Her Island Fantasy, an erotic novella (Bridesmaids in Paradise) (8 page)

Just then Max called them all together to get ready to go on the tour of the Arizona Memorial. They went to the museum as they waited for their turn on the boat that would carry them to the memorial, which was farther from shore than Bailey realized.

Finally, after they’d seen everything in the museum a couple of times, their tour was called. Bailey was taken aback to see tears in Ian’s eyes during the video they were shown of the attack, narrated by some of the survivors telling their harrowing tale of survival, and of loss of their friends. She slipped her hand in his and leaned against his arm, tears blurring her own vision as she thought of what his uncle must have felt in the attack, the terror, the panic, the helplessness. She heard more sniffles around them but didn’t look.

Once the movie ended, they were taken to the boat that would carry them to the memorial. The wind whipped through her hair as they made the short trip, and the rest of the tourists were quiet. The memorial itself was smaller and brighter than she expected, slices of sunlight striping the floor beneath them. Once they entered the memorial, saw the marble wall at the far end, filled with the names of those who died, saw the ship beneath them, and the rusted parts of the ship sticking out of the water, it was all very sobering. All those young men who never thought that morning would be their last. Who reported for duty thinking they’d see their sweethearts, their buddies, their families again.

A very somber group returned to the shore to board the bus that would take them to the USS Missouri, the battleship in the same class as the Arizona that was stationed on Ford Island, over the bridge.

The mood lightened once they got to the battleship, and Andrew took a group picture of them before they went in.

***

“I think there may be a limit to the military history I can learn in one day,” Bailey said after dinner, collapsing on the bed in Ian’s room and staring at the ceiling. “I swear I’m going to dream in gray tonight.”

He chuckled and lay next to her, his fingers tracing the bare skin above her waistband. He’d snuck caresses and kisses today, but none of it had been enough, and he wondered how the hell he was going to survive next week, back in Austin. This would be over, and he’d be alone, again, thinking of her. But it was what they’d decided and he’d stick with it. “I told you we should have gone to the beach before dinner.”

“I don’t even have the energy to walk over there.”

“We’ll go for an early morning swim, then, spend the day at the beach before we have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”

“Okay.” She turned on her side to face him. “You’re flying back Sunday?”

“Yeah, my first shift back is Monday afternoon. You?”

“I have a couple of workshops next week, so yes, Sunday. Joslyn and Andrew are staying another week to do some crazy stuff like zip-lining and going down in shark cages, so it’s just us, your parents, I guess, and Haven’s parents.”

“We’re probably on the same flight. Maybe it’s not too late to switch seats so we can sit together.”

Her eyes widened. He didn’t know why he’d said it.

“Sure, we can check,” she said, hesitation in her voice.

She was probably wondering, like he was, why he was extending this beyond the agreed-upon limit. But hell, she’d gotten under his skin in only a matter of days. He was pretty sure this wasn’t just rebound, just loneliness, that made him want a deeper connection.

But he didn’t want to think about it right now. Instead he hopped off the bed and went to his suitcase. “I believe,” he said, “You made me a promise.”

The snick of the handcuffs over his head sounded very final. Ian craned his head to see his hands shackled to the headboard—one corner of it, the only place they could fit. The metal was loose but still the strain of having his arms stretched above his head was unfamiliar. Now Bailey stood beside the bed, her fingers at the edge of her top. She’s already stripped off his, though he still wore his shorts.

“Remember the chocolate last night?”

“Yeah,” he said through a suddenly dry mouth.

“This is payback.”

