Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat) (6 page)

“But I had a
secret, Anj, one I regret not sharing with you until I was forced to, until I
saw you with him and it all came to a head. Now that it’s out, I’m going to ask
you a favor.” He donned the glasses again and slid his hand across her hips,
then
he dragged her close so that she shifted onto her side
and spooned into him while they both faced the shore.

“A favor?” she
asked, locking her gaze onto his over her shoulder.

“Mmm, see over
there?” Keefer reached down and, from behind, gently guided his long cock
between the backs of her closed legs. She jolted at first, but then she looked
down and saw the head emerge just below her upper thighs and pussy lips. Any
resistance she’d clung to, vanished instantly. A zap of desire shot through her
core, and a trickle of her juices escaped her vagina. It dribbled onto his
thrusting shaft. “See him? Do you see Jager there on the lounge chair, on the
beach watching us?”

Though she could
barely keep her eyes open at the sudden passion seizing her, she forced her
gaze to search the shore. It didn’t take long to find him where she’d sensed
all along he’d been. He had one arm propped arrogantly behind his head, the V
of his bronzed, fit torso tapering down to narrow hips. His right leg was
propped up, the left bent slightly on the chair so that she could easily see
his groin area. His other hand rested on his pelvic bone, and she dragged in a
ragged gasp at the sight of his erection and the single thumb he lazily stroked
up and down its length. He wore shades over eyes that she knew watched them,
and a shiver racked her body when he licked his lips and closed his hand around
the circumference of his male bulk.

Taunting her. He
was taunting her intentionally, the bastard. Why, she didn’t know. He’d made it
clear he was here for one thing, and it didn’t include romance or sex, but
rather jail for her.

Still, he looked
good. Damn good.

“Y-yes, I s-see
him.” God, she couldn’t breathe. Could barely talk.

Keefer’s panting
came ragged in her ear. “I want to be with you, Anj, as lovers, but I’m going
to ask you—no, beg you—to please allow him to be with us. At least
while we’re here. Seeing you two together, then the excitement in both of your
eyes when you saw me…wow, so fucking sexy.”

His words were a
powerful aphrodisiac. The heat of rising desire singed her womb. “Mmm, yes,
yes, it was.”

Encouraged by
her acceptance, he moved his hips faster behind her, fucking her between the
legs without entering her. Each time he pushed himself deeper, his cock dragged
over the slickness of her outer pussy lips and clitoris. He slipped his lower
arm under her head and the other around to close over her breasts. He tweaked,
pinched and cradled them until she thought she’d die from heat exhaustion, yet
he hadn’t even entered her yet. He kissed and nipped at her neck, her ear, her
shoulder, while Jager visually kissed her from across the bay with his hot
gaze. She’d never in all her life experienced such a blazing-hot sexual
encounter. Her heart raced so out of control, if she didn’t know better, she’d
think she was having a coronary attack.

Phew.

Okay, summary time.

So, Keefer loves me.

And wants to have sex with me right now,
right here on the raft.

But he’s bisexual and needs a man in our
relationship, too, so he’s begging me for my approval to include Jager, at
least temporarily while we’re in Karibu.

Meanwhile, Jager’s over there watching
Keefer slide his cock between my—

Keefer slipped
inside her. He groaned and clutched her against his perspiring chest. She cried
out. Her eyes clamped shut and she gripped his
hand,
sure she’d drown if she didn’t get control of herself. His cock fit perfectly
inside her. It grazed her g-spot with precision until she thought she’d die
with the amazing sensations bombarding her libido. Then she opened her eyes and
saw Jager leap off his chair. He stood there on the beach, hands on hips with a
raging erection, surf lapping at his feet, watching, wondering, she was sure,
if or when Keefer would enter her.

Correction.
Jager knows. By the look on his face, I know he knows Keefer’s actually inside
me now.

Oh, my freaking gosh, this is unreal.

“Do you see him?
He’s watching us,” Keefer rasped, thrusting into her from behind, harder,
faster, deeper. “He wants us. He wants to be with us both.
At
the same time.
Please say yes, babe, please.”

