Bridesmaid for Hire

“I APPRECIATE YOU HELPING ME with this,” Haisley says as we sit in the sand with her notebook and a fruit and cheese platter in front of us. The guys are farther down the beach, playing with what look to be spears, but I ignore them as I try to focus on Haisley and her problem.

“Not a problem at all,” I say automatically as my mind swirls with the conversation I just had with Brody. Yeah, my concentration is shot. How could it not be though…

He told me he likes me.

No, he doesn’t just like me, but he’s liked me for a while, at least that’s what he said. Not sure how much I can believe thanks to the influence of those anti-nausea pills. His eyes were cloudy, like he wasn’t fully there. So how much was true?

“The only thing that I care about is you. I’m distracted by you. I can’t think with you around. And whenever I see you, my mind goes blank, my heart thumps in my chest, and all I want to do is hold you…even when we’re not pretending.”

Nothing about those words match how he’s treated me over the last couple of years though, and that’s what’s tripping me up the most. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought Brody felt anything toward me except contempt. How can he go from that to the only thing that I care about is you? In a matter of days? Up until today, he’s only ever told me how much I annoy him, how I have ruined his chance to impress his boss, how I’ve disgusted him…

I don’t think I can believe any of it.

Even though he looked so genuinely concerned I wouldn’t believe him.

Okay, it’s better for my heart that I don’t believe any of it.

Because what if all that he said is true? What then? Am I supposed to just fall at his feet and say I’ve liked him for so long that this is the best moment of my life, being able to take what I’ve wanted? That doesn’t sound like me.

I have Haisley and my business to worry about, so the last thing I need is to worry about a guy.

I need to focus on what’s best for me, and Brody McFadden isn’t what’s best for me.

“So, I don’t know what to do,” Haisley says as she flips open her notebook. “The flowers won’t be in by the wedding. Mom is pissed, of course, but I don’t want to go around and just start cutting down native flowers to make something for the day. It seems environmentally problematic. Mom is ready to have someone flowers overnighted here, but that seems so wasteful.”

“It is a solution though. Not that you want to pull those kinds of strings, even though you can. You could possibly have a florist make some arrangements and then have them fly in here for the wedding. We have about two days to spare.”

“We could, but that seems excessive.” She glances out to the water. “I wanted the wedding here because I love it here—the island is so beautiful that the event itself could just be intimate and simple. I know my parents want to show off their money, and they’ve earned it, but I just don’t want to do that, you know?”

“I get it.” I lean back on my hands and think about it. “What about the locals? Have you spoken anyone who lives here?”

“I have some friends in town, and they’ve offered suggestions, but there aren’t many people on hand here that can make arrangements, and a lot of the things they put together are imported for weddings.”

“Makes sense.” I twist my lips to the side, thinking. “What about leaves?” I ask.

Confused, Haisley says, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you can twist and maneuver leaves into different arrangements. You’re just looking for a bouquet, some boutonnieres and maybe something for the ceremony, right?”

“Yeah, four bouquets.”

“That’s right.” I look behind me toward the groves of foliage on the island. “Humor me for a second.” I get up and motion for her to join me. I pick up a bundle of fronds—I think they’re banana leaves, but I can’t be sure. They’re long, flat, and exactly what I was thinking. I fold a few over, looping and then gathering them at the base. I hold it out to Haisley. “We could do something like this—it looks like a faux flower if you layer them and bunch them together. I bet if we talk to your event planner and the hotel—they can arrange for them to be made. Hire some people in town to help out. It could be beautiful.”

Haisley examines the faux bouquet, and I’m rewarded with a smile. “This is beautiful.”

“You can even take a few of these stragglers.” I pick up some long thin leaves and I stick them around the bouquet. “See, like this and it can add dimension, up to you. You could even actually take a bunch of these folded leaves, make them into little bundles, and line them up like garland.”

“Oh that would be pretty,” she says. Her eyes meet mine and she adds, “I love this, Maggie. It’s such an efficient but pretty idea.”

“Would you like me to explain to your event planner?”

