Pink: Hot 'n Sexy for a cure: The Books for Boobies 2015 Anthology

by Tara Oakes

  I step out onto the deck that's overlooking the white beach and bright blue ocean. It is an absolutely breathtaking sight. I sit my ass down on the Adirondack chair to the right of the door, close my eyes again, and let the sun beat down on my face.

  I'm startled when a cold water bottle is pressed against my neck. "Agh! Chance!" I whine and snatch the water bottle from him. He snickers and stands next to me while opening his bottle. He takes a sip before motioning to the view.

  "This is great," he murmurs.

  "Yeah, it is." I sigh contently.

  I look up at my husband. His dark hair is long on top now and is flopping around in the wind. His jaw is stubbled just the way I like it and his brown eyes are shimmering in the sunlight. He looks gorgeous.

  He glances down at me, one of his irritating grins on his face. I roll my eyes; I know what's coming.

  "So, when we get home, you're changing your last name to Steele, right?"

  "Man, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not changing my name." I chuckle.

  "Why not? Parker Steele sounds awesome!" Chance huffs.

  "Everyone knows me as Parker Hamilton," I argue.

  "So, hyphenate then, Hamilton-Steele."

  I laugh. He's been pestering me about changing my last name for weeks now. I don't know if he truly and honestly cares and wants me to, or if he's just fucking with me.

  I shake my head. "Not doing it."

  Chance moves to stand in front of me. He sets his bottle of water on the deck then braces his hands on the arms of my chair, effectively putting his face only inches from mine.

  "Just think," he purrs. "No more ham related nicknames."

  I fight off a smile. "I've kinda grown fond of the nicknames," I muse.

  "Liar," he hisses teasingly and gives me a peck on the lips.

  He makes his way down my jaw to my neck, leaving a trail of hot, blood boiling kisses along the way.

  "Maybe I can do something to persuade you?" he drawls against my neck.

  I set my water bottle on the ground and tilt my head to give him better access. "Mmm, I don't think so, but you can try."

  Chance's hands move from the arms of the chair to my thighs, where they slowly glide their way up as he lowers to his knees. Just knowing what he's most likely going to do has me hard as a rock in an instant. His deft fingers have my shorts open and my cock out before you can say "blowjob."

  "Chance," I breathe. "We're out in the open."

  He glances up at me, a wicked smile on his handsome face. "And?" he asks, before flicking his tongue over the tip of my cock.

  I hiss, my eyes practically rolling back in my head from the small touch of his tongue.

  I stare down at him, my mouth parted as I watch him pull my cock into his mouth. His blazing eyes meet mine and my breath catches. I grip the arms of the chair as his head starts to bob up and down in my lap.

  I can't help letting my eyes scan the beach for people going for a stroll. We are very exposed right here. Yeah, we're in a private villa, but we have other private villas on either side of ours; not right next-door, but close enough. Chance's fingers pinching my nipple jerk me out of my thoughts. I didn't even feel his hand snake up my shirt.

  A wave of pleasure rolls through me now that he's got my attention back. I groan and let one hand find his head. I sift my fingers through his soft hair and help guide him to the pace that I like.

  His tongue swirls around the head before he dives back down. He does this over and over and it feels fucking amazing. I can feel my orgasm building in the pit of my stomach. My hips roll in time with his movements.

  "Fuck...I'm close," I bite out.

  Knowing exactly what will throw me over the edge, Chance's wraps one hand around my shaft while the other hand cups my balls. Damn, I just love when his hands are all over me. I shove a fist in my mouth to stifle my cry as I come down Chance's throat. My fingers tighten in his hair and my hips lift up off the chair as my cock continues to pulse and Chance continues to suck.

  I finally have to shove him away, which makes him laugh as he falls to his ass on the deck. I crumple back into the chair, completely spent. Fuck, that was good. I look down at my husband to find him leaning back on his hands, his head cocked to the side, a shit-eating grin gracing his lips.

  "How about now?" he asks.

  "Huh?" I mutter, my post-coital brain unable to function correctly.