She reached an
arm behind her and hooked it around his neck for leverage. If she didn’t, she
feared his rough movements might send her tumbling right off the raft and into
the ocean. “Yes, I see him. And you know I love you, too. I’d do anything for
you. So if that’s what you really want, I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

His hand inched
upward. It skimmed between her breasts before closing over her jaw. He turned
her head until he could look directly into her eyes. The fire there singed her soul.
It took her to places inside her buried hopes and dreams she never thought
possible. Even through the shades, she could see the love and desperate need
pouring out of him. Why hadn’t she seen the love before? Had she subconsciously
ignored it? Or had he hidden it that well? Had he truly been that afraid of
losing her friendship?

“Thank you, Anj,
thank you. You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me. I love you. I love
you with all my soul. Always have.” He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until
tears stung her eyes. The wonder of it, of tears of joy combined with the feel
of him finally inside her after so many years of wanting him, it was
brain-boggling, like a thirsty nomad in the desert at last finding that oasis
and sucking down lifesaving water. He drew back from the kiss and gave her
a
adoring stare. His scrutiny didn’t leave hers even as skin
slapped against skin and he picked up the pace, pounding into her with quick,
short strokes.

After a long,
intense minute of being thoroughly ravished by him, he hissed in a breath, his
nostrils flaring. “I’m about to explode already. Come with me, darling. Now.”

She didn’t have
to speak and request that one little bit of extra stimulation that would push
her over the edge. He trailed his hand down her quivering belly until he found
her swollen clitoris. To say he knew how to pleasure a woman was a total
understatement. His finger moved in just the right dance, now and then lightly
brushing over her sensitive piercing and nearly making her come. His touch alternated
feathery light strokes with circular motions at first
,
then he increased the pressure with each passing second until she nearly came
out of her skin. She’d been close already, but with that final motion, the
orgasm took root and began to bloom.

She stiffened
and braced herself for its onslaught.

He growled in
her ear, “Come on, babe,
let
go. I’m almost there, and
I know you are, too. Scream it out with me so he hears us. Look at him. Let’s
make him want us both, together. Let’s—ah.”

While Keefer jolted
behind her, her gaze found Jager’s from across the short distance. He’d removed
his sunglasses, and she could see the fire of passion blazing in his eyes as he
watched them with rapt interest and apparent jealousy. Every muscle in his
athletic body tensed, every droplet of moisture glistened in the high-noon sun.
He shoved a hand through his hair leaving it spikey, making her crazy with
desire for him.

Then she slowly
lowered her perusal back to Jager’s hard cock. It was beautiful, just what she
needed to hurl her into that final, body-racking release. Ecstasy moved through
her system in an irresistible rush, seizing every cell in her body, steeping
her in a level of depraved pleasure she’d yet to experience in her entire
thirty-one years. Her inner walls convulsed and moistened around Keefer’s rod
making him pulse and spill his hot seed inside her. The warmth of his large
body behind her, his strong arms during his own release holding her tightly as
if he’d never let her go, all combined with the perfection of Jager’s body and
the tension emitting from him, it was the final stimulus that forced the
moaning song from her pursed lips.

The balmy breeze
whipped across their entwined bodies as Anjelee fluttered back to Earth. She’d
wanted Keefer for so long, and now she had him.

Aw, hell, she
might as well admit it.

She also wanted
Jager.

And she would
have him, with Keefer’s enthusiastic blessing.

She was going to
have a threesome with Keefer and Jager.

Whoa, did she
ever need some air. Or rather, she needed some more sex. She grinned wickedly.

With her eyes
boring into Jager’s, she squeezed her muscles around Keefer’s cock and purred,
“I don’t have to think about it anymore. It’s on. He’s ours.”

Keefer chuckled
before releasing a long sigh. He kissed her neck with warm nips and licks. His
gaze fell upon Jager on the beach as he did so. “As if you really had to think
about it.”

She shot him a
withering look. “Keefer, don’t be an ass.”

“Well, look at
him. How can anyone resist that flawless body and handsome face? It’s enough to
turn any straight man gay, or at least bi.”

“Hmm,” was all
she could
say.
She returned her inspection to Jager
just in time to see him spin on his heel and snatch up his towel from the
chair. He turned his tight gluts on them and marched toward the hotel.