Haisley shakes her head. “I think she’s kind of sensitive since the seating chart idea. I think I’ll bring this idea to her myself, so she doesn’t get defensive.”

“Probably for the best. If you need help, just let me know.”

“You’ve already done so much.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I know for my brother’s wedding, I helped my sister-in-law out a lot, not as the event planner but just as her bridesmaid. Her maid of honor wasn’t really into this stuff, so I stepped up. I made wheat and pine cone bouquets for her wedding. It was absolute torture, I hated every second of it, but they came out beautifully and to this day, I have brides asking about them when they see my portfolio. I found a florist who will do them so I can save my fingers.”

“Smart,” Haisley says. “Have you always wanted to do weddings?”

“For a long time, yes. It’s been my passion ever since I was a kid and saw my mom’s friend get married. I truly love the process, the difference of opinions, and how every wedding is different, reflecting the couple…or at times, the family.”

“Your passion for it is so evident. Feels like the passion I have for my vacation rentals. I’ve worked so hard on them, tended to every detail and every theme. I love giving people an experience.”

“I love your properties,” I say, feeling sheepish. “I’ve obviously looked them up. I bet your dad was proud of you for being so entrepreneurial.” She grimaces, which surprises me.

“Actually, he wasn’t. Not in the beginning.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that.”

“I know. He’s come around. But he’s old-school. He wanted, no, he demanded all of my children will work for Hopper Industries. So, to say he was angry at my choice to leave Hopper and start my own business is an understatement. It’s taken a while for him to soften, and it took time to prove the business was viable, but he’s really proud of me now. And we’ve worked hard at rebuilding the relationship we lost there for a moment.”

“Wow. That’s inspiring.”

“Yeah, he’s a good man. Stubborn, opinionated, but very supportive once he’s on board.”

“Well, good for you for sticking to your goals. Funnily enough, I was telling my assistant the other day about your rentals and how they would be amazing for bachelorette parties.”

“What do you mean?”

Here we go, Maggie. Let her know your ideas.

“Well, the new trend right now is for bachelorette parties to rent out a vacation house and host the party in fun cities. Nashville is a big one. San Francisco as well. They rent the houses and then decorate them based on a theme. That’s where Everly, my assistant, came from. She used to work for a company that decorated for bachelorette parties. It would be a perfect marketing gimmick for your properties since they’re already themed so perfectly.”

“Wow,” she says. I can see her mind racing in her eyes. “I never even thought about that.” She meets my gaze. “You know, after this wedding, we might need to talk.”

Hope surges through me. “I’d love to, but let’s stay focused on the task at hand—getting you married. Which leads me to my next question: what are you doing the night before your wedding? I’m a bridesmaid, after all, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t throw a bachelorette party for you.”

She chuckles. “Nothing planned, but I wouldn’t mind a little something. Just not too much heavy drinking.”

“And how do we feel about a stripper?”

She laughs out loud. “Favorable, but since my mom and soon-to-be sisters-in-law will be there, I’m going to have to say probably not.”

“Shame,” I say. “I could have really made Brody shake it.”

“It’s weird to say, but I truly believe you could.”

“You just let me know if you change your mind.” I tap my head.

“Hey,” we hear Jude call out, and we turn to see him approaching across the sand. My God, this man. When I say Haisley hit the jackpot, I’m not kidding. Jude walks over, dripping wet, droplets of water careening off his thick pecs and taut stomach. His hair is pushed back, but a few strands curl over his forehead, and when he reaches Haisley, he grips her chin gently and presses the softest of kisses to her lips.

“Hey, you,” Haisley says as she stares up at him, love beaming from every part of her body for her otherworldly fiancé. “What’s going on? Catch any fish?”

He nods. “Plenty.” He then turns to me. “How’s Brody?”

“Oh, I think he’s doing okay,” I say, then pause, confused. “Wasn’t he with you?”

Jude brings his arm around Haisley. “You didn’t hear?”

Oh God, what now?

“Hear what?” I ask.

He winces and scratches the back of his neck. “He tried spearfishing with Reginald and well, from what I heard, there was a fish between Brody’s legs that Reginald tried to spear. He missed the fish and hit Brody instead. I saw Hardy walking off with him.”