She leaned over the clock radio and adjusted until she found a song she liked, one with a strong beat, one he didn’t recognize, from the Seventies or something. She tucked her hair behind her ears and began to swivel her hips, not quite in a hula, but—Christ, she was going to strip for him. Even though he’d seen her naked every day this week, had kissed every inch of her, the idea made him hard. Her glance at his groin and her knowing smile told him she knew, and she began to unbutton her blouse, from bottom to top, spreading the fabric over her breasts, full in another one of those lace bras that only served to make him crazy. She turned her back and looked over her shoulder at him as she slowly dropped the blouse down her arms, then tossed it on his naked belly. She faced him again as she pushed the straps of her bra down. He couldn’t take his eyes off her nipples, pushing against the lace, begging for his tongue. All the blood rushed to his cock, straining against the fabric of his shorts. He wanted to ask her to free him, but she seemed to enjoy having this control, so he’d give it to her. Her bra followed her shirt, the lace soft against his suddenly sensitive skin.

“God, Bailey,” he choked.

She smiled and shook her hair forward, so it flowed over her breasts, her nipples peeking through, so fucking hot. She glided her palms down her stomach and she unfastened her pants, letting them fall to the ground, turning as she stepped out of them. She wiggled her ass in her tiny panties, right at his face. His hands snapped against the handcuffs. Christ, he could see how wet she was, could smell her. Suddenly he couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the throb of his own hunger for her. Then, with her back still to him, she peeled off the panties, presenting him with that pretty pussy, close enough to taste.

She pivoted to look at him, focusing on the tent in his pants. Then she knelt on the bed, and thank God, had pity on him. Her hands shook a little as she unbuttoned his shorts, drew down the zipper, deliberately brushing the back of her hand over his erection. His body went as tight as a bowstring.

“Don’t tease too much. You might be sorry,” he said through gritted teeth.

She only laughed and dragged his shorts and boxers down his legs. Now they were both naked. This was much better. She lowered her head to kiss the inside of his knee, her hair falling forward over his thighs.

“Shit.” He squeezed his eyes shut and worked out the flight schedule in his head, anything to keep from coming right then.

Her mouth trailed up his inner thigh, and his balls were so tight, the orgasm right there, but that would ruin everything. Flight schedule wasn’t doing it. What else…what else…

Her lips brushed his balls just before she reached for them, lifting them to her mouth. The need to come was fucking painful.

“Sweetheart, if you suck me, it’s all over.”

“You can hold on for me, can’t you, Ian?”

“God, I want to.”

She opened her lips over his sac and—

His toast. He tried to remember the toast he’d written for the wedding. Maybe that could slow him down, but he wanted to concentrate on what she was doing to him. He watched her, her head bobbing between his thighs, and then she planted soft little kisses along the underside of his cock, until she got to the head, where she swiped her tongue.

“Please take me inside you,” he said, his voice strangled.

“But I’m having fun.”

“No doubt.”

She rose over him, straddling his hips so he thought she would ride him, then she shifted forward just a bit, over his stomach. “I want to do something for you I’ve never done for another man.”

He was pretty sure handcuffing him to the bed already fell in that category, but he was game. “What?”

“I want to make myself come while you watch.”

His eyes rolled back in his head, no lie. “Not sure I can handle that.”

“Of course you can.” She leaned over him, her nipples brushing his chest, her breath teasing his mouth. “You’re experienced, aren’t you?”

“I’m also turned on as hell. Do me a favor and put the condom on me first. I want to be inside you when you come.”

She reached into the drawer and for a moment he thought she’d pull out the fingertip vibrator, too. Instead, she dismounted, sheathed him with gentle strokes—more than necessary, in his mind—then resumed her position on her
knees, straddling his stomach.

She started at her breasts, weighing them, circling the nipples, then skimmed her fingertips down her belly, around the navel ring, to her neat little mound. One finger flicked over her clit, so swollen he could see it peeking from between her lips. She flicked, and flicked, then circled, a soft gasp escaping her as she did. When he looked at her face, he saw she was watching him.

Jesus.

He bucked his hips toward her and she moaned softly. He stopped watching her fingers and focused on her face, on the way her lips fell open, her eyes drifted shut, her head fell back as she came, her whole body undulating as the pleasure washed over her.

