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Shameless
by Cherrie Lynn

Copyright © 2018 by Cherrie Lynn. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Meredith Taylor was deep into her third beer when the moaning started.

She narrowly avoided choking on the gulp she’d just taken and wondered if she’d really heard what she thought she’d heard. Seven stories below and perhaps fifty yards in front of her, the Gulf of Mexico was a flat black oblivion in the night, but even with the unrelenting white noise of the waves washing ashore, the sounds of pleasure were unmistakable.

Someone on one of the balconies above her was getting it on. Or they were about to.

Meri set her beer down on the table beside her and stared wide-eyed at the ocean with blind concentration, straining her ears. Ordinarily, she would think of herself as a moral person, one who would, under normal circumstances, discreetly excuse herself and allow the couple above to carry on with their carnal activities without worry for a secret audience. It was after two in the morning, after all—they probably hadn’t counted on anyone being awake and watching waves nearby.

But Meri had muted that inner moral person with more than her usual dose of alcohol. So fuck that. She stood, moved to the railing, and silently cursed the incessant wind for its rushing in her ears. Or maybe that was her buzz. Or whatever.

Even with it, though, she could hear clearly enough.

“Oh God,” a feminine voice purred from above.

Yeah, yeah, Meri thought. You gotta do better than that, honey. Give me something to work with here. She smirked to herself, turning and leaning her back against the railing. Hopefully it wouldn’t give with her weight…she could just see the headlines now: Vacationer Falls to Her Death During Voyeuristic Acrobatics. Were you a voyeur if you could only hear the sexual encounter? She made a mental note to Google that later. God, sexual frustration had turned her into a perv.

More moaning. Male and female. He sounded kind of hot, which was good. The last guy she’d been with—she refused to allow herself to think about how long ago that had been—practically sounded like a woman when he came. That was a thing with her now…she loved manly male voices. Rich, deep, dark, shivery male voices. Since that incident, she judged each and every voice she heard from a potential suitor on its likelihood of sounding like a dying cat in the throes of passion. The one above her now…zero percent chance. In fact, she could close her eyes and imagine that murmuring voice in her own ear, hot breath tickling there, hot fingers trailing down her neck, her breast, to tease her nipple into aching attention, and she didn’t even have a face to put with it.

But that was the beauty of the situation, wasn’t it? He could be anyone she wanted him to be.

Cameron’s face floated through her thoughts, never an image to be muted by alcohol. God forbid she have any respite from that one. Even on this trip, Cameron Moore was an ever-present fixture. As her brother Dane’s lifelong best friend, he’d been that fixture further back than her memory could reach.

She didn’t want to think about him.

Except for a murmur here and there, she couldn’t hear much anymore. What were they doing now? Was he inside her yet? Maybe they were only in the foreplay part of their lovemaking session. Meri imagined clothes being pushed aside for teases and kisses and caresses. The woman still mewled her approval of whatever he was doing to her, but her sounds weren’t the staccato moans of fucking. No, they were still playing, by Meri’s guess, not having made it to the good stuff yet.

Long-term couple or onetime hook-up, they were lucky. Meri swigged her beer and stared sightlessly at the patio door leading into her bedroom. They weren’t out here alone in the middle of the night, letting the waves lull them into a melancholy that really had no place on a fun-filled, friend-packed summer vacation at the beach. But insomnia was a familiar if unwelcome companion of hers, no matter the occasion. And she’d figured it would be better to stare at the waves than the ceiling above her bed. And maybe a little self-medication wouldn’t be unheard of, hence the beer. Who knew she’d have some unsuspecting company?

 Despite not wanting to think about Cam, he invaded Meredith’s thoughts anyway. It was a vicious cycle. Having been friends with her brother for so long, her brother with whom she was very close, Cam was simply always there. In just about every conversation, at every get-together, and now, this summer at least, on vacation, too. The man was inescapable.

But who’d want to escape that? He was built like a god. A personal trainer, he all but lived at the gym. Tattoos meandered down his shredded arms and torso. Dear God, she kept up her gym membership just to be able to ogle him, and he often stopped by as she huffed it on the elliptical to chat or give advice or convince her to let him train her.

She always turned him down. He would probably kill her.

Okay, so she had a crush on the guy. It wasn’t a big deal. She’d always kept him at arm’s length, but sometimes gave in to temptation and let her darkest fantasies out to play. Fantasies starring Cameron Moore. He was hot, so who could blame her?

And why did her thoughts keep going to him and not to the goings-on above?

