No Pants Required

by Kim Karr

  Another swig of beer and he drops the empty in the holder and grabs another. “With you? I think I’ll pass.”

  Okay, I deserved that.

  Boy, did I make an ass of myself by referring to him as only a lifeguard. Just reflecting on that comment makes me feel like a catty bitch. And I’m not. I don’t judge. So, why did I say it? Because the situation was awkward and I act out in anger when I find myself in an uncomfortable position.

  I really need to work on that.

  Liquid courage. I need liquid courage. I down the remaining beer in my bottle and, like him, grab another. “Look, sorry can’t even begin to explain how I feel right now. Still, like it or not, we’re neighbors. We might not be friends who borrow cups of sugar from each other, but I really don’t want to us be enemies, either.”

  When he looks over at me, I’m surprised to see a smirk on his face. “Frenemies have benefits, you know?”

  The beer sloshes in my belly and I swear I feel it bubbling. The small hiccup that escapes my throat can’t be missed. My hand flies to my mouth and I cover it, repeating the word frenemies as a question around my fingers.

  This time, when he racks his beer, he doesn’t take another. Instead, he reaches over and wraps his long fingers around the neck of my bottle. Our hands lightly touch and I feel the slight impact like an instant shot of desire. The way his mouth parts tells me he does, too. “You’ve had enough,” he laughs, dropping my bottle beside his. “And frenemies are friends who are enemies. They don’t talk much, they have a hard time getting along, and they usually fuck.”

  That word again, bold and direct, but so freaking sexy.

  Not wanting to ruin the mood, I play right along. “I’m not sure friends who are enemies necessarily screw each other’s brains out.”

  That brow rises, the one I want to put on repeat. “‘Screw each other’s brains out’—that’s quite a visual.”

  I give a noncommittal shrug. “I said, I’m not sure if they do that. What if all they ever do is argue?”

  The wind blows my hair in my face, and he moves closer to push it aside. “If that is the case, that would be a dirty shame.”

  Breathing heavily, I want to lean forward to kiss him. To put all of this behind us and make frenemies with him, right now.

  “So Vanessa and I,” he starts, and I lean back instead of forward, “broke up because she cheated on me, with my father.”

  Oh, my God!

  That bitch!

  The gasp I let out can’t be stopped.

  His laugh is dry. “Yeah, right. The almighty Pearson Waters had to have what was mine.”

  I know he must have cared for her. I can hear it in his voice, see it on his face, interpret it from the words he uses. The fact that he called Megan with a B mine doesn’t get past me either.

  He pulls his knees closer and drops his head. “It was Thanksgiving, and Vanessa and I had spent the day with my mother in Brooklyn. While there, she got called into work, so we planned to meet at her place later. She worked for my father and I didn’t think a thing about it because it happened to everyone who worked for him—you were on call night and day. It was the first Thanksgiving without”—he stops, draws a breath, and then goes on, “since my parents’ divorce and my sister was in Paris on an internship, so when I left my mother’s, I felt bad that my father had spent it alone and decided to stop by his kingdom in Manhattan and check on him.”

  The moonlight reflects off the water and highlights his handsome silhouette. I want to reach out and provide comfort, touch him, soothe him in some way, but something tells me he’s not looking for that.

  Another breath. An even longer exhale. “When I got there, I used my key and walked in. I thought he might be eating Thanksgiving dinner alone, but what I found wasn’t what I expected. There he was all right, eating, just not turkey, and not alone. His face was buried right between Vanessa’s legs, and her ass was planted right on the dining room table.”

  Oh, my God, she really was the devil.

  “Cam, I’m so, so sorry.”

  Lifting his head in my direction, he stares at me with dead eyes. Like the thought of what happened had killed his spirit. I get it. For the longest time, I thought I might be dead inside, until he touched me. Again he gives a dry laugh. “Shit happens.”

  Boy, he isn’t kidding. “Want to hear about the shit that happened to me?” I ask.

  That puts a small light in his eyes. “Did you just swear?”

