Page 23 of Tropical Heat

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine any good coming from you having that information.”

“You’re probably right.” It was clear she had no intentions of telling me who the other guy was, so I let it drop. “I guess I just have one other question. Do I get to fuck other people too?”

Her expression faltered, and I could tell she had not thought about it before. She quickly composed herself and feigned a smile. “Of course. As my grandmother used to say, ‘what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.’’’

I was still salty that she wouldn’t tell me who the other man was. So when I saw the look in her eyes as we made our way down Tanner Sound Road, I may have taken a little too much enjoyment in her discomfort.

It’s a whole different world back there. Ten minutes earlier, the streets were lined with shopping plazas, restaurants, and tourist traps. But as they faded in the rearview mirror, the only signs of life were overgrown driveways, with chains strung across them and signs warning trespassers they would be shot on sight.

“What kind of people live around here?”

“Let’s just say if we breakdown, it would be safer to take our chances with the gators than to go knocking on someone’s door. They don’t like strangers very much.”

“Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel safe.” She rolled up her window. But it wasn't until she saw the creature at the side of the road that she really got nervous. “What the fuck is that?”

“Don't tell me you've never seen an iguana before.”

“Not like that, I haven't. It must be seven feet long.”

I clocked it more at eight, but didn't argue the point because I could tell she was already scared. “They can grow pretty big. Especially when there is plenty of food for them to eat.”

“Yeah, like the bodies of lost tourists.” I laughed and told her it was just a couple more miles to the restaurant. “How did you ever find this place?”

I explained that when I first joined the sheriff’s office; I was assigned to the Northern Region and one day I responded to a 911 call at Swamp Jax.

“Let me guess, a triple homicide.”

“No,” I chuckled.” “Robbery. The suspect was the one who called it in. A group of bikers had taken his gun and beat the shit out of him. When I arrived, they were threatening to feed him to the gators.”

“Lovely. And we are going there, why exactly?”

“Best cheeseburgers in the state.” I promised her. “But don’t fill up on fries. My friend is taking us parasailing later.”

“My god, isn’t your job dangerous enough? Does everything in your life have to revolve around finding new ways you could die?”

“What do you mean?” I honestly didn't know what she was talking about.

“Everything about you is dangerous, Dante. The bike, the fast car.” She had pulled into the parking lot, but kept talking. “And if we survive lunch at this biker bar without getting shot, then you want to drag me behind a boat while suspended fifty feet over the ocean, by nothing more than a piece of nylon fabric?”

“First off, I'm a very skilled driver. I've never had a ticket, let alone an accident.” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “Second, Jax is not a biker bar. At least not anymore. Two guys from Homestead PD bought it when they retired and turned it into a family restaurant. A lot of cops frequent it. So trust me, there is no place in The Keys where you would be safer. And, three, as for parasailing, Blue Water Tours has one of the best safety records of any attraction in all of Florida.”

“Maybe I overreacted,” she smiled. “My mother tells me I worry too much.”

“I don't think you understand, doc. I like you a great deal and would do nothing that would ever hurt you.”

She kissed me on the cheek, and then said, “Let’s go see if these burgers are as good as you claim.”

Fourteen

Morgan

It had only been three weeks since I started dating Dante and Zak, but felt like I had known them much longer. Things were going better than I could have imagined. Each seemed to understand the demands of my job and never pressured me to spend more time with them than I could.

My trust of Dante had grown to where I felt comfortable enough to delve deeper into my submissive side. As a gift, I purchased silk ropes and a small flogger from an adult boutique. Although he enjoyed binding me in positions which left me exposed and vulnerable, he never used the leather lash to mar my flesh. He preferred to tease and delay my orgasm until I was a quivering mess, begging for release.

There were other purchases made from the boutique—toys and accessories for Zak and I—after discovering we shared a fondness for anal play. The sex with both men was wonderful, and I had never been so physically satisfied in my life.

By focusing solely on the sex, I had avoided dealing with my complex emotional issues and any feelings I might have been developing for them. I had been honest with both men from the beginning. They knew I was not looking for anything serious; and that they were not the only man with whom I was sleeping.

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