23. Chapter 23
The sex hammock
“Juliette!” a brunette calls, waving her hand in the air as soon as we enter the diner. “You guys come sit with us.”
She’s with a group of people sitting at a large table along one wall, and the two men rise to scoot another table over to make space for us.
“Is this okay?” Juliette whispers to me as we make our way across the pink and black tiled floor.
“Sure,” I tell her, though I’d rather be alone with her. It’s Thursday evening, meaning we only have two more full days together.
We take our seats, and Juliette apparently knows everyone at the table because she introduces them all to me by name.
There are three couples: Erin and Jason, Brittany and Melissa, and Gaston and Jane, as well as three of the Unicorn Unit ladies, Wendy, Donna, and Stephanie.
Wendy is the dark-haired one who summoned us when we walked in.
A waitress in an old-fashioned hot-pink diner uniform approaches and takes everyone’s orders. I relax as the conversation flows easily around the table. A couple of the women pepper Juliette for hints regarding her upcoming release, and she happily gives them a few tidbits to whet their appetites.
As our food is served, Juliette motions to the blonde across the table. “Jane, is your daughter feeling better? Her name’s Marley, right?”
“She’s much better. Thank you,” the woman replies. “It was just a mild allergy to my sister’s cat.”
“That’s good. You and Gaston haven’t been on vacation in a few years, so I’m glad you didn’t have to cut it short.”
How the hell does she know all this?
I watch in fascination as Juliette chats with everyone at the table, asking about their job at the fire station or their dad’s gout flareup. Meanwhile, I’m over here wishing everyone was required to wear name tags because I’m finding it difficult just to keep up with them all.
My girl is so fucking beautiful my eyeballs go dry from staring at her. I wish I could stow away in her suitcase and go home with her on Sunday.
The conversation turns to some big party that’s taking place on Saturday night, but I’m only vaguely listening.
I’m too busy watching Juliette eat her burger and fries like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen.
Though my ears perk up when one of the women— is that Stephanie or Donna?
—squeals, “Juli, you and Reno have to come.”
“Oh, I love karaoke,” Juliette gushes.
Ugh. I fucking hate karaoke.
“And the best part is that it’s costume karaoke,” Brittany chimes in. Great. Even better. “We were here for it last year, and it was a blast.”
“It was,” her wife, Melissa, agrees. “The drunker we got, the braver we got with our singing. I mean, we were terrible, but that’s what made it so much fun.” Everyone laughs at the memories.
Juliette’s pretty aqua eyes dart toward me, and she puts on a smile I can tell is fake. “Oh, I’m not sure—”
“We’d love to come,” I interrupt, my stomach flipping over when her smile turns up to full wattage. If my dream girl loves karaoke, I guess we’re going to fucking karaoke.
“Really?” she asks me.
I brush a tendril of hair behind her ear and lie. “It sounds fun.”
The look of pure happiness on her face would be worth every second of torture I’d have to endure. But under no circumstances would I be singing.
“I picked out the most amazing costumes for us,” Juliette gushes as the sea breeze sways our shared hammock behind cottage four on Saturday afternoon. “The resort has a little rental shop for guests.”
“What are the costumes?” I ask, trying not to let the trepidation seep out through my tone.
“It’s a surprise,” she sings, kissing my bare chest before resting her head there. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
Juliette traces her fingers over my chest. “Why don’t you have any tattoos? Not that I’m complaining. You just seem like a guy who would have some ink.”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never found anything important enough to want on my body permanently. It would have to mean something.”
“I get that,” she says, smiling up at me.
I trace the script E over a small purple flower tattoo I’d noticed on Juliette’s wrist. “What’s this about?”
Her smile turns wistful. “That’s for my friend Evie. Lilacs were her favorite flower. She disappeared about seventeen years ago during Spring Break.”
Something niggles at the back of my mind before making its way to the front. “Wait. Are you talking about Evie Bouvier, the fashion heiress who went missing in Mexico?” Juliette nods. “She was your friend?”
“My best friend. We were from totally different worlds, but when we met at summer camp as little girls, it’s like…
our souls connected.” She smiles. “I know that sounds weird, but that’s the best way I can explain it.
We became pen pals. Then when we were old enough to have phones, Evie and I talked or texted almost every day.
We went back to th at camp in Arkansas each summer and decided we would go to the same college and be roommates one day. ”
“I remember when she went missing. It was national news.” I roll until I’m facing Juliette so I can trace her face with my fingertips. A tear meanders down her cheek, and I swipe it away. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t imagine how hard that would be.”
She nods and sniffles. “It was awful. I was the one who called her dad and told him we couldn’t find her.”
The truth hits me hard and fast. I’ve always thought nausea was reserved for the stomach and digestive tract, but suddenly, it’s like every cell in my body is nauseated at the realization. It could have been Juliette.
“You were there? On that trip?” I rasp.
“Yes, there were six of us in total. The local police weren’t very helpful.
They kept telling us she was surely around somewhere, probably in a guy’s room.
” Juliette’s nose scrunches, leaving little wrinkles above her mouth.
“But I knew Evie wasn’t the type to have random hookups, so I called Paul Bouvier.
With his money and influence, he was able to get the authorities to get off their asses and take the situation seriously. ” Anger flushes her cheeks.
“But by then, it was too late,” I surmise before kissing the tip of her nose. “From what I remember, there wasn’t much to go on.”