  “Oh, I swear,” I say indignantly.

  He laughs.

  “I do. Like a sailor. Shit. Hell. Fuck.”

  Cam gives a low whistle. “Wow. Total rebel.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m serious. In fact, when my shit happened, I threw two double middle fingers in the air right on the streets of Manhattan.”

  Done making fun of me, he grows serious. “Tell me more.”

  Without liquid courage, I have to dig deep to stop the burn of tears that threaten to spill at the memory. “Sebastian and I had met after college. He worked for a small, private wealth management firm on Wall Street. Our relationship progressed quickly and one year after we met, he asked me to marry him.”

  “You were engaged?”

  I nod. “For a whole four weeks before the shit hit the fan. Just enough time to start planning the wedding.”

  “What happened?”

  My white dress has turned an odd shade of dingy, the water is cold, the night air cooling, but still the heat of his body so close warms me. “One night I decided to surprise him.”

  Uncertain if I should go on, reveal the mortification of it all, I pause.

  “Surprise him how?” Cam prompts.

  This time it’s me who laughs. “Okay, this might be as embarrassing as witnessing you receiving oral sex.”

  Cam cringes. “At least call it what is was, a blow job, will you? And by the way, did you see anything?”

  Feeling a little hot and bothered at the thought of really seeing his big, thick cock, I know immediately when my nipples pop.

  Great.

  “No, I didn’t see anything. Only the back of Meg—” I stop and correct myself, “Vanessa’s head.”

  Cam’s eyes are on my small buds in an instant. To his benefit, in white, they must be really hard to miss. “Well, not sure if that’s good or bad, for you,” he says, “but we’re off track—finish your story.”

  Ignoring the sexual energy surrounding us, I settle my gaze on him and wait for his eyes to lift. And wait. And wait. And wait. “Cam,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he answers.

  “Could you look up here?” I point to my face.

  That does the trick. But then I’m distracted by the swipe at his lips with that tongue that had so expertly sucked and licked at my neck. Laughing, he clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m good now.”

  I find myself laughing along with him for no reason at all, especially considering I am about to tell him one of the most painful things that ever happened to me in my life. Weird how suddenly I find it rather funny and can even laugh at myself, which I do as I speak. “So, like I said, I wanted to surprise him. He’d been working late hours and we hadn’t had much time together. That night he was again working late. So I waited until I knew he’d be home to go over there. It was a rainy night, and I wore my raincoat and nothing else.”

  Cam’s chest rises and falls faster and faster. “Let me get this straight. You, the good girl, went over to your fiancé’s place naked?”

  Embarrassed, I look down at the sand and find a seashell. Picking it up, I toss it out into the ocean. “Not naked. I told you: I was wearing a raincoat.”

  There’s a shell in his hand and he’s throwing it. “Yeah, I got that.”

  Fingers still in the sand, I rake them through it over and over and watch the water wipe the marks away. If only life’s scars disappeared so easily. Ripping the Band-Aid off quickly, I decide to go on and just put it out there. “Like you had at your father’s, I used my key to
get in. He was standing in the living room on the other side of the couch. Feeling triumphant, I unwrapped my coat, flung it open, and yelled ‘surprise.’ Imagine my surprise when I saw Sebastian was naked on the other side of that couch, with someone dressed in leather on their knees.” I raise my gaze to his. “Don’t you dare make a joke about me seeing another, as you so kindly told me to say, blow job.”

  His hand covers mine in the sand. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good, because unlike you, who were with an ex-girlfriend, my fiancé was with a hooker. Later, I found out his boss had been pressuring him to take on more of a family role if he wanted to move up the ladder. And I was the one who fit the bill for the family role.”

  Instead of throwing me a pity party like most people do when they hear the story, Cam surprises me when he asks, “Were you not giving him what he wanted in the sack?”

  Shocked, I pull my hand away and hop to my feet. “I am not an uptight bitch.”

  Cam rises as well, wetter than I in his jeans. “I didn’t say you were.”