“What?” Haisley says, pulling away to look up at Jude. “My dad hit Brody with a spear?”

“I don’t know the details—I just know that your dad is mad he missed the fish and Brody was carted back to the boat.”

“Carted?” I ask, feeling sick to my stomach. “Like he was stabbed?”

“I don’t think stabbed, but I know he had to go back to the boat.”

“Here,” Haisley says, taking me by the elbow. “Let’s go check on him.”

Caught off guard and actually worried for Brody, I allow Haisley to guide me down the beach and back to the boat.

What is the luck with this man? Did Reginald really stab him? What was Brody doing to be in that position? Floating around from his loopy pills, trying to act like a fish? How does this even happen?

We hurry into the water and swim toward the yacht, not worrying about the dingy that brought us to shore, and reach the back ladder. When we step on board and start looking for Brody, Hardy appears.

When he sees me, he holds out a calming hand. “He’s okay.”

“What happened?” I ask just as a figure emerges behind Hardy.

Tall.

Built.

With the same floppy hair that I’ve grown to like.

“Look, I’m wearing a Speedo. What do you think, babe?” Brody says, coming into the light and swirling his hips at us.

Dear.

Lord.

In.

Heaven.

There he is, in all his glory, ripped and goofy all at the same time. His Speedo sits incredibly low on his hips and the bulge, which is hardly contained, is displayed for the world to see. But the sight makes my mouth water, because I know exactly how big that bulge can get. I had it in my mouth last night. One of the most erotic moments of my life, having Brody completely gone for me. Man, I had been insatiable, and his cock had been wondrous. Not really a lover of giving head, but I couldn’t have kept his cock out of my mouth after getting off twice so sensationally.

And it does not go unnoticed to me that in this moment, my life has come full circle.

I came to Bora-Bora with one thing in mind, to find a guy in a Speedo that would do dirty things to me.

Well, there he is.

Looking like a jackass, doing the twist to no music in nothing but a nylon pair of undies.

Not sure if I should feel lucky or not.

“I think the pills have kicked harder,” Hardy says with a wince. “It might be best if he rests.”

“Rest, nah, we don’t need to rest.” Brody shakes his fist in the air. “We need to party.”

“My God,” I whisper, making Haisley laugh. “Um, is there a bed he can occupy?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Hardy says. “Come with me.” He takes Brody by the arm and guides him from the deck and down a hallway, Brody protesting the entire time. I follow behind.

“I don’t need to sleep. I need to show off this Speedo. Bet your dad would love it.”

“Brody,” I say quietly. “Best that we stay quiet.”

“No need to stay quiet when the world is my oyster.”

Hardy shoots me a bemused look. “Sometimes, the pills can take a second to kick in, and I think we’re at that moment.”

“Seems like it. And I worry that if we don’t contain him, he’ll show his penis to everyone and try to make work it into every conversation.”

“Does the pee-pee want to talk?” Brody asks, looking down at his crotch.

“Hurry up.” I push along a laughing Hardy.

He directs us into a cabin in the far back of the boat—probably for a good reason—and says, “Here, this should be good. It’s dark and will keep him contained.”

I glance around the room as Brody flops on the bed. “Please tell me this is not your dad’s room. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Trust me, I would not do that to him,” Hardy says.

“Thank you.” I watch Brody twist and turn on the mattress. “What happened to him?”

“Dad tried to throw at a fish that was between Brody’s legs, missed, and ripped Brody’s shorts open with the spear. The waist was still intact, but his junk was hanging out. He wasn’t cut or harmed. I honestly have no idea how Dad didn’t kabob his testicles. But only his trunks were harmed. So, I brought him back here to change and all they had on hand was the Speedo. Brody said it was great because you like him in Speedos.”

I feel my face blush. “Glad he announced that.”

Hardy laughs. “You know, this guy really likes you.” Oh? “Couldn’t stop telling me how beautiful you are the entire time he was changing.” Hardy winks and moves toward the door. “You got a good one, Maggie.”