It was the first
time since arriving at Karibu Resort that he’d walked away from her instead of
trailing her every move. And it was the first time since meeting him that,
rather than run from him, she could confess that she longed to launch herself
into his arms, kiss him silly and beg him to forget what she’d done to his
precious client, box-office movie star Mitch Wulfrum.

Chapter Five

It wasn’t long
before she changed her mind and went back to her old ways. All it took was for
her to shake off the overpowering drug of sex and remember Jager’s sole purpose
for being here on Karibu Island: To see her behind bars.

She was scared
shitless of that man.

And damn it, she
had good reason. Jager was there every step of the way, determined to see his
plan executed no matter how much it seemed to have turned him on to watch her
and Keefer have sex. If she went to the pool, he went too, lounging across the
water from her, watching her behind a Hollywood gossip magazine and dark
sunglasses. If she headed to the gym, there he hovered again, her fucking
shadow, working out right along beside her, sweating and grunting while lifting
massive amounts of weights. When she and Keefer ventured to the terrace dining
area for meals, Jager appeared. The jerk would sit a few tables away, sipping
iced tea and sneaking looks at her over his Jamaican newspaper. If she took a
walk along the nude beach, there he appeared tagging right along behind her.
And apparently, after sunning nude while watching them make love on the raft,
he’d gotten over his modesty—he’d now begun strolling nonchalantly behind
her as naked as the fish in the sea, that impressive cock of his bouncing and
aimed at her like one of those Y-shaped sticks used to locate water.

Today she had an
urge to pump some iron and run like hell on the treadmill, so she slipped on
some running shorts, Nikes and a sport bra. With her long hair swept up into a
claw-clip, she quietly slipped from the suite. Jager had not only paid to get
the key between their rooms, but he’d apparently flashed enough money to
reserve that same room next door for his entire stay. Whatever. She’d figure
things out, she would, goshdamn it.

Out in the
breezeway corridor, she glanced at his closed door, but evidently he hadn’t
heard her leave. She heaved a sigh. She’d duped him this time.

Excited and
feeling triumphant and free, she made her way down the stairs and edged around
the courtyard to the gym, remaining in the shade, out of sight. Palm trees
lined the walk, their fronds swishing overhead in the gentle breeze. Anjelee
caught the scent of Jamaican wildflowers and ixora mixed with the lingering
fruity smell of coconut oil from the nearby prude pool. She slid her room key
in the gym-door slot until it beeped. She entered the huge, well-equipped room
and took a deep, pleasurable breath when the cool air conditioning and the
stirring of air from the overhead ceiling fans brushed her perspiring skin.
With a grin, she was pleased to find she was the only one in the entire fitness
room. Jamaican reggae music blared over the speakers while the scent of bleach,
rubber mats, iron and faint sweat filled the space around her.

She plucked a
towel from a shelf near the door, crossed to the treadmill and grabbed the TV remote.
Humming to the overhead music, she chose to leave the tunes on and set the
television to a rock video channel with the volume muted. She tossed the towel
over the machine’s U-shaped railing and punched buttons. The treadmill motor
hummed to life and the belt moved beneath her feet in a slow warm-up walk.

Lost in the
exhilaration of blood rushing faster in her system and her body tingling to
life, she watched a bleach-blonde, near-naked woman bend over and entice a
longhaired rocker in the music video. A glimpse of ass beneath the mini-skirt
filled the screen. Even as the treadmill picked up speed and her breathing kept
pace, Anjelee’s libido awakened at the overt sexual aura. In her depraved mind,
the woman became Anjelee, the man Jager. When yet another rocker emerged,
peering at the couple through the keyhole of a door, she imagined it to be
Keefer. Having him walk in on them days ago had been the most shocking,
confusing and yet exciting thing she’d ever experienced in her life—well,
except for that awesome sex she and Keefer had engaged in while Jager watched.
On the one hand, she’d been mortified when Keefer had caught them in the suite,
and she’d longed to bury her head in the sand. But way over on the tip of the
fingers on the other hand, her pussy had moistened further and she’d let her
imagination run wild as hell by including Keefer in the picture.

