by Shey Stahl
He shrugs off my questions as if he has no intention of telling me. “What about you, got any tattoos?”
“Uh, no. Ink poisoning, permanent, pain….” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I could go on for a while with this one. Me and permanent ink are not friends. But yours look good. I like them on other people, just not myself.”
Jake laughs, shrugging again.
I peek at the ones on his forearms. Sadly, his shirt is back on. “Do you regret any?”
“Nope.”
“Do they have meaning?” I ask, again, wondering if maybe I keep asking, he might answer me.
He gives me a wry yet kind smile. “Some.”
He’s so cryptic it’s getting annoying, and I know, had I not been drunk, I would have punched him in the face and forced him to answer my questions.
I have a feeling maybe closing time was an hour ago, and Jake just didn’t say anything to me, because Nash is gone, as well as everyone else.
All of a sudden, my hearing catches the song playing over the stereo. “Are you shitting me right now?”
He stops arranging bottles and looks at me. “What?”
“Boyz II Men? You’re playing Boyz II Men in a bar in the Bahamas?”
He twists the nob and blares it. “Uh, we rock the shit out of the classics here, thank you.” He spins around, holding a beer bottle to his lips, eyes closed, head thrown back as he lip-syncs along with the stereo.
When the chorus to “I’ll Make Love to You” flows through the bar, he does a mimicking hip thrust and fist-clenches the air.
Oh, Island Boy, you’re mine. You’re all mine tonight. I want to hip-thrust him. Oh, yes, I do. Look at those moves, those hips, those hands and the way his knuckles turn white gripping the bottle. I want to be the reason his knuckles are turning white. Imagine the grip he can have.
Believe me, I already have.
When the second verse comes on, his hand motions are too much. And his dad comes walking in.
He takes in the sight of his son, lip-syncing Boyz II Men. “Jake…” he sighs, shaking his head. “Boy, what are you doing?”
Apparently, we aren’t alone.
His dad walking in does nothing to deter Jake from his rock star performance. If anything, he has an audience now. He’s definitely a show-off.
Dropping to his knees, he belts out the chorus one more time, all the while, he’s making a drink. It’s like a scene out of Cocktail. Breathless, he stands up as the song ends and hands me another drink.
“Hey, Jake, lock up when you leave,” his dad says, waving over his shoulder and walking out.
Jake nods, still breathing heavy, and then turns back to me, motioning me forward. “Drink up. There’s plenty of drinks you haven’t tried.”
I glance around the bar. They’re definitely closed at that point, but here Jake is, still serving me. I’m almost positive there is no alcohol being put in them, because otherwise, I should have been dead. “You’re closed. Why are you still serving me?”
He winks but says nothing.
I clear my throat and stir the straw. “What’s this one?”
“Orgasm.” He gives me a narrowed look, scrutinizing my reactions.
Fuck me. I take a sip and then smile, licking my lips. “You serve good orgasms.”
Jake glances down at the bar, his hands on the edge, and then looks up at me, a smile playing at his lips, but not quite forming. His warm eyes hold mine. “You’d like to find out, wouldn’t you?” He raises his eyebrows in a playful manner. “You’re dying to let me get you off, aren’t you? I see it in those pretty blue eyes of yours. You want to find out.”
I give my own smirk, knowing how true his statement really is, but wanting to play hard to get. Slouching slightly, I’m not sure why, but careful not to fall back off the stool, I gaze up at Jake again. “You should drink too.”
“Why’s that?”
“If you’re drunk, there’s a better chance I’d get you to come home with me. Last time I took a guy home from a bar, he was drunk too. So I guess that’s how it works. But then again—” I take a sip from my drink. “—I wouldn’t be taking you home. I would be taking you back to my hotel room.” I sigh, feeling lightheaded.
He pulls away, stepping back against the bar and watching me with an intensity I haven’t noticed until now. Maybe he’s been looking at me like this for a while. Not sure. He’s quiet, so naturally a wave of self-consciousness envelopes me. What’s he thinking? Am I talking to much? Does he not want to go back to my hotel? Is he hoping for someone else?
