What Happens in Jamaica

She looked worried again.

"I won't be mad," I said. "Promise."

She nodded.

"Bigger than me?"

She nodded again. Then, "They say black guys are bigger."

"That's a myth though, right?"

"I don't know. I thought it was. But he was definitely bigger."

The jealousy again, stabbing through me. And yet, at the same time, I suddenly had an image of a thick, long black cock, parting her folds. Driving up inside her. Would it stretch her? Would she like that—being stretched a little?

Academic, I told myself. I wouldn't let her go that far.

"So what now?" Kim asked.

I stopped walking and turned to look at her. Her face was lit up in the neon glow of the bar behind us and I could see her eyes shining with excitement. And also fear. Fear that this would go wrong, fear that we'd do something that would hurt us.

I slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me. And then I kissed her, drawing a yelp of surprise from her before it changed into an mmm and her lips flowered open under mine. "I love you," I said when we came up for air.

She panted and nodded, grinning. I felt as if we were unstoppable. The jealousy had burned away, leaving me with just the raw lust of seeing her dressed so sexily, the high of knowing that other men had stared, flirted, even touched...but that only I'd be going home with her.

"Do you want to head back to the hotel?" she asked. She had her palm on my chest, her touch warm through my shirt, and something in her tone told me that we'd both be tearing our clothes off as soon as we got through the hotel room door.

We should have gone back. But I wanted to play some more. The sex would be even better, afterwards, if we did it again.

"Let's do it once more," I told her.

She took a deep breath, as excited as I was. "Okay," she said. "Where?"

There was a place across the street that looked promising. Plenty of guys about our age. It had orange walls and, instead of a normal sign above the door, someone had sawed a pale blue rowing boat in half lengthwise and hung that there, with the name painted in big letters on the side: Mulhoney's. It looked friendly. Safe.

"There," I said. I kissed her again. "I'll be right behind you."

She hurried off into the bar. And that's when it all went wrong.

Chapter 7

This time, I didn't wait as long. I wanted to be there when she was approached. I wanted to see the guys look at her before moving in. I went through the door only thirty seconds or so behind Kim, but immediately turned the other way, not even looking at her, and then sidled around the room so that I could watch without being obvious.

The place was dark, dark enough that Kim's skin, in reality a light tan, gleamed almost white amongst the shadows. She threaded her way through the crowd and I marveled at the way the heels drew attention to her legs and ass. Her skirt wasn't crazy short—there were only a few inches of pale thigh visible above the knee—but, if you were to slide your hand under the tight fabric, your fingers wouldn't have far to go before they touched her panties. The thought made my cock stir...and so did the knowledge that every other guy in the place was thinking the same thing.

There was a mixture of couples and single guys in the bar, and the men all immediately perked up when they caught sight of Kim—even the ones who were there with their girlfriends. God, was I that obvious, when I was out with Kim and I saw a hot woman? I could actually see the wave of excitement pass through the room, radiating out from Kim as she moved. One guy moved to intercept her, but then seemed to veer off at the last moment. I frowned. What had he seen? Did he suspect she wasn't single?

Kim sat down. And just as she did so, a huge, black hand landed on her naked forearm. We both looked at the man at the same time.

It was him. The guy I'd seen from the balcony the day before. The one who'd been watching her.

I felt fear clutching at me, cold fingers of dread closing around my chest. Should I warn her? Call the whole thing off?

Why? I couldn't explain my disquiet...but there was just something about the guy. He was different to the other suitors. I realized now why the other guy had veered off—he'd seen this guy approaching. Either the dreadlocked man had some sort of reputation or he just exuded that dominant air—that if he even glanced at a woman first, she was his.

I felt sick. Not his, I reminded myself desperately. Mine. He just didn't know it, yet. He must not have noticed her ring, the previous day, or he wouldn't be making a move now. Right?

He didn't waste any time. He didn't seem to ask her what she wanted to drink, just called for the bartender to bring him a beer and some sort of cocktail for Kim. Kim looked at it warily, but accepted it and sipped as she listened to him.

