by Madison Faye
Or I could go out and do something about it.
After all, this place could be romantic, if I could find some romance — even if it was the temporary, “I’m on vacation so I can do this kinda thing” romance.
A cheer went up from the crowd as the DJ slid into a new track, and I suddenly stood up, my mind made up.
Yeah, time to do something about it.
I hadn’t exactly packed “going out” clothes for this vacation, but I also didn’t think showing up in just my bikini was really me. Instead, I pulled together an outfit I decided looked appropriately “tropical nights” — a short, loose, black tank-top that showed off the mid-drift I’d put punishing hours on the treadmill for, and a wraparound sarong that I rolled to shorten to mid-thigh. Sandals, a loose tie for my long blonde hair, a bit of makeup, and I was ready.
The music pounded as I slipped into the crowd of dancers, bodies grinding and swirling like this big rolling orgy of movement. I pushed my way through to the bar, grabbing another gin and tonic before turning to gaze out over the dance floor. My eyes flitted over them, the bare, sun-tanned skin, the hands in the air, the hips moving together, and the strobe lights flashing over the whole thing giving it this almost erotic feel.
I was so caught up, in fact, with watching the mass of grinding bodies and flashes of skin that I never even realized he was looking at me until I looked up.
And I was lost.
Dark eyes, bronzed skin, thick dark brown hair, and a look on his face that got me warm in all sorts of places instantly. His lips pulled back in a strong, confident grin across his slightly scruffed jaw as our eyes locked.
Caught.
Definitely caught, and I was definitely not going anywhere as he effortlessly moved through the dancers, slipping easily past them all with his eyes locked on mine.
I swallowed, realizing as he got closer that he was shirtless, and I felt a throb of heat flash into my face as I broke the stare to drag my eyes down over his torso.
Holy cow.
His face was gorgeous, but his body was a work of art. Broad, sculpted shoulders, a muscled chest, strong, powerful looking arms, and grooves down his abs leading right into the waist of that dangerously low-slung swimsuit.
Um, yeah. This was the vacation night I needed. This was exactly what I needed, actually.
“You’re staring.”
I blinked, quickly swallowing as I glanced up into his eyes, blushing.
“I was not.”
“You were.”
There was a hint of smile on his face — just a teasing upward twist to the corners of his lips. I lost control of my eyes again, letting them wander over those perfect muscles, and the lines of ink etched over at least half the skin I could see.
And I could see a lot of it.
“You’re doing it again.”
My eyes snapped back to his, feeling the heat rush into my cheeks as that grin and those eyes lanced right through me.
“I— no, I was just—”
“It’s okay, darlin.”
I gasped as he suddenly stepped even closer to me, his bare, muscled chest inches from me, the scent of him creeping into my senses.
“Cause I was staring too.”
I glanced up into his eyes, biting back a grin as I saw the cocky smirk on his face. “Oh really?”
“Damn right,” he growled. There was something primal and animalistic about the way he growled it into my ear that sent a shiver through me.
“And you liked what you saw enough to come over, huh?”
God, this was not me. I never flirted, or teased, or toyed around like this. Hell, I never even really went to dance clubs at all, let alone made eyes with tall dark and handsomes across the room.
“Wouldn’t have come over otherwise.” He grinned down at me, his dark eyes flashing. “But let’s go back to the part about you eye-fucking me.”
I hooted out a laugh, grinning at his cheeky comment. “Wow, use that one a lot?”
He frowned. “Use what?”
“That line. On women.”
“Only on the ones hot enough to make wade through a crowd of rich douchebags to get to so I can tell her I want to take her home and undress her piece-by-fucking-piece.”
My heart jumped into my throat as the pulse of heat slid deliciously through my body. I blinked in shock at his crude words. Crude, and yet hot — bold and filthy like no man had ever spoken to me before.
I swallowed the heat from my face as I tried to keep cool, forcing myself not to look like some sort of blushing dork and forcing myself to hold his gaze right back.
“So, what, you’re not part of the crowd of rich douchebags? Sort of hard to believe given the price of staying at a resort like this.”
“Nice.”
“What?”
“Nice job totally sidestepping the part where I just told you I wanted to take you home and tear your clothes off.”
I shivered at his words and bit my lip. “Maybe I’m not the kind of girl who responds to filthy talk like that.”
“Yes you are.”
I gasped as he moved even closer, his hand moving to my hip — a move so bold I’d have never let a man I just met pull under any rational, clear-headed circumstance.
Evidently, this was not one of those circumstances. I didn’t move. I didn’t push his hand away, or slap him, or tell him not to touch me.
In fact, I wanted him to keep touching me.
“You don’t like admitting it out loud, but trust me, you are definitely the kind of girl who responds to a filthy mouth like mine.”
“Trust me, history would say otherwise,” I whispered.
“Which only tells me you’ve clearly never met a guy who can talk to you, and touch you like you should be talked to and touched.”
“Is that a fact?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
I could feel myself drawn to him, like a moth to flame or like some sort of undeniable magnetic pull. This was so far past anything I’d ever done or any way I’d ever acted with a total stranger, but again, my thoughts from earlier came teasing back inside.
