19. Bridget

brIDGET

Abigail's voiceinterrupts my concentration. "Put that phone away! You're on vacation!"

I look up from the text I'm trying to send. "I can't just leave Deborah Angelise on read, Abigail."

My friend crosses her arms, leaning into her hip.

She's already in her bikini and sarong, a sun hat the size of a sombrero, and is slathered in a white cast of sunscreen because without it she'll burn like a hot dog left on the grill too long. "Fine, I'll make an exception for Ms. Angelise."

I smile.

Abigail saunters past me, sliding her hand over my shoulder. "I'm going out on the beach. Seth and Jack are already out there. Come out when you're done, yeah?"

I nod. "You got it."

Abigail leaves through the sliding glass doors and heads down the wooden slatted boardwalk to the private beach.

The ocean is mesmerizing. Gorgeous, endless blue.

I need to get out there asap.

But first, Deborah.

Her text was surprising.

I've got some interest in your sketches, what's your schedule like this week?

The Deobrah Angelise got interest in my sketches. I have half a mind to tell her I'm free whenever she wishes and head straight back to New York.

But no, I've already committed to being here, already put in the mental labor to figure out how to make this trip work.

Out of town until Sunday. Any time next week will do. Let me know what you need from me.

I resist adding a, "You're the best!" to the end of that.

Trying to keep it professional and level-headed, tame my enthusiasm, isn't always easy, though, especially when I'm losing my mind that Deborah Angelise got someone interested in my designs.

Who knows who it might be? A fellow designer. A merchandiser. A fashion house.

I don't fucking care! I'm over the moon.

For now, though, I click my phone screen off and head up to my room to change into my bikini. I've picked out something… ‘modest' isn't the right word for a bikini, but simple.

Seth and I agreed to keep our distance during the four-day trip, and I am trying to make that as easy as possible by making myself as plain as possible.

Who knows, maybe a girl will catch his eye as is Abigail's plan?

Jealousy flares inside me. I try to tamp it down, but it's hard when I've allowed myself to be his for over a month now, committed my body to him.

And in committing my body, I've also committed my soul, whether he knows it or not.

I glance out the window of my room. It's got an ocean view, which means I'm able to spy Abigail, Jack, and Seth on the beach.

Seth and Jack are chilling on some lounge chairs with morning beers. When in Key West, right?

And Abigail is standing with her hands on her hips, giving them a talking to, as she is wont to do.

The flight here was hard enough, just the four of us.

Seth arranged for his company jet to take us down, which meant the four of us were in tight quarters for a few hours.

Despite our agreement, I wanted nothing more than to lay myself at Seth's feet, be his perfect little sub as I've been trained to be.

Instead, we all quietly drank champagne and played Scrabble.

On more than one occasion, my fingers brushed Seth's and it sent tremors of need through me.

I'm worried it won't get easier the longer we keep our distance. In fact, I think it's only going to get harder.

Once I'm dressed, I head down to the beach.

Abigail waves at me when she sees me, grinning ear to ear. "There you are!"

Jack glances back at me. Seth keeps his head down.

I keep a smile on my face though my insides droop. Feels like old times when he was ignoring me in what I thought was dislike. Turned out it was suppressed want.

Seth might be a master of restraint and withdrawnness. But how long can he keep that up now that we know what's on the other side?

"Look at you! Back in black, huh?" Abigail shimmies her hips.

Why is she calling attention to it?! This is supposed to be an understated bikini.

Damn her.

"I'm trying to get them to come in the water, but they're too busy reading." Abigail sticks her tongue out at Jack and Seth.

I give the boys a once over.

Jack has some self-help book in hand. Classic for him.

And Seth got a willowy copy of an old James Patterson. More notable than either of the books is Seth's t-shirt and trunks combo.

I want to ask him if that's even comfortable. I've asked him about it in the past, whenever we've been at a pool party or the like.

Come to think of it, I've never seen him with his shirt off. Surely, a trip to Key West would call for that, right?

Guess not.