He wasn't the same as the guy in the first bar. That guy had been smooth and practiced—a pick-up artist. This guy was more...raw. He didn't care about lines or following rules or making the right impression. He seemed to be just be laying it out for her, telling her what he wanted. And from his gestures and the looks he gave her...what he wanted was her.

I tried to get closer, but there was a clear gap between them and me. I'd stick out a mile if I stood in the middle. It didn't help that the guy's voice was a deep, rich baritone that got lost in the music. I could hear what Kim said, sometimes, but could only make out a word or two of what he was saying.

I realized that Kim's face had changed completely. In the previous bar, she'd appeared transfixed, as if she was hanging on every word of the guy in the orange shirt. Now, with the dreadlocked man, her face was a lot more mobile. I could actually see her nostrils flare as she breathed, and her eyes were wide and darting around his face. It looked as if her pupils were huge and dilated, and she seemed to be flushed.

She'd been acting, before. She wasn't acting now. She liked him. No, more than that. She wanted him.

Another swirl of unease inside me. I'd started this game because I wanted men to look at her. I hadn't considered that she'd start to look back at them. You idiot! What have you started?!

But it was okay. Kim was completely faithful. This wouldn't go any further than we both wanted it to.

But how far is that? Because, even as the electricity between them scared me, the image rose again in my head, unbidden, of the two of them together. More details, this time. His long hair tossing as he buried himself savagely in her. Her scream of passion as he thrust—

I swallowed. I didn't want that. Of course I didn't. But what if it happened anyway? What if things got out of hand? My phone was right there in my pocket. I could end it instantly...

But I didn't want to. I wanted—needed—to see more.

I was much closer than I'd been on the balcony, so I could see the guy a lot better, now. He was in smart black pants and shoes and a loose white shirt. Dressed up for a night out—perhaps for a night on the prowl. Did he already have a plan for what he was going to do with the woman he met? Did he already have it all worked out: a few drinks, then back to his place, toss her down on the bed and—

My cock was almost painfully hard inside my pants. I can't explain it, but something about the sight of them together was both terrifying and hot as hell. There was an edge to him, a danger—it felt as if we'd taken our seatbelts off.

The guy lifted one huge hand and ran it over Kim's cheek. I tensed at the intimacy of the touch—it wasn't a casual brush of the shoulder. He was full-on seducing her, right in front of me. And though she went tense at first, a second later I thought I saw her push her face against his hand just a little. I was amazed by how big his hands were—they made Kim look tiny and fragile by comparison.

I noticed he wasn't trying to get close to her. He was touching her cheek, but he wasn't trying to cozy up to her on the bar stool. He hadn't even sat down yet—he stood there hulking over her, which made him seem even bigger. He wasn't interested in just groping her, I realized. He wanted all or nothing. He wants her in his bed.

Again, the fear rose inside me. It was like watching a spider waiting to pounce on a fly. I'd thought I was the one in control, ready to pull my wife away when I decided the game was over. But what if I was wrong?

What if it wasn't a game at all?

Even as I thought it, the guy finished his drink and pushed back from the bar. And held out his hand towards my wife. It was almost a relief. It was over—there was no way she was going to go with him.

Then she took his hand.

My jaw fell open. I watched as Kim slid off her bar stool and hurried after him, letting him tow her through the crowd. She didn't even glance back at me.

Maybe he wanted to dance. Maybe that was it. Maybe they were just going to—

They walked out through the door and onto the street.

My eyes bugged out and I froze there for long, agonizing seconds. What the hell was going on? Why would she go with him? That wasn't part of the plan! When I was finally able to move again, I raced for the door and burst out onto the street, stopping in the center.

They were nowhere in sight.

I looked frantically up and down the street, searching the crowds for them. Nothing. I spun in a slow circle. My heart was hammering in my chest, dread panic setting in. I'd lost her. She was in some back alley, or in the back of a cab, or—

Just as I completed the circle, I saw her. She'd been almost directly behind me, still hand-in-hand with the dreadlocked man. They were just disappearing into the bar next to the one they'd been in. I'd run right past them.

Weak with relief, I hurried after them.

