Victoria's Secret Wish

by Piper Denna

  They’d finally gotten comfortable together. It was a shame they didn’t have more time. David’s visits would be sporadic, at best. If he agreed to visit. Fuck, he hoped so, after he’d built Vic up to hope for it.

  “So why did you come on this cruise, really?” she asked.

  David looked up from her feet to her face. “I was hoping to find a hot redhead and have some awesome sex.” Good answer, chap.

  “Yeah?” Her voice was smooth as her nightgown, warm as the sun shining down, the sound of a flattered woman.

  David grinned. Such an attractive smile he had. “Yeah. Only one day left to find her, though. I’m starting to wonder.” David jerked upright, his eyes round, and her knees snapped together.

  Vic gaveth, and she taketh away.

  David smirked, and tickled a finger along the arch of her foot. She nearly came out of her seat. Ah, he could give it back. Did he realize no matter what, Vic was always still in command?

  “Seriously,” she prodded.

  “Seriously?” He stroked her calf, shrugged. “I needed a break from reality. An escape, I guess. I considered booking a trip to Fantasy Mountain, but had no idea what I wanted, ya know? So then I saw this cruise was happening during my off time.”

  “You really had no ideas for a fantasy?” Vic always swore everybody had fantasies; many weren’t brave enough to admit to them, though.

  He’d turned that theory on her enough times, but look how long it had taken for her to confess her own? Knowing her, she’d be out to discover David’s so they could fulfill it already.

  “I’m twenty-one, remember?” David laughed. “But think about it. If I wanted to go someplace where all this crazy shit was happening, like fucking machine contests and girls doing girls by the pool, how long would it be ’til I ended up on every tabloid news show? Pictures of me watching or doing, or whatever… I needed to go someplace without cameras.”

  “And then Britt ends up whipping out his phone and hitting the record button last night for a close-up of our penetration scene.”

  What? He had that on his phone?

  David blew a raspberry. “I’m probably not too recognizable by my junk. And that sort of thing isn’t going to show up on TV. Besides…” He cleared his throat. “I’d kinda like to watch it back sometime.”

  Silence fell between them, and Vic’s knees spread apart again.

  “Anything else I don’t recall from last night, besides my porn-recording debut?” Brett asked, stepping out into the sun.

  “Debut, my ass,” Vic muttered. “How’s your head, hon?”

  “As if it’s a great concern of yours.” He faked a pout and sank into an empty chair. “Out here flirting and eating with this bloke, while I’m inside on my death bed.”

  Vic rolled her eyes and shook her head, but David grinned. “Can you handle some breakfast yet?”

  Breakfast. Dear Lord. “Doubtful.”

  David looked around the table. “We’re fresh out of crumpets,” he said with an admirable British accent. “But how about an English, er British muffin, perhaps, and a spot of tea?”

  Muffins and tea. And a couple of aspirin.

  “And how about a swift kick?” Vic added. “David told me how much you drank down there in the casino last night.” Not to mention what he’d drank all day.

  He accepted a buttered muffin and spread some jam on it. “Fuck, it’s bright out,” he complained. “Did you tell her about the loot we won from the carny game?”

  “Loot from the carny game.” Vic rubbed her eyes. “I can only imagine.”

  “You know, the claw? We landed you an extensive collection of new vibrators.”

  “Perfect. Because we all know I don’t have access to things like sex toys.” She smiled and shook her head. “It must be a pretty easy machine to beat, if you managed after drinking that much.”

  Easy? He wasn’t so sure about that. But he’d dropped a couple hundred in quarters in the thing. All in good fun, though, and not close to what he’d probably lost gambling.

  “I think he won like five grand yesterday,” David said. “A couple at the poker table, and then three at roulette. You should take him to Vegas.”

  “Really?” Vic’s brows arched up. Surprising news, since he was more of a losing gambler than a winner. Perhaps David was good luck. “Maybe you’re on a winning streak. You can test it out later when Mark and Carmyn come over. We’ll all go down to the casino for a while.”

