On The Beach (Modern Vintage)

10. Bottoms in Paradise

CHAPTER 10

bottoms in paradise

BELLE

I stood on the pier, hands on my hips, staring at Big Al, the harbor master.

"Sorry, Belle, Papa Lou says the ferry is busted. Looks like a freakin' swimming pool, and they need parts to fix, and that takes a minute around here."

I tried to keep my face from giving me away. Frustrated as I was to be stranded, there was a small, undeniable part of me that was…thrilled.

"Ah…so, how many days are we talking about?" I asked, worrying my lower lip with my teeth.

"Ya know, they come every Monday and Thursday, so…since they missed today, I'd say Monday." Big Al smiled at Mick. "How you doin', Captain Mick?"

"You know me, Big Al, I'm always doin' good."

"No shit."

"Is there any way I can hire a boat, something to get out of here," I asked. Sure, orgasms were nice, but I had a life in Cambridge to get back to.

Big Al looked at Mick and rolled his eyes .

I turned to look at Mick, who shrugged. "You know how it is, Babycakes. I told ya."

"Can I charter a helicopter? Anything?"

"You wanna get out of here so bad?" Mick had a devilish glint in his eyes. He was handsome as sin. Blue eyes, tanned healthy skin, sexy dirty blonde hair that he obviously forgot to have cut regularly—and then there was the attitude.

So, the thought of a few more days in Reef Harbor, of more time with Mick, made my stomach flip in a really good way.

"It's just…I have work, Mick."

"You know what they say about all work and no play," Big Al said solemnly.

"What do they say?" I asked sardonically.

"It makes Babycakes a dull gal," Mick finished.

I grinned despite myself. "I guess there are worse places to get stranded on than a Caribbean island."

"Atta girl." Mick put an arm around me. "Thanks, Big Al."

Big Al pointed a finger and made a shooting gesture. "You now owe me."

"What does that mean?" I asked as Mick picked up my suitcase, and I hoisted my laptop bag on my shoulder.

"What does what mean?" Mick asked.

"Why do you owe him?"

"No clue. Big Al is his own brand of weird."

I turned to see Big Al, and he gave me a goofy smile and a thumbs-up sign. Yeah, weird was right.

"I hope they'll give me back my hotel room," I said forlornly.

"If not, you can crash in my hut."

"You don't even have a bed," I pointed out.

Mick shrugged. "You wanna a bed?"

"Bed is nice."

"You sure? "

The night before, which was supposed to be my last night here, we'd stayed in my hotel room and all but wrecked the bed by fucking so hard and loud that our neighbor banged on the wall and asked us to keep it down.

I'd never had the kind of screaming sex that made neighbors bang on the walls or ask me to keep it down. Honestly, I was more of a squealer—enthusiastic, sure, but not exactly earth-shattering. I didn't even know people actually did that in real life. I thought the whole loud, wall-shaking thing was just for porn and movies.

"A bed is nice, Mick."

"Fine," he let out an exaggerated sigh, "I'll get a fuckin' bed."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "You want me to stay in your hut?"

He looked at me, his face somber. "Yeah."

I licked my lips. This was a far cry from the man who'd tried to kick me out of said hut at the butt crack of dawn the first night we'd been together. Now, something had shifted between us; I felt it, though I wasn't sure if he did.

"I'm leaving on Monday."

"Yeah."

"So…it's just like a few nights."

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath and exhaled. "Mick, have you ever asked anyone to stay with you in the hut?"

"You mean besides Franco?"

"Yeah, I mean besides him."

He cleared his throat. "And Cato?"

"Mick?"

He shrugged. "No."

Figured. Okay, so this was a holiday slash island romance, and it wasn't serious. There was no chance for it to become serious. I mean, look at Mick. He wasn't the kind of guy who was going to hook up long-term with someone like me. I didn't know how to have fun until I was drunk—and I didn't get drunk very often. And Mick only knew how to have fun—which was great when you were on an island but not so great if you had to, you know, live with someone.

For the sake of everything holy, Belle. He wants to fuck you six ways to Sunday, not marry you, so stop being an anal moron and just take the win. He's handsome as sin, good in bed, and you've never had this much fun in your life before.

Mick set my suitcase down and leaned against the wooden railing of the pier. "Well, Babycakes, what's the decision? 'Cause I can hear the gears in your brain crunch real fuckin' hard."