  "Your name, are you going to change it now?"

  "Oh, for shit's sake," I scoff. "No."

  His grin widens. "Then I have a lot more persuading to do."

  Sounds like these two weeks are going to be spent mostly indoors.

  Chance

  Between the wedding, a long-ass travel day, and my ridiculously hot husband’s dick in my mouth, we were both exhausted. After blowing Parker’s mind – and hard cock – we were both drained and decided to rest for a few minutes before we explored the island. My eyes pop open, and for a minute, I forget where I am. Then I glance at the clock, and panic sets in. 7:00 pm! How the hell did that happen? We both fell asleep for a few hours. Shit, we’re going to be late.

  “Parker, babe, wake up,” I say softly as I gently nudge him. He is anything but a light sleeper.

  Parker just moans, swats at me, and then turns over.

  “Hammy, my love, time for dinner,” I coo.

  “Order room service,” he says drowsily.

  That’s it, he needs to wake his ass up. Like a five year old trying to wake his parents for breakfast, I stand up on the bed and start jumping around.

  “It’s time to get up. It’s time to get up. It’s time to get up,” I chant.

  Not a minute later, a pillow comes flying at my face. I lose my balance and fall flat on top of Parker, who lets out an “oof” when I land.

  “You awake now?” I ask, cheerfully.

  “Do I look awake to you?” Parker grumbles, his eyes still closed.

  Continuing my childish antics, I take my fingers and peel his eyelids open. I stare wide-eyed down at him for a moment before he bursts out laughing and swats my hands away.

  With a quick peck on the lips, I roll my tired ass out of bed and stand up. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in question. “We have absolutely no plans for two weeks. No schedules to keep, no scripts to memorize, nothing,” he reminds me.

  “You’re right, kinda. Just tonight. Get dressed, nothing fancy. Island casual,” I grin.

  “Island casual? What the fuck is island casual?”

  I gasp in mock horror. “You mean to tell me you didn’t bring your Tommy Bahama shirt and white linen shorts?”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  Parker shakes his head in disdain, but all I can do is laugh all the way to the bathroom.

  At just before 8:00 pm, we make our way back toward the resort, up an elevator to the penthouse, then to a special staircase, which leads to the roof deck, where the hotel has an exclusive restaurant overlooking the crystal blue ocean. It’s open to the public, but it’s very swanky, and there are only a few tables, all requiring reservations. I booked ours the day we decided our honeymoon locale.

  We step up to the host stand, and the host’s eyes widen slightly. I’m assuming because he’s a big fan of one or both of us, but it could also be because my husband looks sexy as fuck tonight in his untucked button down white long sleeved shirt, which he has the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. And who can resist his gorgeous baby blues? Sorry, I got a little sidetracked there. I discreetly adjust the erection now straining against my khakis and nod at Parker to check us in.

  “I’m guessing we have reservations?” He turns to me, smirking.

  I just wink and smile. Parker turns back to the young boy, who looks like he wants to lick Parker, and I can’t help but chuckle behind him. I also know what’s coming.

  “Do you have a reservation?” the kid asks.

  “I’m guessing so,” he answ
ers sarcastically. “Parker Hamilton,” he says blandly.

  The host frowns. “Sorry, there’s no reservation under that name.”

  Parker cocks his head and looks over his shoulder at me. I shrug.

  “Chance Steele,” Parker tries.

  “Sorry.” He shakes his head no. “I don’t see that name either.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Parker gets aggravated. “Look, kid, there are no other people here. If we need a reservation, then I am sure that my husband…shit!”

  Parker turns around fully to examine my posture. He shakes his head in denial. “You didn’t,” he hisses.

  I try to keep a straight face, I really do, but it’s absolutely useless. Just as he is about to yell at me, I hear the young kid announce quietly, “Parker Steele, party of 2…”

  Parker

  Chance isn’t giving up on trying to persuade me to change my last name to Steele. Funny thing is, I really am considering it. I mean, besides my grandmother, I have no real allegiance to Hamilton. In fact, knowing whom else it defines, sickens me. But there is no way I am going to tell Chance that…yet. I am having way too much fun with him trying to “convince” me.