She grinned. And
that picture was starting to come to life quite nicely.

“Whew,” she
mumbled under her ragged breathing, and shook her head to clear the wanton
images. Mmm, yes, images reminiscent of the arousing things she’d witnessed in
Kabana between Mitch Wulfrum, his wife, Kiona, and their “husband”, Nakolo.

Ah, to be meat
between Keefer and Jager in that same way…

But arousing or
not, this entire situation was all starting to wear on her. While Keefer’s
confession had completed the puzzle of him and ratcheted up her attraction to
him, his proposed plan for the two of them to seduce Jager—not only for
mutual sexual fun, but to infect Jager, so to speak, with a bit of amnesia
regarding the blackmail situation—was fast becoming trash-bin material in
her mind. She bit her bottom lip and stared unseeing at the video. Actually,
she couldn’t make up her mind and kept digging it back out of the trash. It was
odd, really. Prior to witnessing the movie star’s hot romp in
Kabana,
along with Keefer’s new revelation and the turn in
their relationship, Anjelee would have been repulsed by the concept of two men
together. But wow, seeing
is believing
, not to mention
wildly arousing.

She picked up
the jogging pace.
Her pulse rate spiked on the treadmill’s
screen.
Oh, yeah, throw a woman into the mix, and then the men touching
and even making love to each other the way Mitch and Nakolo had. It was hotter
than hell and tempting as all get-out

But chances were
Anjelee would chicken out. Should chicken out. As tantalizing as it sounded in
theory, to actually do it was flipping nuts.

She punched a
button and increased the rate to a sprint.

Yep, rather than
taking chances, she just needed to get as far from Jager as possible. He’d have
her behind bars for sure before Wulfrum buckled and transferred the money to
her offshore account. But distancing herself from Jager proved tough. Keefer
had had several incidences with clients who’d had issues with the resort’s
office, so he couldn’t always be there to shield her from Jager’s
“surveillance”. Therefore, avoidance was the route she’d ultimately chosen to
deal with her dilemma, and Keefer, though he still wanted them to seduce Jager,
would go along with what she decided.

At the moment,
Keefer was meeting with the front office manager to iron out some current
problems and plan for the next trip he’d chaperone with another group of
clients. So Anjelee was on her own for the moment, and that was a dangerous
situation to be in, given her indecisive stance on what to do about Jager.

The treadmill
hummed louder. She sped up her pace. Her feet slapped on the runner and sweat
dribbled down her spine. Mmm, what heaven that would be to have two men giving
her…

Nah. It was
definitely hot, but ridiculous. It really was. It just wasn’t going to happen
to Anjelee for three obvious reasons.

For one, given
Keefer’s confession and the fact that it had changed things drastically between
them, it would probably continue to be like yanking ingrown toenails to get
Keefer to notice her instead of men, even though he’d already made love to her
and admitted to his true feelings for her…because those feelings also included
another man in the picture for him to be fulfilled. So she might as well cross
him out of the equation at the get-go since she’d later decided she couldn’t go
through with it.

Two, Jager
wasn’t her type, nor she his. Too preppy, total opposite of biker-dude Keefer,
and not the kind of man who’d go for an impulsive, non-traditional woman such
as herself. Nope, including Jager in her naughty little fantasies would never
happen, despite his sexy voyeurism on the beach and that one bizarre encounter
they’d had in her room. Scorching encounter. Uh-uh, accidental encounter, more
like. No way he’d ever have gone for her if they hadn’t been literally thrown
together…and if he hadn’t been later mesmerized by watching her and Keefer have
monkey sex under the sun.

But number three
stood out as the most prominent reason a three-way with Keefer and Jager seemed
impossible: Jager was determined to see her behind bars.

Dang it, what a
shame that he was her number one enemy at the moment, because despite them
being incompatible, the guy sure got her juices flowing like a freaking volcano
eruption. Huh, and strangely, knowing she didn’t have all the right parts to
satisfy him, made her hornier and hotter than hell. Her center tingled even as
she jogged. The man-on-man issue plaguing both men really spiced the scenario
up for her, something she never would have guessed about herself before her
trip to Kabana.