Clearing his throat, Jake motions me forward. I do as he asks and find myself hanging over the bar to look over the top. He has a half bottle of Jack down there that he’s been drinking.
My eyes widen in amusement. “Sneaky.”
He smiles, giving a small nod. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, though… City Girl.” I watch him, waiting for the secret. “If you want me to go back to your room… you could just ask me.”
My voice is lost in my throat. When I find it, I say, “Ha. That’s too easy, but to save myself further embarrassment, will you come back to my room with me?”
His cocky grin widens. “Was that so hard?”
“Kinda.” I roll my eyes. “Do you want to?”
“I’d be an idiot if I said no.” His gaze falls to my lips. “Wouldn’t I?”
I can’t have him thinking he’s in control. “Guess you’ll have to find out, now won’t you?” I push the last of my drink toward him, waiting for his response. I think I’m done for the night.
Jake turns around, placing a few bottles back on the shelf behind the bar, and then faces me. He gives me that look again, the one where I should be concerned about what he really has planned. “I think I’m just getting started.” He smiles. Leaning forward slightly, he grabs his keys off the bar. He then motions for me to follow him and locks up.
I wait for him on the beach.
Jogging to meet me, he shoves his hands in his pockets. Is Island Boy nervous? “Where you staying?”
“The Atlantis,” I tell him, motioning up the beach with a nod.
I lead the way, and he follows. Then I wonder how often he’s done this with women. He’s a bartender in the Bahamas. Surely he’s taken women home from the bar. I can almost guarantee he has.
I glance over at him. Moonlight shines on his face. “I bet you’ve done this a lot, huh?”
He doesn’t answer me. I’m given his signature shrug.
I should shut up, but drunk me can’t keep her goddamn mouth shut.
“Do you take all the city girls who come through your bar back to their place?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Ah, now what makes you think there’s girls?”
I give him a look, intentionally letting my eyes drink in his strong physique, which captured my attention from the first moment I saw him. Tight, dark skin, hard lines, and sky blue eyes shadowed by jet black lashes. “C’mon, Jake. Look at you. There’s definitely girls. You probably have a bar harem.”
He gives me an annoyed look, so much hidden in his eyes. “I’m only with one girl right now.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls too.”
Jake regards me for a moment, his eyes sweeping down my body. Every inch. “Mmmm, perhaps.”
Think about it, Kendall. Is this what you want? He’s a player. I’m not going to lie, my curiosity about his statement nags at me. I want to know if there’s a lot of girls. I want to know how many he’s treated this same way, but at the same time, I don’t want to know. I want to remain oblivious to this and enjoy it for what it is. A one-night stand that might possibly turn into an eleven-night stand if I play my cards right.
My head and my heart battle with what to do next, so I ask more questions. “You’ve lived here since you were two?” Jake nods, keeping pace with me. “And you live here on Paradise Island?”
“No. I live in Nassau with Zain and Nash.”
I nod this time, trying to keep up with
the conversation. We are a mile from my hotel, and I don’t want things getting awkward by not talking.
With all my talking, I’m not exactly paying attention to where I’m going. Which is easy to do when you can’t see a goddamn thing other than the moon and the lights of the hotels. Forget about seeing your own feet.
“Hey, there, watch where you’re walking.” Before I can do that, I’m face-planting in the sand, only to be caught by two strong arms.
“You’re the one to blame for my inability to walk in a straight line. Your drinks suck,” I say, wiping sand from my lips and cheek.
“You know goddamn well my drinks don’t suck,” he says, cupping my cheek, and his thumb grazes my mouth, toying with my bottom lip. He props me up so that we’re both on our knees in the sand.
I want to lean forward, get that first kiss over with. Neither of us move. It would be perfect, surrounded by moonlight and water, waves crashing around us in paradise. For whatever reason, I can’t move.