I feel my face flame even more. “Well thanks for helping. I appreciate it.” I pat Hardy on the arm.

“Not a problem.”

“I’ll be out in a moment,” I say as Hardy shuts the door behind him, and I glance at Brody, who is now doing snow angels on the comforter.

And that man thinks I’m beautiful…how lucky am I?

When he finds out about this latest disaster, I’m pretty sure he’ll never want to see the Hoppers again.

“Hey, Brody,” I say as I move onto the bed and press my hand to his leg. “I think you need to sleep this off.”

He pauses and looks up at me. When his eyes connect with mine, he sighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

Okay…I know he’s a little loopy, but it doesn’t stop the butterflies that float up in my stomach.

“Thank you,” I answer. “But let’s get you on the pillow, okay?”

“I don’t want to sleep,” he says like a petulant child.

“I know, but if I let you go out there, you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of Reginald, and I don’t think that’s something you want to do.”

“Fuck Daddy Reggie,” he mumbles.

“Yes, a lovely sentiment, but like I said, it’s best that we stay down here right now.”

I scoot up on the bed and pat the pillow. “Come up here.”

He grumbles something I can’t quite understand and then moves up on the pillow.

“There you go. Do you want some covers?”

“Yeah,” he says.

I pull down the sheets and I help him move his body under them. When he’s all tucked in, I say, “There you go. Now just sleep this off a bit. I’ll grab some water for you too so you can hydrate and help flush everything through.”

I start to get up when he grabs my hand. “No, don’t leave.”

“Brody, you need to sleep this off.”

“Sleep it off with me. I sleep better with you.”

Ugh, he’s killing me.

“Please, Maggie.” His coffee-colored eyes plead with me.

Damn it.

How can I say no to that face? I can’t.

So, I remove my sarong and slip under the covers. He puts his arm around me and slides his forearm between my breasts, pulling me all the way into his chest. His face presses against the back of my head and he sighs happily.

“Perfect,” he says. “This is what I want. This right here.”

I clench my teeth, my brain running a mile a minute with all the ways he could just be saying that and not meaning it, while my heart trips and tumbles in my chest, wishing and hoping this is real.

I’ve liked this man for a while.

I’ve hated him for maybe just as long.

But one thing is for sure—the line between love and hate is very thin, and when I was between his legs, giving him pleasure last night, I was straddling the fence. And that’s not a euphemism for his cock.

And now, he’s holding me like a lifeline.

“This is what I want. This right here.”

And if I’m honest with myself, this is what I’ve wanted as well. But is this the start of a relationship or just an island fling? I don’t have space for a boyfriend. But has that just been the excuse because I don’t have the mental energy to get to know someone new? Could things work out between me and Brody because I already know him? Do I want that?

I really don’t know. Getting together with Brody has never felt like a possibility because I’ve never known his real feelings. And then there’s Gary to consider.

But do I want to give myself over? He’s hurt me once. He is still the same man who was a dick to me. Obnoxious, all-knowing, arrogant. But you’ve also seen him embarrassed and vulnerable. He might not be who you’ve believed him to be.

Gah. This is so confusing.

I think for my heart’s sake, I have to see whether this is real or just a product of something else. Location. Horniness. Alcohol. Happy pills?

For my sanity? I can hope it’s real, because there is a lot I like about Brody, but I’m going to keep my heart guarded for a while longer.

Brody missed island day.

He slept the entire time. I stayed with him until I felt like he wouldn’t notice I was gone, then I slipped out and joined the group again, not wanting to take the attention away from Haisley and their special day.

The yacht staff provided a lovely dinner on the beach and, once the sun started to set, we got back on the boat and headed toward the resort. I checked on Brody when we returned from dinner to make sure he was still alive. He was snoring up a storm, so I left him to himself.

As we breeze over the ocean, I relish my solitude on the back deck. Despite Haisley and others asking me to join them, I elected to find my own bench. You can’t feel lonely with a view like this. Everyone else is paired off and quiet, just enjoying the sights and fresh evening breeze. Haisley and Jude are up front, and she’s leaning against his chest as he holds her tightly. Reginald and Regina are up top, speaking with the captain. Hardy and Hudson are in the dining area, discussing what I can only imagine is business, while the twins are up front as well, taking pictures of the beautiful sunset.

