Flash Drive

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  Knowing how powerful the brain was, so powerful that often a sensual person with a detailed imagination could bring themselves to climax using just that supreme sex organ alone, he catered to hers.

  After opening a blanket and securing their things, he stood her at the water’s edge and removed her top. Then he used it along with the bandana to blindfold her. And after a few minutes of telling her how lovely she looked, he invented a man walking on the beach toward them.

  At first, she panicked, but he calmed her and told her he couldn’t wait to see the man’s reaction to her lovely naked breasts, and he even turned her in the direction he told her he was coming from. Her breathing hitched and her nipples hardened. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to moisten them. She was beginning to go under, and it was sexy as all get out watching her. His penis jumped and begged to get out to play.

  He knew that if he could get her into the fantasy, get her to believe everything around her was real, that she’d be incredibly, insatiably aroused. He’d done it himself, many times—eyes closed visualizing super models wearing skimpy Victoria’s Secret underwear baring it all for him, the hunky photographer . . . being the overly-endowed pile driver in a porn movie . . . the hero football player on a bus with all the Debbie Does Dallas cheerleaders. Yes, the mind was a terrible thing to waste.

  Now he was helping Laurel, convincing her that her deepest, darkest fantasies were actually being played out right now on this lonely section of beach.

  He was creating her fantasy, and along with it, a secret he’d have to keep. She could never know of his unique ability to throw his voice. And she could never know that he’d actually never consider sharing her with another man.

  He looked at her standing there, her perfect breasts being thrust out for the approaching stranger. “He’s almost here. He’s young, looks like he’s out for a jog. He’s slowing down now that he sees you. Shaking his head in disbelief. Now smiling. Grinning. Pull your bottom down to your knees and show him your pussy before he walks past.”

  She immediately did as he asked, and the fact that she had obeyed him—unconditionally, that she had done whatever he had asked, no matter how demeaning, was such a turn on. He shivered from the desire coursing through him as he stared at her sun-kissed breasts, her nipples tightly pulled into hard peaks from knowing she was being exposed.

  Blindfolded, she stood regal and proud as if she was fully clothed, instead of her breasts being bared and her genitals being blatantly exposed. Her vivid orange bikini bottom, pulled down to her knees, charmingly set off her sweet bare mound. There was no doubt that this woman was uncovered in a place that should be hidden from strangers, and because of it, her breathing was labored, her hands at her side fidgety. Garrett had no doubt that if his hand was between her thighs that it would be drenched.

  He placed his words, thickly accented with a brogue, five feet in front of her. “Doo ya mind so much if I have a taste of ‘er?”

  He watched her face and neck flush, her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and her breath gasp. He smiled and answered as himself. “Help yourself, you’re sure to be delighted with her flavor.”

  He, as the stranger, quietly moved from her side to stand in front of her before dropping to his knees. Brusquely, as he imagined a young horny Scot would, he gripped her hips and took her hard with his mouth. He used the flat of his tongue roughly, so she wouldn’t know it was really him, and lapped at her greedily, disguising his touches by being purposely rough and crude. His tongue delved deep into her vagina, madly and wildly sampling her.

  Well-placed moans summoned from deep in the stranger’s throat vibrated through her, and comments from him, as Garrett, had her breath wheezing like a banshee. He lifted his mouth and boldly fingered her slit then thrust two fingers, twisted together for luck, into her. As if using a socket wrench, he flipped them back and forth.

  “You look so hot Laurel, letting another man eat you while I watch. God look at him finger-fucking you. This is amazing . . . so fucking hot.”

  He couldn’t disappoint her, not now that she was reveling in the attention she was getting from this “other” man. He had to do his part, play his part, but all he really wanted now was to finish what he’d started. He wanted to fuck her so badly.

  “He’s looking at your pussy baby, and lovin’ your pretty little clit with his fingers.”

  He leaned in and wrapped his lips around her tight pearly little nub and sucked. At the same time he stretched his fingers deep inside her, scissoring them with each upward thrust. She fractured, spending against his lips and keening to the wind-driven clouds high above them.

  After a few seconds, he, as the stranger, made a show of pulling up her bikini bottom and handing her back to Garrett and then “disappearing.”

  She recovered in Garrett’s arms and as he slipped a Listerine strip into his mouth, he slowly removed the blindfold.

  She looked around, blinked, and sighed. “Where did he go?”

  “Up into the dunes.”

  He smiled at her and gathered her into his arms, his lips kissing the side of her neck. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?”

  She beamed up at him. “I think it works both ways. Were you really okay with that?” she asked, waving her hand where she’d just been pleasured, a delightful blush coloring her already sun-pinkened cheeks.

