The Men of Laguna

by Kim Karr

  Makayla is a knockout. She’s dressed in a tight black skirt and a top that shows a hint of her abs. Not exactly Wall Street attire. Maybe she should cover up? However, I suppose for an interview in the retail industry it’s appropriate. The room is still shifting beneath my feet. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re not experiencing an earthquake here. I’m having trouble staying upright.

  “Cam, doesn’t she look great?” Maggie prompts, and I can tell she’s up to something. Either she wants me to feel like I might have ruined the best thing that could have happened to me or she wants me to go after the best thing that could happen to me. The jury is still out on which.

  Either way, the smoldering look I cut Makayla can’t be helped. “Yeah, you look great.”

  “Thanks, you two, wish me luck,” she says and opens the door to the driveway. And again, just like that, she’s gone.

  You two?

  Now, I’m a part of a you two?

  “Pinkberry or another episode?” Maggie asks.

  “I’ll pass on the Pinkberry shit, but we can watch another episode if you want,” I mumble, intending to wait around for Makayla’s return anyway, so I can ask her out.

  “Hmmm.” Maggie points the remote at the television. “You’re in a mood tonight.”

  Perceptive girl.

  Well into our third episode, Maggie has turned over and is fast asleep on the couch. It’s after ten and Makayla still hasn’t returned. Opting to leave her a note, I grab paper and pen from the kitchen and head up the stairs to go into her room. I’ve been in here a million times helping Maggie lug shit. That was before it was Makayla’s room, though.

  I look around.

  Everything is so neat and organized.

  But I already knew by her personality it would be. What surprises the ever-loving shit out of me, though, is the vibrator plugged into her laptop.

  The image of watching her getting herself off with that little thing is hard to push aside. That sweet pussy is all I can think about now. Five fucking minutes is how long it takes for me to move toward her desk.

  Just as I set my paper down so I can write my note, I hear a car engine in the driveway.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Wish I’d gotten her phone number and texted her now.

  Hauling ass down the stairs, I have no choice but to sit in the chair and pretend to be sleeping. If I don’t, when she walks in, all I’m going to do is smirk at her. The door opens, and I hear footsteps.

  Needing to rouse myself before she escapes up the stairs, I’m just about to pretend to open my eyes groggily when I hear wet smacking sounds, like kissing.

  My eyes fly open at that.

  Derek is leaning down over Maggie. “Hey, babe, sorry I’m so late.”

  She sits up and rubs her eyes. “No, it’s fine,” she tells him and wraps her arms around his neck.

  Grabbing onto her ass, he lifts her up. “How about I take you to bed?”

  My cue to get the fuck out of here. I clear my throat.

  Derek swings around with Maggie in his arms. “Sorry, thought you were sleeping, dude.”

  Bolting to my feet, I nod in his direction. “Don’t worry about it, man—it’s late and I should be going. Thanks for the company, Maggie. See you around, Derek.”

  “Okay, Cam. See you tomorrow,” Maggie tells me and then ducks her head to find Derek’s lips.

  Grabbing my backpack, I hightail it out of there and over to my house. I spend the rest of the night in my room waiting to hear the sound of another car engine in the driveway of the house next door.

  It’s after midnight before that sound comes.

  Deciding stalker doesn’t fit my personality, I opt not to run outside.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  I have something so much better in mind to get her attention back on me.

  Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  15

  Book Club, Anyone?

  Makayla

  Cam’s mouth. That’s what I want on my clit instead of this vibrator.

  More than his mouth. I want his hands and fingers. His teeth and tongue. I want to feel the crush of his weight on top of me. See the whisper of his eyelashes as he closes his eyes to kiss me. Hear the sounds he makes when he comes.

  I want a lot.

  But you can’t always get what you want. Wait, isn’t that what the Stones sang? I think so. Now, I’m singing it too. Another song to add to my karaoke list should I ever endeavor to try that again.

