Key West by Lacey Alexander (top android ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Reaching down, he closed his hand gently over hers. “Hey, excuse me for a few minutes, okay? I have to go help with the food. But I’ll be right back, so stay put.”

Carrie watched him walk away, her hand still tingling from his touch, her heart beating slightly faster than normal. The juncture of her thighs rippled when she remembered her fantasy from earlier, imagining him watching her masturbate, imagining him doing the same. She bit her lip, aware that her nipples had gone hard as pebbles against her bra.

She couldn’t believe she’d just spouted out the tragic results of her wedding day like that, but he’d seemed so nice and earnest, and…well, clearly, the rum punch was going to her head.

She knew it had to be, because she was actually beginning to wonder if maybe Chris was right, if maybe she should be working harder to have a good time. Sure, she’d come on this boat, but the truth was, it had probably been mostly to see him again. Maybe she should use this time on her own to just…cut loose a little, try some new things. Could she transform herself, even for a night, into Diana, the wild child middle Marsh sister? Of course, it sounded like Liz had been getting pretty wild, too, lately. And if straitlaced Liz could come out of her shell, surely Carrie could, as well.

She took another sip of her drink and gave her head a quick shake. Did she really want that? To go wild? Was it possible her masturbation on the balcony wasn’t just an aberration?

All she knew at the moment was that her crotch was pulsing and she didn’t even know why. But if Chris tried to seduce her right now, she might just let him.

As Carrie drained her first drink and started on her second, the dark-haired guy who welcomed her onto the boat appeared with a microphone on the deck in the distance. When she’d boarded, he’d smiled into her eyes before lowering a plastic lei onto her breasts so carefully that they’d tingled. He was just as sexy as Chris—only instead of a beach boy, he reminded her more of a yuppie gone bad. She could picture him in a suit and tie as easily as the tank shirt and shorts he wore.

Only then did Carrie really begin to notice the other people on the Party Barge. While some were dressed in summer clothes like her own, many of the girls wore bikinis, some quite skimpy, revealing lots of tan skin, round breasts, and equally round asses. Most people stood in clusters talking and drinking, but some were dancing, and her eyes landed on two bikini-clad girls in particular who were bumping and grinding dangerously close to each other, their knees intersecting so that their jiggling breasts nearly brushed together and their crotches almost touched. Both guys and girls watched, drawn into their performance, cheering them on. For reasons Carrie couldn’t understand, her own crotch went unaccountably warm.

“How the hell is everybody?” the dark-haired guy asked loudly through the microphone.

As the volume of the music dropped in order to accommodate his voice, the crowd cheered various answers.

“Are you ready for some serious partying tonight?”

This time the yells were louder.

“I’ll tell you one thing, we might call this a sunset cruise, but there’s gonna be so much action on this boat, you aren’t gonna waste your time looking at the sun.”

Again, the crowd roared, girls and guys both appearing equally ready for whatever action he might be talking about.

“First, though, we’re gonna let you eat. We’ve put out a buffet with hot wings and lots of other good stuff, so eat up, keep drinking, and in a little while, we’ll get the party seriously underway.”

Just then, Carrie felt a warm hand at the small of her back. She looked up to find Chris, smiling. God, even just that touch made her wet.

He lowered a paper plate on the bar next to her, filled with hot wings, meatballs, cheese, crackers, and grapes, before making his way back to his drink-serving station. “Got you a snack,” he said, as a new line of drinkers formed in front of him.

“Thanks,” she said, then told herself she’d best eat up if she didn’t want to get completely drunk on the rum punch.

* * * * *

“All right, ladies, our first game is just for you—the guys get to watch. Who wants to play?”

Carrie sat on her stool, still observing the festivities from a distance as the dark-haired microphone guy drew girls from the crowd up onto a small stage at one end of the catamaran. The party was in full swing now, much of the rum punch gone from Chris’s vat. Carrie had lost count of how many glasses she’d had—the punch went down sweet and easy, and she couldn’t deny that it was loosening her up, making her much more curious than wary of whatever these “games” turned out to be.

Chris had told her the dark-haired hottie was his best friend and roommate, Scott, and she couldn’t help but find the vision of two such hot, tan, hunky guys living together somehow alluring. “Anybody else?” Scott asked over the mike.

A couple more girls joined the crowd of ten or so on the stage. With the girls assembled, Scott reached under a skirted table and drew out a tray of bananas. “We’re having a banana eating contest,” he announced with a mischievous grin, “but girls, the object of the game isn’t how fast you eat the banana, it’s how well.”

A few masculine howls and catcalls filled the air as Carrie realized the girls were supposed to pretend they were giving blowjobs. She didn’t know whether to be appalled or…aroused. The truth was, she was a little of both, and she felt embarrassed as hell, knowing Chris stood right behind her at the bar even as her crotch echoed with waves of curious excitement.

“The guys get