Key West Lacey Alexander (sad books to read .txt) 📖

but it seemed even the crowd had gone softer, too—and Carrie suspected she wasn’t the only person on this boat who had reached ecstasy. Salty sea air filled her nostrils as a strange sense of sadness fell over her. She still straddled him—he was still hard beneath her—but because he couldn’t touch her, she couldn’t help feeling alone.

“God,” she whispered, coming back to herself, unable to believe the things she’d done on this boat. The orgasm had turned her more sober.

“How was that?”

She looked up to find him smiling, still into the moment, unaware she was suffering disbelief and embarrassment. Try to get it back. Try to be hot and sexy for him again. “Um…incredible.” Not a lie. Not a lie at all. It was the most outstanding orgasm she’d ever had.

“I’d give anything to hug you right now, angel, to hold you. I’m so sorry I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. Reaching down, she pulled her panties back into place. She’d never felt so strange and awkward in her life—not even yesterday, when she’d found her friend Eileen bending over the penis jutting from Jon’s tux. She simply couldn’t believe what she’d just done, who she’d just become—for Chris.

“Chris, we need you at the stern.”

Carrie looked up to find one of the men he’d pointed out as an owner of the Party Barge.

“Hi, honey,” the older man said.

She pulled her top back down—even wet, it was better than nothing. “Hi,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

When he departed, she climbed off Chris, taking a seat on the bench next to him.

“Damn, angel—I have to help get the boat in. Don’t move, though, I’ll be back.”

She nodded, watching him go. Then made a beeline through the partiers back to the stage, where she found she wasn’t the only girl trying to locate her bra and top. Peeling the wet t-shirt over her head, she found the blonde, well-endowed Christine smiling at her. “You have gorgeous breasts.”

Despite her sudden sobriety and accompanying sheepishness, an unbidden sensation rippled through her panties. “Thank you.”

“Hey, want to go get some drinks with some hot guys I met? We could party together.”

Twenty minutes ago, she might have actually been tempted—or at least have been tempted if Chris were coming along. “Sorry, I…can’t.”

Quickly, she put her bra back on and slid her baby doll tee over her head, pulling it down to her hips. She tried to straighten her khaki shirt, glad the breeze and tropical temperatures were beginning to make it feel more damp than wet, so people wouldn’t have a reason to stare once she left the boat.

Glancing out over the water and Sunset Key, now only a silhouette in the distance, she realized she’d—they’d all—missed the sunset, as now only a dim glow remained to light the sky. But she was glad it had turned dark, since it helped her keep a low profile as the boat eased into port.

Around her, people talked, flirted, or recovered from sexual liaisons, but she kept to herself. As soon as the boat docked, Scott’s voice came over the mike. “Thanks for cruising with us on the Party Barge. Hope you all had a great time, and from what I saw,” he said with a laugh, “you sure as hell did.” She took that as her cue to head to the front of the boat, where she’d entered. She wasted no time darting through the crowd and off the catamaran into the darkness.

“Angel, wait!”

She gasped—Chris had seen her leave. But she didn’t stop walking—she kept moving, step after quick step, mortified at her behavior and desperate to be alone. In one sense, the things she’d done tonight had been so utterly exciting, freeing, and just plain hot fun—yet she was the family angel, whom her sister Diana had once declared, “the only person I know more prim and proper than Liz.” Even Liz had loosened up now, saying that finding her P.I. guy Jack had made it easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t coming that simple to Carrie. Twenty-six years of walking the straight and narrow had left her feeling supremely embarrassed, and unable to accept that she’d committed acts so unlike her. And she’d enjoyed it. God, had she ever enjoyed it.

The truth was, even as she made her way back to the hotel abreast of the marina, her pussy—yes, she couldn’t seem to not think of it that way now—her pussy pulsed with the memories, the sexual liberation, the sheer magnetism she’d felt toward Chris.

But like touching herself on the balcony today—this couldn’t be real, couldn’t be her. If it was, she didn’t know herself at all anymore. And that was just too big a concept to fathom.

* * * * *

Back in her lavish suite, Carrie showered and put on one of the silky chemises she’d gotten for her wedding shower—this one a coral color and given to her by Liz because “it seemed sexy and tropical and will look great against a tan.”

She considered lying in bed, watching TV, or trying once more to read her book, but she remained too wound up from the events on the boat. It wasn’t that she regretted them exactly, it was just that…well, she’d been so forward. More than forward. She’d been out-of-her-head wild and hedonistic. And when it had all been over, she’d felt so mortally embarrassed she’d just needed to escape.

Checking the mini-bar, she found a kiwi wine cooler. After unscrewing the top, she turned off the lamp in the room and stepped out onto her balcony to soak up the peaceful Key West night.

Peaceful here, anyway. A few blocks away on Duval Street, she knew people were drinking and carousing and probably behaving much like they had—like she had—on the boat today. Like earlier, but for a different reason now, she was glad her balcony looked out on the ocean. Settling in a lounge chair, she studied the streak of silver cast across the dark water from the light of the