Reckless (7 page)

I suddenly pictured Romeo holding up a scorecard like a figure-skating judge when Christos and I shared our first mutual orgasm. He would say,
“Was it good for you two? Because I know it was good for me!”

I grimaced.

“What?” Christos asked innocently.

I choked out a laugh. “Oh, you
so
don’t want to know.”

“Oh, we so do,” Romeo chided.

He would. All eyes were still on me. I desperately needed a distraction. Now would’ve been the opportune moment for our yacht to hit an iceberg. Unfortunately the waters off the coast of San Diego were generally iceberg free, from what I understood.

“It’s almost midnight, you guys!” Tiffany cheered. “Get ready for the countdown!”

For the first time since I’d met her, I could honestly say to myself, thank god for Tiffany.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Tiffany started.

The crowd joined in.

“Seven, six,…” everyone chorused.

I glanced up at Christos. The warmth in his eyes wrapped around me as he pulled me into his rock hard chest.
 

“Five, four…”

Christos leaned down, his lips loose and plump, about to kiss me…

“Three, two, one…”

The universe disappeared as our lips met and we plunged into each other. Heightened by the moment, it was possibly the most intense kiss I’d ever experienced.
 

“Happy New Year!!!” everyone shouted. The horns and whistles blew, the noisemakers clacked, and the champagne-poppers popped and shot confetti around the room, all while balloons burst and the entire room cheered in 2014.

I was nearly lost to the sounds around me as Christos deepened our kiss, submerging me in an ocean of love. He consumed me, taking my soul into his. I let him devour me entirely with his lips. I gave all of myself to that kiss, and he felt it. His hunger for me was palpable. His tongue teased the tip of mine. My heart raced and my pulse pounded from my head to my toes. I ran a hand down the thin sweater material covering Christos’ rippled abs. I grabbed his belt and pulled him toward me. I wanted him. Right now.

His tongue slid deeper into my mouth.

Oh my goodness…

Oh my Christos…

The fact that I felt a bulge in his jeans pressing into my taut stomach may have had something to do with my intense desire. Heedless of the chaotic crowd around me, I was coaxed by sudden lust to release my grip on his belt and slide my fingers down between his washboard abs and his pants while we continued our kiss.

Although our passionate kiss nearly held my full attention, something else tugged at my awareness. My fingers were now officially submerged in uncharted waters. My hands had never been this close to Christos’…

The signals tingling through my fingertips were like sonar messages that sent hazy mental images to my brain. My hand dove deeper and I caressed my fingers along a rigid velvet submersible.

Oh.

I wasn’t at all prepared for it.

Apparently, neither was Christos. He spasmed and sucked in a hissing breath, but our lips remained locked.

A distinct visual impression penetrated my brain, igniting my core with desire.

In a word: massive.
 

Not that I had much experience in this department. Beyond my recent but brief brushes with fate and Christos’ manhood, my only frame of reference in the touching department had been picking out mammoth bananas or ripened cucumbers at the grocery store, or maybe squirreling up tree trunks as a little girl, because that was how huge he seemed to me.

I giggled to myself, realizing that sandwiched in the middle of the word cucumber was the word cum. Whoa! I was turning into a female Romeo!

I withdrew my hand from Christos’ pants with exquisite slowness, sliding it back up the bottom of his chiseled eight-pack. His feathery hair down there tickled my fingertips. That sensation alone caused my entire body to quiver in Christos’ arms.

After my pleasant shudder passed, I peered up into his ravenous eyes. I was so ready for him to devour me…

But we were on Tiffany’s yacht, surrounded by revelry and my closest friends. My V-card would have to wait. I reluctantly broke off our kiss and snuggled my cheek into his chest. I slid my hands around his waist and caressed his back. “I love you,” I whispered. I was sure my words were lost in the din of everyone’s shouts and all the strident noisemakers.

Christos kissed the top of my head. “I love you too,” Christos whispered. “Happy New Year,
agápi mou
.”

I stared up into his loving eyes.

“Did you make a New Year’s resolution?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“Care to share?”

I squinched up my face timidly. “Not at the moment?”

“Aww, come on. Just a tease? I’m dying to know.”