It has to be the prettiest I’ve seen since I’ve been here. Cascades of orange, pink, and yellow span the never-ending sky, lightly dotted with a few clouds, reflecting on the water as the sun crosses the horizon.

I curl into the sweatshirt Hudson lent me since it’s chilly on the back of the boat.

I grab my phone and realize I need to text Hattie, especially after forgetting to send anything to her last night. There’s a LOT to catch up on. But I’m stopped when I see that Everly is sending me a few emails.

Maggie: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

No surprise she texts right back. She’s turning into a workaholic like me.

Everly: Rich coming from the person who should have been relaxing instead of working on their vacation.

I smile at her snarky response.

Maggie: I’m relaxing. I’m enjoying the sunset right now.

Everly: Oh yeah? What are you doing? Are you with the Hoppers?

Maggie: Yes, they took us to a private island on a yacht trip today. I helped Haisley solve a bouquet problem, and then told her she should use her vacation rentals as bachelorette party pads. Make it a whole themed thing.

Everly: Oh my God, I’ve been working on a proposal for you with that exact same idea, but also incorporating the bridesmaid for hire angle.

Maggie: What do you mean?

Everly: So, I know how much Haisley cares about her properties. I’ve been reading up on her and her success, and I feel like she’s not going to want to risk her properties getting damaged by a bunch of drunken bachelorettes. So, I thought, what if there was a “bridesmaid for hire” included, where someone helps the bridal party have the best weekend ever by planning everything out, catering to their every need, and making sure they don’t destroy the place. Almost like a butler, but they’d really be a bonus bridesmaid for the weekend. Obviously, they’re not a real bridesmaid, but they take on the duties of one so that everyone there can just relax and have fun.

Maggie: Oh my God, Everly, that is so genius.

Everly: I know (LOL). I’m still working out details and kinks and I’d love your thoughts when you get back. I don’t know if it’s something you’d want to approach Haisley with, but I think it’s at least something to consider.

Maggie: I completely agree. I love it. And I also want to explore the idea of offering up bridesmaids for hire as part of our wedding planning package to help on the big day. I know it sounds a little out there, but I think if we vetted some girls or even guys for that matter, we could make something of this.

Everly: I love that idea. Branching out is exactly what we need to get that storefront.

Maggie: You are amazing. Thank you.

Everly: I am amazing, thank you for seeing that.

Maggie: LOL. Get some sleep.

“Hey.” I’m startled from my phone as I look up to find Brody standing in front of me wearing a pair of gray sweats that are doing all sorts of things to my libido. He scratches his bare chest as he looks at me with sleepy eyes.

“Hey. I thought they only had a Speedo for you to wear.”

“For swimming, but they had spare clothes too.” His eyes narrow in on my overlarge sweatshirt. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I was cold. Hudson gave me his sweatshirt to wear.”

His brows knit together.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you not feeling better?”

“No, I feel better,” he says, but his brow is still creased.

“Then why do you look upset?”

He moves his hand over his jaw, studying me for a few silent seconds and then without saying anything, he disappears into the boat.

Uh…where is he going?

Is he still feeling those pills?

I hope not.

He was saying some loopy stuff, and now that Reginald is back on the boat, I don’t want him slipping up in front of him. The old man is still grumpy about his fish getting away.

After what seems like five minutes, he returns—thank God—carrying his backpack, which he brought with him when we left this morning. I remember wondering what he was packing but I didn’t question him.

He sets it on the bench seat next to me, opens it up, and pulls out a navy blue zip-up hoodie. “Here,” he says.

“What’s this?”

“My sweatshirt,” he says. “You can wear it.”

“Oh, this one is fine,” I say as I pluck at Hudson’s.

“It’s not fine,” he says as he stares me down. “It belongs to another man.” He pushes his sweatshirt toward me. “This one is mine, which means it’s yours. Put it on.”

