S*x on the Beach

by Delilah Devlin

  She’d been in the hotel bar the night before, ready to tie one on with her best buddy to prove to Maggie she didn’t need any “stinkin’ man” when the bartender had asked her what she wanted to drink. She’d been ready to order her usual Manhattan, but she was on vacation, and she wanted something new, something she hadn’t tried before.

  “I hear Sex on the Beach is pretty good.”

  The sexy drawl had pulled her gaze to the side where she locked gazes with one of the most delicious-looking men she’d ever seen. She’d glanced at Maggie, who seemed to be doing fine, chatting with an equally sexy, well-built hunk. So, what the hell? A girl only lived once. She turned to the bartender. “That’s what I want. Sex on the Beach.”

  The man beside her had chuckled then lifted his chin at the bartender. “Put it on my tab.”

  As easy as that, she’d allowed her future booty-call to buy her drinks then draw her onto the dancefloor where he’d pulled her close, tempting her with his hard body and sliding hands. As soon as they’d finished their second slow dance, she’d been so breathless and hot, she’d pulled him toward the exit, and then led him all the way back to her hotel room—after she’d assured herself that Maggie was having a good time. Maggie had been salsa dancing and looked like she was having the time of her life—and was heading toward the exit, hand-in-hand with her sexy man. Gina had only felt a slight twinge of guilt letting Maggie leave like that.

  No, her mind had been on the wicked Navy SEAL, who’d proven to be very adept at giving a woman mind-blowing orgasms.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Carson Walsh said as he stepped into hotel room door carrying two Styrofoam coffee cups. “I met your friend at the elevator. She didn’t look very happy.” His gaze raked over her. “Well, damn, you got dressed.”

  He sounded so disappointed Gina almost felt sorry for him, but she wasn’t over feeling sorry for herself. Yes, Gina Trip had done it again—tripped all over herself and wound up in bed with a hunky Navy SEAL while her best friend had married a complete stranger the night before.

  She blew out a breath that billowed her cheeks. Reality had settled in like a wet blanket the second Maggie had left with her brand-spanking-new husband, Chase Flannigan, on a hunt to fill in the missing pieces from their memories after their drunken binge—and to figure out how they could quickly annul their marriage. “I’m a terrible wing-woman. I just wanted Maggie to have some fun. Dance a little. Maybe get laid. She was into him, I thought. How was I supposed to know she’d go and marry a complete stranger? A little rebound sexy maybe, but married?” She shook her head.

  Carson handed her the coffee he’d left to find. “Caramel latte, just as you ordered.”

  She glanced up and really looked at him. Was she any better off than Maggie? She’d willingly, knowingly, slept with a stranger. Okay, so he was sinfully handsome with his broad shoulders, ripped abs, and tattooed biceps. And yes, his shaggy, sun-kissed blond hair, scruffy bearded cheeks, and sexy blue eyes caused her heart to flutter, but she’d resisted handsome before. What was it about these Navy SEALs that had women throwing caution to the wind to get inside their pants?

  “Okay,” he said, taking a seat beside her. “You just looked at me like I did something wrong. Want to talk about it?”

  She took a deep breath, hoping to cool her motor before she reached for him and compounded the sins she’d already committed with the lug. “I’m not a good friend. I shouldn’t have laughed.” But she hadn’t been able to help herself. The second Maggie had slammed through her bedroom door, shouting, Gina! What the hell happened last night? she’d been stunned by the sight of Maggie fuming while a buff, naked man stood beside her.

  The man had been as cool as a cucumber and hadn’t tried to hide a thing.

  Gina had managed a squeal and a “Geez, woman. Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” But as Maggie had ranted on and on about how she’d woken up lying beside Chase, and that neither of them knew how they’d gotten there or why they were wearing wedding rings, Gina had realized something. Maggie wasn’t depressed anymore. There was color in her cheeks, a twinkle in her eyes, and her handsome husband had put that look there.