“Let’s just say…” I grinned, “…it has something to do with hosting a pageant.”

Christos’ smile widened and his dimples appeared.

I stood on my tiptoes and licked one dimple, then the other, before pecking him softly on the lips.

I was desperately in love with this man.

I sighed contently. This was the best New Year’s Eve I’d ever had. Nothing could ruin it.
 

My 2014 was going to rock, I was certain of it.

I was so swept away by the moment, I almost completely missed the double-dagger glare Tiffany was giving me.

SAMANTHA

The New Year’s celebrations were in full swing.
 

It turned out there were audio speakers hidden all over Tiffany’s yacht, so when someone cranked up the party mix tunes, every flat surface on the ship became an impromptu dance floor.
 

Christos and I were on the wooden deck on the top floor of the boat, dancing like lunatics, laughing and gyrating under the moon and stars.

Romeo and Kamiko climbed the stairs, drinks in hand, and danced next to us.
 

“You guys are so cute together,” I said to them sarcastically.

“Too bad it feels like dancing with my sister,” Kamiko joked.

Romeo planted a big fat sloppy kiss on Kamiko’s cheek. “I’m the big sister you wish you had, dearest.”

“Gross! You kiss like a fish!” Kamiko cried. “Aren’t there any available gentlemen on this boat?”

“Here comes one now,” Romeo mumbled as Brandon walked up the stairs. “Where’s your date, Brandon?” Romeo asked suggestively.

Brandon chuckled. “I came stag.”

Romeo leaned over to me and whispered, “I’d love to bag his stag. It is rutting season, isn’t it?”

I giggled into the back of my hand.

“Here,” Romeo said, “I’ll let you dance with my date.” Romeo grabbed Brandon by the hand and practically threw Kamiko into his arms.

“Romeo!” Kamiko blurted, tripping over her heels. Her dress spun as Brandon caught her and twirled her smoothly, swing style.
 

“Do you mind if I have this dance?” Brandon asked without missing a beat.

“Uhhh…” Kamiko was wide-eyed with embarrassed excitement.

Brandon led while Kamiko fell into step with him. They were actually quite good together, although Brandon towered over her.

Kamiko flashed me and Romeo a look of stark disbelief. She silently mouthed the words,
“I can’t believe I’m dancing with Brandon!”

“Thank me later, darling,” Romeo smiled. Turning to me and Christos, he said, “May I have this dance?”

“Huh?” I said. “You want to dance with me?”

“No, you crazy loon! I want to dance with your boyfriend!”

“Why not,” Christos chuckled.

Before I could object, Christos grabbed Romeo around the waist and led him in a circle like a ballroom dancer.
 

“Squueeeeee!” Romeo cried as his eyes fireworked with delight.
 

Christos laughed and released Romeo after a couple of good-natured twirls.

 
Romeo literally sagged to a sitting position and pooled on the deck. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Sam.”

Everybody laughed, even Brandon.

“I think I need another drink or six,” Romeo said, pushing himself to his feet. “Help me Sam, it’s the least you can do after stealing the hottest man on the planet from my greedy grasp.”

“We’ll be right back,” I said to Christos.

“No worries,” Christos said. “I may have to cut in on Brandon in a second. He’s having a bit too much fun with Kamiko.”

Kamiko goggled with girlish glee.

“They’re fighting over you, Kamiko,” Romeo said. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

I followed Romeo down the steps to the main deck. We walked over to the kitchen where fresh drinks were being poured. I got a refill on my champagne, but Romeo wanted a mixed drink. I think it was an excuse for him to flirt with the guy in black and white tending the bar.

I walked to the back deck on the main floor to enjoy the view.
 

I didn’t know how far we were from shore, but I saw no lights whatsoever, not even the glow of city lights over San Diego. Only the stars above glinted on the vast ocean surrounding us.

After a time, I decided to find everyone inside. I turned around and nearly bumped into Tiffany as she was walking out of the main cabin. “You,” she sneered. “Why can’t I ever get rid of you?”

My stomach twisted ominously. “Hey, Tiffany,” I said, trying to sound friendly, hoping to set her at ease.

She glared in response.

Ooooh-kaaaay.
I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, this is such a great party, Tiffany. And you really have a beautiful boat.”

