by Alexis Angel
“What if she doesn’t?” The question just slips out. I think I’m more confused by it than Clarissa.
“Think about your experiences, Kirk. How do things work for you? Guys like you, you just attract women. You don’t go to them, they come to you. It’s nature. Don’t go against nature.”
I drain the last of the wine and push my tray away, thinking about what she’s saying. She’s right.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to do that.”
Right. I’ll wait for her to come to me. Let it be on her terms.
That’s the best way to handle this…right?
Chapter 52
Emily
There’s no shortage of dudes walking along the lucky narrow strip of sand in front of my beach chair. Most of them are like insanely hot as well.
Especially this guy—I only see his abs at first, then his wet black speedo with that bulge, and finally as he’s walking away, showing me a toned ass that dreams are made of.
Anne’s sitting on my left, and I give her a quick look. Did she see that?
Anne’s already looking at me. She lowers her sunglasses a little with her index finger.
She’s thinking the same thing I am: even in the parade of hotness that is Cancun today, that guy is a beast.
I smile, feeling spoiled with all this luxury surrounding me everywhere. It’s not quite noon, and we’re enjoying some pre-brunch time on the beach.
Considering the alcohol-soaked nature of our trip so far, we’re all still feeling great when we finally sit down for brunch at the Omni. The view is also fucking incredible here—swaying palms, light-colored sandy shoreline, and endless blue sea and sky; no words or Google image searches could do it justice.
I see another table drinking piña coladas from enormous hollowed-out coconuts. I kind of want one—that is, until the waiter gently clinks a champagne glass holding a fizzy mimosa in front of me. Yep, I’ll take that.
This is paradise.
“Aren’t we supposed to be eating, I don’t know, fuckin’ eggs or something?” There’s no way that Lana’s being serious. She’s trying not to laugh while she tips back her mimosa.
“More like quesadillas. With pork. Or mushrooms,” Anne responds, actually studying the pineapple-shaped menu.
“Those both sound good to me, for various reasons.” That’s my sole input while I finish my first drink.
Oh my god, there’s the speedo guy, just waltzing past our table and looking around like it’s nothing.
“What are you doing here?” Anne’s almost slurring, probably from giddiness more than alcohol.
I see the speedo guy’s face for the first time. He takes off his aviator shades to look at us. He has slicked-back black hair, like a stereotype of a Wall Street dude. He’s even more gorgeous without his sunglasses.
“I’m just looking for a friend.”
Oh my god, what kind of accent is that? Italian? Whatever it is, it’s so working for me.
“Who you meeting wearing that?” Anne doesn’t point at Speedo’s speedo as much as thrusts her finger at it.
“What? This?” Speedo pulls on the elastic waist of his swim briefs and lets it snap back. If this continues, I’m going to need to change my fucking panties.
“Yes! That!” Lana’s now joining in on the fun.
“You are all being, how do I say this, uptight? I’m just a human body, close to the beach.”
This sends us all into fits of hysteric giggles. Speedo looks perplexed, almost a little hurt.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Lana explains, still laughing. “Nothing wrong at all.”
Another sexy European-looking dude, strangely wearing a full tailored suit, grabs Speedo’s shoulder and gives it a short, rough rub.
“Salve!” The suit guy doesn’t talk to us. He just goes to sit at an empty table after greeting his friend.
I try to look into Speedo’s European eyes without getting too excited, and I offer him an observation.
“Your buddy there, now he seems uptight. Isn’t he also by the beach or whatever?”
Speedo scrunches his face up slightly.
“Ah, he go to business meeting later.”
“In Cancun?” Anne, Lana, and I all nearly scream this in unison.
Speedo doesn’t miss a beat. “There is business in Cancun. He’s in talks to buy hotel. I set up deals for him.”
“Show us your cock!” Anne’s voice goes up a couple octaves with her request.
“Yeah, don’t be uptight,” I offer, smiling seductively.
Speedo doesn’t seem bothered, and he also seems to realize we’re not interested in his life story.
“Okay.”
Speedo pulls his cock up over the waist of his speedo and just lets it hang there. It’s like a ridiculously impressive length, even flaccid. He’s not shy about it, standing there with his hands on his hips.
I start giggling. Oh my god, this is so fucking crazy. And fun.
Like, who does this? Me and my friends, bitches. That’s who.
We don’t go totally crazy or anything. We just study it silently for a few moments. After finishing our study, we all clap politely, and Speedo takes a bow.
I laugh again. This is seriously the best vacation ever.
But if that’s true, then why does it feel like something’s missing?
Ugh, I don’t want to think about it, so I drink another mimosa.
After brunch, I retake my spot on the beach. There aren’t as many dudes around this time, so I look at the Caribbean for a while. I can only take that for so long before turning to Lana, who’s sitting in the next chair.
“I should be having the best time of my life.”
“You’re not?” Lana has her sunglasses on, face pointed straight up at the sky.
“I should be, but I feel empty. It’s weird. But now I realize why: WineBar. Like, I really miss him for some reason, Lana.”
Lana takes off her sunglasses and sits up.