  “This was supposed to be her honeymoon…” she murmured.

  “I got that,” Carson said.

  “Her fiancé ran off with the wedding planner. How cliché is that?”

  “Got that, too.”

  Gina frowned. “I whisked her away from the wedding as soon as we realized Lloyd wasn’t coming—and right before her father was set to arrive. We knew he’d flip his lid. But then, I told her she should take the vacation she’d planned. When she said she didn’t want to go alone, that it would be too depressing, I offered to come. I promised to be her wing-woman. Help her get her groove on. Gah!” She sank her face into her hands.

  “I’d say, you did that.”

  She lifted her head and gave him a narrowed glance, sure he was secretly laughing at her, but his expression was…concerned. For her? Her heart fluttered again. “A wing-woman is supposed to keep her friend from doing something irreversibly stupid.”

  “Would you feel better if we went after them and helped sort this out?”

  She frowned, remembering how Chase had seemed committed to sticking close to Maggie, especially after someone had sent a text to Gina’s phone, threatening to harm Maggie if her new husband didn’t show up that night to settle some score neither Maggie or Chase knew a thing about. They’d both been so wasted that every single detail of their night together was a big black hole of nothing. “Chase seems…capable. He’ll keep her safe.” She bit her lower lip, considering what a good friend would do at a moment like this. Then she glanced at Carson. “For all her shouting, she seemed…more herself. Maybe she needs him more than she needs me right now.”

  He nodded. “Okay, so that leaves you here. Alone. With me.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Heat crept across her cheeks. “I don’t usually sleep with men I don’t know. And I know Maggie never has either. I mean, I have sex, sure, but I usually expect a little effort from a guy—dinner, a movie…” She frowned at him. “What is it with you SEALs that makes women ready to drop their panties at hello?”

  His mouth stretched into a wicked, very confident grin. “Last night, you said it was something about all the muscles…”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I did, didn’t I?” Feeling pretty sexy herself beneath his smoldering gaze, she reached across his lap and settled her hand on the burgeoning knot between his legs. She didn’t know how to go slow with this man.

  “Not a muscle, not technically,” he said, while his eyelids dipped, and he gave her the sexy look that had made her wet in a second last night in the bar.

  “What the hell,” she whispered as she stood and then climbed over his lap. With her thighs spread, she angled her body to rub against his erection. “Maybe if we do this again, I’ll decide I’ve had enough. A girl can only have so many orgasms before she gets bored, right?”

  “Think so?” he said, chuckling.

  “Seeing as I hadn’t done this in a while, before last night, I should reach the point pretty soon where it gets uncomfortable. Then I’ll be able to resist.”

  “Let’s see how that works for you…”

  She gasped as he fisted his hand in her curls. Carson already knew she went wild when a man grabbed her hair. “Pull harder,” she whispered against his mouth.

  Carson growled and fisted tighter. The sting caused the muscles up and down her channel to ripple and her core to heat. She’d never thought of herself as overly sexual, but with this man, she was a full-blown nympho. She could lose herself in the pleasure because he knew exactly how to touch her.

  Gina pulled at his shirt, rucking it up to expose his chest, and then did the same with hers, unlatching her bra so she could press her bared breasts against his hot skin and silky, light brown chest hair.

  Then she rose, set her feet on the floor and shimmied out of her shorts. He continued kissing her, cu
pping one breast with his free hand while she thumbed open his jeans. When he lifted his ass, she pushed to get them down to his hips, just far enough to free his cock, which sprang full and hard between them.

  Again, she settled her knees on the cushions beside his hips and reached to guide him to her entrance. With a downward glide, she took him, bouncing gently on his cock as she consumed it.

  Once their groins were flush, she circled her hips. Good Lord, she felt full. “Did I mention that you’re big?”

  “Yeah, the second I lost my pants last night. I think you squeaked.”

  “Did not.”

  “Uh huh,” he murmured then glided his lips along the edge of her jaw. “Did I tell you how pretty your pussy is?”