  “It’s all good, baby. It’s all about your pleasure. And I want you to have it all baby, whatever you need, I want you to have it.” He took her hand and dragged her over to the blanket and lowered her down to it. “My turn now.”

  He whipped off his bathing suit and covered her, his lips latching onto a pebbled nipple as he settled between her hips. He sucked hard then used his teeth to tug on it. Reveling in her soft gasp. He hitched her leg over his hip and rolled so she ended up on top of him. “Climb on baby and put me inside you. I am so ready for you.”

  And he was, as she soon found out. She gripped him, pulled and jerked his thick length to the music of his agonized low groans. Then brought him up to slide between her slick lips and into her welcoming warmth.

  He stretched her to an escalating fullness with each upward push, grinding his pelvis against her and hitting all the right places. “Shit, baby . . . I can’t stand this. It’s too good, too fucking good. God I love this. And you. I love you. Too fucking much. Ohhh.”

  Their eyes met, both irises reflecting the brilliant sun and looking luminous and dazed.

  “God, what you do to me,” he groaned as he gripped her hips and thrust high, leveraging them both off the blanket. She shuddered and sighed as her body ignited with her orgasm. It washed through her, purging her of all sensation but the zinging heat flushing through her. He was filling her, stretching her divinely, and holding her to him as if she was all that mattered in his world.

  He retreated, and his warm hands held her as he entered her again and again, increasing to a punishing pace while he held her fast to him. Staccato breaths expanded his chest and fueled him for more of the same, until he shouted her name and found his release. Accompanying his moans of, “Laurel, Laurel, Laurel,” was a litany of swear words strung together that didn’t begin to complete a single coherent thought.

  The adoring wonder in his eyes matched hers as he shuttered, sighed and came back to the living. As the reality of what they’d been doing, and where, came to him, he barked out a carefree laugh, deep and throaty and completely exhilarating. He was the happiest he could ever remember being, and he was madly and thoroughly in love with this sweaty and sated woman stuck to his chest.

  “Wow,” was all she could say.

  He bent and kissed her, his tongue claiming her mouth.

  “Mmm . . . your mouthwash lasts a long time.”

  He buried his chuckle in her belly as he blew kisses against it to cool her. Then he lifted
her into his arms and stood, a miraculous feat considering he’d just destroyed his stamina. He carried her with him into the surf and while she floated in his arms, he nuzzled her ear and breathed, “Will you marry me?”

  “What?” she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

  “I asked you if you would marry me.” He was looking down into her face as he turned her in circles in the water, her hair streaming out, behind her making her look like a beautiful mermaid. “Would you marry me again? On every anniversary would you marry me again?”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes!” Her eyes shone with tears.

  He lifted her high in his arms and kissed her. “Oh, the naughty games I’m going to play with you Mrs. Grayson.”

  “Mmmm,” she said as she reached down to cup his balls, “How long do I have to wait?” Her lips curved into a sexy pout.

  “At least until we get back to the room, I see a catamaran heading into the inlet.”

  “Do you think they can see us?”

  “I believe those are binoculars glinting in the sun.”

  “Are you making that up?”

  “Stand up and see.”

  As soon as she did they heard the men on the sailboat clap and holler. Laurel quickly ducked back into the water and Garrett chuckled, “What’s the matter? Changed your mind about going topless?”

  She stood and turned around to face him, brazenly she placed her hands behind her head and posed for him. “These belong to you now, it’s up to you to decide if you want to share the view.”

  Cinching his hands around her waist, he ran them up her torso until he had a breast circled in each hand. “Let them find their own, these are mine.”

  Laurel looked into his face and he noticed her eyes were damp and not from the ocean. “Laurel, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m glad you said let them find their own. This was fun. And I like that I got it out of my system. But if it’s okay with you, I don’t think I want to take my clothes off for other men anymore.”

  He spun her around and held her tight to his chest. “Baby, it’s more than okay! It’s actually what I would prefer, too.”

  He kissed her softly, murmuring against her lips how much he loved her, how much he adored her, and how happy she made him. And that he would always treasure her and the memories of their wild and crazy honeymoon.

  Epilogue

  When they got back home and began combining their things, Laurel started cleaning out closets to make room for Garrett’s clothes. At the top of one guest closet she found her baby scrapbook. It had been years since she’d thumbed through it, so she sat on the guestroom bed and opened it.

  She smiled as she looked at all the pictures of her as a baby, dressed up for an Easter parade as a bunny, in a tiny tutu for ballet classes, in an even tinier outfit for gymnastics . . . all the way up to pictures of her in cap and gown at her college graduation. She rubbed the tips of her fingers over the faces of her beaming parents.

