CHAPTER 22 #2
“YESSSS!” I screamed, raising my arms and rolling my hips.
We got handed one drink after another, and at some point, I’d switched to Mexican beer. They do ale just as good as we do. I spotted Simon, dancing with that waitress that was twice his size, and raised my beer to him when he threw his hands up and motorboated her round ass as it shook in his face.
“Fuck it up, Simon!” Bridget wailed, raising her own glass.
Somebody threw a huge sombrero on top of my head and Bridget squealed, laughing and turning herself around to grind on me. I’ve never had so much fun.
Scratch that—I’ve never had fun.
But fuck if I couldn’t get used to a lifetime of this.
We burst into our room, drunk off our asses and laughing like fools. I immediately started coming out of my button-up, which I ripped at some point during our wild night. I went to take the sombrero off, and Bridget caught me by the elbow.
“Nope. Leave that.”
I turned slowly to face her…and she’s got that smoldering ‘I’m about to get my fucking way’ look. The one no boner can survive. But there’s a devious little edge to it—no…no, that’s just the edge of her pretty mouth…curling in mischief.
“I look fuckin’ stupid,” I slurred.
“Not yet you don’t.” She traced the waist of my jeans and unbuckled my belt first…
then popped the button. I watched her while she slowly worked to get my pants down and shivered when she made a pit stop on her way back up, licking up the underside of my aching cock, and kissing it before standing and backing up to give me a onceover. “Now you do,” she giggled.
“I’m about to tear your arse apart.” I reached for my beer, taking a heavy swallow and when I lowered my head…she’d dropped that little red dress to the floor.
“I swear, Irish men wouldn’t know patience if it sat on their dick.”
Or…I think that’s what she said. Goddamn, she’s fine. Tan lines smoothed across that pale skin. Tits perked in the chill of the room. Sun-kissed cheeks glowing with that sultry smile. Copper-red hair curling over a nipple. I’ll never stop having a fucking need to eat her alive.
“You could sit on my face instead, lass…”
Bridget snorted. “Not with that UFO on your head. You look like a—satellite dish.” She burst out laughing, stumbling over her dress in her red heels and startled me in my stupor when she snatched my beer. “Mind if I have it?”
I shrugged, feeling the need to double check that our curtain was pulled closed at the sliding glass door. I’m two leagues past what society considers a normal guy…and I still don’t think I’ve ever felt this stupid. Bridget clacked over to the bed, chugging the last of my beer and…
…and I think I’m sloshed…or she’s deep-throating the neck of that fucking bottle.
“Wanna see a magic trick?”
I felt myself swaying as I flattened my palm on the top of the sombrero, I think I said yes…or something like it. She climbed onto the bed and situated the bottle under her, raising onto her knees.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Cristo.
“Now you see it…” She lowered herself onto that bottle and I felt my cock twitch.
That perfect pussy started stretching around it as the neck of the bottle disappeared, inch by inch, getting wider until it disappeared completely.
“Now you don’t.” I kept one hand on the hat…
the other one gripped the life outta my cock.
“As a nerd…you understand…I’m not quite sure how the trick works. I can’t sleep until I have the answers, so…show me again.”
“Gladly.”
She started riding it. Fuck, she’s riding it and I can’t help but keep her rhythm, stroking my cock while she continues to torture and fascinate me.
Her hand held onto the thick of the bottle, her other one gripping her silky red hair as moans started whispering outta that throat.
I took a step closer. The sound of her cunt is drawing me in like a moth to a fucking flame.
She lowered herself down onto her belly, turning onto her back and hanging her head off the end of the bed…
spreading her legs and fucking herself harder with the bottle.
She stared at me, upside down, and biting her lip with a sick smile.
“Come here. I’ll make somethin’ else disappear.”
I stumbled another step, watching her play with her clit while the bottle slid in and out.
I have nothing else to blame other than the alcohol and sun exposure for what I did next.
I shoved my cock down her throat, her chin smacking against my lower abdomen while both my hands wrapped around her slender neck.
I kept ‘em there, fucking her mouth slowly at first, but getting high on her moaning, and that relentless pace she kept with that busy beer bottle. I’m so fucking ruined.
Her hand slapped around the back of my thigh, and she dug her nails in, forcing me harder. I squeezed her fucking neck, my eyes rolling back as I shot cum down her throat.
“Fuck, Bridge,” I growled, thrusting one last time when her body shook. She screamed around my cock, coming all over the bottle…and the bed. It took us both a minute to see straight…okay, maybe that’s wrong. I still can’t. “Hell of a trick, lass. I digress.”
She flipped around, tossing the bottle across the room and raised up to jump into my arms, smiling like a fucking demon. “O…fucking…lé.”
We both snickered, and she buried her tongue in my mouth as I tackled her to the bed. “Lay is good. Lay, I can do.”
“Fucking nerd.”
This last week and a half has been a complete blur. I think my body is still in the throes of a four day hangover. Dick is raw. Stomach is full. The sound of an ocean will be roaring in my ears for the rest of the year.
I don’t even wanna go home anymore.
I’ll just chalk it up to depression when anybody asks why I’m dragging ass, getting our cart full of luggage—Bridget’s mostly—to the resort lobby. She turned in our room keys, tipped them for the mess we left, and I spotted Simon near the entrance, staring up at a fish tank.
“You all packed, Mr. Miyagi?” Bridget asked, snapping her clutch shut. Simon waddled over to us.
“I stay. You go.”
There was an awkward as fuck silence as we stared at him in confusion for a few seconds and then…each other.
“Wh—whadd’ya mean? You’re not coming home?”
Simon smirked, shrugging his weird shoulders, and…honestly, I can’t help but smile a little. I think I saw it coming. “You upgrading to the cartel, boss?”
“Senorita. Be okay. Live life. Use rubber. Stay out trouble.”
Bridget jutted a hip out, half-pissed and half-heartbroken. “Are you…sure about this?”
He nodded, looking across the lobby to the open bar where his new lady was loading a tray. She noticed us and smiled before strutting off to the beach access. “Good girl. I stay. Happy here.”
I bent down to clap him on the shoulder. “Shamrock will be proud, mate. You deserve it.” We shook hands and Bridget knelt down next, fighting emotion.
“Who’s gonna make me tea and tell me I’m an idiot?”
“Brother. Miss Black. You be fine. Good luck.”
Bridget sniffled and threw both arms around him. Shocked the fuck outta me when his snack-sized hands appeared on her back. She didn’t say much on the ride to the airport, and when we finally boarded the plane home, I grabbed her hand.
“Think his cock is the same size as his leg?”
“Declan! Goddammit! Ewwuuuh!”