Shirt on or off, though, no man holds a candle to Seth. His stubble is freshly trimmed, highlighting his hard jawline. And the sunlight makes his blue eyes sparkle in a way I've never noticed before. Never let myself notice.

"Party poopers," I say to Abigail.

She scoffs. "That's about right." She whips her hat off and sighs, stroking her fingers through her hair. "You come with me, Bridge."

"I still need to put on sunscreen." I take a tube out of my bag.

"Oh, well. Jack can help with that." Abigail grins.

Jack's kneejerk reaction comes in the form of "Ew." Then he looks at me apologetically. "Sorry, Bridget. Nothing personal."

I laugh. "Trust me, I don't take it that way."

I grew up with all the Lyons kids. I've seen them all at their worst, including Jack. He's an attractive guy, but I can't shake the memory of him saving his chewing gum in an Altoids tin so he could chew it later. That was middle school. Far too old for crap like that.

"I'll do it," Seth offers.

The blood rushes to my pussy at the thought of him touching me. Not the best idea.

"Double ew!" Abigail interjects. "You two are siblings!"

"Stepsiblings. Not like you and Jack," I clarify.

"That's worse."

"Why?" I scoff.

"I don't know. It just–" She shivers in a dramatic fashion. "Is."

Further proof that whatever happens between Seth and me has to remain a secret. And my chest hurts more than it should at the thought.

Abigail snatches the sunscreen from me. "Jack will do it." She tosses it at her brother, and it lands right in the gutter of his book.

"Fine," he growls, dropping his legs off the side of the lounge and patting the free spot. "Sit. I'll do your back."

I have no choice unless I want to go against the grain of being agreeable. "Thanks, I know it's a big sacrifice for you." I attempt at a joke.

Jack smiles. "You're so welcome."

I sit at the end of the lounge chair and let Jack slather sunscreen onto my back, all the while feeling Seth's energy shift.

I don't think he's looking at me. That would be too obvious. But there is tension in his legs, a darkness to his aura.

He doesn't like this.

I don't either.

I should have said no, but I didn't want to cause a scene.

I'm sure he'll keep a tally of my punishments to be served once we return to the Lyons Club. Although if we're on a hiatus through this trip, does it even count?

I still want to be a good girl for him. But this weekend I'm not his.

My brain is in knots.

After I'm all lubed up with sunscreen, Abigail and I go down to the shoreline and comb the beach for shells and beach glass.

The tide is cold, lapping at our toes and stinging every time it grabs us.

"I dare you to go in the water," Abigail says with a devilish grin.

I shrug one shoulder. "I'll go in if you do."

She grabs my hand, announcing, "Deal!" as loud as she can as she drags me into the surf.

Though it's cold, the ocean water is lush and salty, swallowing us and our laughter up as if we've always been a part of it.

This is the natural order of things. In a way.

No matter how much fun I have, though, the memory of Seth tugs at my belly.

"Put your head under, put your head under!" Abigail begs.

"Wait, wait, wait–" I pull a hair tie off my wrist and wrap my hair aloft on my head. Don't want to get it all mucked up. Then I dive into the water.

It's like we're kids again, playing mermaids, laughing our tails off, both imaginary and real.

However, unlike when we were children, we get waterlogged much faster.

Abigail and I emerge from the water and rush to grab our towels. We dry off mere feet away from the guys.

"Ugh, okay, enough of that." Abigail falls into her own lounge chair. "Shall we drink, Bridget?"

"What time is it?" I look up at the sun in the sky.

"Five o'clock somewhere," Seth mutters.

I eye him. Well, his knees. I'm too scared to look in his eyes in case that's not welcomed. "Fine. Sure. I'll go grab us something. What do you want, Abs?"

"Mm…need a beach drink. Like a pina colada, extra pina," she says, grinning.

My mouth salivates for the first time in a while for something other than Seth's cock. "Oh damn, that sounds good. Okay, be back in ten."

I head back up the boardwalk, towel around my waist, squeezing my ponytail out as I go.

