Chapter 3
Lyle
Austin can’t even let me jerk it in peace. Here I am, dick in hand while the shower sprays over me, imagining sweet Ariel on her knees with her hands tied behind her back, my cock in her mouth. She’s choking and gagging on me, but smiling through it all, daring me to push her further.
I don’t know if the real Ariel would behave like that, but my fantasy version sure as hell does.
Just as I’m about to shoot my load all over the shower tile, Austin bangs on the door. But I’m not about to waste this perfect mental image of our girl on her knees.
“Ariel,” I groan as I come. “Yes, baby girl. Yes.”
I slump against the shower wall, spent.
Austin bangs on the door again. “Finish fapping and get out here. I found something. We gotta go.”
“Fuck you,” I call out, soaping up and rinsing off in record time.
It’s time to leave already? He better have found something good. We didn’t even get to sleep here.
“You’re driving.” I throw my duffel bag in the trunk. “I need a fucking nap.”
He flips me off but gets behind the wheel.
“So.” I recline my seat and pull my cap down. “How’d you find her? What’s this lead that you really think will pay off?”
“She didn’t mean to show it—part of a hotel logo.”
“Show it where?”
“You know. Those photos she uploaded to Kynkworld.”
Shit. I forgot her Kynkworld request. I scramble to raise my seat and pull out my phone.
“So much for your nap.” He laughs.
I bet he didn’t even finish jerking off before he yelled at me to get out of the shower. He always puts the job first, before fun. Sucker.
I quickly navigate to the app, find Ariel’s request, and accept it. I click on her profile.
The fucking motherlode. Holy shit, she’s gorgeous. Full, round tits. That mouth I want to kiss. Her skin looks so soft. I want to bite her just there, between her bra strap and her neck. I’d bite her hard, leave a mark.
I whistle low. “This is a new account.”
“Yeah.”
“So she started it and uploaded all these shots…just for us.”
He scowls. “I don’t know about that.”
“Come on. You know she did.”
“We don’t know shit.”
I wave my phone in his line of vision—careful not to obstruct the road because I don’t have a death wish. “Look. All of this is new. She set this whole thing up—for us.”
His gaze is hard on the road. “So what if she did?”
“She’s playful. She’s a brat. She’s trying to get a reaction.”
He mutters something. It sounds like, “Well, it’s fucking working.”
“Eventually, she’ll get tired of teasing us. Or she’ll slip up. It’s all part of the game.”
“This isn’t a fucking game.” His scowl deepens. “It’s a job. She’s a job.”
He’s lying to himself, but I’ll let it go, for now.
Two hours later, we’re pulling up to Mirarosa Seashell Hotel. I wonder if Ariel’s username on Kynkworld is another clue—SeashellsOO. Are the O’s supposed to be boobs?
Then I realize—seashells. Because mermaids put them over their tits, and her name is Ariel. I grin to myself. She’s funny.
“Stop smiling like an idiot,” Austin snaps. “This is a job, not prom.”
I laugh as we get out of the car. This “hotel” is the kind of place with individual cottages for the guests. Each one has a little deck overlooking the ocean.
“There.” Austin points. “That one looks like hers.”
“Do we talk to the front desk, or go back and surprise her?” I ask.
“Surprise.” He sets his mouth in a grim line. He hasn’t shaved in a while and it makes him look meaner. I hope he doesn’t scare off Ariel.
Something tells me she doesn’t scare easily.
My phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket to see a text from Ariel. Have you found me yet?
Trust me, I type back, you’ll know when we’ve found you.
Which will hopefully be in about five seconds. But I don’t add that part, because I think our chances are fifty-fifty that she’s still here.
I go to the front of the cottage. Austin goes around to the back. When I peer in the window, all I can see is an empty living room and adjoining kitchen. There don’t seem to be any personal effects—no purse, laptop, clothes. Nothing. Just a generic couch and empty counters and dining table.
Are you at the beach? is her next message.
No sense playing around about it. Yes.
Aw, you just missed me! She adds a single tear emoji.
Well, can’t say I’m surprised. Disappointed? Yes. But not surprised.
She sends another message. I left the back door open if you need to hang out and rest for a bit. The place is paid for another night. Check-out is at eleven. Maybe you’ll come up with a new place to search for me by then.
Fuck, do I need to rest. Even a short nap would do me wonders. I spent most of the ride here drooling over her pics on Kynkworld instead of sleeping.
I walk around to the deck, where I find Austin glowering through one of the back windows. Going past him, I try the door handle and find it unlocked, just as Ariel said.
“What are you doing?” Austin calls after me. “We aren’t allowed to break into places—”
“It isn’t breaking in.” I hold up my phone to show him Ariel’s text thread. “She said we can stay here tonight. She probably left us another clue.”
