Chapter 9
CAMILLE
I wake to the sound of someone knocking on my door. My bleary-eyed glance at the clock informs me it’s half-past nine, which is way later than I’d normally sleep.
Guess the jetlag’s still lingering. Either that, or the jellyfish sting. Could be the sex bonanza, too.
“Coming,” I shout as I roll out of bed and throw on my complimentary Crystal Bliss robe. It’s unbearably soft, and I hug it around me as I open the door.
“Hey there!” A curly-haired blonde with sparkly silver-gray eyes stands on the threshold. She wears a friendly smile and cutoff jean shorts, her wild mass of corkscrew curls tumbling around her bare shoulders.
“Um, hi.”
“I’m Sybil.” She holds out a basket with a blue linen cloth inside. “I made you my famous morning glory muffins.”
I blink in the bright Caribbean sun. “You’re Sybil? The Sybil?”
Her laugh rings out bright and clear. “I’m not sure what I did to earn the honorific, but I’m intrigued. And I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
“Camille,” I say, taking the basket of muffins. It’s warm and fragrant and my greedy stomach growls. “Thanks for this. Ashton must have mentioned me?”
“Ashton, huh?” She gives me a look that suggests I’ve revealed more than I meant to. “I forget sometimes the man has a first name.”
“What do people call him?”
“The Fortress, mostly.” Sybil grins. “Never to his face, of course.”
“Of course.” I file that away and don’t bother asking her to explain. Not tough to guess why they’d dub him that.
“He and I don’t cross paths much, but I’ve sometimes called him ‘boss man.’” Sybil shrugs. “He’s my wife’s boss, and she can’t stop calling him ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Holyfield,’ which just seems weird. As far as I know, he takes off his pants one leg at a time just like anyone else.”
Her lips quirk as she watches me. It’s like she’s waiting for me to admit I know exactly how Ashton Holyfield takes off his pants.
Do I have the words I fucked The Fortress scrawled on my forehead?
I settle for playing it cool. “Sorry, I’m groggy.
I’m not used to sleeping so late. Let me start again.
” Setting the muffins on a table by the door, I stick out my hand.
“Camille Plier. My best friend is Eve Goodrich. She came here as a guest three months ago and spoke fondly of you. Maybe you remember her?”
“Oooh, Eve .” Sybil’s strange silver eyes go round and delighted as she cradles my hand in both palms. “Of course I know Eve. What a treat!”
I laugh at the woman’s contagious enthusiasm. “I’ll tell her you said so.”
“Give her a smooch for me.” There’s that saucy grin again. “With tongue, please.”
“That might feel weird, considering she sucks face with my brother.”
She lets go of my hand but doesn’t miss a beat.
“Kit’s your brother?” She leans on the doorframe, folding her arms in a nonchalant way that lifts her lush breasts into the V of her t-shirt.
“No weirder than if you and I made out. Is it any different than two sisters who date the same guy at different times? It’s not like we leave incestuous cooties in each other’s orifices. ”
My brain attempts to untangle that puzzle, then gives up. “Fair point.” And now I can’t stop staring at her mouth. I wouldn’t mind kissing Sybil. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to meet you. Is Kora around?”
“She’s at the off-site meeting with Ashton .” She grins as she says his first name, and I catch myself blushing. “Between you and me, I think she just needed a break from our houseguest.”
“Houseguest?”
Gripping the doorframe, Sybil leans back and yells down the pathway behind her. “Hey, Lacy! Stop talking dirty to the parrot and come meet the stowaway, runaway bride.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before a pretty brunette with a pixie cut pops up behind Sybil’s shoulder.
“Hi,” she says, sticking out her hand. She has golden-brown skin and light-green eyes I could get lost in.
“I’m Lacy. Sybil’s an old college pal, but we sometimes have sex, and I work as a consort at another Jilted Brides resort. ”
That’s one hell of an introduction. “Pleased to meet you, Lacy. I’m Camille.”
“Camille got here a couple days ago,” Sybil informs her. “Mr. Holyfield has been taking care of her.” She smiles as she turns back to me. “We came over to see if you’d like to join us for a pool day.”
I tuck my hands in the pockets of my robe. “I didn’t think any pools were open.”
“They reopened the east one,” Lacy supplies. “They got it done early, so we’re free to use it now.”
“I’d love to.” The thought of a pool day with two friendly women sounds perfect. “I got stung by a jellyfish yesterday, so I’m glad there’s a way to go swimming without risk.”
“A jellyfish?” Sybil tilts her head. “There’s an eco-barrier around this whole island to keep them away from the resort. Does Holyfield know about that?”
“Um, yes.” I’m not sure how much to admit. “I was on a boat. We must have been outside the barrier.”
“Ahhh.” Sybil’s knowing look says I’ve confirmed her suspicions. “Anyway, we’ll be at the pool in about an hour if you’d like to join us.”