  “Mark and Carmyn?” He did a poor job of keeping the disappointment from his voice.

  She shot him a frown. “They haven’t spent time with us since, what? Wednesday or Thursday?”

  Sure. And they were their friends. Mark had been his pal for years. They’d worked at the same firm before he’d gone to work with Vic at the Mountain. He bit off some chewy muffin. Next to Vic, Mark probably knew him best. Still, it felt like an invasion of the little time they had left with David. Some of the things he’d thought of, considered, done with David…would be awkward as hell to think about around Mark. Could he play it cool around them both? Surely he could. Liking David and feeling secure with Vic’s feelings for him didn’t make him less of a man. Definitely not. He had a healthy, confident friendship with another man. Who sometimes touched him in private places while they loved his wife, a fact that caused his balls to tighten. Egad. This was going to be a pins-and-needles day.

  “So.” Vic sounded entirely too energetic, as she came over to him and rubbed his neck. “Ready for that group shower you mentioned yesterday?”

  He rather needed a few more minutes for his body to recover from the hangover. “The blog?” That should provide a bit of delay, and then the shower would help eradicate Vic’s nerves over it.

  David looked up at Vic, his eyes wide for just a moment. Then he assumed a neutral expression and poured some orange juice.

  “We can worry about the gossip bitch later,” Vic said in her no-nonsense office voice. “We’ve only got an hour ’til Mark and Carmyn show up. Besides, your hair and forehead are all sticky.”

  True that, thanks to Vic’s all-natural shower from the night before.

  By the time he’d brushed his teeth and stepped into the shower, David held Vic in a tight, head-to-toe embrace, and they were kissing madly, like some long-lost lovers in a black and white movie. Heat rolled off them in waves, sexual energy, lust, need. David’s tanned, muscled arms and shoulders looked even larger, wrapped around little Vic.

  Perhaps this once, he’d simply sit back–make that lean back–and watch. The cool tile felt wonderful, if he could lean into the corner and get his forehead against it. Ah. Better.

  David obviously couldn’t go on kissing Vic forever either, as he’d moved down to suck a nipple and knead the other.

  Vic opened her eyes and looked over at him. What was that expression on her face? Certainly not full-on lust. She must be planning something. Damn her–why couldn’t she simply let things happen during sex, even once?

  “Britt.” David’s words were muffled against Vic’s chest. “How about we wash her down?”

  Not a bad idea. Perhaps working together, they might make her let loose. His headache receded at the prospect.

  David squeezed shower gel into his palm and then handed the tube over. Some coconut-smelling concoction Vic loved, and it seemed sensual enough. David had already worked up a full lather on the left side of her torso, spending ample time at the nipple.

  Breast man.

  He went to work on her right, the rich lather sliding along her jutting nipple. Damn, her entire breast was tight. Little Vic was very horny indeed. He kissed her, sucked her tongue into his mouth, tasted breakfast and that ever-present Vic flavor. “Ah, God,” he muttered as he moved down to lick water from her neck.

  “Yeah,” she answered. “You guys gonna scrub me all day, or do something worthwhile?”

  The washing clearly had her motor running. David had progressed down and Vic’s legs spread as he worked a path from between
her legs, up her front and down again.

  “I think you need some cleaning,” Brett murmured in her ear. “You’ve been a dirty girl these last days, no?”

  She laughed, low and sexy, and braced her hands against the wall in front of her.

  Well, if David wanted to work her front, he’d get her back. He slid his hands down, over her soft and smooth ass cheek, pausing for a moment to squeeze. Her legs spread more and she whimpered, arching so her long braid reached down to the dimple at the top of her crack. She trembled–David must be working her clit in the front.

  Brett slipped his hand between her cheeks, a little more forward… Yes. He found the tight opening, caressed it.

  Her body softened and she moaned. “Yes. Yes.” Then she went taut, but not with the orgasm he knew waited just under the surface. She straightened, and grasped his cock in her fingers.

  David groaned–she must’ve given him the same treatment.

  No more lying back and letting the boys run this show for Vic.