I tilted my head. "You'll make sure there's a bed?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Then let's go."

"The shower is still not working," he warned.

"That's fine. I like the waterfall. You can wash my back."

"Guess you're stuck with me a little longer, Babycakes." A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, don't look so smug," I huffed, but I could feel myself feeling almost euphoric.

I dropped my laptop bag and suitcase in Mick's hut without a care in the world. I should have contacted the office and my sister, but I decided that it could wait when Mick suggested that we go on a hike.

Priorities, priorities!

The hike wasn't easy.

The sun beat down on us, and the trail Mick had chosen seemed designed to test the limits of my flip-flops. Maybe I should've worn sneakers?

"Are you sure this is a trail?" I asked, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "It looks more like a jungle obstacle course."

"It's a trail. A secret one," he insisted, not even a little bit winded as he stepped over a rock I nearly tripped on. He wasn't having a problem with his flip-flops. "And those who suffer get their just rewards."

"Who said that?"

"I did."

I cocked an eyebrow. "And you're sure this is worth it?"

"Oh, Babycakes, it's gonna knock your socks off, and you're not even wearing any."

After what felt like a never-ending trek through twisting trails and climbing over rocks, we finally broke through a thick line of palm trees.

Mick had brought me to a hidden cove sheltered by cliffs on three sides. The sand was so white it almost hurt to look at it in the midday sun. The water sparkled in every shade of blue and green, lapping gently against the shore.

"Alright," I admitted, out of breath and more than a little sweaty. "This was worth not just the hike but not being able to leave the island."

He grinned, setting down his backpack on the sand. "Told ya. Welcome to paradise."

As he pulled a big towel out of his backpack and spread it out on the sand, I felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. He'd packed a picnic: fresh tropical fruits, a bottle of wine, a little container of sandwiches, and a couple of cookies.

I settled onto the towel, watching him with a grin as he tried to open the wine bottle with a corkscrew that looked like it had seen better days. He wrestled with it, muttering under his breath, before finally getting the cork out with a loud pop and nearly spilling half the bottle.

"See?" he said, with a sheepish grin. "Smooth as always."

I laughed, taking the plastic cup he handed me, and for a few minutes, we just sat, listening to the waves and enjoying the quiet. It was so far removed from the life I knew, the life I was supposed to be going back to, and yet, being here with Mick felt…right.

"So, how'd you end up at Reef Harbor?" I asked after a while. "Are you born and raised here, or did you leave the big bad city for Reef Harbor?"

Mick looked out at the water, his expression softening. "I left the big bad city."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leaned back, resting on his elbows. "I was engaged."

I stroked his hair. "And?"

"And it's a cliché. I came home and found her banging her personal trainer."

I felt a pang of sympathy. "I'm sorry." I leaned down and kissed him softly. "That must've hurt."

"Like a mother fucker," he agreed.

I hadn't expected the Mick I knew to be the kind who a woman could hurt—but then he was a different Mick now because of that experience.

"So, you came here after that? Because of that?"

He looked back at me with a rueful smile. "Something like that. It wasn't just Mia…that was her name. It was everything . I was burning out at work."

"What did you do?"

"Doesn't matter." He smiled warmly at me. "Just that…it hit a nerve when you said how you work all the time and don't take vacation. I used to be like that."

"I figured. Lately, I've been feeling more and more exhausted."

"I know how that goes. I used to feel like Sisyphus. Up and down with the same bloody rock every fuckin' day. After my engagement crashed and burned, it was like I was free . I quit my life, my whole life, and came here."

"How did you choose Reef Harbor? "

"I didn't," Mick chuckled, "Reef Harbor sort of...chose me."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Tell me more."

"Well," he began, "after my engagement ended, I decided to take off for a while. No destination in mind, just… anywhere . I bought a one-way ticket to the first tropical place there was a flight for, figuring I'd island-hop my way around the Caribbean for a while. But then, on my first day here in Reef Harbor, I went snorkeling and lost my passport. And my wallet. And my luggage."

"Oh no…."

"Yeah, this girl, a tourist who I decided to get with, was a thief. So, when I went swimming, she cleaned me out."

I laughed.

"Yup. By the time I made it back to shore, all I had left were my swim trunks, a snorkeling mask, and a half-tube of sunscreen."

He sat up and took my hand in his. He touched me often, almost absently, as if wanting the connection. It felt good. Too good .