A pina colada is just what I need to take the edge off my nerves. If I remain semi-drunk the entire trip, maybe I will be so concentrated on not making a fool out of myself that Seth will fade into the background.

Once inside, I head into the gorgeous kitchen.

Marble countertops, light blue cabinets, and a fridge stocked fully with everything one would need for a Key West getaway including precut pineapple, rum, coconut milk, and Coco Real.

Perfect.

I get to work on throwing everything in the blender. Extra pina, an extra squeeze of Coco Real for my sweet tooth.

Before I press blend, I realize I've forgotten the limes. What kind of pina colada doesn't have lime juice? I go back to the fridge and bend down to reach the fruit drawer, sorting through for the fresh limes.

Until two hands wrap around my hips and pull my ass up against a hardened ridge. A dick.

Seth's dick. I know it well by now.

I gasp and straighten up. "What are you doing?" I whisper.

One of his hands slides up from my hip, gliding across my bare stomach, all over my breasts, up my neck, to my jaw.

He jerks my face to his and kisses me.

"Seth!" I try to cry into his mouth, though it comes out muffled and unrecognizable.

He jerks my face away.

I get a good look at his eyes and, oh god, he's mad.

"What the hell was that?"

"What was what?!" I squeak.

Seth's jaw tightens.

Without warning, he pushes me away from the fridge, up against the corner, pinning his hips with mine. "You know playing dumb doesn't get you anywhere with me."

My heart is racing, blood pounding, and…I'm getting wet. This wasn't supposed to happen. "Seth, we agreed–"

"Fuck the agreement." He presses harder against me, so hard the counter digs into my back. "First, you wear this poor excuse for a bathing suit…" He grabs the back of my top and yanks at the string bow I tied around my neck.

The cups tumble down, exposing my breasts.

I suck in a breath, glancing at the doorway to the kitchen. "Seth, we can't. Not here."

"Then–" he ignores me.

And I love it.

He needs me so bad he doesn't care, doesn't care that we might be caught. He's willing to let it all fall apart for me. "You let Jack touch you like that when you know you're mine."

"I didn't know what to say, I didn't–"

Seth grabs my ponytail and yanks it back so my neck is exposed to him. He ghosts his lips up and down my neck. If this is how I learn Seth is a vampire, that's fine with me. Bleed me dry, baby.

"And then you put your hair in this…when you know that this–"

He tugs again, and I cry out, the sting spiking through my scalp, sending electricity through my body.

"This is mine. This is for me." Seth presses his face against my jaw. "For us."

"I'm sorry."

"You've been teasing me," he mutters.

"I didn't mean to," I reply in earnest.

Seth is quiet for a few moments. "I know," he finally croaks, a dark and pained sound. "I can't do this. I can't pretend like everything is as it was between us, Bridget."

"Me either," I exhale.

Well, we made it less than twenty-four hours pretending we aren't anything more than begrudging stepsiblings. "We can…we just have to be secret about it, okay? We can do that. We've done it so far."

Seth looks me in the eye, expression unreadable. Not the same composure he has in the Underground. There's a brokenness in his eyes I don't know how to repair. Because I don't know where it comes from.

Two of his fingers slide between the towel and my skin.

He pulls until the towel loosens and falls to the ground. "Yes, we are good at keeping a secret."

The world stills. Our eyes locked, his fingers now toying with the string of my bikini bottoms.

"Kiss me," he says, as easy as a breath.

I touch his cheek with tenderness. Though he's rough with me, that's what I sense he requires.

I let my fingers toy with his chestnut hair before pressing an insistent kiss to his lips.

Seth undoes the bikini fully as our lips and tongues dance. It falls to the floor at my feet.

And with suddenness, just the way this encounter began, he spins me around so my ass is pressed against his cock again.

His hand presses against my collarbone. "I'm gonna fuck you right here."

"Yes, Sir."

The sound of fabric shuffling aside. The weight of his bare cock against my ass.

"I'm going to make you come right here."

"Yes, Sir."

His teeth graze my earlobe. "And I don't care if anybody hears or sees. Because you're mine."