Austin’s dark eyes get even darker. He’s pissed. “We leave at seven sharp.”
“Sure, of course.” I jog back to the car and get our duffels. No way is he going to get up before eight. He’s more tired than I am.
When I get back into the cottage, he holds up his phone. “She posted more photos.”
He says it nonchalantly, like he couldn’t care less. But from the avid way his eyes eat up the phone screen while he scrolls them? He cares a whole helluva lot.
* * *
Austin
I oversleep.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Lyle sure fucking isn’t.
He laughs when I roll over on our shared bed—because of course there’s only one bed.
At least it’s a king-size—I don’t need his grubby ass cuddling with me at night.
Wouldn’t be the first time—when you like to share women with your buddy, everyone gets very close, very fast.
Someone’s knocking. Fuck, did I sleep so long that we missed check-out? A quick look at my phone tells me no, it’s only eight.
Lyle gets up to answer the door. He returns later, a bemused expression on his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Breakfast delivery.”
“I didn’t realize this was a B&B.”
He grins. “It isn’t. Ariel had this delivered from a local pastry shop.”
I roll over and put my pillow over my head. Infuriating woman. She deserves a spanking. Followed by a good, long fucking. Little girl needs it.
Almost as much as I need to give it to her.
The pastries are good, at least.
“If I don’t move around, I’ll die. I’m going for a walk.” Lyle shoves a cap over his head. “We can leave after that.”
I hold in my sigh. I’ve been pushing us both pretty hard.
Waiting another hour before we leave won’t hurt.
Especially when we don’t have a lead yet, anyway.
I searched the place yesterday. Nada. I spent more time than necessary looking at Ariel’s profile on Kynkworld—nothing there, either.
Other than her gorgeous body and that sexy, mischievous glint in her green eyes. They’re the color of sea glass.
I’m romanticizing the little brat. We better catch her soon, put this behind us, and head straight to Low Vice when it’s over.
I reach for a second danish while I open up Kynkworld.
There’s a new video. I take a bite and click.
Ariel stands in a nondescript room, probably a hotel, but it’s impossible to know. There aren’t any cards or pads of hotel stationery boasting the name of the place.
Not that I spend a lot of time looking at the background. How can I, when Ariel’s wearing a too-small baseball shirt, tiny shorts, and a ball cap? San Esteban Surf Rats—teal with pink lettering. To complete the look, she’s holding a fucking baseball bat.
I nearly choke on my danish. I’m as hard as that bat right now.
She runs a hand along the length, a loving expression on her face. She presses a kiss to the top, her plump lips glistening. Looking directly at the camera, she says, “Doesn’t anyone need it super hard?”
I’m super hard. If she needs it, I’ll fucking give it to her. Right now. Just tell me where to find you, baby.
She sits on the edge of the bed, spreads her legs. I see a flash of tiny pink panties under those too-short shorts. She brings the bat between her legs, the handle on the floor, the wide part level with her pussy.
She starts writhing, grinding against it.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck. I set down my pastry, shove down my boxers, and grab my cock.
From her expression, I get the sense this is more than just a show to her. She’s into it.
“Really think about it,” she says to the camera. “Doesn’t anyone need it super hard? Come and get me…because I need it.”
I stroke myself even while my brain is working. It’s a weird thing to say. Doesn’t anyone need it super hard. I’d expect her to say, “I need it hard,” or “I need it bad, I like it hard.” Doesn’t anyone?
She gasps and starts humping faster against the bat. Her shorts have a wet spot at the crotch—she soaked through her panties and shorts. Fuck, I bet she tastes so good. I want to lick her until she screams.
I adjust so I can grab my balls, too. My pastry falls to the floor. Let it stay there, I don’t care—I have more important things to handle.
The pastry. It’s a danish. Combined with that weird phrase…
Doesn’t
Anyone
Need
It
Super
Hard
If you read it down, the first letters spell Danish.
The little girl is at Danish Lake.
This is a fucking circus. One clue bringing us to the next. Some kind of scavenger hunt? It’s a game to her.
Lyle walks in, sees my dick in one hand, phone in the other, and what is probably an outraged expression on my face.
“Let me guess,” he says with a laugh. “She posted a new video?”
“Fuck you.” I wave my phone toward him. “There’s a clue—”
He shakes his head, still laughing. “Finish jerking it. Blow off some steam so we can get on the road without you being a total asshole.”
He grabs his duffel and a danish, then goes out to the car.
I consider aborting my impromptu jerk-off session. But then I look back at little Ariel, getting herself off against that baseball bat. All it takes is a few more pumps and I’m coming.