Inhibition-X (6 page)

Chapter Ten

She padded into the hut, keeping quiet in case her friends were sleeping. Even before pushing the bedroom door open, she knew at least P.J.’d come back. Soft light filtered under the door.

“Hey, you. Where did you take off to?” P.J. asked, sitting up and no doubt taking note of her wet hair.

“Went for a swim.” She wasn’t sure yet how much, if any, of her encounter with the Marquis she wanted to share with her friends. “How’d things go with, uh…the cute dude?” She’d never caught his name and hadn’t expected P.J. back, figuring she would spend the night with the man from the dining hut.

“Trent? Oh, things went fine.”

P.J. didn’t appear overly enthused.

“Fine? That’s all?” Heather sat on the edge of P.J.’s bed. “Anything you want to talk about? He didn’t turn into an ass or anything, did he?”

“Oh no. Trent steamed things up yet remained a perfect gentleman. He’s cute, he’s funny, and he’s sexy as hell,” she stated.

“But?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel it,” she said, turning her face so the wonderment in her eyes became visible.

“You mean he wasn’t Morgan?” Time to push the Morgan boundary and force her friend out of her shell as the Marquis had for her.

“Morgan?” P.J. tried to feign being shocked, but her act didn’t fly.

“Girl please. You’ve admitted as much to me in the past. Sure you were tipsy at the time, but the way you look at him and he looks at you…sparks are smoldering.”

P.J. shot her a wide-eyed glare.

“Don’t even think about lying. We share everything. Remember our pact? We’d never lie to each other. Best friends don’t do that,” Heather reminded her as P.J. worked her bottom lip between her teeth. The telltale sign she was about to spill the beans.

“No. He wasn’t Morgan. And while I’ve tried to push this illogical crush behind me, I guess deep down I thought the island would, I dunno, be so magical we would fall into bed together or something.”

“You’ve watched
The Blue Lagoon
too much,” Heather teased, trying to lighten the tense mood.

“Maybe,” P.J. offered quietly.

“Or maybe he’s waiting on you to give him a sign to go for it?” she suggested, remembering the way Morgan had looked at P.J.

“Yeah right. Did you see him at dinner with Barbie?” P.J. asked, standing to pace the room.

“Candy,” she corrected.

“Are you fucking with me? Candy? Shit. He was all over her. Practically drooled in her cleavage. And he’s not here, is he? So where else would he be?” P.J.’s voice went up an octave. Never a good sign.

“Well, maybe he’s at the bar the Marquis mentioned being open twenty-four hours a day. I bet they’re knocking back a few before turning in?” Sure, the suggestion sounded lame, but the idea remained a valid possibility.

“Did you not see them together? No. They’re shacked up somewhere. Oh damn. Remember what the Marquis said about the themed huts? I bet he’s in one of those. Come on.” P.J. grabbed her arm and dragged her to the doorway.

“Wait a minute. You aren’t going to do what I think you’re going to do, are you?” Oh shit. This wouldn’t end well.

“No.
We
are going to do what you’re thinking we are doing.” The mischievous grin P.J. shot her made her gut do somersaults.

“P.J. Think about this. We don’t even know where all the huts are. And you want to traipse around the island, after dark, snooping them out?”

“The torches are lit and paths are marked. We’ll be fine. Now come on. We are so doing this, girlfriend. I’ve got to know. Plus, discovering what all the different themes are will be fun.”

Once P.J. set her mind to something, she rarely got talked out of it.

Shit.

“If we get busted, I’m so never speaking to you again. You understand this, right?” P.J. nodded, she did, and still dragged her outside anyway.

* * * *

The first hut they came to produced sounds of activity. True to her word, though, P.J. made sure she found out what the hut’s theme was. How? Bitch brazenly walked through the unlocked door. The sign indicated that whoever the occupants happened to be, they were open to the idea of others entering. Whether or not those “others” were welcomed to uh, join in, all depended upon the couples. Some might just get off being watched, enjoying the voyeurism of the moment. Yet, no doubt some would desire actually interacting with the newcomers. She’d read books about multiple partners. Even some about swingers. While certain elements seemed fun and kinky, it wasn’t her. At least she didn’t think it was. A moment later, P.J. skipped out and mouthed
jungle room
.