“It’s a yacht,” she corrected.

“Well, it’s really nice. And dinner was nice too. Everything was totally yummy.” I flashed a nervous smile.

“What is it with you?” she hissed.

“Huh?” I was confused. How did she manage to always make me feel like an insignificant idiot, no matter what happened? I think it was her super power.

“Why did you have to come along and ruin everything?” she snarled.

“What, I didn’t—”

“First Christos, then Brandon.”

“I’m not with Brandon,” I said defensively.

“I see the way he looks at you,” she leered.

“I’m not interested in Brandon. I’m with Christ—”

“You think you’re all that, you stupid bitch?” she snapped, interrupting me.

Bitch…

She continued her tirade, “Coming into my world and glomming onto Christos? You think it’s that easy? You’re fucking wrong, you dirty slit.” Tiffany had the fangs out now. “I’m sure you gave it up to Christos the day you met him, just like every other slut has.”

Slut…

“That’s not true—”

She cut me off dismissively. “That’s all he wants from you, or any of them,” she hissed. “Because that’s all you have to give. Just your skeevy, skankish, poorhouse cunt.”

I held in my gasp. Tiffany was drunk. I wasn’t playing into her torrent of insults.

“I’m the only one good enough for Christos,” Tiffany slurred. “He’s not going to stay interested in you for long.” Tiffany held her glass of champagne in her hand and extended an accusatory finger at me. With each sentence she thrust her hand forward, causing champagne to slosh inside the glass. “As soon as he’s had his fun with you, and I can tell you’re nothing more than a slimy slutcrack so it won’t take long, he’s going to move onto the next one, and the next. Until he finally figures it out.”

Figures what out?
I wondered.

“Sooner or later,” she sneered, “the game will get old for Christos, and he’ll end up with me, where he belongs. Not. You.” She jabbed her glass on her final words and champagne spilled over the rim.
 

The grim mask of despair on her face was horrid. I’d never seen her so ugly. Her sweaty drunkenness and smudged makeup made her look even worse. She scowled at me, but I detected more than anger brimming beneath her contorted features.

It was obvious that frustrated desire was torturing Tiffany to her soul, but I didn’t think the anguish of unfulfilled love was what ate away at her. It was her greed, her lust for the one thing she couldn’t have.

Not having Christos was killing her.

Tiffany swayed lazily and a final dribble of champagne splashed onto her shoes. “You ruined my shoes, you boorish whore.”
 

Whore…

I wasn’t going to let her get to me. Tiffany wasn’t going to take me back to my past.
 

Bitch. Slut. Whore…

I was stronger than her. Tiffany was pathetic.
 

She curled her lips and said, “These Louboutins cost more than your car, you asscap. Get off my boat.”

“What? We’re in the middle of the ocean!”

“You heard me, get off my boat!” She lunged at me.

I sidestepped.

Tiffany stumbled into the handrail. “Oof!” She folded over the metal bar and almost went over edge.

I grabbed for the back of her dress. “Tiffany! Watch out!” If I hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen and face-planted on the transom deck at the back of the yacht, eight feet below.

“Let go of me, you cunt!” She spun around and slapped me in the face.

CRACK!

It sounded like a pistol shot. I reeled back, my face stinging. I imagined the red hand-print that would inevitably form on my cheek. I was mortified. Did this yacht have any lifeboats? I needed to abandon ship.

Holding my hand to my cheek, I backed up a step and bumped into Madison. Romeo stood next to her.

Madison gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, Sam. You didn’t deserve that,” she consoled.

“Thanks, Mads,” I whispered, still in shock.

Romeo murmured under his breath. “That rabid vagina has no class, no matter how fancy her yacht is, or how much money she has.”

Tiffany sagged against the railing. struggling to keep herself on her drunk-ass feet.

Romeo patted my shoulder. “Forget about that uber goober.”

Tiffany glared at him, then flexed her fingernails at me. She looked ready to lunge again.

Madison stepped in front of me. “Relax, Tiffany. You’ve had way too much to drink.”

Tiffany ignored Madison. Her sights were still laser-focused on me. She rocked unsteadily on her feet, either weighing the odds, or too drunk to punch.