Stout, Page 32

  “None yet. I just got here.”

  That seems like an excessive amount of sex during a getaway. “How many days are you staying?”

  “Nine.” Same as us.

  “I’m no mathematician but you’re here nine days, counting today. That means you have to fuck eleven different ways per day if you’re going to squeeze in ninety-nine. You better get crackin’, sir.”

  “There’s no hurry. There’ll be plenty of opportunities after midnight. That’s when things heat up.” I’ll definitely be safely tucked in my bed long before then.

  I’m guessing I’ll be sick of this place by the end of nine days. It all seems so extreme. “Do you typically stay so long?”

  “No. I’ve always done long weekends because of work.”

  I recall the variety of people I’ve seen since my arrival. “Do you have standards for the people you have sex with or is a vagina the only requirement?”

  He chuckles. “Of course I have standards. Don’t you?”

  “Absolutely. High ones.”

  “What does a girl like you look for?”

  He’s lumped me into some kind of category. “A girl like me? What does that mean?”

  “A vanilla girl.”

  I am vanilla but I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to be pissed off about having that label placed on me. “Call me old-fashioned but I don’t long to be double penetrated.”

  “You might like it if you tried it.”

  I hate being judged. “You assume I haven’t.”

  “You assume I have.” He totally has me there.

  “You’re the one who was in a sexual triad involving two guys and a girl. Two dicks. One vagina. Three assholes. I already know you aren’t into dudes so my assumption was made by process of elimination.”

  He laughs. “You sort of have a dirty mouth.”

  “Not dirty. Innocent-challenged.” He hasn’t heard shit out of me yet. “I’m curious to know what you thought of it.”

  “It feels great.”

  I hear a silent but in there somewhere. “But you hated her being with another man?”

  “Of course. She was going to be my wife. I loved her. Every time Heath came into our bed, it was a reminder I was never going to be enough to satisfy her.”

  Does the poly want out?

  “Be happy you figured it out before you married her instead of after.”

  “My affection for her slipped a little further away every time I saw them together. The love I had for her eventually drifted beyond my grasp. I tried but couldn’t get it back. She became nothing more than a body to me, an object I used for getting off.” I can believe that.

  “Will your next relationship be polyamorous?”

  “I have no idea. I only know I came here to fuck the two of them off my mind. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

  Sex isn’t a fix for what’s going on in his head. And heart. But he has to figure that out for himself.

  “I don’t want to talk about those fuckers anymore. I rather hear about your vanilla girl high standards.”

  “I want true and beautiful.” I bet he thinks that’s unrealistic.

  “Total myth. Doesn’t exist in today’s world.” Pessimist. He’s probably a glass half-empty kind of guy.

  “It does. I saw it between my mother and father. The fairy tale is real, and I won’t settle for less.”

  “This is a different generation. But I wish you the best of luck with that.”

  “Tell me your standards since you have so little faith in love.”

  “I could tell you but it would be so much easier to show you.”

  My stomach flips; I don’t know what that means. “A verbal description would suffice.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun. You can help me choose my first of ninety-nine fucks.”

  Oh. That’s not what I thought he meant. It’s a total wakeup call for what Beau likes. “I don’t think so. It was lovely meeting you but I think it’s time for me to go in for the evening.”

  “Don’t go, Peach. It’s still early.” All the more reason for me to get back to my suite before things heat up around this place.

  I leave the water and go to my dress and panties on the beach. I shake my dress before pulling it over my head.

  He comes out of the water and is by my side stepping into his trousers. “Did I say something to upset you?”

  “Nah. It’s all good.” I’ve enjoyed my non-hedonist time with Beau, but he’s ready to go on the hunt. It’s time for this to end.

  Despite attempting to decline, Beau insists on walking me back to my room. Claims he wants to ensure I make it there safely. That may or may not be the truth but it doesn’t matter.

  He’s a hedonist.

  Hell, he’s poly.

  I’m not.

  No way we’re happening.

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  About the Author

  Georgia Cates

  Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

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