“I can’t believe you waltzed in like that,” she whispered as P.J. giggled and pulled her in the direction of another path she hoped led to another hut.

Once they were out of any potential earshot, her giggles grew in intensity.

“He was wearing a loincloth and she large leaves. Might have been kinda hot, but I’ve never seen an orange-tinted, gold-chain-wearing, spray-tanned Tarzan. They sounded to be from Jersey too when they invited me to join them.” She actually snorted as she laughed.

She shook her head at her friend. P.J. wasn’t known for her tact.

Didn’t take long before they found another of the “themed” huts. Unlike last time, this one appeared unoccupied, so she went in as well.

The interior was designed to replicate a cave. Fur-lined “rocks” imitated, she supposed, a caveman aura. Another hut gave the illusion of being celestial. The entire ceiling was like a planetarium she’d visited once. Lit up to reflect the solar system. So richly detailed, one lost depth perception as it felt like you were actually floating in the sky. Sadly, though quiet—uh, oops—the room was occupied. The exterior of the place had been made from blackout-type material so the place was beyond dark and the heavens illuminated.

They’d been invited to join in, but backed away apologizing for the intrusion. So much for anyone using the “occupied” code the Marquis had spoken about. Either the guests were too drunk to remember to use it, or they flat didn’t care.

At the next hut they listened at the door and assumed from the lack of audible activity the place was empty. Since they’d guessed incorrectly last time, this time they rapped lightly. No answer.

“Okay, least we know this is empty. Want to make a bet on the theme?” P.J. asked.

“Um, igloo maybe?”

“Would be unique. I think maybe western inspired. You know, ‘cowboy up’ and all that.” P.J. wagged her brows and grinned.

Good, her spirits seemed to be lifted.

Three steps into the hut, they learned their mistake. It wasn’t vacant, but instead housed Candy and Morgan. P.J.’s face fell as hard as her bottom lip, but neither Morgan nor Candy had detected their presence yet.

Both were still clothed, but the situation suggested things would be changing soon.

A gasp burst from P.J. and earned the attention of both parties sprawled making out on the fish tank-style bed. Yep, the bed itself appeared made from silicone or something, and though the top appeared to be cushioned and have give, the bottom and sides were hard and housed all sorts of aquatic life. If not for the delicate situation at hand, she’d have loved to check the hut out more.

“P.J., Heather, what’s wrong?” Morgan asked, sitting up with an inebriated yet concerned expression.

“N-n-nothing,” P.J. stuttered, hauling ass out of the hut.

“Uh yeah. Um, we were out checking out all the themes of the vacant huts,” Heather managed as she backtracked to the door.

“Well this one isn’t vacant, as you can tell,” Candy spat with an irritated tone.

“Yeah, well, sorry to have intruded.” She caught the flicker in Morgan’s eyes. He hated snooty people. When his buzz wore off, she bet he’d regret his choice of bedmate.

Now to deal with a heartbroken P.J. This was going to be a long night.

Long and hellish.

Chapter Eleven

Hours later, with P.J. finally asleep, Heather finally took the opportunity to check her phone. No messages. He’d promised to text later. Well, technically
she
had. But he always sent a text at the end of his day.

Maybe he’d been busy. Or with someone, the voice in her head suggested.

She pulled the covers back, set her phone on the nightstand, and climbed into, too tired to even rethink her lagoon outing with the Marquis.

Bzzz.

Bzzz.

She snatched her phone before the buzzing awoke P.J.

You never texted back. All okay?
the text read.

Yes. All’s well. You?
she replied.

Crawling into bed like you. Exhausted.

Wait. How did he know she’d only now crawled into bed?

You were in bed, right? Not interrupting anything, am I?
he asked.

Nope, you guessed right. Am in bed.
He’d assumed. For a moment, well…

Alone?

Yes. You?
No, they’d never gotten around to any sort of relationship rules, as this wasn’t a relationship. Well not really. But regardless, she sensed both feared the other would find someone real and terminate the texting fun. At least she did.