  Over-eager host kid, Billy, I think his nametag says, walks us over to the glass side railing of the roof and seats us at our table. The view is absolutely breathtaking. We can almost see the entire island from up here.

  “Your server will be right with you,” he says with a wry smile as he retreats to his post. I’m not sure what he is going to do now since all of the tables are full. Oh well, not my problem.

  Less than five minutes later, Billy is back at our table with a white napkin hanging over his left arm and what looks like a wine list in his right hand. “Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Billy and I will be your sommelier for the evening. Can I offer either of you a glass of wine?” he asks with a straight face.

  I try to keep it together, I swear. But as soon as I make eye contact with Chance, I just lose it. We both burst out laughing and this poor kid’s face turns bright red. At this point, I am crying from laughing so hard, so Chance steps in.

  “I’m…we’re…so sorry.” He tries, but he can’t get it out straight - no pun intended - because I’m laughing so hard that it’s making him laugh, too.

  The corner of Billy’s mouth quirks up but he doesn’t fully smile. I know he’s trying to hold it in because he doesn’t want to get into trouble.

  I clear my voice. “Sorry, Billy. I think we’re under control now. What would you recommend?”

  That was probably not the right thing to ask if you want to get rid of him. Billy goes on a diatribe about which wine pairs best with which meat. Which is dry, which is sweet, and which is local. It’s much more information than I’ve ever wanted to know about wine. I ask Billy to bring us a few glasses of each to sample and he is on his way before I start another laughing fit.

  Just as I start to thank Chance for making reservations at this lovely restaurant, a waiter appears at our table holding a tray of food.

  “Your appetizers, gentlemen,” he says.

  “Sorry, we haven’t ordered yet, you must have the wrong table,” Chance tells him politely.

  “Excuse me, Sir. There is no ‘ordering’ at this restaurant. You are served what the chef prepares for the evening,” he informs us.

  We both nod in understanding. “Oh, okay, thank you,” Chance responds.

  I smile up at the waiter. I know better than to piss off the people handling my food.

  “What are we having this evening?” I ask politely.

  “We shall begin this evening with tuna prepared three ways. Followed by an aged meat, double stuffed potato, and a side of asparagus spears in a creamy hollandaise sauce. For a dessert, the chef has prepared homemade pound cake with a fondue chocolate sauce you can dip your stick into. Enjoy.” He places the platter of tuna in the middle of the table then steps back. I’m somewhere caught between hysterics and completely turned on.

  Another young man appears, shakes out a black cloth napkin then places it on my lap. As he grazes my lap, I freeze, panicked that he is going to feel my semi forming. He then does the same for Chance. I see him look away as the guy lays the napkin on his lap and I know that he is turned on as well. My erection becomes fully hard knowing what’s going on in his pants. We look at each other, the laughter finally dying, but the heat now turning up a level.

  We’ve eaten at some fancy places, but this is just over the top. With the napkins in place, and matching hard cocks, I grab a fork and serve my husband then myself. Just as Chance is about to take his first bite, Billy is back.

  “Your wine, gentlemen.”

  I shake my head in displeasure but let out a little chuckle. I’m able to contain myself. Barely.

  “Thank you, Billy,” I try to dismiss, but he doesn’t get the hint. “Here are some pairings you might like to try,” he continues, “I have brought you a Spanish rosé for the tuna. If you’re not a fan, I would suggest a light red burgundy…”

  “Billy…” I interrupt.

  “Yes, Sir?” he asks, his manners firmly in place.

  “To be perfectly honest, my husband and I would like to enjoy our first night of our honeymoon together. We’re sure whatever you decide will be perfect, thank you.” I try to tell him firmly, but as nicely as possible.