  At least I can say that I have checked numbers one, two, four, seven, nine, and ten off my list. Oh, and Maggie agreed to let number eight slide.

  Wear a bikini ✓

  Have sex with someone you don’t know ✓

  Fuck on the beach

  Join the Mile High Club ✓

  Get drunk and let someone else worry how you’re going to get home

  Give a guy the best blow job of his life and make sure he knows it

  Get a vibrator ✓

  Don’t plan your day for the next thirty days

  Take a nude selfie ✓

  Read an erotic romance novel in public ✓

  I’m counting the almosts.

  Why not?

  There are no rules about it, after all.

  As for number nine, I took a nude selfie this morning. It’s on my iPhone. Not that I will ever be sharing it with anyone. That is a big, fat never.

  List. Oh, list. I’m more than halfway there. And I already feel so much less uptight. It really is working.

  My vibrator is working, too. Every single one of my nerve endings is on fire. I’m so close. Almost there. Almost. A little more. Just a little more. I push up the hem of my sundress. Adjust my stance. I already tried this naked on my bed. The outcome was dismal. I tried it in the shower, again to no avail. Now I’ve taken my panties off, I’ve got one leg up on my desk, and I’m going to town with this damn thing.

  Okay, I must be doing something wrong because it’s now ten in the morning and still no orgasm.

  Trying really hard to get in the zone, I almost topple over when “Like a Virgin” blares through my open window.

  Turning the damn contraption off, I fly over to the window.

  Oh, my God!

  Cam is lying out in a lounge chair in his yard. Shirtless. Reading a book. Wait one minute. I open the screen to the window and lean out. Farther. A little farther still. Any more and I’ll be a pile of flesh on the rooftop of Maggie’s outdoor patio. Without cause, the small hot-pink device in my hand slips out, and down, down, down it goes, landing right in our backyard.

  You have to be kidding me!

  Not worried about that thing at the moment, I grab my phone and press camera. Needing to be certain, I zoom in and snap a picture. Backing away from the window before I lose anything else, I look at the photo.

  Oh, my God is right.

  Cam is reading Summer’s Ménage.

  That bastard has my book and iPod from the plane.

  What is he up to?

  After washing my hands, I don’t waste another minute before I stomp over there to find out. Yes, I make a short pit stop and tuck the vibrator under the cushions of one of the lounge chairs. Never know if I might need it again.

  “Raspberry Beret” is playing when I cross the threshold from the beach to the small square of grass in Cam’s backyard.

  I feel a flush of heat at the sight of his bare chest.

  Not the time for gawking.

  With my hands on my hips, I clear my throat. “What are you doing?”

  Shading his eyes, he peers up at me. “Oh, hey, Makayla, I thought I’d read a little before it gets too hot.”

  Damn that quirk of his lips. It causes that swarm of butterflies in my belly to take flight every time. Needing to ignore my body’s reaction to Camden Waters, I narrow my gaze. “That is my book.” And then I circle my hand in the air as if the tunes could be seen. “And that music is f
rom my playlist.”

  Closing the book and setting it down, Cam sits up. Sitting like that, there is no ignoring that six-pack or his muscular thighs. “Yeah, you left them both on the plane. I brought them over yesterday to give them to you, but you were rather rushed. Since you were so busy and all, I thought I’d bring them by another day and then this morning, well, the mood struck me to read.”

  Playing it sweet or I might just slap him, I smile and say, “You could have just left them on the counter for me.”

  There’s a water bottle beside him, my iPod, and a Bluetooth speaker he is using to broadcast my Songs About Me playlist. He picks up the water and screws off the cap. “You know, I could have, but I didn’t think of it. Interesting song, by the way. What is it about it that made you want to add it to your list?”

  Sure, I could snatch my things and go, but he is toying with me, playing a game, and I decide to play right back. “I always wanted to wear a raspberry beret…and nothing else.”

  Choking on his water, he practically spits it out. “Come again?”