He reaches over and cups my other cheek, his voice playful. “For someone so controlling of her surroundings and life, it’s taking you an awfully long time to kiss me.” His eyes, smoky blue, call to me. His fingers find the bare skin of my collarbone.
Despite the sun giving way to the moon, the intensity of the humidity hasn’t let up. It’s like a blanket, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s this bartender holding me here under his stare that’s making it hard to breathe.
“I’m waiting for you to make the move,” I breathe out. “I’m working on being less controlling, and I think I need a man to show me how good being told what to do might be.”
His jaw clenches, his body does too. “You want to be told what to do?” I nod. He leans in further, his voice rough with need as he whispers, “Then fucking kiss me before I rip your clothes off and fuck you on this beach.”
Then, without any more hesitation, his mouth is on mine, and mine seeks out his. I suck his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down softly and pulling him into me. The kiss intensifies, eager and everything I knew it would be. His mouth presses against mine more firmly, and then his tongue slips into my mouth. He tastes so good, a sweet mixture of his drinks.
One of his hands slide around my neck, the other holds me still for him to kiss. He groans into my mouth, the delicious sound evoking a full-body tremble from me.
This kiss. It sets fire to what he sparked by his teasing tonight.
With fire in my veins, I go a little crazy. My hands fist in his hair. I want my body all over his. I want to cling to him like a spider monkey and never part. And all the while, waves crash against my legs, soaking my dress and his shorts.
With my sudden assault on his mouth, Jake chuckles, not fighting me off at all, and kisses me deeper.
I can’t wait to get him back to my hotel. If he can set my mouth on fire with a kiss like this, imagine what he can do with that tongue to other parts of my body.
Oh, the possibilities.
Needing air, he pulls back, gasping and taking a deep breath, his hand moving from my hip to my breasts he’d been eyeing all night. Oh, yes. He definitely wants it, and I’m sure if I don’t stop him, he’ll fuck me on the beach.
Not happening. Sand…. Me? Nope.
“Let’s go back to my room,” I whisper, my lips at his ear as he hungrily scrapes his teeth and tongue along my neck. He nods, but he doesn’t move his mouth. He bites my skin, just a little bit, but enough that I squirm. Pulling at the straps of my dress, he’s already working on getting it off and out of the way.
My hands seek his, pushing them away as I stand. Jake remains on the ground, water and sand covering his legs as he looks up at me. Oh, God, he’s so pretty. Long, thick eyelashes shadowing his eyes, why is he so damn beautiful?
I reach for his hand. “Let’s get you naked.”
He grins and takes my hand. “I’d much rather see you naked.”
“Well, you’re in luck, Island Boy. I tend to strip when I’m drunk.” I laugh, backing up one step, and he finally rises from his knees to follow me.
We stop about a half dozen times on the beach. He wants to do it on the beach. “Fuck the room,” he tells me, nearly convincing me we don’t need one. He even tries a couple of times, but I will not be having sex in the sand. I refuse to.
3 parts lemonade
4 blueberries
2½ parts Van Gogh Vodka® Acai-Blueberry
Fill Collins glass with ice
Pour lemonade over ice and add blueberries
Float vodka on top
If desired, garnish with lemon wedge and two blueberries on skewer.
Despite his constant need to stop me and make out, Jake follows me to my hotel room, all the while our hands are never far from each other.
Once we’re in the elevator, I know what is coming the moment the doors slide shut, as does Jake.
It’s like we jump each other. He pushes me up against the side of the elevator, my bare legs wrap around his waist, and swollen lips meet—nothing is stopping us now. It’s like that first kiss on the beach had started a raging fire within us.
We manage to make it to my room. Jake has me practically pinned against the door and his hands under my dress in the middle of the hallway. In the process of trying to get the door open with him attempting to get my panties off, I drop the key card on the ground.
Drawing in a deep breath, I arch my ass against his hips. It’s then I feel his erection for the first time, and oh God, I’m not disappointed. Nope. It’s so nice, so big, so needs to be inside me.