“Em, come on. Don’t let that ruin Cancun. It’s over. Otherwise, he would’ve called you by now. It sucks, I know, but it’s time to forget about that shit.”
I look at the beach behind me, and there are actually a lot of people out—and a lot of men.
I sigh. “When you’re right you’re right, Lana.”
Lana goes back to sunning or whatever she’s doing, and I get up to wander the beach. I venture farther and farther from the water, and without thinking, I end up back in my hotel room.
I guess the partying is catching up with me. I probably need a nap.
I sleep for a couple hours, until late afternoon. I’m almost ready to give up on this vacation. Almost.
I throw on a bikini and find my way to the poolside bar, hoping to get one of those pineapple piña coladas I saw earlier.
The bar and pool are annoyingly crowded. Maybe it’s time to go back inside and just order room service.
“That’s some tan you’ve got there.”
I jump a little and turn around to see who the hell just said that to me.
I’m greeted by a surfer-looking guy, wearing nothing but a pair of neon swim shorts. He’s tan himself, and cute. Really cute.
“Excuse me? Who are you to judge my tan?”
The surfer-looking guy laughs. He has very well-defined muscles and very carefully maintained shaggy blond hair.
“I’m acquiring mine slowly, but you look like you’ve only been here a couple days, right?”
Why the hell am I blushing?
“Yeah, you guessed right.”
“Do you have any sunscreen with you?”
“No, it’s back in my room.”
I’m not sure why yet, but I’m starting to really like where this is going.
“I can help you out with that.”
My heart begins beating faster as I watch this guy—let’s call him, oh, I don’t know, Sunscreen—lean over and rummage through a tote bag next to a beach chair. He pulls out a white pla
stic bottle.
“I guess I should use some of that?”
“Yes. This is the good stuff, high SPF.”
“Whatever you say, Sunscreen.”
Sunscreen laughs again.
“I don’t consider myself that, yet, but maybe I am. Either way, I think you need some help getting full coverage. There are some more chairs a little farther down.”
Yes, I do like where this is going very much. Sunscreen leads me to the other end of the pool.
We don’t say a word. I lie facedown on a lounge chair, and Sunscreen starts working his SPF 70 enchantment. He rubs the lotion in gently yet firmly, and the longer it goes on, the better it feels.
So good I can almost get WineBar out of my head.
Almost.
Chapter 53
Emily
My sunscreen application with Sunscreen turned out to be a real success. A couple hours and a piña colada later, I’m still thinking about the sunscreen, followed by a couple different moisturizing oils. Sitting alone on my hotel room bed, I’m considering how I could use more of that.
I have Sunscreen’s number, with an open invitation to contact him any time—preferably soon. There’s just something keeping me from making the call, or text. I take a quick shower, hoping to reset myself.
Then…nope, still don’t feel like calling Sunscreen, although I know it’ll make for a fun evening.
I try resetting myself yet again by ordering room service and some wine and watching Spanish-language TV for a while.
None of it works.
“I guess I’ll call WineBar,” I say out loud. As if that’s the plan after all, as if I need to talk myself into it.
I turn off the TV, feeling like I’m in a sort of trance. I don’t know why I need to call Kirk right now, but I feel my trip will be incomplete without talking to him, hearing his voice, and bringing him into my life again.
I call WineBar’s number and stand on the floor next to the bed as the phone rings. What do I say to him?
I just stand there, listening to the phone ring, nervous about him picking up, nervous about him not picking up, and finally feeling deflated as that goddamn voicemail message starts. It’s not happening with WineBar tonight. At this point, I’m wondering if it might never happen, so I hang up.
It’s getting late now, and I’m well-fed and a little tipsy, so fuck it, I’ll just do it.
I lie back on my bed, find Sunscreen in my contacts, and finally just fucking call. The phone barely rings twice before his voice chimes through.
“Hello!” He sounds enthusiastic.
“You know who this is, don’t you?”
“Yeah, do I ever. I’m glad to hear from you.”
“You are? I guess you have no other plans for tonight.”
“If I did, I’d scrap ’em in a second. Wouldn’t even think about it.”
I stand up and start walking toward the door.
“What does that mean, may I ask?”
“Since I have plans with you, I’d scrap everything else.”
I stop right at the door.
“What makes you think you have plans with me?”
“Why are you calling?”
“I wanted to know if you wanted a drink. I could go for one more tonight. I’m buying.”
“The poolside bar’s still open.”
“Alright, then. Ten minutes.”
I hang up and walk out the door. It takes me less than five minutes to walk to the bar. Would you like to guess who’s already there, waiting with a drink?
Sunscreen is wearing a short-sleeve button-up Hawaiian shirt, because what else would he be wearing?
He smiles in greeting and pats the stool next to his. As soon as I sit down, the bartender places a frozen drink in a hollowed-out coconut in front of me.
“Where else would I sit?” I take a sip through the straw—still a piña colada, only in coconut dressing this time.
“Nowhere else, I hope.”
“I thought I was buying the drinks.”
“You still can. I haven’t paid yet.”
I nod and take another small sip.
“So are you here like, permanently, or something?”
Sunscreen takes his own coconut with both hands and helps himself to a large sip.
