by Piper Denna
So maybe Britt was right, and what they were about to do wouldn’t mar their relationship. She sure hoped so.
They followed Mark and Carmyn out the door, with David following behind. Poor guy. She wished they could have talked more. It must’ve taken some guts to show up at their door after he’d gotten upset enough to leave earlier. Well, she’d be sure to make it up to him later.
* * * *
Victoria leaned into Britt. Much as she loved seeing him all dressed up, she’d rather not be on the dance floor in the Grand Ballroom. She had other places to be. Britt was an excellent dancer, though.
“Looks like you still remember the steps,” he murmured in her ear.
He’d taught her all the ballroom dance steps–nude, in their apartment on the Mountain. Of course, they’d had lots of breaks and done some horizontal mambos during those lessons. And now he slipped his hand down the open back of her sequined dress, past where the dress barely concealed her butt cleavage. She was certain others could see, and she should probably stop him.
“I love you, you big old pervert. But don’t you think we should cool it? Prying eyes, and all that.”
“Mm.” He nuzzled her neck. “One could say it’s a trap–if this ends up on the blog tomorrow, we’ll know our spy was here tonight, and can close in on her. Or him.” Him vibrated below her ear, giving her sexy shivers. His warm hands on her ass, though, sent spikes of heat radiating through her middle.
Between what he was doing to her now–in front of everyone–and thinking of later, her thong was hopelessly wet.
“I’ve a bit of a surprise for you, love.” He pulled back to look at her face and smiled. “I gave David the code to our room so he could go back there at will, and be there when we return.”
“When did you do that?”
“Before we boarded the lift, while you were yacking with Carmyn.”
“Oh. Can we go there now?” she joked. If only. Still, it could be worse. Dinner had gone pleasantly well: Captain Bekyros stoic as ever, but his guests, lively and fun. Now they had to make a show of associating with the first class guests for a respectable time, even if it killed her to think of David ready and waiting for them back at the room.
“Can I cut in?” the captain rumbled.
“Oh. Certainly.” Britt inclined his head, and handed her over.
It sure wasn’t the same dancing with someone else, keeping a suitable distance between their bodies. “Well, Captain Bekyros, what do you think so far? Are you feeling okay with taking the job?”
“Call me Rob. You and your husband are good bosses. Why would I complain?” He held his body so stiffly, he’d obviously danced with her purely for propriety.
“I guess there was some…speculation in Human Resources, that you might not approve of the nature of the activities aboard.”
“Never captained a ship where sex wasn’t everywhere. At least the people on this cruise are honest about it.”
“And you and your wife? Did you patch things up?”
He shook his head. “Married to the sea, or married to a woman. Can’t seem to do both.”
“So you divorced?” Maybe there was a reason he was so stoic.
He nodded. “Number two for me.”
He was an attractive enough man, in that swarthy Greek way. “I’m so sorry. If you’d like, I could arrange a diversion–”
“Mind if I cut in?” Mick, the Great Throbbing Dick, stopped them dead in their course.
Rob scowled, but let go of her and walked away without a word. Did that scowl mean he’d like for her to set him up and he was pissed at Mick, or was the scowl for her?
“How is the beautiful Mrs. Grant?” Mick asked. Where the captain had kept a stiff distance, Mick seemed intent on holding her much too close. “Or do you prefer to be addressed as Ms. West? I need to know, for my articles.”
“Either is fine.” She wiggled to move his hand up her back. “But I prefer just Victoria.” Minus the beautiful, coming from you, bucko. “So, speaking of articles, do you happen to keep a blog?”
He tilted his head to the side and gazed down at her. Really, he was an attractive guy, with those big dark eyes. But he did absolutely nothing for her. Gay? Perhaps. Gay enough to call himself a gossip girl? Doubtful. “Yes.”
Yes? Oh, yes, to a blog. “What’s it called?” She was blatantly questioning him, but after all, he did that to other people all the time, so he shouldn’t mind.