  He ought to take her hand off him, make her play passive this time. But damn, she did have a good hold. Slippery soap, warm, soft hands and Vic’s body before him all lathery and firm for him. For them. Did David feel the same need to let her take him, milk him with her hand? Fuck. That faultless timing of hers…he wouldn’t stop touching her, though. Perhaps if he kept on, she’d get there before he did.

  She tossed her head back again, and he leaned forward so the braid could rub along his nipple, between them. Ah, rough. Good show. He licked her neck and she shivered, moaned. David moaned, too, sounding helpless, close, all but ending it for Brett. Vic went all hot and even slicker between the legs, and fuck, fuck. No point holding back.

  He growled and thrust into her hand and came in great, scalding, relieving spurts against her hip, his fingers captured with David’s between her legs as she clenched and cried and came. One of David’s hands on her shoulder–the one next to his own–squeezed, and David took in great gulps of air, frozen tight against her.

  The air smelled of their sex, their release. He put his hand over David’s. To fuck with what Mark might think.

  Vic had done it again–managed them all right to incredible oblivion. Christ, he loved her.

  But tonight, things would go differently. Tonight, she’d learn what it was to let go.

  Chapter 20

  Griffin was dying. This morning, he and Peyton had taken a vow of fake orgasms, which meant he hadn’t gotten off. All. Day. Long. And he’d been dreaming of Peyton, waiting for their shifts to end. He still couldn’t believe he’d managed it, that none of the women had noticed how empty the condoms were. Now they’d arrived at her cabin–it was closer than his, and he’d begged–but she insisted on showering first. They were having dinner at the table next to the captain’s later, so she’d wanted to stop by here and put on her fanciest clothes. He didn’t understand why–not a snowball’s chance in hell he wouldn’t get them off her before they went up to dinner. So here he sat on the edge of her bed, waiting. That dinky shower in the crew bathrooms wasn’t nearly big enough for the two of them, and besides, he’d gotten off shift before her and showered already.

  Fuck. His cock was killing him. Even after their evening together yesterday–just the evening, and then she’d begged off with her pumpkin joke again, and also claimed she needed lots of beauty sleep–and then another early morning bout at breakfast, he couldn’t get enough of her. It seemed to be mutual, and more than sex. Definitely more. Which he hadn’t come here for–fun and sun were all he’d been after, but hey. Love came along at–

  Love? Could he possibly love Peyton already? Maybe…yeah. He did. So sue him for being a sensitive dude.

  Hell. The logistics of keeping this thing going would be rough. She lived in Salt Lake and he lived in Des Moines. He rubbed his hands over his face and flopped back on the bed.

  Wham!

  What the hell? Something very hard under his left arm…a book, maybe? Her TV remote? No, this was too big. Christ, he hoped he hadn’t cracked it. He lifted the bedspread, then dug under blanket and sheet. His fingers found cool plastic. Please don’t be broken, not by my big stupid arm.

  An iPad? How the hell had she gotten this thing onboard? They were one of the devices specifically listed and definitely banned. Asked about during that all-but-cavity-search prior to boarding.

  The firehouse had a couple, donated by the local big box store. All the guys had a great time watching YouTube videos and some more colorful entertainment on them during downtime. But a guy wouldn’t need one of these on a cruise like this.

  He powered it on, and swiped the screen open. Not many app icons. Must be fairly new. Where had she been with it? He tapped the Safari icon and a blog came up. Gritty Gossip Girl. Why would she read this shit? Looked like most of it was about the Grants, and not very nice stuff… Brett Grant and mancandy–who Griffin had ID’d as his surfer-swimmer bud–the fucking machine contest… The person writing this shit was onboard, or getting the info from someone onboard. Someone who could maybe email the info using an iPad? No. This stuff was expressly forbidden in their contract.

  He hated snooping, but he had to know. Nothing in the Email icon. Whew. But wait…the device had Pages. He opened it, waited for the screen to load. Found the document with all the same stuff as the blog had. Shit. Hit the Documents button and found four more. She’d been blogging the entire trip, talking real shit about the Grants.