“Or something—something like coming down here for spring break one year, and never getting around to going back. It’s working out rad so far.”
I look at all the little tchotchkes behind the bar while Sunscreen looks at me.
“Ah. Yeah. Rad.”
“Ha, yeah. Totally.”
I swing on my stool to face Sunscreen.
“Do you apply a lot of sunscreen?”
“Not really, just on special occasions.”
“Am I special occasion?”
“Girl, you’re a damn national holiday.”
“National?”
“International—Mexico, America—a holiday everywhere.”
“How about just Cancun?”
“A local holiday. I could celebrate that.”
We have a couple more drinks, our conversation gets even fucking dumber, I loosen up, and we both end up laughing like a couple ditzes at everything.
I pay the tab with my credit card, and Sunscreen and I still have a case of the giggles as we saunter up to my room.
I hear Sunscreen let out a couple final chuckles behind me as I walk to the bed. I turn around and see that Sunscreen has his tote bag with him.
“How did I not notice that bag before?”
Sunscreen shrugs as he drops the bag to the floor.
“Nothing major in there. Just some sunscreen, oils, lotions, feathers, light scarves.”
“Scarves?”
“If you’re interested. It could be fun. I also have some chocolate body paint, if you get hungry. Or if you’re feeling artistic.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s take it slow for a second.”
We walk toward each other, and the moment we reach each other, he grabs me and pulls me tight up against him. We kiss greedily, our tongues traveling, exploring each other’s mouths. We collapse onto the floor, continuing to make out.
I naturally end up on top of Sunscreen. I lift my head away from his and see him looking blissed-out, his arms stretched out on the floor. I run my fingertips softly along his muscly arms and down his Hawaiian shirt.
I shift backward a bit so I have easy access to his zipper. I feel around the front of his shorts. He sits up a bit and undoes his zipper.
His rigid cock is sticking up through the front of his boxers.
I think of WineBar before I could even make my next move. Shit.
I jump up, and Sunscreen seems confused about my abrupt actions. I can’t keep Kirk out my head even if another man’s cock is pointing straight up at me.
But how do I tell Sunscreen that?
He starts standing up and pushes his cock back into his shorts.
“I’m sorry” is all I say, because what the fuck else do you say in this situation?
But Sunscreen doesn’t look too upset as he grabs his bag and leaves in a hurry.
Well, fuck.
I flop onto my bed. That whole thing was a bust, but I’m really not disappointed.
It’s for the best, and I know it. My guardian angel is looking out for me tonight, and for that I’m grateful, because now it’s clearer than ever that I’m not ready to give up on WineBar yet.
Chapter 54
Emily
I just lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I know I’m not giving up on WineBar. But I also know that I’m really fucking horny. Like, it feels like it’s been for-fucking-ever since Kirk and I fucked at his house at the barbecue.
Fuck, just remembering that has me so wet. I mean, I’m glad I didn’t do anything with Sunscreen, I really am. But now I’m just a big old sexually frustrated mess.
What would it be like if WineBar were here now? Here in Cancun, in my hotel room.
He’d be fucking me sens
eless, that’s for damn sure.
“Uhhh,” I groan, lifting my head up and banging it back down on the pillow. Why can’t he be here fucking me senseless? Why do things have to be such a shit show in my life right now?
Well, you know what? He may not be here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of business. In fact, I’m pretty fucking good at taking care of myself.
Especially when I have such a rich store of fantasies to pull from. I mean, come on, I’m a fucking top 100 romance author. My mind is filthy.
In seconds flat, I’m naked on my bed, hand between my legs, fingers already soaked from my dripping pussy, and my favorite WineBar fantasy coming to life in my head.
“Come here, Kirk,” I purr, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him into me. Yeah, he’s wearing a suit in this fantasy—but not for long.
I pull his lower lip with my teeth and then place my hands on his chest and make him walk back until the back of his knees are against the edge of the bed. One final push and he falls back, sitting up on the mattress.
“Oh, you think you’re the one in charge here, baby?” WineBar gives me that sexy-as-fuck grin and runs his hands up the back of my thighs to cup my ass cheeks.
“Mmm,” I say, climbing on top of him and straddling him, his massive cock straining against my pussy beneath his clothes. I grind against him, resting my forehead against his.
“I guess I know what I want,” I whisper, giving him a naughty grin.
“That’s good,” he replies, slowly pulling the hem of my favorite sexy little Fendi dress higher—because, hello, this is my fantasy, so of course I’m wearing my favorite dress. Then my dress is bunched up around my waist, revealing the sexiest La Perla lingerie I own.
WineBar lets out a growl that sends a shiver through my whole body that ends right there at my swollen, throbbing clit. Then he hooks his finger in my thong and just yanks on the whole thing, ripping it right off my body.
“Ahh, fuck,” I cry out, both in my fantasy and in real life, because OMFG, it is like the hottest thing ever when Kirk goes all caveman and rips my fucking clothing right off my body.
I tease him, grinding against him. I bite my lower lip as I feel his cock straining against his pants, his thick shaft pulsing against my pussy. I look down at my bare pussy rubbing all over him, and fuck, I’m so wet that I’m staining his suit with my juices.