His hands were sweaty on her back. He cleared his throat. “I collect Alfa Romeos–the cars? It’s a blog about restoring them, and interviews with other collectors, that sort of thing. It’s called Romeo Shop. And that’s rom-ay-oh, not Romeo, as in Juliet.”
Not at all what she’d expected. And a bit macho for a gossip girl. “Oh.”
“Probably not your line of interest, huh?” He snickered and shifted his hands to a new spot. God, where was Britt? “Speaking of interest, though. I attended the anal class today. My God. You really outdid yourself. In fact, I intend to write a special-interest article on it. By the time they left that class, every man there was an Ass Master.”
Oh, boy. He was excited. She could tell, not just by his breathing, but by the front of him smashed against the front of her.
“I’m, uh, glad you enjoyed it.” Was he still going for abstinence? If so, all the better for her. Everything he’d see, everything he’d write about, would seem that much sexier if he was pent-up.
“Victoria.” He said her name slowly and with emphasis. “I’d really like to visit Fantasy Mountain and do a write-up, something like I’m doing for this cruise. I could shadow you and–”
“Mind if I cut back in, old chap?” Britt, thank God.
Mick smiled and bowed. Didn’t stand up entirely straight as he walked away. Good Lord. If he didn’t take care of himself soon, the guy would end up coming in his pants while writing some report.
“He enjoyed the anal class,” she told Britt when his arms were back around her. “A lot.”
“Mm. It’s getting rave reviews all round. Vic, love. Are you sure you feel all right? You look a bit peaked. Coming down with something? Something that might require you to return to your suite and lie down?”
She loved him for more reasons than one. “Yes, I do feel a bit under the weather. We should probably call it an evening.”
On the elevator ride up, she clasped his hand in hers. “Do you think he’ll be there? In the suite?”
He squeezed her hand. “If he’s like any normal red-blooded American chap, he’s probably been sitting there for hours, with one hand in his pants.”
“Lovely picture you paint,” she muttered.
He bent and caught her lips between his. “Enjoy this, Vic. Don’t be afraid to do whatever you like, all right?”
Heart racing, check. Butterflies in stomach, check. Superwet panties ready to drip down the leg, check.
His hand slid inside the back of her dress again and clutched her ass a little tighter than he had on the floor. Leaving his mark? Britt never acted insecure, but he definitely had enough good ol’ testosterone to make sure everyone was clear about things. His lips moved from hers, down to her neck, where he nipped with his teeth. Definitely leaving a mark. And she was okay with that.
With a faint chime, the elevator stopped and the doors whooshed open.
Only a few steps to their suite.
Britt keyed in their code and swung open the door.
Had David returned to the scene of the invite?
Chapter 11
The TV was on. Victoria released her breath.
David slouched on the sofa, his bare feet on the coffee table, with only one lamp burning in the corner.
Behind her, Britt shut the door, and David immediately stood, turning the TV off on his way up. “Hey,” he said, straightening his shirt and smoothing his shorts.
“Hi.”
Britt said, “Hello yourself. Did you get some dinner and a swim?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Da
vid fidgeted.
Silence.
Britt cleared his throat, but then said nothing, his warm hand reassuring at the small of her back.
Awkward.
“Um. So maybe we should…go out to the hot tub?” she suggested. “To talk?”
Britt nodded beside her. “Not a bad idea–”
David shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I want to take that dress off you. Later.” He rubbed a thumb over his eyebrow. “You look really hot in it.”
Oh. Well, that just made her heart race all over again. “Then I guess we’ll just talk here.”
“Why would you want to share her?” David blurted. “That seems fucked up.”
Britt pressed against her back and they walked toward the sofa. “Let’s have a seat, shall we?” He sat down and she took a spot next to him.
David settled on the coffee table, facing them. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped between.
“I don’t look at it as sharing Vic,” Britt answered. “I see it as giving her something extra to enjoy.”
Staring for a long time, David finally nodded. “Okay. So. How often do you…” He took a deep breath. “Do this?”
“Never.” She leaned forward and took one of his hands in both of hers. “Ever. What about you? Do you have a significant other at home? Anybody who’d be hurt?”