  Then she flipped back to close the book and it opened to the page of her birth announcement. At the top of a page was a faded matchbook. She lifted the book to stare at it closer. It was from the liquor store she and her dad used to go to when they went to the races, The Starting Gate. She put the album back on her lap to open the flap. She gasped when she saw the handwritten note scrawled around the inside edge of the matchbook.

  Our baby conceived. Sept, 19th 1983. Won $2,000 in the tri-fecta! Her name will be Laurel, named after this town.

  When Garrett came into the room and saw her crying, he sat down beside her. She showed him what she’d found.

  “That’s pretty interesting, because that same racetrack is the reason I’m so well off today.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I had carefully researched a stock; it was my first big investment. I finally jumped in and bought it and the next week it sunk. I lost nearly everything but I did manage to recoup $5,000. I was driving around kind of lost, wondering if I should give up, when I was led to the track. I’d never been one to play the horses, knew virtually nothing about the sport really. Then in the fifth race, there was this horse named “Try Again.” I figured what the hell, five grand wasn’t enough to set up an investment career anyway, so I put it all on the horse. And won 180 grand. The next day, I started investing with a fresh and cautious mindset, and after that I picked up a few investors and things went from there. I never went back to the track. But I’ve always felt that the town of Laurel was the reason I’m wealthy now.”

  Laurel ran her fingers over the matchbook. “I’m named Laurel, and it’s where I was conceived. You live there; it was there you made your fortune—”

  “I was conceived there too. My parents went to a family reunion and stayed at the Holiday Inn on 179.”

  “Wow . . . that’s a lot of coincidences.”

  He took her hand, “Baby, where you’re concerned, there are no coincidences. This is the way God planned everything; it all fits as it’s supposed to . . . you . . . me . . . and whatever comes of our union.”

  “I think we’d better use protection when we go to clean out your house in Laurel next week.”

  “You think a thin sliver of latex is going to stop God if he wants my sperm to find your egg? Sweetheart, if you’re not ready, we’d better abstain.”

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” She rolled her eyes.

  He patted her knee then squeezed it lightly. “I can go by myself . . .”

  The doorbell rang.

  On his way to the door, he took a few lemon Jelly Bellys from the silver bowl in the foyer and popped them in his mouth. The intricately engraved bowl had been a wedding gift from Roman and Tess, and Laurel kept it full of Werther’s and lemon jellybeans.

  He came back with a long white box.

  “Someone send flowers?” she asked.

  “Not hardly. It’s addressed to me. And it’s from Ireland.”

  He pulled off the tape, ran his thumb along the sealed edge and lifted the lid. Nestled inside cotton batting was a walking stick. He lifted it out and they both stared at it. There was an intricate carving of a wizard at the crook, his long hair scrolling down the sides of the cane. “Looks like one of my grandfather’s.”

  He fished in the box for a note and found one. He read it aloud. “Made this for you and your bride, my boy. Now get busy, I’m getting on in years and would like to meet my great-grandchildren before I die. Grandfather Merlin Grayson.”

  “Your grandfather’s name is Merlin?” Laurel asked, her eyes agape.

  “Yup. Sure is. What a lovely gesture,” he said as he admired the intricately engraved artwork. “This looks a bit like him, too. I should take you to Ireland to visit him. He’d adore you.”

  Merlin . . . the wizard man in the tree at Sea Trail that had brought Cat, Tessa, and Viv their true loves. Merlin . . . who they had chanted to at the cemetery just up the street. Merlin . . . who had made sure her lost flash drive was in a safe place.

  “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

  “About that other matter . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “When we go to Laurel, let’s tempt fate. I’m ready if you are. I mean, we will have nine months to prepare, you know.”

  She laughed and pulled him down to the bed with her. “Surely, we don’t have to wait until next week.”

  The End

  Note to Readers:

  For those of you who would like to finish reading The Rake and the Young Innocent, please go to my website for instructions on how to download the story for free. I hope you have enjoyed this book. I would love to hear from you. Feedback, both positive and critical, is very important to me. Thank you for buying my book.

  Jack DeGroot

  www.jacquelinedegroot.com


  If you enjoyed this book, check out The Widows of Sea Trail trilogy—the stories of Catalina, Tessa, and Vivian as they find true love with Matt, Roman, and Philip.

  About the Author

  Jacqueline DeGroot lives in Sunset Beach, North Carolina with her husband Bill. When she takes a break from writing, they enjoy riding bicycles, walking on the beach, lounging at the pool, and making plans to take off in their “vintage” RV. She started reading romance novels when she was a

  teenager and still has her beloved collection of Emilie Loring and Georgette Heyer books. She read her first erotic novel when she was fifteen and kept it hidden in a box in her closet. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to keep that collection hidden anymore. She loves to hear from readers and has a website you can visit at www.jacquelinedegroot.com