“I’d love to.” My eyes flick to a high-tech red cooler sitting in the shade near Sybil’s toes. “Did you bring me something besides muffins?”
“That was already here.” She squints at the cooler. “Were you expecting something?”
“Probably from Ash.” Last night, a cooler of food arrived on my doorstep. It was well after nine, and a typewritten note told me Lars had made extra smoked salmon baguettes with fresh dill. I devoured mine while hunched at my laptop, still typing up clinical notes.
Sybill looks dumbfounded. “The Fortress makes you food?”
“His personal chef does, I guess.” I crack open the cooler, eager to see what’s inside. “Let’s take a look.”
It’s packed tight with ice, along with an itemized list. There’s yogurt and milk, plus homemade quiche tartlets and fresh-sliced papaya. For lunch, there’s a massaged kale salad with chilled local shrimp. For dinner, it’s a tropical chicken rice bowl.
“Whoa,” Lacy says. “That’s quite a feast.”
No kidding. “This looks delicious.” I tuck the note in the pocket of my robe and grab the container on top of the cooler. “There’s enough kale salad to feed at least three. How about I bring lunch for our pool day?”
“Perfect,” Lacy says. “Sybil baked bread, so we’ll bring that as well.”
“Plus local strawberries we picked this morning.” Sybil smiles warmly. “And lots and lots of chilled white wine.”
“Sounds great.” Between the contents of the cooler and the muffins, I’ll be eating quite well for a while. “What else can I bring?”
“Just yourself.” Lacy’s eyes dip to the V of my robe and she smiles. “Maybe some sunscreen.”
“And a bathing suit if you want,” Sybil adds.
“Or not.” Lacy’s flowy pink top slips off one shoulder. She’s clearly not wearing a bra. “All the pools here are clothing optional. I don’t plan to wear anything.”
“Same.” Sybil smiles. “But it’s fine if you’d rather not be nude.”
“I’m great with nudity.” A warm little ripple runs through me. It’s not every day two beautiful women show up bearing muffins and an invitation to spend a day basking naked in sunshine.
Possibly more, based on the way Lacy keeps eyeing my cleavage. And Sybil just glanced at my mouth with a look that suggests she’s imagining it all over her body.
So am I.
I know I should put in a few hours of work. I was up late last night preparing notes for a podcast with Brooke in four weeks. Hayden sent forms for dividing our assets. There’s plenty to do right here in my room.
But it’s been so damn long since I had fun for fun’s sake. Yesterday with Ash was the first time in ages I let myself just enjoy. That I savored the bliss of a stranger’s hands on my body, the heat of his breath on my skin, the erotic thrill of casual sex with someone who treasures my body.
“Dammit, Lacy.” Sybil nudges her friend. “You made her blush.”
“Sorry.” Lacy looks contrite. “I’m a bit of a flirt, but I’m harmless, I swear. I hardly ever bite.”
“What a shame,” I reply, and they break into smiles. “I’m a fan of sexy nibbling.”
With a laugh, Sybil backs out of the doorway. “See you at the pool, Camille.”
Lacy blows me a kiss and steps back. “Can’t wait.”
Six hours later, I’m sprawled nude with two women on a cozy white sunbed that’s draped in a gauzy white canopy. We’re a tiny bit tipsy and stuffed with great food, achy from laughing so hard.
“You did not!” Sybil plucks a juicy strawberry from the basket beside us, pausing to slip it between Lacy’s full lips. “I’ve never actually broken a strap-on.”
“Swear to God.” Lacy holds up her hand as her tongue darts out to lick berry juice from the corner of her mouth. “I was fucking her so hard the dildo snapped right off.”
I’m lying on my belly, propped on my elbows with Lacy sitting up on her knees to my left. Sybil’s stretched on her side, her beautiful breasts perched inches away from my face.
Maybe it’s the wine or the blissful sea breeze caressing our skin. Maybe it’s the fact that they’ve regaled me all day with salacious tales of consort life. Whatever the reason, I’m more than a little turned on.
Lacy grabs another berry from the basket. “How about you, Camille?”
“What about me?”
“Any sexy stories you care to share?”
Sybil tips her head back and bites the tip off a berry. “You seem like a woman with a naughty streak.”
“Let me think.” The first story that springs to my mind is Ashton railing me in the boiler room. Or the flying sixty-nine on the sex swing. What is he up to right now? Based on the timeline he texted at lunch, he’s probably back in his room by now.
“Camille?” Lacy leans past me to refill her wine glass. Her breasts sway as she moves, lush and round with dusky nipples. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”
“I’m trying to come up with something.” I’m embarrassed to admit how vanilla my sex life has been these past few years. “Most of my sexual experiences are with men, but I’ve been with a few women.”