"Yes, Sir."

Seth slides his cock between my thighs, coating himself in my essence. "Say it. That you're mine."

"I'm yours, Sir."

"Damn fucking right."

The head of his cock pops into my wet center.

We both sigh, as if it erases all the struggles of resisting each other in such close proximity the past however many hours.

I grip the edge of the counter.

I'm in for a fucking ride. Need something to hold onto.

Seth pulls no punches. Though he seems to have no fear of anyone walking in, it takes only seconds for him to gain enough momentum to fuck me at a ruthless pace.

Each of his thrusts elicits a ragged breath from me.

His cock hits all the right nerves inside me. If he released his hold on my body, I'd crumple to the floor, melting with delicious pleasure.

"You like my cock, baby?" Seth murmurs in my ear, snaking a hand up my front to fondle my breasts.

"I love your cock, Sir."

He lets out a warm laugh. "You're such a good girl, Bridget." He pulls his cock all the way out. "Such a good girl."

His last word is punctuated by his return, thrusting himself as deep as he will go.

I scream as torrent of warmth shudders through me, bending further forward so he can get that deep each and every time.

"Tell me how much you need me," he says.

"I need you so bad, Sir."

His hand moves up from my breast to splay across my chest. "Say my name."

"Sir…"

Then, his hand moves to the lower part of my neck. His fingers act as a collar, reminding me of who I belong to. "My name, Bridget."

Through a haze of impending orgasm, I muster his name, his real name, on my lips. "Seth, oh my god, Seth."

"Tell me you need me."

My eyes blur, tears of pleasure pricking as heat threatens to annihilate me. "Oh! I need you! I need you, Seth. I've always needed you."

Seth's other hand finds the button of my clit without fumbling and presses hard. "Come for me."

He doesn't have to demand. It would be impossible to avoid.

My body bucks, head thrown back as an orgasm runs through me. A screech comes from my mouth, a sound I've never made, even in the throes of pleasure.

"Yes, yes. Let them know you're mine."

My body trembles and shakes.

I can't see the end of the orgasm and that keeps me going as every spasm of pleasure echoes through me as if there are a million more to come.

Seth drops his mouth to my shoulder and groans.

His hips slam into me.

One. Two. Three.

Release.

As he fills me, his body slackens, yet loses no strength, holds me in his arms almost like he's afraid he'll lose me or that I might turn into a million grains of sand sliding through his fingers.

I slide my hand around the back of his head, press my forehead to his cheek, trying to catch my breath.

The duality between the ferocity of our fucking and softness of this moment fills me with joy. Makes me think more might exist beyond the commitment to our lifestyle.

However, I shouldn't let the post-coital fog dictate what might be between us.

Our reverie is interrupted by the sound of the sliding glass door.

How did I miss that sound earlier?

"Did y'all get lost?" Abigail's voice echoes through the house.

I shudder away from Seth, struggling with my top. "Couldn't find–"

Seth puts his dick back in his shorts and grabs my bottom from the floor, tying it in place faster than I thought possible.

"Couldn't find the limes, but I–" When I'm properly covered, I run back to the fridge and fish out the bag of limes to hold up in triumph, just as Abigail walks in. "Found ‘em!"

Abigail leans into her hip, sassy as always. "And what's your excuse?" she asks Seth. "You were just supposed to be getting beers."

Seth tucks in beside me, grabbing two beers from the fridge. "Helping Bridget, of course."

"Damn, you have turned a new leaf," Abigail says.

Seth rolls his eyes and leaves, just as silent as he came.

As he leaves, the bliss leaves my body.

He didn't want everyone to hear or know.

And I guess I didn't either.

"Come on, I'll help you. I need a pina colada, stat." Abigail shuffles into the kitchen and sets to cutting the limes.

I wash my hands with the pungent lemon verbena soap to wash away the smell of sex and pull the towel back around my waist so she can't see the way Seth's seed has leaked onto my upper thigh.

As soon as that's hidden away, it's like nothing happened between us.

Like nothing has ever happened between us.