Key West (25 page)

“Rub your clit.”

“Huh?” The sound came high-pitched and confused.

“Rub your hot little clit. Get yourself off with me. I want you to do it.”

“But I—”

“You’re up for anything tonight, remember? Anything.”

He realized they were both panting as they spoke.

He commanded it of her one more time, teeth clenched again, wanting so badly for her overcome this last little hurdle of total sexual comfort, total sensual freedom, that he could almost taste it. “Rub that fucking clit.”

She let out a heated moan at his harsh command and he knew that little taste of domination had pushed her to the point of surrender even before she lowered her fingertips to the inflamed nub poking firmly from the top of her slit. She moved them quickly over her pink clit, her teeth gritting in passion now, too. He watched her rub it, faster, faster, as he plunged his cock warm and tight into her welcoming cunt.

“Tell me when, baby,” he said. “Tell me when you start to go off.”

She kept crying out at each hard stroke, working her clit, gazing up at him with glazed eyes that looked overwhelmed with lust.

Soon, baby, soon
, he pleaded silently as his cock and balls got tighter, tighter, ready to blow.

“Oh God,
now
,” she whimpered, and he heard himself release a ferocious groan as he let himself go, too, spurting his seed inside her warm, perfect pussy, the waves of sensation that buffeted his body made more extreme by the pleasure of listening to her orgasm, watching the intense ecstasy etch itself across her face.

Behind him, people offered light applause and a whistle. He glanced over his shoulder to see a small crowd—two men and a few women—all a little older than him and buck-naked. Rather than acknowledging them, though, he found himself turning back to her, leaning in to her, wrapping his arms around her, somehow suddenly trying to shield her and keep their intimacy more private.
I love you
.

He literally bit his tongue, stopping the words. Where the fuck had they come from? He didn’t know, couldn’t think. Too many emotions swirled in his head.

And damn—peering down into her big emerald eyes, he still wanted to say it. Instead, he settled on, “That was so incredible, angel.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear, her legs now wrapped around his back, his cock still buried in her. The heels of her boots dug lightly into his skin.

He blinked and pulled back a bit, stunned. “Sorry?”

She offered a playful smile. “I wanted to do lots more fun and interesting things to your
pole
on the dance floor, but I got carried away.”

He let out a sated sigh. “Baby, you treated my pole just fine. And besides, foreplay is fun, but I’d rather have my cock in you than anywhere else.”

Carrie was astounded at what she’d just done—or more specifically, where she’d just done it. She could scarcely believe the true depths of her wantonness, but it had been so hot, and wonderful, and easy to just give herself to him without a care for where they were or who was around them. She couldn’t help feeling utterly pleased with how thoroughly she’d abandoned her inhibitions for him tonight.

“I need a drink,” she said, smiling up at him. After the dancing and the hot passion they’d just shared, her throat was parched.

He flashed a small, satisfied grin. “Just so happens you have one at the bar, although I’m sure the ice has it good and watered down by now.”

Easing his cock out of her, he helped her to her feet, and she felt his semen begin to leak down, wetting her inner thighs. Clearly having anticipated it, Chris was already stooping before her, using his hands to wipe up and collect his juices, his touches between her legs enough to have her biting her lip as new arousal perked to life.

Rising up before her, he pressed his palms to her breasts and smeared the wetness onto the two sensitive mounds. She looked down, watching as he covered her chest with a wet sheen, massaging it in. They both studied his hands molding and shaping her, her nipples getting harder with each passing second. God, just when she thought the excitement was over, it began again.

Finally, he ended the sweet pleasure by tweaking the pink peaks of her breasts between his fingertips, then pulling down her skirt. Leaning in close, he purred in her ear, “You’re wearing me now.”

* * * * *

A few minutes later, Shay appeared at the bar where they sat, her breasts painted with dolphins. Three small porpoises circled each nipple. “Wow,” Carrie said, “that’s gorgeous.” Unlike the other women she’d seen with painted breasts, this breast art was designed to enhance rather than cover. Shay’s pert pink nipples were still fully visible, jutting out between the jumping dolphins.

Shay shimmied her breasts at the compliment, her lips spreading into a sexy smile.

Carrie looked up at Chris. “I want to get mine painted, too.”

Soon after, she and Chris had picked out a design—a vine of delicate flowers that would curl around one pink crest, then drape across her chest to swirl about the other. The artist was young—he looked like he could be a college student—with long, dark hair and an earring in one lobe. Carrie sat very still, her sensitive breasts absorbing every stroke of his thin brush as it swept over her skin. She loved having Chris watch her breasts become transformed into something new; his gaze made her pussy tingle anew.

A few minutes later, the artist passed her a mirror so she could fully see what he’d created on her chest. The result was lush and beautiful—a thin chain of daisies that appeared to be sprinkled across the curves of her breasts.

She glanced up at Chris. “What do you think?”

He smiled. “I think you get more gorgeous every minute.”

She giggled. “No, what do you think of the daisies?”

“I think I’m glad you chose that type of design because looking at you right now makes me want to kiss your pretty nipples.”

She waited for her typical blush, given that the painter still sat directly before her, but it didn’t come.

When her eyes drifted to the artist, he grinned. “I don’t blame the guy. I’m having the same urge myself.”

A swift spiral of desire coiled through her at the picture his words formed in her mind—she suddenly envisioned Chris laving one nipple while the cute, young, bohemian artist licked the other. She drew in her breath—despite teasing Chris the other day that she might want him and Scott both, she’d never desired something
that
hedonistic before, not even since learning she had the capability to want so many wild things.