  “I said,” I shout, “I always wanted to wear—”

  “Got it,” Cam interrupts, and then he picks up the iPod and changes the song. “I think this one is one of my favorites,” he tells me, and “Black Coffee in Bed” now blares in his backyard.

  Now completely bemused, I tsk, “Oh, right, that one. After Sebastian and I broke up, I went out with one of his friends.”

  Cam harrumphs like he’s jealous. He can’t be jealous. “I thought you said you hadn’t had sex since you broke up with that asshole fiancé of yours?”

  I can do this all day long. “Oh, I didn’t. That doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it, though. This playlist is more like a fantasy list about me, I suppose.”

  Another change of song. This one lands on “Dance for You.” He makes absolutely no comment as he clicks to the next.

  More than amused, I decide to take a seat. It’s not until I’m sitting down in the lounge chair beside him that I remember I’m not wearing panties. Oh, shit. Small detail that hopefully he won’t notice.

  When “S&M” starts to play, I should be embarrassed at the sexuality in my song choices, but I’m way past that. And besides, at this point, all humor has disappeared from Cam’s demeanor, and it looks like he’s struggling to keep it together.

  Good.

  Before moving on to the next song, he turns it off and looks over at me. “Well, your taste in music is interesting, I can tell you that. Me, I’m more of a Doors, Kinks, Grateful Dead, Radiohead kind of guy.”

  Grabbing my iPod, I scroll out of that playlist and find another. “I like those bands too.”

  He moves to peer over my shoulder as I hit play on “Rockaway Beach.”

  “The Ramones, now there’s a band for you.”

  Feeling a little full of myself, I throw him a saucy look. “What can I say? I have it all.”

  Smirking at me, he mumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch.

  We smile at each other for a moment, me almost forgetting how badly he blew me off after he fucked me, and him, I don’t know what he is thinking.

  “I should get going,” I tell him.

  He opens the book that’s still on his lap. “Why don’t you stay for a few minutes and find out what Summer and company are up to?”

  Considering he just shortened my current to-do list by two items since I no longer need to go to the bookstore or get a new iPod, I figure why not. “Sure, but when I leave here, that book is coming with me.”

  “Only if you promise that you’ll only read it when I’m around.”

  “What is this, a book club?” I laugh.

  “It can be whatever you want it to be,” he answers in a much more serious tone than my own.

  Still laughing, I look over at him. When I do, I see a guy a little lost in life, not the asshole I thought him to be after we had sex. Feeling that kindred spirit thing again, I let my animosity go. So what, we fucked? Who knows, maybe we’ll do it again. Maybe we won’t. Either way, my seatmate turned neighbor turned lover now wants to be my teacher and my book club partner. As long as I keep my head on straight and remember that’s all this is—fun—what do I have to lose?

  Turning the music down, I sit on the lounge and pull my feet up, stretching them out and getting comfortable. “Sure, I’ll stay. Go ahead and read.”

  Ooey, gooey caramel drips from his mouth. Not really, but I swear it might, his voice is that low, deep, and thick. “‘The summer was about pleasure. Not only for Summer, but also for the two men she was sharing it with. The day had been spent at the beach. No touching was the rule outside of the house. Everyone was filled with pent-up sexual tension by the time the evening arrived. That night a storm was batting against the windows. The electricity had gone out and candles lit the room. It was the perfect time for fun and games. As usual, Gabe found himself on his knees. Summer rather liked him that way. Submissive and in trouble, the two most perfect ingredients to get them all off.’”

  Holy hotness. I can feel myself growing wet and worry it might show through my dress.

  Cam’s voice doesn’t waver as he continues. “‘Gabe had tried to kiss Summer on the lips. That was simply not allowed. Punishment was necessary. He looked up at her as she wrapped the end of the silken rope first around one wrist, then the other. He smiled when she tugged it up and around his neck. And he looked down when she looped it around his already hard cock. As she tugged it, he seemed to drink in the pain. The sound of leather slapping skin wasn’t unfamiliar to him.’”