“Put me inside, God, Bailey.” Fuck, he was helpless with his arms locked overhead.

Shaking off her orgasmic trance, she shifted over him, guided him to her and took him into her. God, she was so hot, squeezing him and he pushed into her, the orgasm taking him like a wave, coasting, floating, crashing hard. His muscles turned to water and he sank back on the bed. She dropped over him, her cheek against his chest, her breathing heavy, her fingers relaxing on his shoulder.

“Bailey,” he said, his voice rough.

“Hm.”

“Don’t fall asleep before you unlock me.”

***

Ian pulled the cuffs of his dress shirt over his still-red wrists as he stood on the beach next to his brother Saturday afternoon. They couldn’t have asked for better weather for the wedding, though Ian had caught sight of some thunderheads in the distance. Right now the sun was shining, a light wind was blowing in from the water, ruffling the canopy overhead.

“What are you nervous about?” Eric asked. “I’m the one getting married.”

“Shit, what did you do to your arms, man?” Jared Dovalina, Eric’s best friend since elementary school, asked from Ian’s other side. Jared and his wife Christine, at whose wedding Eric and Haven had finally committed, had flown in yesterday for the wedding, unable to get away before now, and both were standing up in the wedding, though as Eric’s brother, Ian got to keep his position as best man.

“Shut up,” Ian said easily.

Eric’s eyes widened as he met his brother’s gaze. Ian smacked him on the shoulder and nodded toward the other end of the aisle.

“Jesus,” Eric said, and Ian couldn’t argue, his attention was riveted to the woman walking toward him, her hands folded around a bouquet of hell, some kind of flower, her pretty blonde hair in an elegant style off her neck, her gorgeous body wrapped in a strapless red dress that hugged her breasts and her belly, and stopped just below her knees. She was barefoot, mostly, with some kind of sparkly foot jewelry that winked in the sun on as she walked down the runner on the sand.

He hadn’t seen much of Bailey in the past twenty-four hours. Haven had needed her best friend for some final wedding detail shit, and damn, Ian had missed her. She winked at him as she stepped up to stand across from him, and turned to watch Haven walk down the aisle.

Ian tore his focus away from Bailey to watch the bride. Her dress was styled like Bailey’s, but long and cream and covered with lace. She wore a simple gold necklace and her dark hair was swept up in a style a little more elaborate. But all of that paled against her radiant smile as she looked at his brother. When her father gave her away and she moved to stand beside Eric, there may as well have been no one else around. They only had eyes for each other as they said their vows. Bailey took Haven’s bouquet and Ian handed over the ring, then smiled over at Bailey while the two exchanged rings.

When Eric had told Ian he was getting married, Ian had been glad, and had looked forward to following him down the aisle. He and Mallory had been together a long time, longer than Eric and Haven, and it was time. When Eric said the wedding would be in Hawaii, Ian thought maybe he’d propose to Mallory here.

Then it had all gone to hell for so many reasons and Ian had dreaded being at the wedding, thinking of what might have been for him and Mallory. But oddly, right now he didn’t miss Mallory. Right now when he pictured himself in his brother’s place, a beautiful, fun-loving blonde stood beside him.

The preacher announced it was time for Eric to kiss his bride, and he did, enthusiastically, dipping her just a bit, to the delight of their guests. The two hustled up the aisle, toward the tented area where the reception was to be held. Ian reached for Bailey, who slid her arm through his, as they followed.

He bent his head to hers. “You look incredible.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Thanks. You clean up nice yourself.”

But that was all he had time for, which was good because everything else lodged in his throat. The photographer started bossing them around into poses, and when that torture was over, Bailey was swept away to do maid of honor duties. Ian wondered why the hell women worked so hard for just one day. Still, he liked watching her as she did everything from check the guest book to the seating arrangements to the caterer. She moved so gracefully in those weird little jeweled sandal things. He watched her so long he feared he might be developing a foot fetish.