places to get off in the past—when you’re young and in love and lust, you make do wherever you can. And for them, that meant all sorts of crazy places like rest stop bathrooms, the back of either of their trucks, on remote hiking trails in the park, at the drive-in movie, up against the wall in the loft of Cricket’s barn. They were good at being inventive when the need arose. But he didn’t want to take advantage of her, either. This needed to be mutually consensual or he’d stop, even if it killed him.

  His mouth played with her nipple, and he took small bites, licking it and sucking on it till she cried out. Meanwhile the fingers of his other hand strummed along her swollen lips, circling her clit as she thrust toward his hands, encouraging him on. Her fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans then finally popped it and quickly zipped down the fly, greedily encircling his swollen cock. One touch and he thought he’d shoot his load right there, he wa
s so turned on. “Go easy, babe,” he said. “I want to make this last.”

  He sped up the pace of his fingers, slicking then pumping into her wet channel, mimicking what he really wanted to do with her right now, only with his cock. Cricket moaned, soft and quiet, and Fletch knew what to do, pulling hard with his mouth on her nipple as he rapidly slicked over her clit with his pointer finger. When she groaned loudly, announcing she was coming, he pumped two fingers inside of her as her channel tightened and spasmed around his fingers and she pressed her hips toward him. Christ, he needed release himself after that.

  Which seemed to be a prayer that Cricket was willing to answer. No sooner did she come down from that climax than she was tugging his pants down his hips and spreading her legs. She hopped up, latching her ankles behind him and pulled her underwear aside as she eased the tip of his cock to her opening, now soaking wet with her juices, and slid herself onto him.

  It was Fletch’s turn to gasp. God, It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone, but he’d never been with anyone quite like Cricket since they split up. It washed back warm memories of their time together, particularly of how well they fit together, as if his cock was made to be inside of her and her alone. Once his cock was seated all the way inside her, he held her to him and pressed his forehead to hers. He flexed his cock inside her wetness, hoping she could feel what she did to him.

  Slowly he began to withdraw, then quickly slammed himself into her again. He fixed his blue eyes on her green ones and silently spoke to her. “Come with me, I want to feel your pussy squeeze hard against my cock and milk every last drop of come from me.”

  Cricket dug her heels into his backside like she was riding a bronco and thrust her pelvis against his, grinding against him over and over until she trembled against his body. Her pussy convulsed on him as he tensed and froze, shooting his come deep within her while she came around him. Holy shit, was he glad he made the trip home.

  Chapter Ten

  Cricket was unclear of the protocol for nearly being molested by your ex-boyfriend-slash-fake-fiancé’s creeper woman boss and then running into the arms of said ex-boyfriend, only to slip back into old habits which were, it turns out, great habits, at least from a sexual satisfaction perspective. Because dayum, that man had a way with his mouth and fingers, and she hadn’t felt this tingly and satiated in all the right places in ages. The only problem was they were in a men’s room with a party going on outside those doors. Any minute now, his boss was likely to come in and try to join in the fun. Plus Cricket had to get back to overseeing the food situation even though she knew Darby had it all under control.

  Fletcher glanced at his watch and unhooked Cricket’s ankles so he could slide her down from him. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and tucked it into her underwear to keep proof of their little tête-à-tête from leaking down her legs.

  “That”—he dragged his tongue along her lips as he hiked up his pants and zippered up his jeans—“was fucking amazing.” He helped her tuck her breast back inside her dress. “The only thing is now we both smell like we just had sex.”

  “Oh my God, you’re right. What are we going to do?”

  He grinned. “Enjoy it while it lasts?”

  She hit his arm playfully.

  “Knowing that woman, she’s going to notice instantly. It’s like she’s some predatory animal.”

  His eyes widened. “Did I not try to tell you this?”

  “Yes, but it seemed a bit hyperbolic.”

  “And now? You still think I was exaggerating?”

  “Uh, she propositioned me in the bathroom. A big fat no to that.” She grinned. “But the funny side effect was after she propositioned me in the ladies’ room, I ran into you and pulled you into the men’s room where we mutually propositioned each other.”

  “Maybe we can pick up where we left off later? I know Justine is going to be speaking shortly and she’ll have my head if I’m not there for that. But I sure wouldn’t turn down a command performance. Maybe in a more appealing venue?”

  “I’ll have a lot of work to do tonight, what with cleanup and stuff. Maybe a rain check?”

  He grabbed her ass and squeezed. “Promise?”

  She knew she was completely crazy to do this, but it was too damned good to pass up. To steal a stale cliché, how could something so wrong feel so right?

  CRICKET STOOD TOWARD the back of the room when Justine came up to the stage. She couldn’t watch her without thinking of how brazen she was and how much she seemed like a predator stalking her prey. Now Cricket knew what those poor gazelles felt like on the African savanna.

