Her Island Fantasy, an erotic novella (Bridesmaids in Paradise) (5 page)

“Never."

"That's right, never."

"So I should do it now before I don't have a chance anymore. Look, Haven, really, don't worry about me. I'm having fun, I'm feeling sexy and confident for the first time in my life."

Haven shifted uncomfortably. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.” Bailey dropped her purse to her bed. “I’m going to shower. Ian doesn’t want to go on the helicopter ride so we’re going to go into town and see about getting my navel pierced.”

She turned and left Haven sitting on the bed with her mouth hanging open.

***

Bailey never thought she'd be wandering the International Marketplace with Ian, looking for a place to pierce her belly button. He'd asked the concierge at the hotel for a recommendation of a reputable place, and the young man hadn't batted an eyelash as he recommended this shopping center, which was bustling with tourists. Bailey stopped to look for souvenirs for her teacher friends and Ian didn't huff or shift, instead looking closely at the earrings and magnets she was considering.

"Do you take souvenirs to the people you work with?" she asked.

"I'll pick up a few postcards and hand deliver them."

She shook her head. "Men."

He laughed and nodded to a place nearby that advertised tattoos and piercings. Her stomach fluttered a little, but she'd had her ears double pierced and it was no big deal. And this was her reward to herself.

Yes, she realized Ian was also her reward, but damn it, she'd worked hard.

She followed him into the building with black walls lined with tattoo art, and made a beeline toward the jewelry display as he examined the art.

"Can I help you?" asked the extremely thin young woman behind the jewelry counter.

"I want to get my navel pierced."

"Bar or hoop?"

"Hoop." In the display, she saw a gold one she liked with a small starfish charm. Perfect to remember Hawaii by. She tapped the plastic. “This one."

"Okay, come on back."

Bailey looked over her shoulder at Ian. "See one you like?" she asked. She'd noticed he didn't have any tattoos, the first man in her bed who hadn't had at least one.

"There's a cute little hula girl," he said. "You should get her on your hip."

A spike of alarm went through her. "I'm not quite that brave. You get her."

"I already have a hula girl," he teased. "Good luck."

She followed the patient young woman behind the curtain, and a few minutes later, it was done. The young woman gave her a few tips on keeping it clean to avoid infection—no twisting, no getting in standing water—and she returned to the lobby to meet Ian. He bent to inspect the reddened skin, stopped himself from toying with the charm that tickled her navel, then straightened. "Ready to go?"

"Wait. I want to look."

He lifted his eyebrows. "At tattoos?"

"I might be brave." She moved toward the smaller art, the Chinese symbols with the meanings written below.

"This is the one I was talking about," he said, pointing to a baby-faced hula dancer.

"Yeah, I don't think so. But maybe one of these." She was again drawn to the symbols. "I like the sentiment."

"But you can't be sure they're what they say they are," he said. "You don't read Chinese. It might say, 'bitch' for all you know."

"I like this one." She pointed to the one that said, “Believe."

"Where would you get it?"

"Some place I could cover it up, since teachers at my school aren't allowed to show tattoos. My hip, maybe. My shoulder."

He eased closer. "You really know how to turn me on."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Me getting a tattoo turns you on?"

"Knowing no one can see it but that I'll know it's there? Hell, yeah."

"Okay. My hip, then. Will you hold my hand?"

He looked stunned at her quick decision and nodded.

***

Oh, holy hell, it hurt. She'd heard it was an exquisite, addictive pain, but it hurt. A lot. She figured having it right beside her hipbone didn't help, the skin there was so sensitive. At least she'd chosen a small one, and only one color, but Ian probably was less turned on now as tears leaked down the sides of her face. He was awesome about holding her hand, though.

"Done," the young woman announced, sitting back and putting away her equipment.

Bailey craned her neck to look at the image, which was really nice and neat if one didn't look at the reddened skin around it. Again, the girl gave her instructions for the care of the tattoo, and Ian helped her off the table.

"I have a lot more respect for people with multiple tattoos now," Bailey said with a shaky laugh. "Okay, how about some lunch? And some ibuprofen?"

If she thought the marketplace was crowded before, it was nothing compared to the lunchtime crowd.

"Let's bail and go get some dim sum," he said. "I saw this place on the way up here."

"I've never had dim sum."

"It's a style of eating, not a dish," he said. "Kinda like pick-your-own-sampler."

They were walking back to the street to find a cab when several pops sounded from a nearby store. Before Bailey knew it, Ian had pushed her behind a trash can and curved his body over hers. More pops echoed in the courtyard, followed by screams, hurting her ears, and she lifted her hands to cover them.

"Stay down," he ordered, his tone so different, so stern.

"What? What is it?"

"Robbery, I think. Shit. I feel helpless."

But she felt him shift, and twisted to see him looking around the trash can. God, he was going to get his head shot off! She gripped his hand and felt tension run through his body, probably tension that he couldn't act.

Sirens sounded in the distance, footsteps ran past, and then pandemonium. Ian stood and helped her to her feet. She didn't know why she expected to see bodies
—there'd been a handful of shots, and the place was so crowded. Instead she saw a woman in the doorway of the shop yelling and pointing, tourists hanging back, some cowering, some taking pictures.

"Stay here," Ian said, and ran in the direction the robbers had fled.

Terror gripped her when she heard two more gunshots and the squeal of tires, and she had started running after Ian when he appeared around the corner. He caught her upper arms.