Jake answers my arching ass by slamming his hips into me and smashing my face into the door.
Okay, so not gentle.
He bends at the waists, one hand remaining on my waist, one hand tangling in my hair. He pushes my hair aside, his hot, wet lips sliding over my heated skin, and his other hand grips my hip. It’s then, to my pleasure, he rubs his big, hard cock into my ass cheeks. Right in the crack. It’s fucking fantastic.
“Are you going to bite me?” I don’t know why I ask that. I want to shove my hand over my mouth. Or maybe shove his cock in there. Might as well.
I bend to pick up the key card, pushing him back with my ass firmly pressed against him. He offers me no room and doesn’t budge. But he does grind himself into me once more, humping my ass cheeks.
I look back at him over my shoulder, he smiles, heavily hooded eyes prying open. “Are you going to open the door? Or should I fuck you in the hall? You against that too?” He’s teasing me because of my sand phobia.
I arch my brow at him. I think I might like to see if he’s serious. A wave of pleasure shudders through me when I feel him shift his stance. “I think I might just do it here after that tease on the bar.”
With a stupid silly grin on his face, he reaches for his belt, unbuckling it.
Laughing, I pick up the card and get the door open, and it’s a damn miracle this happens considering he doesn’t give me any room at all.
The very second we’re in the room, Jake’s pushing me up against the now closed door. He groans, crushing me between the metal and his body. “Goddamn…”
He seems pretty eager, doesn’t he? Maybe it’d been awhile for him? It certainly has for me too.
Bringing his hand up, his thumb traces over my bottom lip, his eyes dark and needy. His body shifts into mine, his hips and chest touching me. Reaching down, he sweeps his hands under me and picks me up, and we collide against the wall and explode into frantic kisses.
We make an attempt at moving toward the bed, but both of us start stripping at the door. Jake’s pawing at my dress and actually rips part of it down the side. As the fabric breaks, he stops, looks at it, and tries to slow down, obviously attempting to restrain himself, but then he comes back with even more intensity.
I stare at the obvious hole near the seam of my pretty little black dress, laughing. “You ripped my dress…”
“Does it really fuckin’ matter?” And then he’s bac
k to kissing me. I can’t complain. I love the kissing. I want the kissing. But I also want to get to the good stuff.
I actually don’t care at all about the dress. I want it off. Pushing him back by his shoulders, I wiggle out of my dress and let it fall to the ground. I’m hot, and those clothes need to go. Now.
So there I stand, completely naked before him, waiting to see what he’s going to do with me now. His jaw clenches, and his hands move to my waist, guiding me inside the room.
Stumbling around with me in his arms, the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed, and I fall back into a sea of white fluffy pillows.
My overly drunk, really horny, and kind of tired eyes find his. He has to know how bad I want him.
I knew when I saw Jake in the bar mixing up my black magic, I wanted him. Up against the wall, in that fancy shower, overlooking the water, doesn’t matter where as long as it’s a flat surface. I’m not going to be picky. I just want to be fucked. And I mean fucked with a capital F. Hell, caps the whole damn word because I mean business. I want kinky shit tonight. I wanna be walking bowlegged with a limp to the pool in the morning and ordering coffee with whiskey in it for no other reason but to assist in the muscle soreness.
I’ve dated men before. Older men. Man’s-men type of guys. Ones who are controlling and wear two-thousand-dollar suits and know with 100 percent certainty what they want out of life. Hell, I’ve even dated men twice my age before. Maybe it’s the daddy issues I have, but regardless, I’ve sadly been with enough men to know when I see one who is a game changer.
Jake… Island Boy… he’s in a goddamn league of his own.
Let me put it to you this way. I love football. I do. And I’ve always compared men to positions. Tight ends, fullbacks, running backs—you know the drill. Seldom do you run into the quarterbacks, because they’re never free agents. They’ve already been signed to their permanent team… and by team, I mean they are already in the perfect relationship with the perfect woman. More than likely married. So forget about finding yourself a quarterback. Go for the running backs.
