Jager swallowed the last drop and coughed. “Threesome-ing?”
“Yeah, that’s more Anjelee language,” Keefer explained while he patted Jager on the back as they followed her into the open dining terrace. She led them to a table right in front of the stage set in stark-white tablecloths, crystal stemware and sterling silver. A candle shaped as an embracing naked couple cast a soft yellow glow over the intimate dinner.
Jager chuckled. “Mmm, I’m beginning to get that about her. She speaks in her own tongue, among other things.”
Keefer and Jager simultaneously held a chair out for her, one set right between theirs. She sat primly despite the lack of modesty her outfit exuded, and covered her bare legs with a linen napkin.
“Among other things is right,” she warned. “You men just wait. I’m soo ready for this, you have no idea.”
Jager sat to her right. His cock throbbed at all the innuendo, blatant looks and touching among them. “If we don’t get this dinner and contest over with soon, I’m going to be past ‘ready’ before we even get started.”
“You can say that again.” Keefer sat to her left. An obvious erection strained against his shorts. He winced and readjusted himself before settling in.
A waiter appeared in black pants and a red floral shirt holding a small towel against a pitcher of water. “The buffet is ready for your choosing,” he said, and poured them each a glass of sparkling water. “May I get you some coffee, tea, a cocktail?”
“Three chocolate martinis, please.” Anjelee gave the young man a sweet smile. “And could I request that you have Devon make them from the tiki bar?”
“Yeah, mon, no problem. In the meantime, feel free to check out the buffet. Lots of delicious food waiting for you there.” The waiter crossed to the open patio and made his way to the bar.
Keefer pushed out his chair and stood up. His wide chest caught Jager’s full attention. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but there’s no way I can perform without food. I’m starved.” Keefer didn’t wait for a reply but instead started across the terrace toward the buffet.
Anjelee took Jager’s hand and led him through the many scattered tables. The aggressive yet sweet gesture sent that worm wiggling deeper into his heart, but he ignored it. He had to.
Mitch, remember Mitch. Don’t keep him too far from your brain, buddy.
She waved and chatted with various people as she went, then approached the buffet laden with a feast fit for thousands. She released his hand to sample a grape. “Mmm,” she moaned, chewing. “Keef’s right. We need our energy for what’s coming up.”
“Right.” He snatched up a plate and inspected the food tables. Even though the two martinis had made his head spin, Jager nervously scanned the room with its hundreds of diners. He didn’t want to think about the contest and getting on that stage in front of all these damn people. He definitely needed several more of Devon’s miracle cocktails to dissipate the stage fright that clawed at his gut.
Jager followed Keefer’s lead and piled his plate with jerk chicken, exotic vegetables and fruits, and unique salads. With his free hand, he took a parfait dessert swirled in red, orange, chocolate and topped with cream. When he returned to the table, Anjelee and Keefer were already digging into their food. They had chosen the same parfait dessert.
“Hurry,” Anjelee said around a mouthful of salad. “The contest is about to start.”
“Great. Just great.” Jager grabbed his cocktail and took a long swallow. He sighed when the alcohol kicked in another notch. His shoulders relaxed, his gut calmed and he started in on the jerk chicken.
The waiter approached and passed out another round of martinis.
Keefer shoveled vegetables and spicy rice into his mouth. He swallowed, picked up his soup bowl and drank down the Jamaican minestrone like water. “You’ll be fine. It’s a blast once you get up there. Besides, no one’s here to judge. Just have fun with it.” He plucked up a napkin and wiped his glistening mouth and goateed jaw.
Just have fun with it.
Jager made a face and shrugged. Right Easy for Keefer to say. He’s most likely been through this kind of scary shit half a dozen times before. Jager’s attention fell on the stage. A low dance floor spread below the half-moon structure, and dining tables circled the entire area like an auditorium. Fuck. Everyone could see from any angle. Then there was the shiny, gold stripper pole, front and center.
I’ll be damned if they’re going to get me to twirl around that thing.
He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it and settled back when the show began.