"I was waiting for the embassy to sort it all out. I met Cato, Franco, RiRi, and a few others. They figured if I was stranded, I might as well make myself useful. Next thing I knew, I was teaching a couple of kids to surf, taking tourists on RiRi's death trap, tending bar, and…well, one month turned into three years." He shrugged, gesturing to the island around him. "So yeah. I guess you could say the island chose me."

"Just like it's choosing me now…for a few more nights."

"You can change your life, Belle," he said seriously. "You don't have to live to work."

"It's tempting." I agreed. "My life back home is pretty much all deadlines and expectations. I told you, everyone at work calls me Lady Freeze like I'm this machine who just works and works. It's not that I don't love what I do—I do, but…it's all-consuming."

"Then stop letting it consume you."

"I want to save lives, Mick."

"But at what personal cost?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Any cost because if it helps someone, then…I have to do everything I can. I don't know how to explain it."

Mick's eyes softened, and he gave me a small, knowing smile that made my heart flip. "I get it. I do. But everyone needs to rest. Maybe that's why you're here."

"Maybe."

We both fell silent, watching as the waves crept up and down the shore, the sky turning pink and orange with the setting sun. Something about this moment, this tiny slice of time with Mick, felt almost… inevitable .

We clinked our plastic cups together, and then he reached over, brushing a stray hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek just a second longer than they had to. It was the kind of touch that made me forget everything else—work, Dr. Augustus, my flight back home. All I could think about was him, right here, and how I didn't want this moment to end.

"Mick," I whispered, not even sure what I was going to say. But he leaned in, and before I knew it, we were kissing, the rest of the world slipping away as his arms wrapped around me.

We kissed slowly, tenderly at first, but it soon became heated. I didn't even resist when he undressed me. We were out in the open but in a private paradise, and honestly, I didn't give a shit, even if we weren't. This kind of freedom was unusual for me, and I savored it like it was expensive wine: heady, strong, and full.

"Fuck. I can't ever get enough of you," he said hoarsely, cupping my pussy.

He lay down and pulled me to him. "Straddle my face."

"What? "

He didn't explain and just hooked my leg over him, adjusting me so my pussy was right above his mouth. I'd never done this before, and I flushed, embarrassed.

"Mick, I…."

But before I could say more, his mouth was against me, and his tongue moved up and down my clit.

"Hold on to the palm tree, Babycakes, 'cause this is gonna be a rough ride."

I had no choice because, despite myself, I was aroused beyond belief, loving how wanton I was being. He stroked his hand up and down my thighs, and I locked eyes with him. It was erotic as hell to watch him eat me out and position my body so he had the best access.

The pleasure built inside me as his tongue stayed on my sensitive clit, playing, stroking, nibbling. Suddenly, it became too much, and my hips began to move of their own volition.

"Fuck, yeah, just like that, Belle. Fuck my mouth."

When I hit the high, my thighs trembled, and I started to sob. The release was so intense.

He moved from underneath me and lay me down, mounting me. He kissed me while he went balls deep inside me.

Once he was all the way in, he groaned, "You're so tight, so perfect."

"I am?" I squeaked out.

"Yeah, Babycakes," he said softly, amused, and kissed me. "How do you taste?"

I felt nervous and closed my eyes.

"Hey, none of that. Don't be shy. Not with me." He thrust in and out, slow and steady, as if we had all the time in the world, and we did. We weren't in Cambridge, where I had to run from one meeting to the next. We were in Reef Harbor, where every day was Saturday—full of no expectations, just living . And orgasms .

"I taste like you," I breathed, opening my eyes and looking into his, which were blazing with heat and hunger.

"Yeah. We taste like each other." He began to slam inside of me, and I felt myself splinter. I'd never come just with penetration, but it was happening now. He could feel it too, the tightening of my body, how slippery I was.

"You gonna come again, aren't you, Belle?"

"Yes." I couldn't look away from his piercing gaze. It was like we were holding the universe together between us in perfect balance.

"That's my Belle," he ground out as my spasms began, first slow and then hard.

I cried out at the assault on my senses. Nothing like this had ever happened before, not even with that two-hundred-dollar designer clitoral stimulator I had bought. This was something entirely different.

When he poured into me, his grunts of release as loud as mine had been, I promised myself that I'd enjoy the hell out of Mick because I didn't think I'd ever have this kind of perfection again.