Chapter 2
Brooklyn
“You don’t have to go through with it, baby,” Max says.
It’s the next morning after I drew the short straw over dinner.
My reaction probably wasn’t what people wanted to hear, the “Ugh” of resentment . . . but if they only knew what my body had been feeling in that moment.
The rhythm of my heart, picking up and launching to my throat. The thrum between my legs, under my elaborate skirts. The wetness of my pussy that came unbidden, unprovoked, from the sight of a simple little plastic straw.
“We signed a contract,” I tell my hunky golden retriever of a boyfriend.
He scoffs, throwing his arms up. “So? Who’s gonna stop us if we hop on a boat and high-tail it out of here?”
Max turns around and puts his back against the balcony he was leaning over, staring out at the island from our third-level suite.
I’m inside getting dressed—boots, goth summer dress, thick makeup. The usual.
He rubs his shiny head. “This was your idea, remember, Brook.”
Finishing applying my black lipstick, I pucker my lips and smile demurely at him. “I was horny and drunk when I saw the brochure!”
Wincing, he says, “If you’re having second thoughts . . .”
I stand from the table and close my makeup. “No, no, it’ll be fine. I’m ready.”
His head tilts at my one-eighty. “Really? You’re sure?”
I nod hard.
“You’re going out in that? Choker and everything?” When I laugh, he adds, “People are gonna think you like it in the ass when they see that.”
“I do. You know I do, Maxy.”
He blushes and comes up to me, wrapping his thick arm over my neck. “I know, but . . .”
I peck him on the cheek and leave a black lip-shaped smudge behind. “It’s sounding like you’re the one we might have to worry about, baby.”
“No! I’m excited for you!”
Running my hand over his front, over the outline of his cock in his board shorts, I murmur, “Don’t get too excited, Maxy.”
Then we leave the room together, with my cinnamon roll husband rushing after me like a dog with a bone.
Walking through the main floor of the hotel, we notice the TVs are all replaying video footage of Katie getting gangbanged from yesterday.
I stop and watch for a moment at a giant TV plastered against the wall of the bar. I grow hornier by the second as I see Katie panting and moaning—no sound, but the tag-teaming she’s taking looks fun as hell.
Then I see that dark-haired stud, Brent, jerking off Max and helping him thrust his cock into Katie. I look away from the TV, to my husband, with a lopsided grin. “That’s a new one, baby.”
He blushes, biting his lip. “Spur of the moment.”
I cackle and continue on toward the front of the resort, to exit outside.
It’s another wretchedly sunny day on Isle Honeydew, and I’m glad my makeup has some SPF in it or I’d burn like bleached bone.
I’m definitely not a “summer” kind of girl. Beaches and whatnot aren’t my cup of tea—I prefer cozy winters, reading at a hearthfire, that sort of thing. They’re more suited to my aesthetic.
Still, I’m willing to play along.
Especially if it means I get some action from new men. Maybe they can wake me up from my attitude.
The idea of breaking at the touch of another man makes my skin crawl pleasantly.
Max and I head out from the hotel and start heading toward the jungle.
“Where you wanna go today?” he asks as we walk, hand in hand.
“Wherever it is, you can’t be there with me, Maxy,” I remind him. “Mr. Davis is probably going to come by to stop you soon.” I look around, eyes narrowing.
I hadn’t seen any of the other couples this morning, yet.
Maybe they were already game-planning the hunt to find and fuck me.
It makes sense: While Katie was getting railed by five men yesterday, I relaxed at the spa by myself. I got a nice massage and then met some of the girls by the beach bar—got bored and headed back to the hotel before long.
It was hard for me to make friends. Always had been. I’m slightly autistic and not afraid to show it. My displeasure is always a constant on my face.
It’s my hope—and Max’s, I’m sure—that this week will brighten up my outlook.
Even if I was hesitant at first, and starting to fill with doubts, I’m looking forward to seeing how many cocks I can fit in my ass. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.
I look like a BDSM queen with the way I dress and act, and I’m hoping one of these studs—or many of them—can make me realize my dream. Because up until this point, with Max as my mate, it’s difficult to delve into the bondage and domination of it all.
My husband is too freaking nice.
“Want to check out the grotto?” Max asks. “Mr. Davis was telling me about it—cool caves and shit on the side of the island. Sounds perfect for you. Spooky and dark.”
We reach the edge of the jungle, which leads to the lagoon and other areas, and my face lights up. “Ooh. That sounds fun and creepy.”
He rolls his eyes. “I take her to an exotic island and the first thing she wants to do is explore the dark caves.”
“It was your idea!”
He laughs and sweeps his hand out. “Lead the way, my queen.”
I harrumph. “That’s more like it.”
Grinning at him, I start walking over there, skirting the front of the jungle until we reach a rocky outcropping with a narrow trail that leads to the cliffs.
From the cliffs, we stare out at the beautiful blue ocean for a minute. My black hair whips in the wind, higher up here.
Taking Max’s hand, we trek down the winding path to the water, where the caves are carved into the side of the cliffs.
The grotto is beautiful, with water dripping from the stone—ancient alcoves cut out from the earth itself.
I peck him on the cheek. “You know me too well, baby. Think the others will know where to find me?”
“I’m sure they will,” Max murmurs. He glances over his shoulder. “Who you hoping to run into first?”
I shrug. Doesn’t matter which cock I take first, as long as they all end up inside me by the end of it.
“Cale might not be bad,” I say.
“That brute?”
“He’s like a bigger, meaner version of you.”
Max laughs incredulously. “What about Tyson?”
I make a face. “That fake-ass dork with the Hollywood spray tan?”
He bobs his eyebrows. “He’s got a pierced dick.”
My judgment dies and I pique my brow. “He does?”
“Might be perfect for your pierced clit.”
I bite my full lower lip. “Shit, now you’re getting me hot and bothered, Maxy,” I say, squeezing closer to him.
“Afraid you’ll have to stay that way for a minute, Ms. Brooklyn,” says a deep voice behind us.
Mr. Davis stands there with his arms crossed. Dressed impeccably, like usual, even though it’s a sunny day.
I’m startled. “D-Did you follow us?”
“Of course. I’ve been monitoring your movements since you got out of bed. Everyone has, since it’s your day to be hunted.” Mr. Davis gives me a smile and strokes his silver stubble. He puts a hand out. “If you please, Max, Brooklyn will have to navigate and explore the grotto on her own.”
My husband hands his head and nods. He gives me a quick kiss and starts to head off.
I recognize something, furrowing my brow. “Wait, Max. Did you . . . set me up?”
My husband turns and smiles with a wink. “Have fun, Brook. I’ll see ya on the other side.”
I turn around and stare down at the dark hole that leads to the grotto. It’s the entrance of a cave—one of many—and I can hear splashing now if I listen closely enough.
My nipples pebble in my bodice, the corset suddenly tight against my body. Taking in a deep breath, I move one battle boot in front of the other and say, “Here goes nothing.”
When I step across the rocks, making my way over the damp surface of the water that leads into the grotto, I see a body emerging from a deeper section of the cave a moment later.
My breath hitches in my throat.
It’s Cale—the same man I told Max I might want to fuck first, if given the choice. But how could Max have known I’d pick him . . . unless my husband of three years, partner of six years, knows me better than I even realized.
My breath simmers from my neck down into my belly, my core growing hot.
Because Cale emerges from the water, tossing his bright wet hair back, running his hands over it, showing off those stacked muscles on his huge frame—
And he’s completely naked.
I bite my lip again, staring at every dip and plane—his backside, his biceps, his big muscular ass..
My cinnamon roll husband definitely set me up.