  This book is beyond erotic. My girl parts are just as hot and bothered as I am. I find myself squirming.

  Cam looks over at me and laughs a little. It sounds like syrup, smooth and sweet. “You okay?” he asks.

  Squeezing my thighs together, I smile at him. “Super great.”

  Almost nonchalantly, the hand not holding the book lowers and his fingertips tickle the bare skin of my thigh.

  I draw in a breath.

  He does the same and then continues. “‘When Summer finished her lashings against Gabe’s bare thighs, she slipped her finger in his mouth. He bit playfully. Summer immediately stood and took him hard by the chin to make him go still. She pulled his face toward Owen, making him watch what she was about to do. Owen was standing still in front of the bed as instructed. And as further punishment for Gabe, she ran her wet finger down Owen’s chest and circled the head of his erection, which was tapping his belly. Owen knew better than to make a sound unless told to. And because he followed the rules, he was rewarded. Summer moved her hands down to cup his balls, and then tugged. She knew Owen loved when she touched him like that.’”

  Cam stops there.

  My eyes are on his bare torso, that tattoo he has yet to tell me about, and I have yet to ask about, and the way it moves up and down faster and faster with each word.

  This is dangerous. Reading something like this together.

  Hormones are everywhere, whirling and swirling around us, pushing those sexual thoughts way past friendly. At this point, we may be outside, but it seems all the air is gone.

  “Shit,” Cam says, “this is getting intense. I don’t think I could be in either of those guys’ shoes.”

  Needing water, I pick up his bottle, using this opportunity to shift a little so his fingers are no longer touching me. “Mind?”

  He shakes his head.

  After taking a sip, I ask, “If you had to be one, though, whose shoes would you wear?”

  Pondering it for a moment, he says, “I’ll tell you after a few more pages.”

  “Why a few more pages?”

  “Whichever guy gets laid first, that’s who she likes better. And that’s who I’d be.”

  I laugh. “Okay, I follow your logic. I think its Owen.”

  “And I think its Gabe.”

  I scoot my chair closer so I can read along silently with him. “It’s the whole bad-boy-versus-good-boy thing here. You know
that, right?”

  The smirk that crosses his lips is almost too much for me to see.

  “Get reading so we can find out,” I tell him, trying to pull myself together.

  He chuckles the sexiest sound and it’s so close to my ear that I can’t help but shiver. “By the way,” he says, “tying anything around a guy’s dick, that is a big no.”

  “Gabe deserved it. He broke the rules.”

  “I don’t know if what he did was severe enough to invoke bondage. My balls hurt just thinking about that scene.”

  Laughing, I nudge him in the side. “Come on, you have to see he wanted it; that’s why he did it.”

  Cam shivers, even though the sun is warm and bright. “Agree to disagree,” he says. “I am almost afraid to see what he does next.”

  Trying my hardest not to cozy up to him, I still find myself closer than I know I should be.

  “‘Summer slowly strode over to the dresser in her garter belt and bra and after opening a drawer, she turned around. She had a present for Owen for his good behavior. One she’d never gifted a man before, but she wanted Owen to feel pleasure like he never had.’”

  “See,” I shout, “she likes him more!”

  “We don’t know that for sure. Maybe she only wants to keep him busy so she can fuck Gabe.”

  “Just keep reading.” I sigh, feeling way too angsty over what is to come.

  “‘With a glass plug…’” Cam chokes a little and readjusts his body on the lounge.

  “You okay? Want me to read?” I offer with a smirk.

  “No, I’m good,” he says.

  Needing to find out, I ask, “Is she really going to do what I think she’s going to do?”

  “Yeah, there’s a chance she might be going for the male G-spot, but who knows, maybe not.”

  I raise a brow. “Prostate stimulation is supposed to feel really good, so I’ve heard.” Keeping a straight face is difficult, and a bit of laughter escapes my throat.

  Shooting me the evil eye, he starts reading again. “‘With a glass plug in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other, Summer ordered Owen to lie on the bed.’”