dibs (20 page)

When the girls knocked on the door, I considered not answering.

“Open the damn door, Sam!” Juls shouted, vibrating the entire door on its hinges.

When I opened the door, both sets of eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“Yeah, well, Grease is the word,” Juls laughed, pushing past me in her tight capris and pink ladies shirt.

“Sam. You look so sexy and hot,” Kat said, fingering the red curls on my head.

“You look adorable,” I said back, hugging her. She looked simply cute as a button in her poodle skirt, Keds and black and white off-the-shoulder blouse.

“Do you two want me to leave so you can rub privates?” Juls asked.

Kat and I stared at each other, shaking our heads.

“Let’s go do this.” After I said the words, I tried to muster up courage to follow through with the declaration.

***

Let’s go to the Hop
boomed out of the banquet room when we opened the doors. As we scanned the crowd looking for the table with our number, Juls shouted, “Oh Danny Zuko, where are you?”

I hit her with the back of my hand, trying to make her go away. Cruise dancers were swing dancing to the music in the middle of the room. The bar was set up like a malt shop with plenty of folks saddled up on the stools.

“We’re over here,” Kat said, nudging me along.

The normal overwhelming sense of panic wasn’t there, which surprised me. For the first time in so long, I felt comfortable in my own skin…maybe not as Olivia Newton John…but certainly my skin.

“Oh for the love of God. You and Bridezilla must think alike. The wedding party is dressed like the T-birds and Pink Ladies. I’m gonna vomit,” Juls said with an eye roll and shoving her finger in her mouth back toward her throat.

We laughed, got our drinks and sat at our high top table. Naturally, my eyes fluttered over toward the damn T-birds. The moment I spotted them, Mac stuck out like a damn turd in a punch bowl. My Thor. His blue eyes bore into me. Just his look alone robbed me of the breath I held.

The simple, crisp white t-shirt he wore with his jeans was as fifties as he was going to get. Some of the other guys were decked out in leather jackets and penny loafers…Mac wore Sperry’s.

He rose and started swaggering toward me, that lazy, one side grin tugged at his mouth. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I simply adored this man. Even though it hurt that we couldn’t have a future, I owed so much to him. The confidence that flowed from him somehow soaked into my pores.

Though still hurt from his unquestionable ‘no’ just a few short hours ago, a half-hearted smile spread over my face.

“Hey,” he shouted over the music.

“Hey.”

When his hand reached toward me, I flinched away unsure if I could survive his touch again. Instantly, his eyes darted to mine, his head tilted.

“You’d prefer I not touch you?” he asked between songs as his lips twisted into a scowl.

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Answer me!” he snapped, startling me. The strong smell of alcohol coated his warm breath.

“I think we should talk,” I said calmly, instantly regretting the words.

He took one deliberate step toward me with a tight-lipped smile. My neck angled back at near ninety degrees.

“Why would we talk, Sam? With you dressed like that.”

I glanced down at my red stilettos and leather pants. My bare shoulders fluttered with a wave of goose bumps.

“I’m dressed the part.”

“Of a whore?” he asked.

Before I realized what I was doing, both of my fists clenched, pounding him twice against the chest.

“Fuck you! And you…” I said, smiling sarcastically. “Should wear a condom on your head because if you’re gonna act like a dick you might as well dress like one.”

When I spun around in the damn four-inch, red stilettos, my ankle rolled. “Shit!” I hissed beneath my breath, but kept walking.

“Sam!”

“Would you like to dance?” I asked some random guy who had just tipped his beer bottle to his lips.

“No. He doesn’t wanna dance,” Mac gritted.

“Do you want to?” I repeated, which made the guy laugh.

“Is something funny?” Mac asked, towering over the guy.

“Look man, I have no doubt that you can kick my ass—there is no need to establish this dominance bullshit,” the man said in a British accent.

“Who am I?” I asked the British guy. “I mean, who am I dressed up like?” I took a step back so he could look at me.

“The girl from Grease?” he asked.

“YES!” I shouted. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And you’re a very, adorably cute redhead. Much cuter than Sandy.” He winked. The way he said Sandy made me laugh.