I stare back. “Do you really want me to take off this sweatshirt and put on yours because you’re acting like a jealous idiot?”

“I expect you to take off his sweatshirt and put on mine, because you’re my girlfriend and my girlfriend wears my sweatshirt, not someone else’s.”

“You’re serious?” I ask, finding this almost laughable, but when he doesn’t even crack a smile, I realize that maybe he really does mean it.

“Dead serious, Maggie. Take it off.”

Okay…

I take my arms out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt and then lift it over my head. I fold the sweatshirt and I set it to the side only to take Brody’s and slip it on.

And I hate to admit it, but it smells like him and it’s softer. I zip it up and then bring my legs into my chest as I say, “Happy?”

He doesn’t answer, he just takes a seat next to me on the bench, puts his arm around me, and pulls me into his chest.

When his lips are next to my ear, he says, “Much better.”

I want to roll my eyes.

I want to tell him he’s being ridiculous.

But I don’t have it in me because I’m comfortable.

He’s holding me.

And he seems clearheaded, which tells me one thing: everything he’s been saying all day…maybe it’s true.

After a few seconds of silence, I ask, “So you are feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he answers as his face brushes up against my hair. “Why did you leave?”

He remembers me being there? Does he remember the snow angels he was making before we snuggled under the covers?

“Wanted to give you some space.”

“I don’t need space from you, Maggie.”

And there it is again, another sign.

A sign that has my stomach twisting in knots.

And to my surprise, he leans down and presses a kiss to my shoulder. It’s soft and sweet, nothing overtly sexual, but it feeds into my muddled romantic mind, the one that has been washed with rom-coms and books that promise me the happily ever after I’ve always dreamed of.

It makes me think that there could be something here, between us.

Too scared to say anything, or to admit the thoughts racing through my head, I decide to enjoy the moment with him. The sun’s setting in earnest now, turning the sky from a deep orange to a midnight blue, the stars peek out, acting as our guides, the water carrying us into this next chapter.

A chapter that I don’t think I completely understand.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Haisley says as we step off the boat and make our way to our golf carts that are all lined up and ready for us.

“Thanks,” Brody says. “I’ll be sure to return the clothes.”

Hardy holds up his hand. “Keep the Speedo, man—I don’t think anyone is going to do it justice like you did.”

Brody chuckles, the sound deep and a touch sleepy. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll frame it along with the torn-up swim trunks.”

Hudson leans in. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you frame the ripped trunks and gift them to my father.”

Brody laughs and weighs his hands. “Thousand dollars or losing my job. Hmmm…I wonder which way I’ll go.”

Hudson chuckles, pats him on the back, and then heads out.

“Anything going on tomorrow?” I ask Haisley. “Want to make sure I’m available for any plans you might have.”

“Day after tomorrow we are in full-on pre-wedding mode, so I think we’re just taking it easy tomorrow with a simple pool day.”

“Sounds good. You have my number if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She winks and then takes Jude’s hand. “Ready?” He nods and they head off.

I feel Brody rest his hand on my lower back. “Ready?” But the way he says it, in this deep, almost guttural way, it’s like he’s asking me if I’m ready for more.

“Uh, yeah.”

He helps me into the golf cart, and his fingers trail down my arm before he moves to his side of the cart, leaving a trail of goose bumps along my skin.

When he takes his seat, he turns the key, takes the wheel with one hand and he rests his other hand on my upper thigh. Then we’re off, down the barely lit path.

“Did you have fun today?” he asks as his thumb rubs over my exposed skin. His hand has slipped right where my sarong parts open, giving him access to my entire leg, and he uses it. His fingers curl inward around my upper thigh and his thumb strokes in just the right spot that with every pass, sparks arousal through me.

“I did,” I say, trying to steady myself.

What is happening?

Is he trying to turn me on?

Because he’s doing a good job.

And how pathetic am I? He’s doing a good job with his freaking thumb. Has it really been that long for me?

“I’m glad. They really like you, Maggie. Hard not to, though.”

His fingers curl in even more and I have this distinct desire to spread my legs, but I don’t. I keep myself in place.