Juliette shakes her head sadly. “Not a trace. She simply disappeared. The FBI got involved and the assumption was that Evie was taken, probably by human traffickers.”
“God, that’s so sad. And I can’t imagine what her poor family has gone through for all these years. Have you stayed in touch with them?”
“I have.” She snuggles closer to me. “In the beginning, we talked daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Now it’s a few times a year. I mostly deal with Auburn, Evie’s older brother.”
Something akin to jealousy spears through my abdomen. Auburn Bouvier is now the billionaire CEO of the Bouvier fashion empire, and he’s objectively a very good looking dude. Did they ever… But that jealousy is quelled almost immediately with Juliette’s next words.
“I actually went to his wedding when he married Gianna. She’s a complete doll, and the big grump is head over heels for her.” Her smile is all fondness and affection for the couple.
“There was a younger brother too, right?”
“Yes, Monty. He went through a lot of stuff around the same time Evie went missing, and he moved to Florida and became a police detective.”
Flashes of a burly man at a podium pop into my head. “He solved that serial killer case in south Florida a couple years back.”
“He did,” Juliette affirms. “Now he’s back in New York, working for his family’s company. He got married to his high school sweetheart, and they’re expecting a baby this summer. I went to their wedding too.” She lets out a soft laugh. “I guess I’m kind of an honorary member of their family.”
“I love that. I mean, the situation with Evie is horrific, but I’m happy you’ve stayed in touch with the family.”
Juliette’s lips graze the underside of my jaw. “I think I’m done talking about this now. Can we move on to a more pleasant topic?”
My cock automatically joins the party and hardens. “If by pleasant topic, you mean you want me to fuck you on this hammock, then yes.” I trace my hand up her bare thigh. Juliette is wearing a short sundress the color of pink cotton candy, the color setting off her golden tan.
“We haven’t done it on the hammock before,” she purrs. “I think we should turn it into a sex hammock.”
My finger pulls aside the slip of satin covering her pussy and slides through her slit. Within a minute, she’s dripping.
“Mmm, wet and swollen. Just the way I like you,” I growl, slanting my mouth over hers as I finger fuck her with slow, measured thrusts.
“You on top,” she pants, pulling at my shoulders until I roll on top of her… and keep rolling .
“Fuck,” I bark as the hammock flips. It happens in a second and yet in slow motion at the same time. I twist my body to make sure I hit the ground first and land on my back with Juliette on top of me.
“Ooof,” she grunts when we make impact with the grassy floor beneath us.
“Are you okay?” I wheeze out, vaguely aware of a pain I can’t quite pinpoint yet.
Juliette scrambles to her feet before reaching down to give me her hand and help me up. “I’m fine. How about you?”
“You’re bleeding,” I snap more harshly than I intended. “Shit, baby. You’re…” I grab her arm and inspect the scrape on her elbow. It’s about the size of a quarter and barely dripping red, but it might as well be the size of an asteroid crater. “We need to get you to the infirmary.”
She twists her arm to try and get a look at the wound. “It’s not that bad.” Then her eyes flit to my left hand and widen. “Reno! Your finger!”
At my insistence, Larry, the resort’s nurse practitioner, tends to Juliette’s scrape before taking X-rays of my left hand. She’s sporting a pineapple-shaped Band-Aid when he delivers the news.
“Your pinky finger is broken, Reno, but luckily, I don’t think it’s going to need surgery.
You can follow up with an orthopedic doc when you get back to the States, but for now, I’ll splint it.
” He pulls out some supplies from a neatly arranged cabinet.
“That will make sure it heals nice and straight.”
Ten minutes later, we leave the exam room to find Kat, the resort manager, pacing the shiny wood floor of the waiting room. “Oh my goodness,” she breathes, rushing to us when we emerge. “Are you two okay?”
“We’re okay. Juliette has a scrape on her elbow, and my finger is broken, but we should both heal fine.”
Kat grabs my hand and tsks. “Oh dear. I am so sorry about this. At the Pineapple Island Resort, we strive to provide a safe environment for all our guests. How did this happen?”
Juliette immediately flushes the color of a ripe tomato and flails her hands around. “You see… there was a hammock, and then all of a sudden, it was a sex hammock. Well, not quite a sex hammock yet, but it was about to be. Reno’s hand was—”
Shutting her up with a tight arm around her waist and a squeeze of her hip before she can launch into a babbling play-by-play, I say, “It was my fault, Kat. I shifted too suddenly, and we flipped. Not the fault of the resort at all.”
The manager’s lips twitch, but she maintains a professional demeanor. “Very well, but I’d love to offer you another couple’s massage.” She taps on a tablet. “I have an opening tonight.”
“That’s very nice, but we’re going to the karaoke party. Juliette has already picked out our costumes,” I reply.
Kat lifts her chin. “All right, but please do let me know if you need anything before you leave.”
“Will do.”
As we walk back to our cottage, Juliette loops an arm around my waist. It feels so natural there, like we’re a real couple on vacation. But we’re not, and after tomorrow…
“Thank you for saving me from myself. I can’t believe I was going on about the sex hammock.” She groans and leans her head against my chest. “Poor Kat. She probably thinks I’m some kind of maniac.”
“Luckily I’m the only one who knows what kind of maniac you truly are, dream girl.” I kiss the top of her awkward little head. “A sex maniac.”
She looks up at me with those beguiling aqua eyes. “Is your finger okay? We can skip tonight if you want to. ”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “And we can’t back out now because I’m too curious to see what our costumes are.”