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But the look on Amalie’s face sparks something else in me. The obvious jealousy on her face, seeing me flirting with another woman across the pool, makes my chest tighten and my cock twitch. It gives me a strange urge to keep flirting with Holly, not because I really care all that much about whether or not she ends up in my bed tonight, but because I wantAmalieto care.
I glance back at Holly, waving down one of the circulating cocktail waitresses. A petite blonde in a bright blue metallic bikini and a patterned sarong stops, and I flash her a smile.
“A round of jello shots for me and my new friends here. I don’t care what flavor.”
“Coming right up.” The waitress lets her gaze slide over my bare chest for just a moment—just from that look, I feel sure I could have her bent over behind the bar in five minutes if I wanted to—and then sways off to the other end of the pool. She returns with a bucket painted with the resort’s logo full of small plastic cups, handing them out to me, Holly, and Holly’s friends as I give her my last name for the tab.
Looking over at Holly, I take the shot and flick my tongue out, swirling it around the edge of the plastic cup once before scooping the gelatin onto my tongue and tossing it back. One quick, deft motion, and I see the sly grin on Holly’s face before she does something similar, pursing her lips around the cup before scooping the contents out with her tongue and swallowing it all without so much as a flinch.
“Oh, I think we would have fun together.” I raise an eyebrow at her, and she returns the look with equal suggestiveness, but I can’t help but notice what’s missing. I certainly wouldn’t mind taking her to bed—I can already imagine what her mouth might feel like on me—but I don’t feel thatneedthat I felt last night with Amalie. I hadn’t even known what I was missing, until I did, and now the flirtation with Holly feels as if it’s falling flat. I could spend the rest of the day and evening with her, and I know I’d enjoy fucking her, but I feel like there’s something missing. I almost resent Amalie a little for rousing it in me. I don’t need something ruining what pleasure I’m able to get out of my life, and I don’t have any real desire to examine why Amalie made me feel the way she did.
I just don’t want it to get in the way of enjoying my escape.
“Only one way to find out how much.” Holly flutters her eyelashes at me. “I’m going into the pool. Come with me?”
I have no reason to say no. Certainly not Amalie, who is lying on the other side of the pool, tossing back a shot with her friend and laughing at something the surfer next to her says, his hand grazing against her knee in a way that makes my gut twist with that flare of jealousy again. So I follow Holly into the pool—and later that night, after exchanging phone numbers and agreeing to meet up at that club—I find her at the bar as promised, now in a short metallic gold dress, ordering a drink.
“You made it!” She looks thrilled to see me, and it’s almost enough to make me feel bad that I don’t quite have the same enthusiasm. She’s gorgeous—dark hair curled in soft waves and that gold dress clinging to every inch of her body that it covers, perfect legs set off by high heels that look far too precarious for dancing—but there’s a flatness to the lust I feel that I never noticed until I had that spark with Amalie. It irritates me, and I go up to the bar, trying to ignore it as I order a drink for myself.
“Gin and tonic for me, and I’ve got the lady’s drink.” I hand over my heavy black credit card to the bartender, and I catch the glance that Holly gives it before she turns her wide, dark eyes back on me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she breathes, moving a little closer to me. It’s a bit early for the bar to be packed, but it’s fairly full, the air starting to heat with the combination of the temperature outside and so many bodies inside, the fog of mingled perfume and cologne and rising lust beginning to thicken the air. I feel my pulse quicken as she steps closer, feel my cock twitch with the anticipation of what might happen later. Still, it’s nothing compared to what I feel when I hear a familiar laugh over the music, and turn to see Amalie walking past the bouncer at the front door, her blond friend next to her.
That fucking asshole that was sitting by her at the pool is there too, talking to a lean, dark-haired, expensively dressed young man with his arm around the blonde. I grit my teeth, keeping just enough attention on Holly that hopefully, she won’t notice my gaze continuously flicking to Amalie as she walks towards the bar.
She’s wearing a black bandage dress tonight, a thick gold zipper up the back, and her wide gold hoop earrings are the only accents. She’s teetering on high heels similar to what Holly is wearing, and her lush auburn hair is pulled back tonight, braided at one side, and then tied into a thick ponytail.
I can all too easily imagine wrapping my hand around it and guiding her soft lips to my cock, or holding on while I fucked her hard from behind. She didn’t go down on me last night, but if I took her back to my penthouse again, there’s no reason we couldn’t rectify that—
“David?” Holly’s voice pierces my thoughts, and I feel her hand on my arm, her pointed nails scratching over my skin. I can easily imagine those nails digging into my shoulders, clawing down my back, and I shiver a little in anticipation of the idea.There we go. Think about that, and not Amalie’s mouth on your cock.“Is there someone you need to talk to?”