  “Yes, Sirs,” he responds while looking between the two of us, finally getting the hint. “I will just leave these with you, and if you have any questions, please call for me.” He nods, half bows half curtseys, and backs away from the table. I feel bad, not wanting to embarrass or hurt his feelings. I also don’t want to see our names in the tabloids with a headline about us being assholes. I know he’s just doing his job, but damn, that boy doesn’t shut up, and I have a hard on and a hot husband I want to be alone with.

  Finally alone, I can turn all of my attention on the gorgeous man in front of me. Appetizers are delicious and we eat every last bite of the tuna. We talk a bunch about the wedding, our friends, and enjoy a comfortable few minutes of silence while we chow down. You would think that my hard on would have subsided by now, but it has a mind of its own, and seems to be on high alert.

  Shortly after we are served our main course, I groan internally at the show in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Chance a little hastily.

  “Uh, eating my asparagus,” he answers knowingly. The corner of his mouth kicks up in a half smirk.

  “The hell you are. Keep licking that white creamy sauce off the tip of that hard asparagus spear, babe, and I’ll give you a taste of my own special sauce that’s about to explode under this table,” I retort, my dick now fully hard and throbbing in my pants.

  Chance leans forward giving me an unfettered view of his tongue circling the spear then spreading the creamy hollandaise sauce across his lips. He then licks the sauce off his lips and I almost come in my pants.

  I growl and he lets out a teasing chuckle.

  “Is that a threat or a promise, Mr. Steele?” Chance asks me, his voice husky with need.

  “Get the check. Now. Because you’re going to find out in 3 minutes; and I don’t care if it’s here, at our suite, or on the fucking beach for the world to see. ”

  “Check!” Chance raises his arm haphazardly, with his pointer finger waving in the air.

  Thank fucking god.

  Chance

  Parker has my hand and he's practically dragging me down to the beach. The only light guiding our way is from the moon. We're heading back in the direction of our villa, but I'm not sure if Parker can make it that far. I'm not sure how I feel about having sex on the beach, though; I'm not a fan of a sandy ass crack.

  Parker whirls around on me, his mouth crashing into mine. I moan and wrap my arms around his waist, while Parker's fingers find the hem of my shirt and slip underneath. His warm hands grip my waist and he yanks me against him.

  "I want you naked. Now," Parker growls against my lips.

  "You
do realize we're on the beach where anyone can see us, right?" I ask, just to be sure that he knows.

  "I know. I want you naked and in the water."

  "Are you trying to get us eaten by sharks?"

  "Just shut up and do it," he grunts and starts taking off his own shirt.

  I follow his lead and start undressing. Once we're both naked, clothes strewn across the sand, Parker takes off toward the water. I watch his sexy white ass for a moment before running after him. He dives into the warm water with me right behind him. When I come up, I wipe the water from my face and look for Parker. He's standing right next to me in the waist deep water, smoothing his blond hair back from his face, his torso glistening in the moonlight. I'm hard in an instant. He looks glorious.

  I grab his arm and drag him toward me, and he comes to me with ease. I slip my arms around him, both hands sliding down to cup his round ass. My mouth finds his neck as I pull our bodies together. My erection then slides against his under the water and we both groan.

  "You know water is not nearly as good as lube? If we have sex here, it's not going to feel good," I mumble against his neck.

  "I know. We can play here for a minute then go back to the villa for the sex."

  "Can I fuck you?" I ask. I usually bottom, but tonight, I want to top.

  "Yes," Parker hisses, his cock rubbing against mine.

  We play for a few more minutes in the water before getting out, grabbing our clothes and shoes, and running naked down the beach to our villa. Hopefully there aren’t any sneaky paparazzi around; otherwise, they just got an eyeful.

  We toss our clothes and shoes onto one of the chairs on the deck. We quickly rinse the sand off of our bodies in the outdoor shower before stumbling into the villa while trying to kiss and touch each other.

  We find our way to the bed and fall onto it with me on top of Parker. Parker spreads his legs so that my hips can fit against his. I sweep my tongue into his mouth and shove my fingers into his wet hair. Fuck, I will never get enough of him. He moans, thrusting his hips up so that his rock hard cock slides against my own.