He shook his head, squeezing her hand with his warm fingers. “It’s pretty hard to have a relationship when you travel for a sport. I run into a lot of female athletes who are only serious about one thing–their sport. They’re really in tune with their bodies, so the sex is good.” His words were coming faster, and so were his breaths. “But that’s it. Oh, and for the record, I’ve always used a condom.” He took a deep breath, his hand shaking a little in hers.
“As you know, Britt stocked up on condoms.” She let go of David with one hand and slid it along Britt’s inner leg. “I’m on The Pill, but to be sure and prevent pregnancy, you’ll have to wear a condom at all times during penetration.” Man, good thing she’d had all these sorts of talks with clients before. Because it was still hard to do, even with practice.
David nodded, and Britt grunted his agreement.
“Um. I think that’s it. Unless we need some ground rules?” Silence. “Like, maybe, no kissing?” Kissing made things so much more personal–she’d learned that from her work on the Mountain. Why couldn’t she breathe?
No input from the guys.
Britt cleared his throat. “No, Vic. I see what you’re about, but I think no kissing would take much of the sport out of it.” His hand covered hers. “Unless…you don’t want to kiss David?”
“I do!” She’d blurted it out before thinking. But yes, she did want to kiss David. Very much, and everywhere.
“Then I think we’ve covered everything, so let’s get after it.” Britt placed her hand back on David’s.
She leaned forward, and David toward her. Her lips met his–firm, smooth, for a brief moment. His breath brushed over her, minty-fresh. He’d been waiting. Ready. Well, he wasn’t getting away with that sort of kiss.
She pulled her hands away from his, held his face on either side. Stubble grazed the heels of her hands, while her fingers brushed his hair. She slid to the edge of the couch, moved into him, this kiss long, deep, showing him her hunger. His grasp mirrored hers, clasping her head, and he angled in deeper, his tongue coming out for a taste. Sweet, minty, hot, it explored her mouth until she captured it and suckled. He groaned and held her tighter, rocking forward until he slid off the coffee table to the floor between them. On his knees, he pulled his mouth away from hers, kissed down her neck. With the beard, he felt so different from Britt, yet so good.
Britt…Beside her, he breathed heavily. She arched, David’s breath on her neck tickling and making her shiver, her hands now mussing his hair as he moved down over her right shoulder, the inside of her elbow…he pulled her hands from his head and kissed down her arm to her hand, where he tongued the palm, sucked skin between thumb and fingers. Wow, for a younger guy, he did a good job with foreplay.
He smiled up at her, while he eased a hand down the back of her right calf, to the heel. His attention focused on her foot as he slipped the shoe off, brushed his fingers along the top, arch, ankle. The other foot got the same treatment, then he slid his hands back up her calves, to her knees, and above. The dress rode up when she sat, to mid-thigh. His fingers grazed up and down her legs several times, playing her like a harp. The mere touch of those fingers sent jolts running straight to her core, and like he’d turned on the tap, her juices ran.
Next his lips and tongue–soft, hot, wet–ran the length of her leg, from knee to ankle, from ankle to dress, tantalizing, making her want to shimmy so the dress rode higher, making her want to moan, making her want. His kisses crept higher, but by painfully slow increments. It took all her control to not grab his head again and pull it into her, so he could see what he did to her, smell her, taste her.
This was probably a one-night, once-in-a-lifetime thing. She’d enjoy every second of it. No matter how long he took to get her there.
No, screw that. He came up for air, fondling a foot again, and she moved off the couch, straddled his legs. His hands covered her back, rubbing, while she pressed down against him. He groaned and pulled her down harder. Ahh, so his control was slipping. “Baby,” he whispered against her mouth. Sliding his hands down inside the back of her dress, tentative, he searched, until they hit the top of her low thong and he sucked in air from her mouth to his. “Oh, fuck. I’ve gotta see you. How do I get this off?”
She reached behind her neck to unclasp the halter, and his hands were upon hers.
“Oh. I see. No, let me.” He pushed the coffee table behind them back, giving them more room. “Turn around.”