  Her shower stopped and the door rattled open.

  Here came the moment of reckoning.

  “Hey baby? Ready for me?” She came out with only a towel on her hair, stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open.

  He swallowed hard. “Care to explain?”

  She closed her eyes, but already tears were leaking out the corners. Not tears, not tears.

  He had to focus. “What the fuck is this? How did you get this on board?”

  She backed into the bathroom and shut the door. “Just go away. You need to leave. Now.”

  “Oh, the fuck I will.” He stood and pounded on the door. “Not without an explanation. This is why you had to leave every night, isn’t it?”

  No answer.

  “Peyton! Goddammit. Answer me! Why are you doing this? Do you know how much trouble you’re gonna be in when they find out it’s you?”

  “No!” She threw the door open and it smacked his elbow. “No.” She gasped. “Please? Oh God, please? It’s–it’s for an assignment for my lit class. I’ll ace the class with this, and I need that A. Please, God, Griffin. If I mean anything to you, please–”

  “How did you get this on board?”

  “I…I can’t tell you.” The tears streamed down her face.

  “So you’re working with somebody else, somebody who’s more important to you than being honest with me.” Fuck. Was anybody in the world honest anymore? “I can’t be with a liar.” Not again. Not ever again.

  “Then just go.” She tried to pry the iPad from his hands. “I said, get out!”

  “Get dressed. We’re going to see the Grants.”

  “Oh no. You’re going to leave, or I’ll–”

  “What will you do, Peyton? Call Security? I’m guessing that’d land you in exactly the same place. The Grants’ suite, explaining yourself. Only, the entire security team would know what you’ve been doing, and then pretty soon the whole crew.”

  “I’ll tell everybody I know, everybody you know, that you’ve been getting head from guys behind the bar.”

  Fucking little– Blackmail? One guy. One, that first day. He stepped closer. “Get some clothes on your ass. I’m waiting outside the door for five minutes. If you’re not out by then, I’m calling Security. Once you’re dressed, we’re going up to see the Grants, and then we’re finished. Forever.”

  Chapter 21

  David lay back and let himself sink, the cool pool water closing in around him, over his neck, ears, eyes, nose. Quiet and familiar. He straightened and rose to the surfa
ce, then backstroked to the end of the pool. Britt and Mark were easing into the shallow water; Vic had gone inside somewhere. Carmyn had just come out of the changing room, looking very hot in a very tiny string bikini. Holy hell. To think she was somebody’s mama. MILF. Well, maybe, if he hadn’t already hooked up with Vic. Didn’t seem cool to think of her friend that way. Carmyn definitely had that star quality. Knew she was hot, and didn’t mind flaunting it–or discussing other people’s attractiveness, either. And obviously felt okay taking her top down in mixed company, which she’d just done before lying across a lounge chair to sunbathe. Well, that explained the lack of tan lines.

  He glanced over at Mark to see if he minded his wife getting bare in front of a virtual stranger, but Mark looked excited, more than anything else. Probably having a wife that hot would be exciting all the time.

  He let his head loll back against the pool edge, and hung on with the backs of his arms draped across the overflow. Clear blue sky, bright as hell, especially after those last few hours in the casino. Britt was one lucky bastard. Every place he played, he won. Not just money, and not only gambling–he’d get to go home with Vic tomorrow.

  Fuck. He couldn’t be thinking about that now. At least he got to be with them, even if he was a damn fifth wheel. Carmyn and Mark were nice enough, and he had no right to resent them, but he sure wished they had something else to do today. His last day with Vic and Britt, and they had to play friends. Not the way he’d have preferred to spend their time together.

  “What did the chicken say to the horse?” Carmyn said. He glanced over to confirm she was talking to him. “Sorry. It’s my daughter’s joke she tells whenever somebody seems bummed.”

  “What?”

  “Why the long face?”

  “Huh?” He was so lost with this conversation.

  “It’s the punch line–why the long face? That’s what the chicken asked the horse.”

  “Oh.” He should at least pretend to laugh, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood. “Funny.”