Claim the grand prize, bro.
* * * *
All done for the night. His replacement bartender was settled in, and already had two girls crammed into the BJ cubby. Griffin stretched his arms above his head and looked around the Lido deck. Not much action out here right now. Everybody was either in the dining room at the buffet, or still at the All About Anal class. Maybe he’d wander in and have a look-see...
Whoa. The room formerly known as the Fascinations Lounge would never be the same again. Smelled like a porn set and looked like an episode of Girls Gone Slutsville. Holy shit. Everybody seemed to be having a hell of time, though. Christ. There was that sexy little cabana girl. What was her name? Pam? Peyton. Yeah. He’d seen a steady stream of men–and couples–in and out of her cabana all day. She should be sore by now. But looked like she still needed at least one more cock, and she sure wasn’t an anal virgin. Fuck. He wouldn’t mind hittin’ that. Should go a long way toward deleting memories of Trish and all her prissy ideas. Bitch. Why in hell had he wanted to marry her, anyway? Probably a good piece of luck she’d hooked up with her jackass reverend.
Later, he’d get a piece of Peyton. Wouldn’t be hard to score, for sure. In the meantime, he’d had some pretty choice titties around his cock a few minutes ago, and enough blows to last a lifetime. Or at least a week.
Chapter 10
Victoria fastened her dangly diamond earrings on, then did a final mirror-check. Not bad, though she’d rather be staying in and lounging in her bikini in the hot tub. A knock at the door got her attention, though nobody else seemed to notice.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she muttered. Britt and the others must have the music too loud out on the deck to hear. She made her way to the door, still cursing the thick carpet under her sparkly kitten heels. If she twisted her ankle, Britt was going to hear about it long and loud, since he’d insisted on the carpet. Who could be at the door? Her heart raced a little–maybe it was David. Highly unlikely, but… She peered through the peephole, and there he was, in plaid shorts and a blue t-shirt.
Careful not the yank the door open in obvious ecstasy, she tried to keep her breathing even.
“Uh. Hi.” He shoved his hands in his shorts pockets.
“Hi.” She felt as if she must be beaming a giant, scary smile. “Come in.”
“I, uh…left my shoes again.”
So he had. She glanced over at the pair from that morning as well as the ones from the night before, neatly lined up by the wall.
“Listen, David, I–”
At the same time she spoke, he did, too. “I’ve been thinking and–”
“You first–” they both said.
He turned red and bit his upper lip.
“Did you change your mind?” she asked softly.
He nodded.
“That’s all we need to say for now. Carmyn and Mark are here.”
“Oh.” The red didn’t fade from his cheeks. “Sorry. I should have called or–” He turned as if to leave.
She caught his warm, firm arm with her hand, looked up into his eyes. “No, don’t. We only have a few minutes, then we’ve got to leave for dinner with the Captain. But I know Britt would like to see you too.”
He exhaled and his biceps relaxed under her palm. “So you haven’t…uh, found somebody else?”
She managed a low, breathy laugh, though her heart raced and her breaths were shallow. “It’s not like that at all. But maybe we can explain later?”
He nodded, so she let her hand slide down his arm, to his hand, and led him to the patio. “Look who the wind just blew in!”
Amid everyone’s greetings, she let go of David’s hand, met Britt’s eyes and smiled. He returned it with that adorable single-dimple grin, which told her he knew everything was right again.
They had the laptop open on the table, to that blog post, and all sat where they could see the screen. Carmyn stared at it and shook her head. “Why the hell were you swiping condoms anyway, you big dork?”
Britt’s eyes went wide.
Beside her, David let out a little cough. Had he made the connection?
“Erm. Souvenirs?” Britt sported a dopey grin. “One can never be too rich, nor own too many condoms.”
“Christ, he sounds like Robin Leach,” Mark muttered. “So who do you think the blogger is? Wasn’t there a reporter onboard?”
“Mick.” She hadn’t given him much thought since their conversation this morning.
“The great throbbing cock?” David asked, in a perfect imitation of Britt’s voice.
She couldn’t help but laugh–not just at David’s impersonation, but in relief because he’d come back. “Yeah. Him. Wouldn’t put it past him, though he’d be very sorry in the end. He got a nice stipend to attend this cruise, besides free passage. I think the contract Britt wrote says he loses all that if he breaches confidentiality.”