I know the moment she says it, a flicker of jealousy in her voice, that she saw me looking at Amalie. And unlike Amalie’s stare across the pool earlier, Holly’s jealousy makes me far less interested in her.
“Just for a minute.” I’m already walking towards Amalie before I can stop myself, my gaze raking over her gorgeously slender body wrapped up in that dress. I want to slide the zipper down and peel it off of her, or better yet, bend her over and nudge the skirt up her hips. It’s so short that it wouldn’t take much—and I have no doubt that whatever she has on beneath it, it would be all too easy to simply slip it to one side.
Shame we’re not in Europe.Amsterdam, maybe. There are a few places I can think of where I could have done just that—fucked her in public in a bar, and no one would have thought twice about it, except possibly to ask if they could join in. I’ve never done it personally, because I’ve never beenthatmuch of an exhibitionist—or even one to fantasize about it, really, until Amalie.
Now, apparently, I can’t stop myself from thinking about it.
I start to say her name, but before I can, she takes her drink from the bartender and turns away without even seeing me—or if she does, she doesn’t show it. She winds her way through the crowd as I watch her go, the lights glinting off of her dangling earrings, and I see her heading to a corner booth where the friends I saw her come in with are waiting. I have the urge to follow her, but I catch a glimpse of Holly out of the corner of my eye, and force myself to turn away.
My desire for Holly is simple. Uncomplicated. It might lack the intensity of what Amalie made me feel, but it doesn’t come with all the extra baggage, either. I’m better off enjoying a night of flirting and dancing with this gorgeous brunette who wants me, taking her back to my penthouse and fucking her however I please, and then sending her off just as I’ve done with every other woman, every other night.
I can’t stop looking for Amalie, though. As the evening winds on, Holly and I do a round of shots and then another, ordering another round of drinks before we finally make our way out onto the dance floor. I can’t recall a single word of any conversation we had—I’m not even sure that I responded appropriately, but Holly doesn’t seem upset with me, so I must have. She tosses her dark hair back as she grinds against me to the music, her hands on my shoulders as she moves her hips suggestively, and my cock wastes no time taking more of an interest in her than I’ve been able to summon all night.
“Mm.” She leans in, brushing her lips over my neck, her breasts pressing against my chest. “You feel good.” She purrs it into my ear, a taste of what tonight will bring if I get her into bed, the things she might whisper in bed, the sounds she might make. I try to focus on that, and not the glimpse of auburn hair that I catch in the shifting crowd. Amalie is dancing with the surfer, his broad hands on her hips, and I remember all too clearly how it felt to have her moving against me like that, her soft ass pressed back against me. I wanted to fuck her from behind, and I didn’t. Once I was inside of her, I couldn’t think about anything except not stopping. I couldn’t think about changing positions, about other things I might want to do to her—anything except how beautiful she looked under me and how good she felt wrapped around my cock.
Holly’s lips graze my throat again, her hips gyrating against mine, my hard cock pressed against her. She’s moving against me as if she wants to fuck me right here, and I don’t have a single shred of doubt that she does. She’s already mine if I want her—but I can’t seem to focus, and when I look for Amalie in the crowd again, she’s vanished.
I have a sudden, gut-wrenching image of her in one of the bathrooms with the guy she’d been dancing on, kneeling down to wrap her lips around his cock or letting him bend her over one of the sinks. It makes me feel vaguely ill, and I tell myself it’s just the heat and three days of drinking more than I’m accustomed to.
“I need some water.” I lean down so Holly can hear me say it in her ear, and she nods, following me back to the bar. The bartender is swamped, at least ten people away from being able to serve me. When I glance back towards the booth where I saw Amalie with her friends before, I see that they’re seated a little ways off now, on a cluster of low couches arranged in a half-circle.
“David.” Holly’s hand brushes against my arm, and I can hear the slightest note of frustration in her voice. “We could go back to my room. Or yours, if you prefer—”
“I’ll be right back.” I peel away from her, well aware that it’s the second time tonight I’ve left a sure thing to go and try to talk to a woman who I’m fairly sure is a complication I don’t need. I’m not even certain she wants to talk tomeagain, after I made it clear I wanted her to leave last night instead of staying. But I have that moth-to-the-flame feeling again, that sense of being drawn towards something even if I know just how bad it could be for me. It brings me nearly right up to where they’re sitting before I see what Amalie is currently doing…or rather, what’s being done to her.
The surfer is seated next to her, leaning in to whisper something in her ear, and his hand is sliding up her skirt. His fingers are tracing a pattern on her inner thigh, gliding nearly up to where just last nightIwas touching her, and that burn of jealousy floods through me again, so all-consuming that I can’t stand it. I know that what I’m feeling doesn’t make sense, that I’m caught up in a jealous rage—a feeling I’ve never had before—over a woman I barely know, but I’m moving towards him before I can stop myself.