A buff male emcee took the microphone and announced, “All right, mon, here we go. Three’s Company’s the name and naughty’s the game. So nothing formal here. Whoever gets the wildest, and draws the biggest cheer from the crowd, wins the contest. Prize is one night’s pampered stay in our highly expensive, insanely luxurious and kinkiest penthouse suite ever—and people let me tell you, we’re talking outrageously wicked.”
Vacationers hooped and cheered. The man’s teeth flashed white when he grinned, grabbed his crotch and did a dance mimicking sexual thrusting.
“First up is Carrie, Melinda and Stan. Come on up and get jiggy! Two minutes are all you get, so make the best of it.”
Jager sat back and studied their little skit while he continued to sip his drink. The two buxom brunettes spun opposite each other around the pole and grabbed the man’s clothed cock each time they passed him. The girls caught up to each other and one woman pinned the other to the pole. She exposed her partner’s breasts and gave them some oral attention, drawing whoops and applause from the diners. Then she went down on her pole-captive in a methodical caress of kisses and gropes before burying her face in the woman’s mostly exposed crotch. The man came up behind the kneeling woman and mimicked fucking her doggy-style.
The crowd whistled and roared in approval.
The trio switched places so the man could “fuck” the other woman.
Jager rolled his eyes. Bor-ing.
The emcee waved his hand. “Okay, last minute’s up. Next contestants, please.”
The more he watched both the contestants and the crowd, the more Jager’s jitters began to fade. It was fun, really. Good-natured fun, no judging, just as Keefer had said. Pure entertainment and sin, away from the stressors of the outside world.
Wasn’t it?
Anjelee leaned over and mumbled under her breath, “Watch. Every one of the contestant groups will be two females and one male.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugged her slim shoulders. Her eyes took Jager’s breath away. They were luminous, fuck-me pools beneath the dim dinner lighting. “It’s just the way this place is. You don’t see any two-man-one-woman PDAs. It’s sort of understood that man-on-man is to be done only behind closed doors.”
“PDAs?”
“Public displays of affection.” She regarded him over the rim of her martini as she sipped. “For some reason, in all the encouragement to be sexually free, the majority who frequent this resort are anti-gay—unless it’s two women getting it on. Personally, I think I prefer to see a threesome with two men doing the boom-boom than two women. But that’s just me, I guess.”
A surge of reckless desire coursed through his alcohol-warmed blood. His head spun and his inhibitions clicked down a notch or two.
“Doing the boom-boom, eh? Wow, hot.” Jager propped his elbows on the table and leaned over to kiss her. His mouth met her eager one while his eyes sought out Keefer.
Keefer simply winked and grinned.
Jager’s stomach swirled with anticipation. Damned if he wasn’t looking forward to getting on that stage now. And to winning. By golly, if it took every ounce of his courage, he was going to do all he could to win them that penthouse suite for tonight.
The waiter appeared and started to clear the table.
“Wait.” Jager clamped his hand around the parfait dish. “We’re not done with dessert yet.”
“N
o problem, mon.” The waiter left the parfait dishes on the table after clearing their empty plates.
Anjelee arched one brow. Her scarlet mouth pursed above lovely bulging breasts pushed high and nearly spilling over the top of her tight leather get-up. “Hmm, I detect a smidgen of bravery and a plan with promise. Whatcha got in mind, Manning?”
“I say we have dessert up on stage,” Jager replied, “and make them start warming to the male-male-female idea.”
“Holy shit, fucking nice idea. Man, you need to drink more martinis from now on.” Keefer raised his glass at Jager and snorted.
Anjelee punched her fist in the air and squealed, “Woohoo! Bitchin’ celebrity suite, here we come.”
The entertainment host took the stage and tapped the microphone to quiet the rowdy vacationers. “Okay, everyone, give it up for our final registered trio, Anjelee, Keefer and Jager. Come on up, guys.”
Anjelee leaped up and grabbed Jager’s arm to urge him up. “C’mon, let’s go.”
“Fuck me, what have I done?” Jager groaned. He tipped back the remainder of his cocktail, swallowed and drew in a deep breath. The last traces of social anxiety numbed in his system as the alcohol soothed his nerves. He stood and swiped two dessert dishes off the table.