I was single. And, like it or not, I was in this insanely gorgeous locale. I was barefoot at a beach party, the Caribbean moon shining down on me while some insanely attractive, crude-talking, panty-meltingly filthy, tattooed bad-boy type was very forwardly trying to get into my pants.
This was everything I needed right then.
“And what kind of guy might that be?” I said, letting myself get pulled into this vacation-fantasy.
“A guy like me, actually,” he growled.
I shivered.
Here we were under an island moon on the beach, with pulsing lights, grooving music, and sweaty half-bare bodies swirling around us. And after all, my whole reasoning for even going to the beach party had been for some temporary escape. Some casual fun.
Yeah, a man who looked like this was certainly both those things, and the throbbing heat coursing through my body felt the same way.
“Piece by piece, huh?”
I gasped as the hand on my hip pulled tight, yanking me against him. My hands instinctively went up to his hard chest, my fingers grazing over his skin.
Holy shit.
I’d never moved this fast. I never remotely moved this fast, with any man, and I have to say, there was something thrilling about it. There was something so risqué about being a complete unknown in this strange place, and knowing I could drag this man to a dark corner of the beach right now and let him do whatever he wanted to me without anyone batting an eye.
He grinned at me hungrily, as if reading my thoughts. “Let’s go get a drink.”
If by drink you mean fucking me eight ways ’til Sunday, then yes please?
I blushed at the filthy, totally out of character thought that slipped through my head. Instead, I made myself smile, forcing myself not to shiver against him as I nodded.
“Sure.”
“I’m Foster, by the way,” he murmured, his ey
es dancing across my face”
“Cassandra. Or, just Cassie. Cassie works.”
“Yeah but Cassandra has such a sexy feel to it.”
“Totally agree.”
The voice from behind me made me gasp, and I whirled in Foster’s arms.
Whoa.
Seriously, seriously whoa.
The man who’s deep baritone had made me jump was just as gorgeous as Foster, and looked like they’d been cut from the same cloth. The same low-slung swimsuit, the same shirtless, ridiculously grooved and muscled chest, the broad shoulders and bulging arms, the same dark hair and dark eyes. Like Foster, he was covered in tattoo ink. Actually, he even had one of the same tattoos Foster did — a winged viking woman holding a sword and a scythe, wearing a motorcycle helmet.
“I think Cassandra has a sexy feel to it too,” he murmured, his dark eyes dancing across mine, seemingly enjoying the surprise he’d given me.
“This is Zane,” Foster said from behind, moving until he was standing in front of me next to Zane. He jabbed the other man sharply in the ribs. “He’s got a knack for showing up at shitty times.”
“Bullshit, I think I showed up at exactly the right time,” Zane said, flashing me a heated, lingering grin that had me biting my lip and squeezing my thighs together.
I’d almost have expected Foster to act how I’d expect most other guys would act when their buddy interrupted their game with a girl at a bar, shoving him off or telling him to get lost. But he only chuckled and shook his head, clapping the other guy on the back. “Cassandra and I were just about to get a drink and get to know each other better.” He glanced at me, those dark eyes flashing over me. “Weren’t we?”
I swallowed and nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah.”
“You mind if Zane joins the fun?”
There was something in the way he said it, something just veiled enough to make me second guess the tone it set in my head. But there was a look that followed, a glance between the two men that said more than the words had.
And it sent a tingle deep into my core, a hot flush between my legs.
Mind if Zane joins the fun?
The proper girl in me was scandalized at the thought that went through my head. The good girl was aghast at the filthy fantasy that suddenly crept it’s way inside. I shook my head, shoving those thoughts aside.
No, this was just me feeling the thrill of being single and in this exotic location with two gorgeous men who looked like them showing me some flirting interest.
This was me not having gotten laid in way too long.
Except, the not-so-good girl inside — the part that lies deep inside every woman because we mostly keep it locked up — begged for something more.
Something way darker and dirtier.
I looked up at the two of them — both shirtless, and muscled, and inked, and dangerously out of place looking in the sea of preppy, moneyed, cultured resort-goers.
And my mind was made up, no matter how “too far into the comment” I was looking.
“Not at all!” I smiled at Foster and then Zane. “Let's get a drink.”
5
“We’re just here for work. Boss is paying for the place on his dime.”
Foster grinned at me, across the low, round table we’d found off on the outskirts of the party under some palm trees. Down the beach in front of us, the party still raged on, with the lights and the music and the dancers. But where we’d clustered around our little beach table with some glasses, a lime, and a bottle of tequila Zane bought with cash at the bar, it was quieter.
Darker.
Out of sight.
The thought that I was now not in a public place with two big, somewhat dangerous looking strangers crossed my mind. But then, I’d always been good at reading people and situations, and nothing about this said danger.
“Not a bad job.” I picked up my glass and sipped at the tequila. “What do you guys do?”
“We’re in logistics,” Zane said quickly, shrugging. “Getting things from point a to point b, fixing problems, that kind of stuff.”
“How about you?” Foster’s eyes flashed at me as he leaned onto his elbows on the table.
“Non-profit. We organize food aid relief for disaster areas.”