This bar was more ramshackle, furnished with a real mixture of old furniture and tables made from what looked like driftwood. Towards the back of the room, it got pretty dark. As I watched him lead her along, it hit me just how much bigger he was. I'd been right—even in her high heels, he was a full head taller than Kim and a good bit taller than me. And his broad shoulders made him seem twice her width, even though he was tight and lean with muscle. If someone had told me he was a linebacker with some NFL team, I wouldn't have argued.

As I followed them, I saw there were booths there, each one seating four, or six if you were very friendly. I saw him direct her into one of the booths, both sitting on the same long seat.

No! Don't go in there! I won't be able to—

But it was too late. They were sitting down, and now they were private—which I was sure was what he wanted. I couldn't stand there and watch them, not without looking obvious.

Maybe I shouldn't care about that, anymore. Maybe I should just march up to the guy and tell him Kim was my wife, and that I was taking her home now.

But...now that the adrenaline was soaking out of me, some of the arousal was coming back. He'd spirited her out of one bar, only to take her here. And he'd made sure they were somewhere private. Why? What was he planning?

I only had seconds to decide. I was still walking and, once I reached their booth, I couldn't just hang around beside it—

Making a snap decision, I slid myself into the booth across the room from theirs. I sat on the opposite side, so that I was facing them diagonally. Now I could see them, though I'd have to make sure I didn't ogle them too openly. I realized that the booths were made from old church pews, their dark wood adding to the moody gloom of the place.

The dreadlocked man had made sure that Kim went into the booth first, so his massive body was blocking her from leaving. Not that she showed any signs of wanting to leave. She still had that look of breathless excitement on her face. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen that exact look before. It was almost as if she was drugged—had he slipped something in her drink? But it had started almost the instant they'd met, before she'd even sipped her cocktail.

Did she like him—want him—that much? Was that it? A pang of jealousy stabbed deep in my chest, but mostly what I felt was shock. I hadn't really thought of Kim having strong desires like that—certainly not for other men. She'd always been a very controlled person. The idea that she could lust after someone so much that she'd take chances, like walking off with a stranger, was a revelation...and a turn on.

A waiter came around to ask them what they wanted, only to greet the dreadlocked man with delighted surprise. And that's how I finally learned the name of the man who was seducing my wife: Jaric. The waiter and Jaric did a complicated handshake and Jaric introduced my wife as "Kim." The sight of him introducing his date to his buddy did something weird to me. It felt wrong. To them, my wife was just another single white tourist, probably the latest in a long line of Jaric's conquests. He might as well have told his friend, "This is the one I'm fucking tonight." It made me feel helpless, even though I was sitting right there across the room. Helpless...and turned on. Wasn't this exactly what I'd wanted? My wife lusted after and discussed as an object of desire?

The waiter came over to me to ask what I wanted. I started to order a beer, but then realized that the waiter wasn't listening—he was looking back over his shoulder toward Jaric and my wife. I paused, and when the waiter realized he'd been caught, he snapped back to face me. "Sorry," he said, abashed. Then, nodding his head toward Jaric and my wife and grinning, "Lucky man."

I sat there stunned, not knowing whether to fume or smile. She's mine, I wanted to say. But I just ordered my beer and sat back.

Jaric had his hand in my wife's hair, now, the golden strands falling between his thick fingers as he brushed it back from her face. She was breathing faster—I could see that gorgeous tan cleavage rising and falling, and I swore she was almost trembling with excitement.

And right then, just for a second, she glanced across and saw me. And to my surprise, her eyes widened in shock, she gave a quick smile, and then her eyes were back on him again.

She hadn't known I was there.

I'd been assuming that she'd been watching out for me, making sure I was still with her. But she'd been so lost in the adventure that she hadn't even seen me take my seat. I was suddenly angry with her. What if I hadn't seen her going into the bar? What if I'd been held up?

Calm down, I told myself. You started this.

The waiter returned with our drinks—a beer for Jaric and me and another cocktail for my wife. She'd be tipsy after this one, I estimated, but not drunk.

