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

out a wonderfully long erection and touching himself, too. Watching her, stroking himself. Watching her. Stroking his hard shaft.

“Mmm…oh!” The cry of pleasure left her unbidden as the icy stimulation finally brought the orgasm crashing down over her. She moaned as the cold ice sent hot waves of satiation roaring through her like a freight train. Yes, yes, yes.

When it was done, the ice was gone, and she was drenched between her legs. She sat up in the chair, but didn’t pull her skirt back down, not wanting to get it wet before her sunset cruise. Where she would see him again. The man she’d just masturbated to thoughts of.

She shook her head, feeling sane once more, not quite sure where such a brazen act had come from. Must be the sun and water, she told herself. Must be the shock of what had happened yesterday.

A glance to the other balcony ensured she was still alone, thank God. Had she actually wanted someone to be watching her?

No, it was only a fantasy, not a real desire.

Reaching up to her hips, she eased the wet panties down and off, and went inside to dry herself.

Well, one thing was for sure—she was already discovering that there was life after Jon, sexual desire after Jon.

Just knowing that made her feel a little stronger than she had only a few hours before. But as for what had taken place out on the balcony, well—sexual display just wasn’t part of who she was, so she told herself it was an aberration, one that would be her last.

* * * * *

Chris McCann stood behind the shaded bar on the Party Barge dipping up rum punch as the partiers boarded. The colorful catamaran, painted in bright shades of red, yellow, and purple, was strung with mini-lights, strands of colored beads, and plastic Hawaiian leis. Rock music blared from speakers situated throughout the boat.

Two pretty girls wearing bikini tops and shorts approached. “Rum punch, please,” said the more petite of the two, dark hair falling around her face. She nearly perched her triangle-covered breasts on the bar while he served up punch from the big vat at his side. When he passed them their drinks, he noticed both girls’ nipples shone through their tops.

“I hear there are games?” said the other girl, a blonde with a large chest barely contained in her black Lycra suit. She raised her eyebrows at Chris.

He laughed softly. The two looked like prime candidates for the sexy competitions that would take place once they’d set sail and given people enough time for a few drinks. “You two should play,” he said in friendly reply.

“Are you playing?” asked the dark-haired girl. She’d now planted her elbows on the bar, squeezing her breasts together, clearly wanting to show him her cleavage.

He grinned. “Nope, I’m working.”

“A shame,” said the blonde. “You look like a lot of fun.”

The two girls’ eyes continued flashing sexual invitations until finally he gave them another smile and said, “Uh, not to be rude, ladies, but I think the guys behind you are waiting to get some punch.”

“Oh!” The dark-haired one giggled as the chesty one drew her out of the way, and the group of guys behind started flirting with them as Chris dipped up their punch. Once they’d all disappeared from the bar, he took the opportunity to glance toward the boarding ramp. He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself keeping an eye out for the cute girl in the angel shirt.

Because she was cute, he supposed. And because she’d maybe even been a little nervous, too. And you didn’t get a lot of cute and nervous in Key West, where most girls were sexy and ready. Not that he minded a girl who was sexy and ready, but…something about the angel girl had caught his attention. Variety was the spice of life, after all, and he’d instantly been able to see she was different than the women he’d grown used to down here.

As if thinking of her had made her appear, she stepped on board just then, to be greeted by his best friend and roommate, Scott Fletcher, who stood welcoming the cruisers and handing out cheap leis. She wore the same outfit as before, the word “Angel” hugging her breasts so sweetly he was almost jealous of the tight little shirt. Her short skirt showed off shapely tan legs and he almost wished he’d told her to wear a bikini, like girls often did on this cruise, because he definitely wanted to see more of her body. Strawberry-blonde ringlets fell to her shoulders and he noticed, happily, that she’d shed the sunglasses—he wanted to see more of her eyes, too.

Once she left Scott, she took on the same slightly nervous look as before. He could tell she was trying like hell to hide it, but she clearly wasn’t comfortable being by herself. Which begged the question, why was she by herself? It also made him wonder if he’d been a little too quick to suggest the Party Barge. Maybe he was reading her wrong, but he suddenly got the idea she might not be a partier.

Then again, he’d seen more than one girl come onto this boat all shy and quiet before they got started drinking and flirting with guys, ending up half-naked or more on the deck. So he shouldn’t size up his cute little angel-girl too quickly.

“Angel,” he called softly.

She looked up and spotted him across the boat. A pretty smile unfurled across her face as she approached.

“Glad you made it,” he said with a grin.

“Anyone sitting here?” She motioned to the few stools at the bar.

“Nope.” Most of the Party Bargers came to the bar for their drinks, then headed back out into the sun. “You’re welcome to, though, if you want to keep me company while I hand out punch.”

She climbed up onto a stool, leaning her elbows on the bar. Green—her eyes were a great, marbled shade of