Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“What the hell was all that?” I hear the redhead that called her over ask as I lean against the side of the bar, eavesdropping.
Her friend sucks on the straw of some fruity-ass tropical overpriced drink, as the little dark-haired beauty sits on the edge of the pool by the swim-up bar, kicking her feet in the water.
I imagine her naked as my eyes stay pinned on her and her group, ready to stomp over and drag her away at the first sign of anything I don’t like.
And right now, it wouldn’t take much.
I see every size, shape and color here. Plenty of stunning women pass through, but none of them have ever sent my dick into full-on fuck mode with a single look.
She’s a tiny fucking thing but even under that cover up, I can tell her tits are life changing. Full and womanly if a little out of proportion to the rest of her, but in truth, so fucking perfect.
If I fucked her, she’d probably end up in the ER, but my cock doesn’t seem to care. I’m flagpole-hard and weeping cum into my jeans, trying to figure out how a wisp of a woman like her has turned me into a lust-crazed predator with only a handful of words.
“Just tropical shenanigans.” Her delicate voice rumbles through me like thunder. “Boob jobs in the wild tend to get a little out of control.”
She’s funny. Irreverent. Confident. Yet sweet, with an innocence that makes me want to scoop her up and put myself between her and the world.
Her dark green eyes snap my way for just a split second, with a hint of embarrassment that I caught her looking. It only feeds the rising beast inside me. In my head, I’m strapping her to the back of my bike and heading to my place, where no one would come looking, and I could take my time exploring every inch of that little body with my tongue before pumping every drop of my seed into her ripe little womb.
Fuck.
I shake my head, pressing my fingers into my eye sockets, wondering if I’ve been bitten by a tropical insect whose venom induces psychosis, because I’ve never had thoughts like this.
“Out of control? Just like us!” The redhead she hugged when she walked over screams to the rest of their group, and a cheer goes up from the small crowd.
Besides the little dark-haired doll, they all came down together a few hours ago and have been hittin’ up the bar hard ever since.
They’re idiots, most of them anyway. That’s nothing new here, though. You take a little sunburn and some booze at an adults-only resort, and you have the perfect cocktail for stupidity. I never understood getting hammered as a form of entertainment.
And what’s more, getting hammered and hooking up, then waking up the next morning with two kinds of hangovers. One from the alcohol and one from the ‘what the fuck did I do and who are you?’.
I spent too many years looking down the sight of a sniper rifle in hundred and twenty degree heat to understand fun, I guess. It’s been baked out of me. At least that’s what my buddy Reed, who owns this resort, always tells me. He’s right, in a way. There’s shit you see when you’re deployed and trying to survive.
And trying to help your friends survive as well.
I’ve seen parents hold their kids out in front of them as shields. I’ve seen men throw their wives into the line of fire so they could run dead at us, strapped with enough C4 to put a crater the size of a bus in the dirt.
I’ve seen too much to let me understand there is still fun to be had. So here I stand, the fun police, ready to shut down anything that gets out of hand.
Only problem is, my renegade hard-on seems to have changed its tune about what might constitute fun.
I scan the pool and the deck, picking out a few patrons that will likely need to be escorted out of the area soon, but that doesn’t seem very important right now. I help out here on weekends mainly because Reed asked, and I don’t have any fucking thing else to do really, so bouncing a few dumb assholes in oversized swim trunks and backwards ball caps on Friday night is as much entertainment as I usually get.
Until now.
I can’t keep my fucking eyes off her. She’s making my temples pound as my heart knocks against my chest wall.
There’s no sense in it. No woman has ever had this effect on me.
I don’t need this job. Not for the money, anyway. I’ve saved practically every nickel I’ve made my entire life, from the time I was seven and got my first paper route and ran a little gambling ring at recess at Dwight D. Eisenhower Elementary school back in Philly, where I grew up.