“They seem to like you as well,” I say, trying to keep my mind on the conversation.

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “Who, exactly?” His pinky finger slowly moves farther between my legs and barely grazes my pussy, but it’s all I need for my eyes to nearly roll to the back of my head.

“Uh…well, Haisley likes you,” I say as I swallow hard the moment his pinky grazes me again, right along my slit. I’m wearing a bathing suit, so I can feel every touch, every millimeter of skin. “Hudson and Hardy,” I say as I grip the seat beneath me.

“And what about you?” he asks as he makes it to the bridge that leads to our bungalow. “Do you like me?” His finger slides again, this time applying more pressure.

“Yess,” I nearly hiss.

“How do you like me?” he asks as we draw closer and closer to our bungalow.

“I…uh…I don’t know.” My mind can’t focus on the questions anymore as it’s rather focused on the way he’s made me wet from just his pinky finger and thumb.

He stops in front of our bungalow and releases me, sending me into a tailspin of need.

God, I hope he continues whatever that was because I don’t think I can take being turned on like that with no end.

He grabs his backpack and then moves to my side, taking my hand in his and bringing us to the front door. He opens it up, and we step inside. In one swift movement, he drops his backpack to the ground, turns toward me, and kicks the door shut. He then picks me up, spins me around to the wall, and plasters me there as he pins my hands above my head and brings his mouth to my neck.

Oh my God…

“How do you like me?” he asks again as his fingers trail down my body, over the side of my breast and to my sarong, which he takes off and tosses to the side.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” I answer when his mouth moves down my neck, lightly licking and sucking.

He pauses and looks me in the eyes. “Do you want me…like this…or do you me as just a friend, Maggie? It’s a simple question.”

I wet my lips. “With a complicated answer.”

“How is it complicated? You either want me or you don’t. Which is it?”

I study those hungry eyes, ready to eat me up with the desire thrumming through him. “I don’t want you to hurt me,” I answer.

“Never,” he says. “I can’t and won’t do that again. I want this. You. I won’t hurt you, Maggie. I promise.”

I feel my heart hammer in my chest. “What about…Gary?”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow. I don’t fucking care.” He presses his body up against mine. “I like you, Maggie. I’ve liked you for a long fucking time, and I don’t think that feeling will ever go away. I need to see where this goes, what could come of this. I want you…need you.”

I wet my lips, his words everything I think I’ve ever wanted to hear from him. Especially the night of Gary’s wedding. I would have melted if he told me that.

So why the apprehension now?

“Promise me,” I say, looking him in the eyes. “Promise you won’t hurt me.”

He grips my jaw, holding my head in place as he looks me dead in the eyes. “I promise you, Maggie. I won’t hurt you.”

And that’s all the confirmation I need.

I wet my lips one more time. “I want this…you.”

And with that, his mouth crashes down on mine, a demanding force that I can’t match. I can only go along for the ride.

Both of his hands grip my face as his lips glide along mine, synching up with mine as our bodies hum with desire. And it’s everything I remember from the night of Gary’s wedding.

The headiness.

The command.

The pressure.

The sensation of his large body pressing against mine.

He drugs me with his mouth, creating this whirlwind of longing.

He must be able to read my mind because his hands slide down my neck to my shoulders where he grips the straps of the bathing suit and brings them down my arms, exposing my breasts.

Immediately, he cups them, massaging them as he kisses me with such force that I can feel it all the way down to my toes, only for him to move his mouth to my jaw and then to my neck where he licks…sucks…nibbles.

Yes, God, yes.

Control me.

Take me.

Make me yours, Brody.

I cup the back of his head as he moves closer and closer to my breasts. “More,” I whisper.

He lifts one of my boobs to his mouth and he kisses around the nipple, swirls his tongue, and then sucks it into his mouth. A hiss escapes my lips as my chest lifts. I revel in the way he makes me feel—like I’m floating in air. Like there isn’t anything else in this world but me and him.

He drags his teeth over my nipple before working his way over to my other breast, giving it the same treatment, marking them as his. All I can do is stand there, letting him take control of my body with every kiss and suck of his lips.