Though his heart continued to pound as he followed Keefer and Anjelee up on stage, excitement fluttered in his gut. He climbed the side stairs and trailed them to the pole. His gaze scanned the crowd.
Motherfucker, how do his movie-star clients do this?
Thank God he wouldn’t have to analyze it further. Due to the contrast of the bright lights shining on stage with the dim illumination of the dining area, and the pleasant buzz he had going on, the crowd appeared as a hazy blur.
He took a deep breath, stood back and held the dishes while Anjelee did a twirl around the stripper pole. The crowd cheered and whistled. She jumped up and somehow flipped herself upside-down with her back to the pole, wrapped her legs around it and held on hands-free. The move caused her leather mini-skirt to slide to her hips and expose her pussy. The crowd roared louder and clapped their approval.
“Two minutes are all we have. Let’s go.” Keefer shouted to Jager. He snatched a parfait dish from Jager and poured the multi-colored cream on her cunt, and to the raging delight of the audience, he started to indulge in his after-dinner dessert right there in the V of her juncture.
Anjelee moaned and writhed against the pole. She slapped her palms on the stage and stood there like a gymnast in an Olympics handstand pose.
“Jager,” Keefer barked, coming up for air. “Snap out of it.”
Jager’d been mesmerized by the sight of Keefer doing oral on Anjelee in such a kinky position while the entire resort whooped and hollered. Already, his cock throbbed and filled with blood. But he was going to turn the heat up a bit more. It felt surreal to step forward, unzip his shorts and let his dick fall out for the whole world to see. Warm humid air licked at the head. He held in a hiss when he dumped the cool dessert on his half-hard cock, knelt and positioned himself within reach of Anjelee’s mouth. He wasn’t sure if her eagerness was due to the two-minute clock ticking, or if she was simply that hungry for him, but he’d never been brought to full arousal so fast in his whole damn life. Her wet, sucking mouth felt like pure heaven on his cock, while her moans at Keefer’s continued efforts on her pussy vibrated deep into his loins and nearly brought him to instant release. Being watched on a stage like this by so many screaming people opened up a doorway in the back of his soul he didn’t know was there.
It was fucking hot, the most exciting sex he’d ever had, and yet it was all show.
Or was it?
He took a breath, slid his hand up in the leg of Keefer’s shorts and closed his fist around Keefer’s erection. Keefer’s head fell back and he roared while Jager slid his other hand around and massaged one upside-down cheek of Anjelee’s little ass. His fingertip found her tight ring. A strangled scream escaped her cock-filled mouth.
Ah, yes, fuck me, fuck her, fuck Keefer. All at once.
He closed his eyes to the amazing, contrasting sensations of man and woman, and the sounds of her slurping and Keefer’s groans buried somewhere within the cheers of the people.
Jager was just about to come when the emcee bounced onto the stage and yelled, “Holy naughty Jamaican gods, was that ever smoking!”
The crowd clapped and yelled and hooted.
Jager groaned inwardly at the interruption, stuffed his hard-on into the snug space of his pants and got to his feet. The deafening approval made his cock go even harder. Damn, that was hot having them all watch and root them on. Now he totally got the allure Mitch and other stars sought. It must be addictive to get all that attention, even if movies aren’t in front of a live audience or quite this…explicit.
Jager was just about to step back and exit the stage when Keefer yanked him close and kissed him.
The audience went silent. There were hushed whispers and gasps.
Keefer’s pussy-juice-coated, dessert-sweet mouth devoured him. Jager’s shaft tingled and twitched against the restraint of his pants. It wasn’t until Anjelee untangled herself from the pole and wiggled her mouth in for a three-way kiss that Keefer’s ballsy aggression received a public reward.
The spectators started with a random clap here, a shout there, and within seconds, the tepid response heated to boiling. The vacationers stomped their feet, clapped, screamed, whistled, woo-hooed and clinked glasses. It turned to a deafening roar that the emcee was powerless to calm.