  Giving him my back, I head toward the house. “Well, Sebastian did. In fact, it was the last thing he said to me.” I toss the words over my shoulder.

  This time when Cam catches up to me, he whirls me around to face him. “I asked you a question.”

  I ignore him.

  “Hey, I’m just asking because I can’t figure out why any guy would want anyone else when he had you.”

  Hot tears stream down my face. “If you must know, he never gave me any indication what we had wasn’t enough. If he wanted more he only had to ask. I’d have given him anything. Turns out I couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted.”

  “Which was?”

  “Cock. The hooker was a male dressed as a female.”

  His reaction is to let out a stream of expletives. “Then you have nothing to be upset about. It was all him. He’s a fucking needy john who obviously wouldn’t know a good thing if it were staring him right in his fucking face.”

  In the midst of the heaviness, I find myself laughing. “Did you just call him a john? Isn’t that like from the turn of the century or something?”

  He shrugs. “No fucking clue. All I know is that he was using a hooker for sex, and that makes him one.”

  Practically bending over with laughter, I wish so much I would have thought to say that to him. Called him a john. Shouted it from the rooftop. Sebastian would have keeled over in embarrassment and probably had a heart attack. Wouldn’t want to tarnish his shiny image and all. I never found out if he preferred males to females; I doubt he did. I think he was just looking for adventure. Honestly, I didn’t want to know.

  Mirth glitters in Cam’s eyes as he looks at me. “We both definitely ended up with two very fucked-up people.”

  Finally able to stop laughing, I look him over from top to toe. “And you know what I say to that?” I tell him.

  The sexiest smirk lifts the corners of his mouth. “What?”

  Raising my arm, I turn toward the east and salute the sky with my middle finger. “Fuck them.”

  “Hell yeah, that’s the way to do it, naughty girl,” he says, and follows suit. “Fuck you, Vanessa!” he shouts.

  “And fuck you, Sebastian!” I yell.

  “May you have the worst sex of your life for the next hundred years,” Cam tacks on.

  Both saluting the people we left behind in New York, we laugh until we can’t laugh anymore.

  When we lower our arms, Cam places his hands on my hips and pulls me a little closer. Within moments, his fingers trail up to my neck and then stop at my cheeks. Holding my face in his palms, he smirks, “With all the talk about blow jobs, I can’t stop thinking about you wrapping your mouth around my cock.”

  Trembling under his touch, I say what I want to say without worrying that it sounds too forward. “And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about doing just that, and giving you the best blow job of your life.”

  Yeah, so what if it’s on that stupid list. I still want to do it. For me. And for him.

  His response is to look at me with the most smoldering gaze I’ve ever seen. Hot mess and all. And I swear I can feel the heat of it all over my skin. “Blow jobs aside for now, if we start this again, this time I plan to finish . . . inside you.” The growl-like threat is so cocky, so exciting, and so unlike any male sound I’ve ever heard.

  Stomach fluttering with a million tiny wings, I’m done waiting. Wanting the same thing he does, I close any distance between us and crash my lips to his. Sucking, licking, and devouring as much of him as I can.

  Whoever said a girl can’t kiss a boy first, anyway?

  CAM

  USUALLY THE LINE IS “YOUR place or mine?”

  Not in this case. Uncertain if Maggie still has company, I take Makayla’s hand and lead her quietly to my house.

  “Fuck,” I curse when the back door is locked. Looks like we’re going around to the front.

  “What are you doing?” Makayla asks.

  “That should be pretty clear—trying to get you to my room.”

  “We can’t go inside like this,” she whispers, looking down at her sand-covered body.

  I look down at my own clothes, which are much worse off than hers. “Sure we can.”

  That adorable head shake and scolding demeanor only make my cock throb and ache for escape. “I need to get this sand off me, Cam. Like now.”

  Trying not to huff, I change direction and head toward the beach entrance. This house is a rental and nowhere near as nice as Maggie’s. It has no fence or patio or built-in grill. Our outdoor living space consists of a slab of grass with a couple of flimsy lounge chairs on it, but we do have an outdoor shower.