"I told you to stay put," he said sharply.

"I thought you might have been shot," she said, stung.

"Not my first time in pursuit of a suspect," he said, trying to ease his words with a smile. "I'm fine, and I got the license number. Probably stolen, but it should help. Wait here."

She watched as he approached the woman in the doorway, showed her his badge and put a placating hand on her arm, as he listened to her recount the story. A moment later, some uniformed officers arrived and Ian spoke to them, with the woman, then away from her. As Bailey watched, one of the uniformed officers took notes from whatever Ian was telling him, then the men shook hands and Ian came back over to Bailey.

"What did you tell them?" she asked.

"I got a pretty good look at them, and I saw which direction they were heading. Maybe that can help." He rolled his shoulders like he was shaking off his cop role. "Want to go eat?"

She turned to him, feeling bolder than she ever had. “I have something else in mind.”

***

Bailey trembled as Ian crowded her through the hotel room door and pushed her up against the wall with his body. He stretched her hands over her head, placing the palms against the wall, and pressed his hips into her ass. God, he was so hard already. She bumped back against his erection.

“Spread ‘em,” he said against her ear and she stepped apart, off balance but leaving plenty of room for him to do his worst.

He dragged his hands down her arms, cupping her shoulders briefly before curving his hands over her breasts, plucking her nipples through the thin bra, bringing them to their full length, and her pussy contracted in response. He glided his hands down her waist, careful of her new piercing and tattoo, and dipped one hand inside her capris, stroking her through her panties.

“Christ,” he whispered, toying with her clit through the fabric. “Christ, you’re so wet.” He pumped his erection against her ass, then withdrew his hand. “You have the right to an orgasm,” he said, continuing his descent. “You have the right to scream my name when you come. You have the right to my mouth on your skin and my dick inside you.” He turned her so her back was against the wall, legs still spread, arms still over her head. “Anything you say can and will be held against you.”

“You,” she said shakily.

“What?” He blinked.

“I want you held against me.”

He chuckled. “Stay right there.”

She could barely stand, but did as he asked, watching as he moved across the room to his suitcase. He rummaged for something—more condoms?—and returned to her, pressing against her as he covered her mouth with his. His hands slid up her extended arms and—

Snick
.

Cool metal encircled both wrists and she snapped her head back to look up. Her heart jumped into her throat.

“Handcuffs?”

“If it bothers you
—” He stepped back, reaching for them.

She closed her fingers into fists, her pulse pounding. “No, I’ve just never done anything like that before.”

“Just say the word and I’ll take them off.”

“Not…yet,” she said, thrills running through her at being just a little helpless, just a little overpowered.

“Good,” he said, and kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples. His mouth moved roughly down her jaw to her throat, stubble scraping, the pain sexy as hell. Everything in her tightened as he ground his hips into the cradle of her sex, his cock hard and insistent. She winced when his palm skimmed her tattoo as he shoved her pants off her hips without unbuttoning them. He slipped his hand inside her underwear as he closed his teeth over her nipple, and she almost came, bucking into his touch, but he merely skimmed her clit, instead pushing two fingers inside her. She circled her hips, wanting more, wanting deeper, wanting the orgasm he promised her. He licked her nipple and continued down her body, skirting the navel ring, his lips making a trail down her belly to her mound, stopping only long enough to move her legs farther apart, then covering her pussy with his mouth.

She cried out as the orgasm washed over her, his hard tongue, his thrusting fingers not relenting even as she shuddered and sagged against the wall. Finally he pulled his fingers free and caught her hips and steered her toward the bed. She looked up at him through orgasm-hazed eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head, shed his shorts. She watched him roll on the condom and felt new twinges of desire deep inside, where he’d soon be.

He lowered himself over her, pressed her wrists to the mattress over her head, and entered her. He covered her mouth with hers as he moved inside her, filling her with her own taste. She lapped it from his lips and he moaned his approval, shifting over her, cupping her ass and driving into her. She gave him complete control of his pleasure and hers, and that surrender heightened her arousal, until each stroke brought her closer, and closer. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she went over the edge with a cry, hearing his own shout of release shortly after.

A moment later she was prone on the bed. He unlocked the handcuffs and gently rubbed the skin of her wrists before collapsing beside her.

“One of these days I’m going to get the bra off before I get you in bed,” he said, tracing the lace over the swell of her breasts.

She wouldn’t let his words mean anything, instead lowered her aching arms and curled into his chest. “Seems like a waste to nap on a gorgeous day like this.”

He pushed off the bed and opened the curtains and the sliding glass door, letting the sea breeze into the room. “Let’s just consider it refueling.”

He disappeared into the bathroom to deal with the condom, and she drifted off to the sound of people playing on the beach below.

An hour and a half later, they walked down to the beach, hand in hand. Ian wasn’t sure who had taken whose hand, but it felt right. And she looked amazing her her bikini with the tattoo just above the waistline, even if it was a little red. And the gold of her navel hoop—

Jesus, he’d just gotten out of bed with her, and already he couldn’t wait to take her back. But she’d gotten antsy, wanting to be outside, so they’d gotten dressed and come down.

She couldn’t get in the water yet with her piercing—something she probably hadn’t thought about when she made her decision, so they stretched out on towels in the sand. He touched his finger to the tattoo and grinned up at her before flopping onto his back and watching the people in the water on wave runners, surfboard and wind-surfers.