  “I’d like to thank everyone in Bristol for the warm welcome,” she said, lifting her hands and clapping for her audience. “And this wouldn’t have happened without the suggestion of my assistant, Fletcher Campbell, local boy made good. I say assistant, but he’s much more like my cabana boy, aren’t you, sweet pea?” She reached out and dragged her nail along his jawline as if he was her pet. He recoiled from her touch. “So hot and so good in bed.” She then reached down and spanked him once, hard, on his ass. Fletch turned ten shades of red and looked like he was about to erupt like a volcano.

  What a bitch. She clearly had a mean streak and wasn’t afraid to tap into it. And she was jealous that she had what she viewed as competition with Cricket, which was laughable. For one thing, Cricket and Fletch were a thing of the past, but for another, Fletch would never hook up with Justine. Aside from it being inappropriate from a boss-employee standpoint, it was beyond age-inappropriate.

  Justine made some more obnoxious comments before wrapping up her talk. Cricket was grateful the woman hadn’t barfed up to the audience what great tits she had. She would’ve died if she had.

  Once the crowd began to dissipate, Cricket heard some folks in the audience cackling at the cabana boy reference.

  “Wow,” said one local rancher she’d known since she was a kid, a man her mother loathed because he was known for doing precisely what Justine had done to her. “Just goes to show you that you leave the country and you leave your values behind.”

  Cricket glared at him. She knew for a fact that man had conducted extramarital affairs for years. Who the hell was he to judge Fletch’s morals?

  Some older gal leaned over to her gaggle of friends. “Did you see how she smacked his ass? It was like a reverse Fifty Shades of Gray thing. Instead of him having all the fun, she got to. There’s a couple of men I’d like to give a hard whack like that to.”

  Cricket wanted to tell them it was obviously no fun for Fletcher being humiliated in front of his hometown like that.

  “What the hell is wrong with him, letting that woman treat him like that?” Cricket recognized that voice as belonging to Fletcher’s dad, Wyatt, a rancher who never did brook much bullshit from people. Cricket liked that about him, but she was sure this would not help matters with poor Fletch. She looked around the room to try to find him, but he was gone. Rats. She figured he wanted some alone time, but more than likely, he needed some solace. She’d get things cleaned up here and track him down afterward.

  Chapter Eleven

  What a fucking bitch Justine was, humiliating him as she had. Bad enough he wasn’t getting much legit film experience working under her putative tutelage. After all, she spent far more time trying to bed him than she did explaining the ins and outs of the film industry. After that outburst, he decided he’d had enough. He slipped out a back door and started wandering the streets of his hometown, trying to make sense of his emotions: anger, rage, embarrassment, lack of fulfillment. More like D: all of the above. And sure as hell wondering what it was about living in LA that made sense at this point.

  Eventually he circled back toward the theater, passing by the pâtisserie. He decided to try the door—this was Bristol, after all, where no one ever locked a damned thing up. Sure enough, the door opened for him and he stepped foot inside. Only to be met with the familiar snarl of Dingo, who faced him with bared teeth and the u
nmistakable sound of don’t-fuck-with-me, dog style.

  “It’s okay,” he said, trying to use a soothing voice even though he was scared to death she was going to lunge at him. What was with this dog not trusting him? He thought about that for a second and rolled his eyes. The thing was probably genetically programmed to hate him. But then again, his owner seemed to be able to get past her years of resentment, which was surprising. Lust was a powerful emotion. Three cheers for lust. But enough about lust—he had to focus on not being mauled by this dog in the next sixty seconds. Maybe then he could concentrate on his professional failings and whether what he was feeling for Cricket went well past sexual desire and more into emotional territory.

  He’d never even given that a half a consideration; he figured he’d chosen a path and there was no turning back. But something strange happened—and fast. Whatever they did—was it only hours earlier?—was like a wildfire in intensity and impulsivity. One second they were civil and empathizing about their plight; the next minute they were like two randy teenagers who’d just discovered the joys of sex. And boy was it joyful. He closed his eyes as he reflected on the feel of his fingers slicking through her center and he moaned. Which reminded him that there was a dog at bay who might want to sink her teeth into his thigh.

  “Shhhh.” He kept his voice soft, trying to calm the thing. “I’m not the enemy,” he continued. “If you want someone to bite, can I offer up my piece-of-shit boss perhaps? What she’s lacking in meat on her bones you’ll gain in the joy of injuring someone who has bad intentions for your mom.”

  He rolled his eyes. Talking to the dog like this? Had he lost his marbles?

  “I mean, sure, I know you were led to believe I’m the bad guy. And I guess I am. Or was. But I wasn’t intentionally that guy. I was trying to keep Cricket from being left suspended in amber while I created this whole new life for myself. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was young and had what I now know were foolish ambitions—that I had what it took to make it in Hollywood. Sure, I had fun when we made the film here, but what I didn’t know is it had pretty much nothing to do with the business. Now, I get that there are disgusting quid pro quos all over the place there, people who expect you to put out to get ahead. It’s not at all what I bargained for. I wanted to try my hand at something different and fun.”

 

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