Up for some fun?

Her fingers typed out yes. Her mind had long ago plotted the bathroom as a safe zone.

She slipped into the washroom and shut the door, flipping the lock as quietly as possible.

Ready for me?
he typed.

Always
, she replied.

Since the island you’re on is all about living out one’s fantasies, tell me one of yours and include me in it
, he urged.

Did she dare open up to him? What would he think of her darkest desires?

I’ve dreamed of being blindfolded and taken by a stranger. At the complete mercy of another
, she typed slowly.

How often?
he rapidly inquired.

Often
, she admitted.

What happens after you’re blindfolded and you’re at your partner’s complete mercy?
The words boldly shot across her screen.

At first, I’m caressed and kissed, but then…

Then what?
scrolled up in super speed.

His mouth lowers as his fingers scissor within me.

Where does his mouth go?
he quizzed.

It moves from my mouth, to my breast, and all the way
—she paused—
to my, uh, southernmost region.

Southern region? Explain
, he demanded via text.

My clit. He sucks and chews gently on my clit
, she texted back, tapping the keys extra hard as she did.

Much better. Honesty can be a big turn-on. Now touch yourself for me.

She double-checked the bathroom door lock and parted her knees. If only in her mind, she imagined his voice, deep and authoritative in instructing her. Closing her eyes, she conjured up a tall, well-built man with muscles, but not too bulked up. He wore dark, shoulder-length hair and had intense blue eyes, the kind that seemed to bore into one’s soul.

Oh yeah, now this will work well.

She set the phone on the edge of the bathtub to be able to see his incoming texts. He’d keep instructing her on what to do until she came. He always knew. Always.

Her hand moved low to touch herself when the hut’s front door slammed against the wall and a huge boom followed after.

Shit. Um, give me a min. May have roommate issues. BRB
. Her fingers flew over the keys to get the message to him before checking out what level of hell she’d have to wade through now.

She creaked the door open to discover J.D. sprawled face-first barely inside the doorway. By the sound of his snore, he wouldn’t be waking anytime soon.

“So found the bar, did ya?” she asked while grabbing his feet and sliding him the rest of the way in so she would be able to shut the door.

No way would moving him farther be an option, and waking P.J. to help wasn’t either.

“Sorry, big guy, on the floor you’re staying,” she whispered as she retrieved the bedspread and a pillow out of the guys’ room for him. “You’re gonna feel like hell tomorrow, but it is what it is.” She smooshed the pillow under his head, took his shoes off, and covered him up before racing back to grab her phone and snuggle down in her bed. She hurried to return a text.

Back. Still with me?
she typed.

Nothing.

Hello?
Her gut dropped when still she received no reply.

Grrrr. She slumped back in the bed. Story of her life. Always late.

* * * *

Sounds of moans and groans woke her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. P.J.’s bed stood empty, but the flushing of the toilet told her where she’d disappeared to. The sounds of agony which had awoken her came from the hut’s living room.

Ah, J.D. must be waking up. Ha.

“What’s wrong with him?” P.J. asked, coming from the bathroom.

“Someone drank a little too much last night. I’m surprised his entry last night didn’t wake you and everyone else around us.”

“Wow, do tell. What’d I miss?”

“Only him falling through the door. Come on. Something tells me he’s going to need some help getting up and around this morning.”

They went out expecting to find J.D. scratching his ass or something on the floor but found the room vacant.

“Their room.” P.J. thumbed over to the room.

“Need some help?” P.J. asked as she opened the door to find Morgan lying across his bed, nude but alone. He bolted upright with a little-boy-lost expression.

“Help?” he questioned.

She’d bet they both caught sight, simultaneously, of the woody that bobbed in morning greeting. Considering P.J.’s wordage of “need help” and his wood, things went from awkward to downright mortifying, and she took the opportunity to slowly back out of the room.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found P.J. frozen to the spot. Who knew; maybe this would break the ice between the two. If walking into your crush’s room to find him with a stiffy didn’t work, then nothing would.

Sounds of moaning came from the tiny deck area out back. She hadn’t checked the porch before but suspected that was where J.D. sat, holding his hung-over head in his hands.