Mac grabbed the guy’s leather jacket. “Look 007, go find your own girlfriend and stop flirting with mine.”

My heart stuttered for a second until it found it’s normal rhythm. I fought looking at him.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I said to the Brit. “I’m actually a whore. Have you ever met one in person?”

Blood crept into the Englishman’s cheeks as his eyes swept from mine to Mac’s. Not once did I look back at Mac, but I knew he was there.

The poor British lad had nothing to say regarding my whore comment.

“In America, we would tie a board to your ass so you wouldn’t fall in my pussy,” I sarcastically explained.

Covering his mouth, he hid his laughter and then tipped his glass of ice up to Mac. “You have your hands full.”

For the first time, I shifted my body so I could see Mac.

“Knock it off, please,” he said with Chantilly Lace playing in the background.

“Let me think about it… umm…no. Leave me alone, Mac.” I looked at the poor British guy I’d randomly picked. “Have a great rest of your trip.” I smiled and began hobbling away. My ankle had already started swelling in the short time I had stood there, and damn, it hurt.

“Samantha. Please. I’m sorry for what I said,” Mac said, following me.

“Sam!” Kat squealed. “This is you! Singing!” she laughed, pointing in the air.

Hopelessly Devoted to you
bellowed out over the speakers. Before I could address her, Mac swept me up and carried me to the dance floor. The strength of his arms was too much to contest, so I conceded allowing him to sway me to the music. As I slid down the front of his body, anger…frustration…fear…slipped out of mine. This man owned me.

My feet dangled, not touching the dance floor, while his nose stroked my neck. Hot breath, laced with whiskey fanned out over my skin, arousing me. Short pants puffed out of my mouth near his ear.

“Mac,” I whispered, full of desire.

He pushed me back so he could see me. There was no way he could have heard me over the music. When my shoes touched the ground, I winced. His eyes were as lust filled as mine.

“Did you really want to dance with 007?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Accents are sexy,” I said in a somewhat teasing tone.

“If you think I’ll stand for that, you’re wrong,” he said. His deliberate pronunciation of each word indicated his fight against the alcohol in his blood.

“Stand for what?” I asked, my eyes darting back and forth between his.

“Any of it,” he growled. “You won’t be dancing with other men.”

“Mac. We aren’t together. You told me that last night.”

His hands curved into the small of my back, becoming a part of me.

“Sam. Please give me the rest of the trip. I know we’re talking about hours. But I’ll take every last minute I can get with you. Every. Second.” Mac’s desperate eyes bore into mine…I wasn’t sure if the hazy look in his eyes was desire or alcohol induced. Both.

The music stopped, but we stayed in the middle of the dance floor. Our bodies arched into one another, but our feet remained stationary.

“Please,” he said. “I’m simply asking for your time.”

What the hell? Didn’t he just tell me he couldn’t give me more? Now he wants me to give him the rest of my time on the trip? Did this man realize I wanted to give him me…all of me? I wanted so much more than hours. I wanted him…for as long as we both shall live.

Every minute of today…hell since the moment he walked out…I’d thought about the next time I’d see him. The possibilities. What I would propose to him. What I would do for him. What compromises I would make for him. Every second I spent with him made saying goodbye even harder.

He began tugging me off the dance floor, but after just a few steps a grimace shot across my face. Instantly, he cradled me in his arms. Though I knew he was intoxicated, he held me securely.

“If you didn’t try so hard to get away from me, you wouldn’t injure yourself.” That beautiful one-sided grin appeared, liquefying my heart.

Our faces were close.

“Well, girls in red stilettos, they… ”

His mouth smashed against mine, rudely interrupting me. His tongue was aggressive in its search for mine, which I refused to give him. Suddenly, he stopped and glared at me.

“Kiss me,” he ordered.

“No. I was talking and you interrupted me.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Talk is overrated, Sam. Do you enjoy my company, yes or no?”

I shrugged indifferently. “It’s just ok…”

The blue in his eyes sparkled. “Is that so?” One eyebrow cocked up as he deliberately made his way to the railing of the ship on the deck.

“Mac. You’re drunk, please don’t…”

The moment I said the words, he detoured toward the pool.