She released his mouth and turned around, facing Britt on her knees. Now would be the perfect time…but he didn’t seem into joining the show. He’d removed his bow tie and unbuttoned the shirt to his waist. So far the tux pants were still on, but his knuckles rested against his cock through the fabric.
David unlatched the hooks and her dress fell her waist.
Britt groaned and clutched himself, while David nibbled the back of her neck and clasped her ass, kneading, raising the dress ever higher. He kissed down her backbone, warm, suckling kisses making her bend into him, until he reached the top of the dress with his mouth, his hands just below, inside. He had to smell her now, how bad she wanted him. She could smell it. Could Britt?
Britt still clutched his cock. David’s lips met her bare ass, his breath blowing hot and wet along her cheeks. His teeth nipped at her thong. Would he ever take it off, already? Or did he intend to do her with it on? She whimpered, bent over the couch and grabbed handfuls of cushion. Now. She needed him now. Or Britt. Somebody, inside. She throbbed, aching to be filled.
He tugged the dress down over her hips, and groaned again. Good. He was feeling it, too. Maybe he’d get on with it. His hands skimmed the fronts of her legs, her hips. She raised herself to her knees and leaned against him, while he found her breasts. Kneading, plucking at the nipples. She turned into his kiss and arched into his hands.
Britt’s eyes were narrowed to slits, but he watched every move. His belt was open.
She looked back at David, whose eyes were closed. Good Lord, his clothes were still on, and she wore nothing but a thong. Scooting against him, she pressed her ass into his crotch area.
“Baby.” One of his hands slid down, past her navel, over the front of her thong. “Holy Christ you’re wet.” His voice was rough.
Britt nodded and sniffed, slipped his hand inside his trousers. Ah, good boy.
She bucked against David’s hand and he chuckled, moved aside the thong. He gasped, and so did she when he touched her. It certainly was wet. Slick as hell, and so very ready. He rubbed the side of her clit and she all but came, her breaths ragged with need. “Fuck” was all she could get out. Her scent rose, his fi
nger dipped, then his thumb took her clit while he worked the finger inside. She pulsed around him; the thumb pressed. Her world spun, teetered, exploded in a bright, hot rush.
“Ohhh, fuck. Oh my God.” David’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Oh fuck. You can do that? I thought it was a trick in the movies.”
She’d sprayed all over them.
Britt was still at it, either stimulating himself or trying to stop from being stimulated, but he winked at her and smiled.
“Oh, fuck,” David repeated. He pressed her onto her back on the carpet and went down on her, pulling the thong off and tossing it aside, lapping at her with his tongue. “Waxed? Dude.” He sucked, licked, nipped, and she needed him just as much as she had before she’d come.
She writhed. Maybe he’d get the hint–he did a great job, but it was time.
He lifted his head and grinned at her, then reached behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head. That was good. A nice view of his chest and shoulders–she’d have to learn them later with her mouth. He went for his shorts button next, and that was better. But she wouldn’t just lie here and let things happen.
She sat up, took one of those hairless nipples in her mouth and suckled. Slid her hands down his belly to the shorts–she’d soaked them, could smell herself everywhere–pushed his hands away, unfastened. Unzipped. Shoved the shorts down, and those little bikini briefs too. Took him in her hand and made him gasp. Bent low, lower, and took him in her mouth. Made him groan. Salty precum greeted her, replaced almost as fast as she could lick it off.
An impressive cock, smaller than Britt’s, lighter in color, smelling of chlorine…and completely free of hair. Holy hell. She should say something in appreciation, but it was hard to talk with a cock in her mouth. Or a ball, or that bit of loose sac… God, she might come again, just sucking him. It was so good, tasting him, having him moan nonstop above her, she could go on forever, and if she touched herself, she’d come with him in her mouth. She reached her fingers down, and found herself just as slick now, but also grippy-wet along her legs, from her ejaculation. Just a few little rubs, a little pressure. She whimpered and gasped, took him deep in her mouth as spasms rocked her body.
