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

of guy. But…” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the Hemingway house. “Maybe I’ll give one of his novels a try now. He sounded like an interesting dude.”

Carrie smiled. “He was interesting. And I think, given your adventurous soul, you’d love some of his work.”

From there, Chris took her to lunch at Margaritaville, where they indulged in huge Mexican meals and big margaritas, because, Chris insisted, “You can’t come to Margaritaville without having a margarita.”

Following lunch, they hit a few classic Duval Street bars, including Sloppy Joe’s—a reincarnation of a Hemingway hangout; The Hog’s Breath Saloon—an outdoor bar that reminded her of Chris’s own Lazy Lizard; and Captain Tony’s—where a crusty old seadog kept his bar festooned with women’s bras and sold panties with his logo on them.

After having a drink at each place, Carrie felt more than slightly tipsy—not to mention amorous and ready to get in Chris’s pants for the first time in twenty-four whole hours—but he insisted they had one more important stop to make first. “The Blonde Giraffe,” he said, “home of the best key lime pie on the island. And you—”

“Let me guess,” she interrupted with a laugh. “You can’t come to Key West without having a slice of key lime pie.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

After sharing a piece of the tart, tangy pie that Chris explained was sort of an acquired taste for some people, he said, “And lastly, I want to show you my apartment.”

She grinned. “Convenient timing. Because if we don’t go someplace private soon, I’m going to rip your clothes off in broad daylight, right on Duval Street.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Probably not a first on Duval, but yeah—we’d better head back to my place.”

As they strolled in that direction, they passed the strip club they’d patronized a few nights ago, and Carrie couldn’t help remembering the forbidden pleasures she’d experienced there. The memories of the women baring everything so sensually, even inspiring her to let Chris bring her to orgasm with his hand, had her pussy tingling hotly. Indeed, while last night and this morning had allowed her to enjoy a soft, tender sort of companionship with him, she found herself ready to sink back into more decadence with her lover.

“This is it,” he said when they reached a friendly looking two-story clapboard home of pale yellow and white. “Scott and I share the second floor.”

After leading her up the flight of stairs connected to the home’s outer wall, he opened the door on what Carrie found to be a typical bachelor pad. The furniture was well-worn and the place slightly messy—a few clothes strewn about, an empty pizza box on the coffee table, a Playboy magazine tossed on the couch. “Blame the mess on Scott,” he said with a wink, “because I haven’t been here for more than five minutes at a time since I met you.”

“And when you are here, the place is neat as a pin?”

He shrugged. “Actually, yeah—I’m a pretty tidy guy. Comes from living with a houseful of women, I guess,” he added with a laugh.

As if to prove his point, he took her to his bedroom, which actually was fairly organized and orderly. “Although I’m thinking the bed’s about to get messed up,” he said, taking her hands in his and leaning in to deliver a kiss.

Carrie wasted no time pushing her hands up under his tank top, running her palms over his muscled stomach and broad chest, curling her fingernails lightly into his skin through the smattering of hair.

His kiss grew deeper, and he moaned softly into her mouth when she found his nipples, tweaking them lightly. He raised one hand to her breast, kneading her soft flesh through her clothes, and his hard-on pressed against her belly, growing more insistent by the second.

She lowered one hand to his tremendous erection through his shorts, exploring and massaging as he began to unbutton her blouse. He didn’t bother working the knot at her waist, just undid the buttons as far down as he could, then reached in to pull down one low demi-cup of her bra.

His hand molded to her bare breast, but she was feeling impatient. “Suck on it,” she whispered.

He sat back on the bed, pulling her with him until she straddled his lap, his hardness meeting her pussy through their shorts. She couldn’t resist rubbing her crotch against his cock, sliding up and down the lengthy bulge. Reaching inside her blouse, he cupped the underside of her bared breast and lowered his mouth to the taut nipple.

Carrie gasped at the first pull, feeling as though a rubber band stretched from her breast to her cunt.

It was then that they heard the front door open. They both looked up, but before they could even move, Scott said, “Hey Chris, are you here?” as he leaned in the bedroom door.

He smiled upon seeing them. “You are. Sorry to interrupt.”

Carrie pulled her top slightly closed, but didn’t bother buttoning it—it seemed silly since Scott had definitely seen her breasts before. She’d only met him one time, on the party boat, and she was struck again by his dark good looks.

“What’s up?” Chris asked, resting his hands at her hips.

“I just ran into Joe from the Joie de Vivre. He said business is slow the last few days and if we wanted to hang out at the pool a while today, no problem. Thought I’d head over, and if you two want to join me, the more the merrier.”

He left without awaiting a response, and Carrie asked, “What’s the Joie de Vivre?”

“An art deco, adults only, clothing-optional hotel,” he said, flashing a sexy look. “We’re friends with the owner.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Do you two know everybody in Key West?”

He shrugged. “Well, most of the small business types who are catering to the tourists. We tend to have a lot in common, trying to keep businesses well enough afloat that we can afford to live here. Anyway,” he said, lifting his hands back to