“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You know I love seeing you and your swanky-ass yacht.” Mallory leaned around his shoulder. “And I see you’ve already found the hottest couple on the island to bring along with you. Man, you’re fast,” Mallory teased. She was dressed in a flowing, gauzy cover-up with nothing much underneath, big sunglasses, several bracelets and adornments, and a big pink floppy hat. She looked like a movie star, or the supermodel she was soon to become.
Antonio grinned. “So you guys have already met, then? I’m not surprised in the least. It seems you work quicker than I do, my dear. Shall we go?” He leaned over the side and called to Charlotte, who had stayed below. “Untie us. We’re all set!” Then he sat in the captain’s chair and turned on the engine.
Within a few moments, they were motoring out into the clear blue waters.
Emma and Pete sat on one of the long couches near the back, Mallory sat across from them at the table, and Charlotte was sprawled on the couch next to Antonio.
Everyone was relaxed.
Emma took in the sights with Pete’s arm slung casually around her shoulders. The greenery around the resort was very lush, but as the yacht made its way along the coastline, the vegetation was sparse, just like she’d seen on the other side. But the white sand and crystal-blue water were out of this world, something out of a fantasy. After a while, Emma stood and walked to the railing, loving the feel of the wind and trying to spot some sea creatures in the rolling waves.
“We’re coming up to what I like to call Private Beach,” Antonio called. “It’s a small, sheltered cove that you can only get to by boat.” He swiveled around to face them as Emma walked back to the couch where Pete was sitting. “Do you guys want to anchor for a while?”
“Sure,” Mallory answered first. “I want to catch some sun on the bow. I only do morning sun. Once it’s past noon, I’m out.” She smiled affably at Emma and Pete. “I get to see the sun, mostly because I get hired for that natural, sporty look, but also because I’m a rebel. Some models are like mole people and never let a ray of sunshine hit them, and if it does they bitch and moan to high heaven. Those are the haute-couture girls. I figure if I get hired for couture at this point, they can just Photoshop the hell out of me and make me as pasty white as they want to.”
Emma chortled at Malloy’s open honesty. “Well, it’s not just couture models. If I laid out in the sun with you, I’d be a lobster in about three minutes. I lathered on a bottle of sunscreen this morning, but it wouldn’t matter. I’m too neon white. A beacon to the burn.”
“At least you have a good reason,” Mallory said. “It’s a digital age, and these women need to shut the hell up. One freckle will not keep them out of work.” Antonio slowed the boat and cut the motor. Mallory got out of her seat. “And, darling, lemme tell you, if I had your coloring, I’d be the Nicole Kidman of the model world. You have something very few have—flawless skin paired with beauty. Most redheads I know have one or the other. Most of them have freckles all over. You have this many.” She formed a circle with her fingers. “Zippo. You have that thing models kill for. If you were a little taller, I guarantee you would’ve been recruited by some hungry shark a long time ago. But be thankful you avoided this life. This job sucks out your soul and spits it out like a big loogie.”
Antonio came up behind them, followed by Charlotte. “I parked close enough to swim to shore if that’s what we want to do. It’s already hot enough to take a plunge. I have snorkel gear, floatation devices, and just about anything you want downstairs. There’s plenty of food on board, so we can have lunch when we’re done. How does that sound?”
“Lovely,” Emma said. “This is really wonderful. Thank you again.”
“I’m heading to the bow now for some sun, if anyone wants to join me.” Mallory winked at the group as she set her hat and glasses on the table. Then she dropped her cover-up to the ground and sauntered down the stairs, totally naked.
14
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As Mallory passed Pete, she curled her index finger in front of her. The universal sign for come with me. Pete glanced at Emma, who was having an animated chat with Charlotte. Antonio had already gone to drop the anchor.
Pete couldn’t believe how ritzy this yacht was. It must’ve set back Antonio by at least two million. Pete waited for a moment to catch Emma’s eye to tell her where he was going, but Emma was still wrapped up in her conversation. After a few moments, he decided Emma could join them when she was done. What else were they going to do?
He headed down the stairs and took a path along the side of the boat to get to the front. He’d spotted the large cushions on the bow during the tour.
When he rounded the corner, Mallory was already spread out, one knee up, her hair fanned out around her. She patted the lounger next to her without even looking up.
She’d known he’d come after her.
This beauty wasn’t used to being denied much, and coming to sit with her fed into that, but as he looked out over the clear water and their surroundings, and her more-than-beautiful body, he found he didn’t care too much. This was a dream vacation, and he was going to enjoy it.
Pete hoped Emma joined them before Mallory got too horny. But it wasn’t like they were going to have sex right here, so he pushed it out of his mind.
“Let’s have sex,” Mallory announced, giving him a lazy grin as she circled one of her areolas.
Pete was so taken aback, he nearly lost his balance, and he was sitting. But there was no place for him to escape now that he was there. “I’m sorry, what?”
She belly-laughed at his reaction.
It sounded like a genuine laugh, unlike what he’d heard from her so far. “Relax, I’m just fucking with you.” She turned on her side to face him, a finger tracing the seam on the cushion. “You know, I can’t figure you and your wife out. I’ve been trying all morning. You seem into each other. There’s love there. I mean, it’s written all over your faces. You checked with your wife twice before agreeing to be with me last night. That’s not typical in my world. Most people, including couples, are selfish motherfuckers. All the time. They’re out for their own pleasure and will tromp on anyone to get it. So what gives?”
“What do you mean, what gives?” Pete relaxed a little, knowing Mallory wasn’t going to jump on his already hard dick.
“The lifestyle. How do you juggle it? It seems like it would rip a loving couple like you two apart. I’m curious, if you fucked me right now, without her permission, would Emma divorce you?”
The question was so personal, Pete didn’t know exactly how to answer it, so he just went with real. “Yes, most likely.”
“Then explain it to me.” She turned on her stomach and went up on her elbows. “Most swingers I meet are selfish and would take the fuck any day, especially with someone like me. So make me understand why you’re different.”
“I don’t know,” Pete said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The first reason is we aren’t real swingers in that sense. We call it swapping, and when we do it, it’s very controlled. We meet a couple ahead of time, everyone is on board, and we know roughly how the night is going to go from beginning to end. Everyone is amped, and we have a good time. When they go home, it’s over.”
“Then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“Then do you and Emma fuck by yourselves, or what? What’s the payoff after a swap for the two of you? From what I saw last night, the payoff was you coming. You came hard and were totally lost in the moment. But what’s the payoff for your beautiful, porcelain wife? She didn’t appear to get off on it as much as you did.”