“I love your company, Mac!” I shouted, kicking my legs.

Laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating my body.

“I want you wet, Sam but not from the pool water. I want you wet because of me.” He set me down in a lounger. “Let me give you a piggy back, my arms are starting to shake.”

It was true. I could feel him shaking. I felt way too old for a piggy back.

“Why not just take me right here?”

Instantly, he flipped around with one brow arched.

“Don’t, Sam. Don’t say what you don’t mean.”

Mimicking him, I raised my brow in return. Challenge given.

His lips curled slyly.

“Sam…” A warning lingered in his tone.

“Mac…” I parroted his name back with the same pitch.

It took only a very short second for him to scan the deck we were on and an even shorter minute for him to weave us to a back row of loungers. A place where no one would walk this time of night. This was going to happen. Right here beneath the stars. Out in the open where anyone could see. My entire body shuddered at the thought.

When he pulled me in, pressing his body up next to mine, his cock stood between us. The alcohol on his breath flowed over my skin, intoxicating me.

“I’m taking you here. Just like you asked,” he said in a rough whisper.

I nodded, wanting him, willing him to take every inch of me. I’d gone from the sexual drought to a downpour. I wanted to drown…

My leather pants came off quicker than they went on as he ripped them down my legs and tossed them aside. The warm breeze felt nice and absolutely freeing as he tossed my panties in the wind.

“Lie down,” he ordered then walked over to the towel area pulling out a beach towel.

With eyes closed, I dragged my fingertips over my breasts, feeling my nipples tighten beneath my bra.

“You like touching yourself?”

Like it? I was used to it. It was all I’d known for a long time. I slowly nodded.

My shirt was still in place, but my lower half was completely exposed.

“Show me how you get off.”

I fought hard to not let his request faze me. I simply swallowed and trailed my hand down my body until I found the wetness that he seemed to love. Hell, even I groaned when I found it. His groan quickly followed.

“Do it, Sam.”

My fingers feathered through the wetness until I found my clit, already swollen and longing. With my middle finger, I drew little circles over the top. Never once had I gotten off like this in front of someone. Not even my husband. Touching myself, fingering myself, pleasing myself in front of him was the most erotic thing I’d ever done.

“Mac,” I whispered.

He knelt next to the lounger, his eyes slowly soaking in every inch of my body. I breathed out a moan as the fire in the pit of my abdomen began smoldering and fanning out.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. His deep voice touched my soul.

Allowing my knees to fall open, I continued to find pleasure as I drew closer to my release and watched as he unbuckled his belt. A sea gull flew over, and he swatted at it angrily. After he pulled the belt from its loops, he stared down at me. My eyes were unable to remain focused on him as heat radiated through my groin.

“Mmm.” An involuntary moan slipped out.

“Stop, Sam.”

My eyes popped wide. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to stop. The moaning? The getting off? There was no way I was going to stop.

When his hand gripped my wrist, stopping me from finishing, I realized he was serious. He raised my hand to the back of the chair.

“Leave it there.”

“No, Mac. I want to come. I don’t want to stop.”

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re going to come. I’m going to make you come.”

My entire body shuddered. Then his belt dangled in front of me.

“Give me your other hand,” he ordered.

The meaning of his words, the possible loss of control, sucked the breath from my lungs.

“Trust me, Sam. Give me your hand.”

Swallowing dryly and submitting to his demand, I fought to relax as my hands joined. I knew immediately what he was going to do, but the gravity of losing the use of my hands…relinquishing that control…made my stomach roll.

As gently as humanly possible, he belted my hands to the top of the lounger. He stood, his gaze drinking me in.

“Fuck me…” he hissed both hands fisting in his hair.

“Is that an order?” I teased.

“I’d like to order a whole lot of you and a side of me, sweetheart.”

I bit down on my lower lip. “What is this, Sonic?”

Mac unzipped his pants, allowed them to fall to the deck, and then his boxers joined them. His cock bounced in the air pointing at me.

“You want fries with this footlong?”

“Oh for the love of God, Mac. The average length of the vagina is four to six inches. If you are indeed a foot long, six inches is going to waste,” I teased.