Finally, the noise cooled and the host chuckled, “Well, I think we have us a winner. First place, with a free night’s stay in the Kinky Penthouse, goes to Anjelee, Jager and Keefer. Give up a round for this sexy threesome, everyone!”
The crowd escalated again while Anjelee grinned and threw her arms around their necks. “Oh, my flipping gawd, we’ve converted them.” She jerked Jager and Keefer together so they faced one another, launched herself up and straddled their hips. “Now let’s go to that kinky-assed suite and get down to some real business. Damn, and I was just about to come when the timer went off.”
Chapter Seven
She stood near the swimming pool and hot tub where it perched on the suite’s tiled veranda overlooking the sea. Thick rifts of salty wind lifted Anjelee’s hair from her shoulders and fanned the sweat along her neck. She studied the slivers of moonlight dancing on the choppy waves below, and sighed at the soothing song of the sea crashing on the beach, ebbing back with the pull of the tide. Her mind rewound to that night in Hawaii when she’d almost gotten caught on the roof above Wulfrum’s little threesome wedding party. She’d snapped some damning pictures through the skylight before nearly plunging to her death on a veranda very similar to this one. How ironic that now, here she was about to engage in some of those very same acts of lovemaking—and with one of the men who’d fought with her to confiscate those very photos she’d taken.
Really, she should admit the truth, at least to herself. Jager had only been trying to protect his own career and the movie star’s public image. She couldn’t exactly blame him anymore, not for wanting to keep things private...like she wanted what was about to happen here tonight, kept private.
She pressed a hand to her belly to ease the guilt that twisted and churned deep inside. Jager had once been the enemy, and an easy one at that. Now, within the span of a day or two, she’d allowed him to dig his way into her heart right there next to Keefer. Or had his heart-worming started in Hawaii? How was she ever going to separate that from the fierce love and protectiveness she’d always felt for her little sister? And with all of Ali’s dialysis and the massive debt her terminal illness had incurred, it only made things that much more complicated.
Plain and simple, they needed that money. It could mean the difference between life and death for Ali.
She kicked her heels off. The faint odor of chlorine drew her, so she sat on the edge of the hot tub and dangled her legs in the swirl of steaming w
ater. Bamboo torches blazed and edged the landscaped pool area. The staff had set up a candlelit nightcap on the raised table in the corner of the spa. Flames danced in the intermittent breeze and towered over various tropical fruits, cheeses, shrimp, crackers and desserts. A bottle of top-shelf champagne chilled in an ice bucket with stemware. And just like she’d noticed on the tub’s edge during her spy session on Wulfrum in Kabana, a basket of naughty adult toys sat within reach of every seat in the circular tub. Various colors, shapes, sizes and kinds of condoms were sprinkled at random in the basket, like confetti or candy filler in a gift basket.
“Hello, Miz Anjelee.”
She squealed and angled around toward the baritone, Jamaican voice.
The butler wore a butter-yellow tux with a black tie and pants. He waved at her with a white-toothed grin. “Irie, mon, irie. Just preparing your massage area and hanging the swing. Almost done, then I’ll leave you three alone.”
“Oh.” She scanned the massage table. Hm, not your ordinary salon type. Its black leather surface had large holes that apparently corresponded to anatomical areas. One for the face, another larger one for the rump or groin and a double set of smaller openings for breasts. There were stirrups at one end, various straps and restraints attached to the edge and levers to tilt the platform vertically. “How clever.”
“Oh, yeah, sinful.” The man smirked, added a wink and did one last arrangement of lubes, condoms and lotions on a nearby table. He bowed and added, “Enjoy.” He crossed the patio. Keefer and Jager met him at the threshold where the glass outer wall partitions had been slid to either side, leaving the entire room open to the outdoors like a huge cave.
Her gaze touched on the enormous teakwood bed on the far wall. Holy chimoly, the suite was like a lovers’ jackpot-lair set on a seaside cliff. Her system hummed with arousal. The possibilities here! Pool, spa, orgy-sized bed, yummy food and drink, massage table, sex swing, sex toys and two hot men at her whim.
Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat) Page 9