  “Nope.” She smiled as he bit her earlobe.

  “Think I did. Said yours is beautiful.”

  “I thought you were saying I was beautiful.” She gave a mock sigh. “You only like me for my pussy.”

  He chuckled. “True. I like that it’s smooth. Like how wet and tight it is.” He groaned. “Sweet fuck, and when it squeezes me like that…”

  “Want more?” she asked, concentrating to clamp harder around him.

  “Baby, I might blow.” And then he froze. “Fuck. Wait.”

  His voice sounded as tight and hard as his body was. She groaned. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “Forgot,” he ground out.

  “Don’t care.”

  “Should.”

  “Shut up,” she said, grinding down on him, making sure he didn’t call an untimely halt to cloak his fucking cock because she was already cresting. “Close, Car. So fucking close.”

  He leaned back against the cushions and gripped her hips. His teeth were bared in a grimace, his features taut. He was going to do it. Stop her moving when she was right effing there.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Reaching deep to find her sexy, she tilted back her head and watched him through her slitted lids. She stroked her bottom lip with her tongue, cupped her breasts, and bounced them in her palms.

  Carson groaned. His fingers bit into her fleshy ass.

  But Gina wasn’t done tempting him. She pinched her nipples and jiggled her breasts. No way could he miss how excited she was getting. Moisture flooded her sex, drenching his cock.

  His gaze on her breasts, he hissed between his teeth. His grip eased.

  She took advantage of his distraction, raising and lowering herself, and then circling, screwing up and down his hard shaft. She’d never felt sexier, her belly undulating like an exotic belly dancer, her pussy pulsing all around him.

  Carson grabbed her ass and lifted her until just his thick, round head was gripped by her sex. He bent and nudged his nose and mouth against the fingers playing with one nipple, moving them out of the way, and then latched his lips around one tightly beaded tip and drew hard.

  A low moan squeezed through Gina’s tightening throat. Tension built inside her. Coiling. Her belly and thighs trembled.

  Carson bit her nipple then pulled back his head, coming off it. He clamped his hands on her bottom, stood, then went to his knees, taking her to the carpet.

  Gina wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him in deeper. “Not gonna stop now, are you? Besides, I’m on the pill.”

  “I always wear a rubber,” he rasped.

  “Then we’re good, right?”

  He gave her a hard, smacking kiss then pulled back. “Get on your knees.”

  A position they hadn’t tried last night. “Whee!” she said, and then grinned.

  His mouth curved, but his features were too taut, too feral for it to look anything like a smile.

  When he pulled out, she moved quickly, turning in front of him then going to her knees and raising her hips, offering herself to him as she braced on her elbows and rubbed her tits against the carpet.

  His cock prodded her opening then drove inside, not stopping until his groin met her ass. She widened her knees, making a little more room, angling upward, and then all that hard thickness was inside her, tapping her cervix. A ragged sob escaped, and she bit her lips to hold back another. “Do it!” she gasped.

  With his hands bracketing her hips, he began to move—hard thrusts, twisting glides—caressing every inch inside her. Then he moved a hand around her belly and cupped her sex, his fingers spreading to caress her stretched folds as he fucked.

  When a finger slid into the top of her folds, her breath caught, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The moment he rubbed her clit, she clenched around him and reached between her legs to caress his balls.

  “Don’t,” he growled. When she released them, his thrusts shortened, hammered harder. She flattened her breasts against the carpet and curved her back as his movements quickened.

  Then she was flying. A long keening sound clawed free of her throat, and she collapsed, her ass held in place by his strong hands, but the rest of her quivering so hard she felt boneless.

  He gave her one last deep thrust and emptied himself inside her.

  Then he eased her hips downward and followed her to the floor, resting against her back, his chest heaving.

  Their bodies were hot and slick. He rubbed his face into the corner of her neck. “Unfucking-believable,” he whispered.