Both men’s brows shot up and Zane chuckled as he pushed his hand through his thick hair. “Looks like we’re not the only ones out of place here.”
I rolled my eyes. “My parents — my mom and her husband I mean. They wanted me to come along.”
“Oh so you’re a daddy’s girl.”
“Step-dad, and God no.”
They grinned.
“Well what kind of girl are you, Cassandra?” Zane’s plastic beach chair was close to my left, and he leaned in close, his arm draping across the back of mine.
I bit my lip, holding his eyes. “Right now? The kind that likes tequila on the beach, I guess.”
Zane grinned, knocking back the rest of his drink and reaching for the bottle. “I’ll drink to that.” He splashed some into his glass, and then Foster’s, before tilting it my way.
Bad idea. Go home. Stop flirting with the idea of actually—
“Sure,” I nodded.
He grinned.
Foster suddenly reached for the lime we’d picked up at the bar, and my eyes went wide as he suddenly pulled a sharp looking blade out from somewhere and started to slice it up on the table.
“Okay, where exactly were you hiding that?” I said with a laugh.
“You’d be pleasantly surprised by what I’m hiding in my shorts, darlin.” Foster grinned wickedly at me as he deftly cut the lime into slices. I blushed as he slid me one and raised his glass.
“To meeting new people.”
The tequila burned and the lime was sweet, and I breathed out as I looked up at the starlit night sky, feeling the drink and the excitement of it all coursing through me.
Zane’s arm moved back to the back of my chair, his bare arm brushing my shoulders and sending a shiver through me. Foster poured us another drink, and I noticed his chair had moved closer as well.
I wasn’t entirely upset with that situation.
Zane groaned as his friend slid the newly-full glasses our way. “Fuck, dude, slow it. You trying to get me drunk or something?”
I laughed as he grinned at me, shaking his head.
“Aww, what’s the matter? Can’t keep up?” I grinned wickedly, arching my brows at him as I grabbed my shot and downed it right in front of him.
Foster whistled as Zane shook his head.
“Hey.” I shrugged. “I went to college.”
He chuckled. “All body shots and beer-bongs huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what’s hilarious? I actually somehow got through college without ever doing a body shot.”
Zane’s grin suddenly widened, his eyes flashing at me.
“You don’t say,” Foster’s voice growled in my ear from behind.
I swallowed the sudden heat in my throat. “Nope,” I said, shaking my head as I slowly turned to him.
“I think we should fix that.” Zane’s arm tightened across my shoulders, and I felt the excitement pulse through me.
“Get on the table.”
The sharpness, and the roughness of his voice sent a shock through me as I turned to him.
“What?”
“Get,” he said evenly, his dark eyes holding mine. “That sweet ass on the table.”
I bit my lip, feeling my heart thumping in my chest. “For?”
He grinned and lifted the bottle. “For a body shot, of course. I’m telling you, you’re missing out.”
I held that look of his for a second or two, weighing what I was actually considering doing here. But again, that voice took over. This was a vacation, and I needed to stop hanging on so tight. I needed to let go.
“Sure,” I shrugged casually, like this was nothing to me. Both men grinned. I stood, and slowly pulled myself onto the round, wooden beach table in front of us. For a mo
ment, I was on my knees, facing away from the men, and I swear I heard a growl behind me before I turned onto my back.
“Like this?”
“Almost,” Zane said softly, leaning over me. “Open up, gorgeous,” he murmured. His hand moved out and slowly slid a lime wedge between my parted lips. I shivered as I felt another pair of hands peel my shirt up a little higher, higher until it was right beneath my breasts, my skin tingling with something wild.
“I’ll go first,” Zane husked, his eyes burning into mine. He leaned over me, and I giggled as I felt the cool liquid pour over my belly, trickling and teasing down over my belly button towards the waist of my wrap-around skirt.
Suddenly, hot breath and warm lips pressed into my skin, sucking the tequila from it. His tongue rasped against my belly, making my whole body tingle as he licked down, down to my hip to lick the last drops of tequila from my skin. He pulled back, and before I could process it, the inked, muscled man leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
It was quick, a brush of his on mine, and then he pulled back with the lime in his teeth and a dark grin on his face.
My heart pounded.
“My turn,” Foster murmured. Another lime was pressed between my lips, my chest still heaving as another shot was poured over my skin.
I whimpered this time, Foster’s tongue doing much more than lap at tequila as he moved his mouth lower. His lips fastened around that sensitive little inch by my hipbone, where my tummy started to slope down into the waist of my panties. My hips actually raised a half inch as his wicked tongue lapped at my skin, a moan catching in my throat before he pulled away.
My body tingled as he leaned in, his lips brushing me like Zane’s just had, and coming back with the lime.
The table was silent then, the three of us all looking at each other.
“I think,” Zane murmured, leaning into me as he pulled me into a sitting position on the edge of the table. “I think you should show us where you’re staying.”
Heat pulsed through my body as my eyes went wide. I glanced at the two of them — two gorgeous, hot, strangers who very clearly wanted to move this past drinks on the beach.
And God if I wasn’t thinking it too.