But she had no time to entertain the idea further, since Chris quickly pulled her up from the chair and paid the painter for his work. Before even exiting the small room, however, he bent down and raked his tongue across one nipple, making her purr with pleasure as the sensation echoed all way into her cunt.

She found herself glancing over her shoulder at the artist, making sure he was watching. As the days passed, she was beginning to understand what Amy and Cole got out of being watched—the very connection with the painter’s gaze made her pussy surge.

“Thank you,” she said to the artist as Chris led her swiftly from the room.

She found herself laughing as they reentered the main bar area.

“What?” he asked with a grin.

“
You
. Unlike me, with you and Shay, you’re not into sharing, are you?”

Chris tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “So you want to be shared, huh?”

Her pussy throbbed as she cast a soft smile. “Well, I’m only kidding. But…”

“But?”

She shrugged, laughed. “I guess I was just fantasizing there for a minute, and it seemed fun.”

He issued an almost challenging glance her way, motioning to the door they’d just exited. “We can go back in there if you want.”

Again, her cunt pulsed at the idea, and for a moment, she was actually tempted. What would it be like to add that new experience to her sexual repertoire? Even so, though, she simply said, “No thanks. The truth is, I’m ready to get you alone.”

“Hey, look who it is.” Chris pointed to the dance floor, where Carrie immediately spotted Shay, now totally naked, writhing against a young blond guy, also totally in the buff, his cock swaying as he pumped to the beat.

“Is that…Jake? From your snorkeling crew?”

“None other.” He looked at Carrie. “He’s only been with us a few weeks, and I didn’t know he was into this. But looks like Shay won’t mind if we take off without her.”

The two of them approached the couple, the guys exchanging greetings of, “Hey, dude,” as Shay said, “Sweets, your tits look fantastic.” She didn’t hesitate to reach out and curve her palm around one of them.

“We’re taking off,” Chris said.

Shay nodded. “Are you guys sailing tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Carrie said. She and Chris had made plans to do just that.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have asked,” Shay said suddenly. “You guys probably want to be alone.”

Carrie tilted her head. She’d seen a whole new Shay tonight—one who was just as wild and raw, but who also had stopped issuing sexual challenges. Touched by her sincerity, and knowing Chris enjoyed watching them together, Carrie said, “No, come along.” Then she leaned in, whispering in Shay’s ear. “Chris likes watching us.”

Shay winked. “You’re getting the hang of this more and more, sweets.”

* * * * *

“Come in here.” Chris pulled her by the wrist into the same sex shop where they’d bought vibrators a few nights ago.

“Why?” she said, laughing.

God, she looked beautiful, the daisies on her breasts peeking out from behind the black lace that covered them again. He couldn’t stop thinking about how smooth and naked her sweet pussy was under that short skirt, either. “I want to pick something up.”

“Well,
I
want to fuck you, so make it fast.” How was it she could say that and still have it come out sounding so sweet and delicate?

“Bossy,” he teased, leading her back to a set of shelves filled with fur-covered handcuffs, massage oil, edible body gel, and… “Voila,” he said, snatching up a package of body paints.

“What’s that for?”

“I decided Mr. Painter back there shouldn’t get to have all the fun.” In fact, he’d even felt slightly jealous of her interest in Mr. Painter, although her curiosity about a three-way with another guy
had
aroused the hell out of him. In fact, part of him wondered if maybe he should have encouraged her more, made it happen, because he knew he’d love to see her taking that much pleasure—but on the other hand, his chest had gotten just as warm when she’d said she wanted to get him alone. Even as exciting as it had been to fuck her in the club without a care for privacy, being alone appealed, too. It was two entirely different strains of excitement, and he relished them both equally.

The moment they reached her room, he said, “Take your skirt off and let me see that pretty pussy.”

He lay on the bed, watching as she first removed her sexy lace camisole, allowing him to feast his eyes on her daisy-laden breasts again, their pink centers as stiff as his cock. Then she turned her back to him and lowered her skirt, bending deep at the waist to give him a hot view from behind. He let out a low groan at the tempting sight.

When she turned to face him, he let his gaze take in the whole incredibly erotic package before him—his beautiful strawberry-blonde angel with delicate white flowers arcing across her round breasts, her bare slit peeking from between black garters that led down to tantalizing fishnet stockings and sexy black boots.

Lifting one boot onto the foot of the bed, she reached down to unzip it.

“No,” he said. “Those stay on.”

Her gaze took on a glassy sheen as she sensuously licked her upper lip. “Then it’s your turn. Get those pants off. Show me your big, beautiful cock.”

Her demands made him harder. Angel or vixen? Definitely both. And he loved the two contrasting sides of her.

Rising from the bed, he quickly rid himself of his shirt, kicked off his flip-flops, and let his shorts and underwear drop to the floor.

Her eyes looked downright hungry as she spied his erection. He grinned. “Like what you see, baby?”

She nodded. “Oh yes.”

Taking a few steps toward her, he pushed her gently back onto the bed, onto her back. “Spread for me.”

She parted her legs, her cunt opening instantly, allowing him to see all the wet pink folds within.

Rushing to break into the little tins of body paint, he knelt on the floor between her bent knees and raked his finger through the tiny tub of green. Starting on one side of her pussy, he painted a wavy line up and around her belly button, and back down onto the other side. She watched, raised on her elbows.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s not obvious?” He punctuated the question with a laugh as he dipped his finger into the yellow paint.

“Uh, no.”

“Keep watching.” With that, he distributed fingertip dots of yellow here and there along the waving ribbon of green.

Only when he started smearing thin white petals outward from the yellow blotches did she say with a smile, “Oh, more daisies.”