Almost as soon as the waiter was gone, Jaric made his move. With one foot, he pushed the driftwood table back from the pew, opening up some space. Then he slid a muscled arm around my wife's waist and lifted her onto his lap.

Just before she landed, the dim lights of the bar caught the fabric of Jaric's pants and, for the first time, I could see the bulge there. It was huge, extending well down his thigh. And when Kim's soft rump touched down on top of it, her widening eyes told me that she could feel it, too.

I looked away. I didn't want to, but I knew that if I kept staring at them, Jaric was going to notice and suspect something. I couldn't bear not seeing what was going on, though. I was just too far away to hear exactly what they were saying, but I could make out the tone of their voices. I could hear murmured conversation, a soft, nervous giggle from my wife and the low, rumbling voice of Jaric. They talked for long minutes, and I heard the sounds my wife was making change. The nervous giggles died away, and her responses to his questions became lower and slower. Her voice trembling with...arousal?

I made out something that sounded like feel good, but the combination of his low tone and the patois made it difficult to be sure. Then I heard real good.

I had an idea. I put my phone on the table, leaning it on its side propped up against my beer bottle, with the camera lens in the back pointed roughly towards Jaric and Kim's booth. I started the video camera app, and suddenly I could see, on the tiny screen, what was happening across the room.

Kim was still sitting on Jaric's lap, but now he had one meaty forearm across her waist, holding her in place. Her head was back against his massive shoulder, her blonde hair trailing down his arm. With one hand, he was rubbing her bare midriff, slowly and tenderly. His other hand was on her knee.

And it was sliding higher, rubbing as it went.

My wife squirmed, but it wasn't a stop squirm. It was an I like what you're doing to me squirm. It was dark in the bar and even darker in the shadows under the table, but there was enough light that I could clearly see Jaric's dark hand against my wife's skin, moving higher and higher. His fingertips nudged the hem of her skirt.

Okay, I thought. That's it. That's where she'll stop him.

But the hand went higher, until his fingers were on her bare thigh, rubbing back and forth. I saw Kim draw in a slow breath and her lips parted, but she didn't say anything. It was as if she was hypnotized. And then her thighs inched ever so slightly apart.

He's touching my wife! He's got his hand up her skirt! The rational part of my brain was screaming at me, demanding that I stop this. But with every inch that Jaric's fingers moved, my cock grew harder. How far would she let it go, if I didn't stop her?

Jaric started to murmur something, speaking almost into Kim's ear, and again she squirmed. Whatever he was saying seemed to be turning her on. Her breathing quickened, her skin almost glowing with her heated arousal. The hand slid further up under her skirt. And then still further. I gasped. God, he must be touching her—

Kim drew in her breath, her eyes widening. I saw her lips press together into a soft line and she started to move ever so slightly on his lap, in time with his hand. He was rubbing her. Rubbing her pussy lips through her panties. I could imagine the soft warmth of her through the thin fabric. The bastard's feeling her up, right in front of me!

The hand started to move faster. I saw Jaric's wrist flex as he pressed his fingers more firmly against her. And his other hand was moving, now sliding up to her chest. I gasped as I saw him cup her breast through her shirt. They've only just met! How can he— How could she—

Kim seemed uncertain for a second. I saw her swallow. She glanced down at her chest, then up at him. But her eyes were shining and bright and, when he moved his head in towards hers, she closed her eyes and parted her lips.

He's—Wait, is he going to—

He kissed her. Soft and then harder, and she kissed him back just as hard. Their heads moved together in a dance, falling into it as easily as lovers.

We'd never talked about kissing. I sat there stunned, staring at the screen. His tongue was deep in her mouth, plundering my wife, violating her...and she wanted it. I wasn't ready for how it made me feel, somehow much worse than the hand on her breast or the fingers on her pussy.

And yet I didn't want it to stop. Every second I sat there, I felt my cock straining harder and harder in my pants, even as the rage built inside me.

His hand was moving on her breast. Squeezing the soft flesh, making it bulge between his fingers. My wife gave an audible groan through the kiss. The hand under her skirt was moving faster now, his fingers circling as they rubbed. My wife was moving, too, grinding against the hand, squirming in his lap and circling her hips.