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

hurricane, nearly making her cry out at the rushing swirls of pleasure, but she bit her lower lip to keep quiet and prayed they didn’t hear her ragged breathing over their own noises.

When the orgasm faded, she drew her hand away and continued watching the couple, but she was still thinking about Chris—wondering if he ever played domination games, if he liked his sex hard or soft, fast or slow, if he liked his women in leather, or lace, or silky nightgowns like the one she wore. Even as the feelings of excitement faded, her heart beat harder with all of her questions and the certainty that she’d never know because she’d walked away from him.

God, was she hung up on him that fast? Was it even possible? It made no sense. Then again, something about him had driven her to act crazy, to get intimate with him—intimate, in fact, with a whole boatful of people just because she wanted to excite him. So maybe it was possible.

Great. Just what she needed to add to her cheating ex-fiancé—a grand crush on a guy she’d met briefly, in a wild setting, and gotten partially naked with—on vacation, no less. Yep, a lot of future there.

Future? Good lord, she was thinking of the future? With him? She leaned her head back, letting out a sigh.

Damn it, even if she’d gotten a little wild today, one thing inside her still hadn’t changed. What she longed for at her core—security, commitment, a relationship she could depend on. In the end, she hadn’t gotten that from Jon, and she surely wouldn’t be getting it from Chris—her beach god, a vacation fling. No, not even a fling, a vacation encounter.

She hated how emotional she got over romance, intimacy. But she couldn’t help it. It was part of her, in her bones. Which begged the question—if she was so crazy about him, why had she practically run away?

Because of the mortal embarrassment of knowing nothing that happened between them could signify anything lasting. That it was all meaningless. She was on vacation, after all. On vacation in his life—like a million girls on a million Party Barge cruises.

And also because of the pain of knowing it wasn’t real. She’d thought about Jon surprisingly little today given his ultimate betrayal yesterday, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. And she didn’t need any more agony or humiliation added to the pain she was already experiencing.

“Oh God, baby, I’m coming! I’m fucking coming in you!” yelled the guy, and both of them moaned through his last few hard strokes.

Then he slowly withdrew—both his cock and its rubber companion—before freeing her wrists from the handcuffs. As soon as the cuffs clanked down against the metal, she spun to embrace him and he pulled her tight against him, murmuring, “I love you, baby, I love you,” into her hair.

“I love you, too.”

When they gazed into each other’s eyes, it was impossible, even at that distance, to mistake their heartfelt affection for each other, something which suddenly seemed sweet, safe, real.

They shared what she so desperately wanted to share with someone. She’d not expected that. It made her let out a long sigh.

“Did you hear something?” the blonde asked.

Carrie tensed, her heart beginning to race.

“Like what, honey?”

“I don’t know—like…someone breathing heavy or something.”

He chuckled. “Probably me.”

“No,” she said, more softly, calmer now. “Someone else. Maybe.” The woman even pulled partially from his embrace to look around, and Carrie prayed she was still as invisible in the dark as she thought.

“Who cares anyway?” he asked. “Remember that time we did it in the pool at home and we spotted that guy watching us? Remember how hot it got us?”

Her reply sounded happier. “Oh. Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

Carrie watched as the two leather lovers made their way back into their room, closing the sliding door behind them. She couldn’t help feeling somehow jealous of the connection they shared.

So even though she wished for more with Chris, she was glad—relieved—she wouldn’t be seeing him again. She would just have to avoid the boat trip kiosk, suffer through the rest of her “honeymoon,” then go home and start trying to rebuild her existence as a single girl.

Chapter Three

The next morning, Carrie awoke with the hope that she could put yesterday behind her. It seemed like a strange dream. When she’d found her bridesmaid sucking Jon’s cock, she’d never been so shocked in her life—yet yesterday, she’d somehow surpassed it in one mere day, shocking herself even more. But surely the things that had happened yesterday were just a haphazard reaction to having her wedding ruined and her plans for marriage dashed. It wasn’t really about Chris, as she’d thought last night. She didn’t even know him, so it couldn’t have been about him.

Standing before the mirror, she tied the top of her leopard-print bikini behind her neck. Another little gift from Diana that had come with a card saying: In case you decide to get a little wild on your honeymoon. Secretly, she’d been pleased, thinking the bikini much sexier in cut and style than she’d have chosen on her own. Funny, before yesterday, the skimpier-than-usual suit had seemed like a wild step toward hedonism, and now it seemed like nothing. Even so, she liked the way it looked on her—the triangle top baring the inner curves of her breasts, the bottoms dipping low beneath her belly button with only small straps stretching across her hips.

Not that she needed to look sexy today—she certainly didn’t.

No, today she intended to lay low, go on her snorkeling cruise, and hope the combination of sun, water, and observing fish swimming in the coral would provide a pleasant distraction from the last couple of days. After that, she might read a book next to the hotel pool while working on her tan, then do a little shopping on Duval Street before darkness brought out the partiers.

Tying a short, sheer black sarong about her hips, she stepped into