  “Stand right here,” I tell Makayla.

  She looks up toward the small showerhead. “Is it going to be cold?”

  Taking off my shirt and pants, I toss them in a pile and stand in front of her in my white boxer briefs. “What do you think?”

  Her gaze rakes over me, and the look is hot as hell. “I’m not taking my clothes off out here. Anyone can see.”

  “I didn’t tell you to, did I? And besides, I can still see plenty through that wet, white fabric.”

  She shakes her head. “Not only do you have a dirty mind, but you’re awful bossy, you know that?”

  “Bossy, no. In charge, yes.”

  This time she rolls her eyes at me.

  Holding back my snicker, I decide to prove it. I pull the chain and then feel a little bad when ice-cold water sprays over both our heads.

  “Ahhhhhhhhh, that’s freezing, Cam!” she screams, looking up at me with those eyes I want to get lost in.

  Needing to quiet her down or we’ll have Maggie peering over her fence, I lower my head and capture her mouth with mine. Our lips meet, softly at first, but with enough pressure that there’s a tightening in my cock. The rapid beat of my pulse can’t be denied, just like the taste of her on my tongue is unlike anything I’ve ever had. The water flowing over me might be cold, but the hunger within me is spinning hot and out of control. Lost to the moment, I open her wider and kiss her faster, deeper, and harder still.

  Soon enough, she stops flailing, and even though the fire in my veins smokes and flames as she presses her body to mine, I know it’s time to stop, out here, anyway. Still, doing so is hard with her slight curves molding against me, aligned in such a way that her pussy is flush against my cock.

  Shivering, she shifts, pulling away from my mouth. Unable to control the pull I have toward her, I yank her to me to feel her one more time before letting her go. Like this, still so close, I find myself groaning softly into her hair and feel my muscles knotting in anticipation.

  Every nerve in my body is aware of her. I want to fuck her so hard, finish what we started and do it all over again. Now more than ready to get out of here, I brush her wet hair aside and kiss behind her ear. “Do you think you’re clean enough yet?” I murmur. If says no, I might just have to lick the sand aw
ay.

  She jerks her head up and stares at me. We remain like this, eyes locked, unmoving, her closeness turning me inside out until she finally says, “Yes, I think I’m clean enough. Come on, let’s go.”

  Smirking, I turn the water off. “We have to go around to the front. I didn’t bring my keys to get in the back door.”

  Already heading in the right direction, she leads the way, and I let her. “That’s fine,” she says, moving fast.

  Once there, she stops.

  Standing behind her on the front porch, I lean down. “Now listen,” I whisper into her ear before I open the door, “I know you tend to like sexual public displays, therefore this is fair warning: my roommate has a guest over and she sounds like a porn star, so try not to get too excited and attack me until we at least make it to my room, or it might be you on public display this time if they walk out into the family room.”

  Whirling around like a little firecracker, she places her palms on my chest and rakes her nails down it, rough, sharp, and such a turn-on. “I’m giving you fair warning right now, I have a real angry streak that tends to rear its ugly head in awkward situations, and I don’t think you want to be on the other end of that with your pants down.”

  After considering using my hands to cover my dick and balls, I opt for raising them surrender style instead. “Whoa, down, girl—save it for the bedroom.”

  A very wicked smile spreads across her luscious-looking lips. “Say ‘down, girl’ one more time and you won’t be needing pants ever again.”

  “You know, you could throw me a bone here,” I tell her, trying not to laugh at her attempt to scare me.

  She raises a brow. “What are you, a dog?”

  A grin lights up my face. “I’m not past begging.”

  Feigning shock at the thought, or maybe really shocked, she covers her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t seriously just say that?”

  I take a step closer, pinning her against the door and caging her in with my arms on either side of her. “I’ll drop to my knees right now to prove it.”

  “How can I turn that offer down?” she breathes hot against my neck.