  “Amen.” And then she gave a tired laugh and reached back to scratch his scalp with her fingertips, soothing him.

  They stayed like that for several minutes until their breaths slowed.

  “Bored yet?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

  Gina giggled. “We’ll have to try harder. I’m sure we’ll get there.”

  Chapter 3

  They showered then decided they’d better head to the hotel restaurant rather than order room service, because they knew staying in the room would lead to only one thing.

  Carson hadn’t seemed to mind when she’d worried over that fact, but she wasn’t used to sex-binges and needed a breather so she could think a bit about what was happening between her and this man she’d only just met. Already, she was hyper-aware of his every move, his every change of expression. All he had to do was give her a steamy look, and her body was primed for sex.

  The tension between them was palpable. Even walking toward the restaurant, the fine hairs on her arms lifted, pulled toward him as though he was a magnet. When he cupped her elbow to direct her toward a table, her nipples prickled instantly.

  They placed their food orders then ordered drinks. She asked for a Sex on the Beach, and his mouth twitched.

  “What?”

  “You’re having my drink.”

  “Your drink?”

  He smiled. “You know, a lot of SEALs have names, handles, that they earn or their team members give them. I was on a team where we were named after our favorite drinks.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “So, Sex on the Beach is yours?”

  He shrugged. “Not my favorite. I prefer beer, but that was already taken. My buddies knew I loved my beach time, so they named me after the drink, shortening it to ‘Beach-boy’, because Sex on the Beach is a mouthful.”

  “Guess that’s better than Trip,” she muttered.

  He raised both dark blond eyebrows. “Why? That’s your name.”

  “My name’s spelled with two Ps. They call me T-r-i-p.”

  He blinked. “Why?”

  She grimaced. “When I first started bounty hunting—”

  “You’re a bounty hunter?” His teeth flashed white in his tanned face as he grinned.

  “In training.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve had a few…accidents.”

  “Trip…? Nooo.” He pressed his lips together as though trying to stop another grin.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Laugh all you want. My fellow hunters certainly have.”

  Their food arrived, and Gina was glad for the interruption. They tucked into fish tacos with slices of salted avocado. As they ate, Carson regaled her with tales from some of his missions in the sandbox—the funny things that had happened as opposed to the
grim.

  Given her experiences in the Middle East, she knew he was glossing over some shit, but she let him because she enjoyed his humor. “So, you’re lucky, huh?” She shook her head. “Must have run out because you met me, the unluckiest bounty hunter ever. Did you lose your St. Christopher medal? I noticed you’re not wearing it.”

  His eyes lost their sparkle. “I gave it to a friend. On my last mission, we were entering a house when an IED went off. I caught a large splinter of door in the back. His injury was worse. Thought for sure he was dead. Before they medevacked him, I gave him the medallion. Told him he could have my luck.”

  She reached out and placed her hand over his. “Did he make it?”

  “Yeah. Fractured skull. A TBI—traumatic brain injury. He was medically retired.” He gave her a small, tight smile. “Now, he gets to spend all his time with his wife and kids.”

  “I’m sorry he was hurt.”

  He shrugged. “Happens. A lot, actually.”

  “So that was your last mission…?”

  “Yeah, I got out. Handed in my papers the minute I got back to Coronado. I was ready. A friend of mine suggested I try Mexico and put me in touch with an ex-pat down here who found me a beach house.” He made a face. “It’s not much. More of a beach shack, but all I wanted to do was fish, work on my tan, and have some fun. Let lose. No worries.”

  “Sounds idyllic.”

  “It was. For the first month. Now…” He grimaced, and then sighed. “I guess I’m a little bored. I’ve been thinking about going back and looking for work. Something that fits my skill set.”

  “Mercenary?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Sounds too…mercenary.”

  “Sex therapist?” she asked, batting her eyes. “I can attest to that skill set, if you need references.”

  He chuckled. “I like you, Gina. You’re my kind of girl. All in, all the time.”