With both hands, he presses my breasts together, kisses them, and then moves down my stomach.

God, yes.

He drags my bathing suit down with him until it’s completely off. I toe it away, leaving me naked before him. His hand spans over my stomach and back up to my breast as he squats down in front of me. He drapes one of my legs over his shoulder as his mouth moves to the juncture between my thighs.

I feel his hot mouth on my flesh before his tongue peeks out and runs along my slit.

“Oh my God,” I cry out, my head softly hitting the wall behind me as I tilt it back. “Yes, Brody.”

And the fucker, I can feel him smile against me as he dives his tongue deeper, hitting my clit just for a moment before he goes back to running the tip just along my slit once again.

Of course he’s going to tease me.

When has he not teased me?

I grip his hair, encouraging him to give me more, but he surprises me as he lifts my other leg over his shoulder and then stands so I’m pinned against the wall and resting on his shoulders, his face truly buried between my legs now.

I have just enough time to gasp from the abrupt change of altitude before he kisses me, his mouth moving over my pussy in such a sensual way, that my toes immediately go numb.

“Brody,” I groan as he continues to move his mouth over my slit, playing with me but never giving me exactly what I want. “I need your tongue.”

And he listens. He slides his tongue right against my clit.

“Oh God.” My stomach hollows from the pressure he’s applying. “Brody…that’s…oh my God.”

He plants his hands against the wall and applies more pressure, causing me to nearly fly off his shoulders.

I grip his head, feeling my orgasm creeping down my spine and pooling right between my legs.

“Fuck, yes.” I tilt my head back again, my chest rising and falling as I twist my fingers in his hair. “Oh my God,” I shout when he sucks my clit into his mouth. “I’m…I’m…” I can’t get out the words before my entire body convulses and I come on his face, my muscles, stomach, and limbs shuddering at the pleasure that rocks through me.

He rides out my orgasm, flicking my clit with his tongue until I can’t take it anymore.

That’s when he grips my back, lifts me away from the wall and brings me over to the bed where he deposits me.

In a hazy state, I glance at him and catch his large erection pressing against his sweatpants. He stares down at me, pushing his hand through his hair, a worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I don’t have condoms.”

“I do,” I say, feeling suddenly shy. “I brought some…you know…for the men in speedos.”

“Where?” he says.

“Top drawer of my dresser,” I answer.

He moves over to the dresser, opens it up, and finds the box. I hear him dig around for a moment and then he pulls out a strip of extra-large condoms. He tears one off with his teeth and then sheds the sweatpants, letting his erection extend up his stomach.

“You want to put this on?” he asks.

I nod and sit up as he stands in front of me.

I take the condom from him but don’t put it on right away. I bring the tip of his cock to my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head. I love his penis. It’s so perfect.

Girthy.

Long.

Sensitive.

“Not too much, baby. I need to be inside of you.”

Swirling my tongue around him, I cup his balls gently and roll them in my hand.

A hiss passes past his lips. “Maggie, seriously.”

I hold back my smile, open my mouth wide, and I take him all the way to the back of my throat, letting him hear me gag before I pull back out.

“Fuck,” he nearly yells as he steps away. His eyes are wild as he stares down at me. I just smile up at him and open the condom. I motion with my finger for him to come closer. “Just slip the condom on. Don’t give me that delicious mouth. Not right now.”

I nod, showing him that I’ll listen because I want the same thing. I want him inside of me. I want to feel him writhe on top of me. I want to hear him as he comes, that beautiful, sexy grunt of his.

So, I slide the condom over him and scoot back on the bed, spreading my legs. But he shakes his head.

“What?” I ask.

“I want you riding me,” he says as he gets on the bed and then lies down. “Straddle me, Maggie.”

My stomach twists with anticipation as I crawl toward him, up his legs, my eyes fixated on his stacked abs and the way his erratic breath makes them contract. And then I’m completely straddling him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” His greedy eyes roam my body. He lifts his cock up and with a grin made for sin, says, “Sit on me.”