She imagined
Keefer and Jager together in a tub just like she’d seen Mitch and his man, with
Mitch’s new wife right
there
watching. Mmm…

Takes one to spot one.

“Oh, gawd.” She
snatched the towel and blotted her perspiring face. “What a mess.”

“A mess? Oh,
yeah. You’re in a hell of a pickle.”

She shrieked.
How could that be? His voice echoed so close behind her, and yet she still
jogged on the treadmill. She glanced down and saw that Jager’s feet were
planted on the stationary side rails on either side of the belt just behind
her. Her gaze jerked up to see that his hands now gripped the rails, caging her
in.

“Get away from
me.” She started to stumble but grabbed the machine’s bar just in time. One
hand slapped the back of his for support while the other threw the towel aside.

He reached
around and yanked the emergency rope. The machine came to a gradual whirring
stop. “How can I?” His nose probed her ear from behind. She heard him inhale
over the sound of Shaggy on the overhead speaker rapping about banging on the
floor. “I think you look more scrumptious in sweaty clothes than you do in the
nude getting screwed by Keefer. Besides, I adore the smell of your fear. It’s
hard to resist.”

She whirled
around and leaned her back over the treadmill’s paused computer screen in order
to put some distance between them. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”
His eyes glittered, more gray than hazel at the moment. They probed her with
adept precision and callous intent. They held her hostage just as his arms and
big body were.

Her hands went
up to ward him off when he leaned closer, offering her a whiff of his enticing
cologne. Holy crapsake alive, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The heat from his
smooth, hard chest permeated her trembling palms. “Following me.”

Ironically, on
the overhead, Shaggy sang, “It wasn’t me.”

Jager shrugged
and grinned. “Can’t help it. Your hot little ass makes me pant like a virgin
schoolboy. And seeing you getting totally, thoroughly ravished by a
muscle-packed guy, well, it makes me hungry as a starved dog.”

“Huh, a rabid
wolf, more like,” she retorted on a snort and shoved him without success.

He set his feet on
the belt and stepped closer. His gaze zeroed in on her lips. “Mm-hm, a hungry
wolf sounds more like it.”

“Jager, no,
I—“

He swooped down
and covered her mouth with his. The flavor of spiced rum, and some other
ingredient she couldn’t place, burst in her mouth. His tongue slipped warm and
silky between her teeth. It swirled and explored her mouth like that rabid wolf
she’d accused him of. But he’d been wrong on one count. This was no virgin
schoolboy. Despite his other penchant for men, Jager knew his way around a
woman’s body. He molded her hips to his, and ground his cock against her
enflamed pussy. While his mouth pummeled hers with devastating, enticing
prowess, his hands worked their magic, tangling in her hair and gliding into
the back of her shorts to knead her sweaty ass.

Eh, the hell with it.

She surrendered
and groaned into the kiss, sliding her hands up and over his collarbones. Her
fingers grazed through the short hair at the back of his head, and when he
broke free of the kiss to trail a hot, suckling path down her jaw and neck, she
dug her fingertips into his skull and tipped her head back to hold him there in
the crook of her neck against the screaming protests of her mind. The thought
of receiving a hickey like some horny teenaged girl incensed some recklessness
in her that couldn’t be squelched. Her breasts smashed into him, the nipples
like flames of fire grazing the wall of his chest and ribs. Each suck he took
of her neck sent a waterfall of hot liquid plunging through her system and pooling
deep inside her cunt.

She growled and
clutched his wide shoulders so she could rub her damp crotch over his clothed
shaft. “Yes, oh, yes.”

“Hold on.” He
breathed hard and guided her hands to clutch the railing.

Then he moved
lower. He raised her shirt, bared her engorged breasts and squatted in front of
her as if to worship her. He cupped and lifted each side with warm, moist
hands. His mouth moved from one to the other as if he couldn’t decide which one
to devour first. And devour he definitely did. His slick, wet tongue circled
her areolas. It alternated from one to the other, nipping, sucking,
pulling
with his teeth. Tingly firestorms seemed to melt her
nipples and dribble to her core, and she imagined his tongue to be the
campfire, her breasts the sweet marshmallows he roasted and ate greedily.