“Yes. Oh yes, baby.” That was distinct. The woman again. Then, two long, loud moans harmonized and stole Meri’s breath away. Oh. If he wasn’t in her before, he’s in her now. Sliding in slowly, by the sounds of it, savoring it, making her feel every inch. And judging by the woman’s little cries of “More, more, oh God, more!” there were many thick inches to feel. Jesus. Meri swiped at a trickle of sweat at her temple, then trailed her cold beer bottle down the side of her neck. It left a shivery trail in the sticky summer heat clinging to her body.

Her thighs trembled. Those sounds…the man…his rough, primal groaning, his growling, more groaning, damn, his dirty-sweet sex talk. She couldn’t actually decipher any of his talk, but it had to be dirty and sweet. She would not allow herself to believe otherwise. She caught a few of his guttural curses, though, and her knees grew so weak she dropped into one of the chairs and crushed her thighs together, unsure if she was trying to encourage the building ache between them or fight it. It just seemed so…so wrong, so naughty, to get off on someone else’s pleasure when they didn’t even know she was there.

But she couldn’t leave. Couldn’t stop listening. Had she no damn shame?

Just one time, she thought desperately, be wrong. Be naughty. Her body didn’t need any encouragement, her pussy clenching regardless of her permission. With every sound that guy uttered, it clenched harder.

Hell, it seemed the hottest sex she’d ever had was someone else’s. She didn’t think she’d ever been this responsive, not with the three lovers she’d taken in her life. Not with their flesh-and-blood hands on her. But these hands, these phantom hands she only imagined, that disjointed male voice coming from above…oh God. Her blood felt like thick lava in her veins, and it was pooling, weighing her down in her pussy and her nipples and a few other erogenous zones she hadn’t known she had. Even her mouth felt numb and tingly. She tasted something sweet and forbidden at the back of her throat and swept her tongue across her needy lips.

Her hand trailed down the thin cami she wore, noting how tight and peaked her nipples were, down farther, toward her boxer shorts. Inside, she was so wet.

Should she? No. She shouldn’t.

But she was so wet. So needing to feel what that woman was feeling, even though her hand would be a poor substitute.

She parted her legs.

Would she let someone fuck her out here where anyone could hear? Would she even want that, knowing there were creeps like her around? Listening, invading her and her lover’s privacy, getting hot, getting themselves off to her pleasure…

Would she let Cameron, if he ever decided to show the slightest bit of sexual interest in her?

Meri opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d closed them. Her fingers brushed her thigh and, imagining it was Cam’s fingers, that small contact sent a jolt through her. The waves went on forever out on the beach, oblivious to her moral quagmire. Her sharp arousal. The Gulf was as black as Cameron’s hair. The sky was as dark as his eyes—the sky, yes, because of the stars, because she could swear that his eyes had lights in them…

She’d let him. The more she thought of it, the more certain she was.

The couple fucked on, the woman’s cries sharp and quick. Meri slid her fingers into her drenched panties. Talk to her. Talk to me. Let me hear you.

The rumble of the man’s voice reached her above the cacophony of the waves and her own pleasure, almost as if he had heard her thoughts. “Do you want to come?” A shiver went through Meri. Her pussy clenched helplessly. Yes. I want to come.

“Yes,” the girl pleaded. “Yes, make me come, make me come, make me come…” The chant died out, blown away by the wind. Did he have her against the wall? On the floor?

“The wall,” Meri whispered to herself. That’s how she would want it. Against the wall, because she’d never had it there. Cam was definitely strong enough. Yes, he could put her back to the wall and fuck her silly, that hard, muscular ass pumping into her while she clung helplessly to him. Like a rag doll. Invaded. Overwhelmed. God, she wanted that. With someone who sounded like the man above her, not someone who caterwauled.

Her fingers slipped easily against her slick, swollen clit. Ohhh. Did the guy up there go down on his lady, by any chance? Out here with the wind and the waves and the moon and stars as witnesses, did he spread her open wide and lick and suck her? Was that what Meri had heard earlier? As her finger drew lazy circles on her clit, she dreamed of Cam’s mouth on it. Hot, wet, making her hotter and wetter. She would drip for him before he would take her. Yes.

This was so fucked up. But thinking it only made her burn more brightly. She wanted to bare her skin to the wind. She wanted to taste the salt of the ocean as the dark waters engulfed her naked body. She wanted the moon to cast her skin in silver light and black shadow.

And she wanted someone to share that with, to taste those shadows. It wasn’t so much to ask.

No longer lazy, no longer soft. She worked herself feverishly, building the ache, giving over to it, even allowing a whimper when the woman’s cries were high. Yes, he was getting her there. He was getting Meri there. So close. So close. Her pulse throbbed thickly throughout her entire body. Coming. The wave peaking, cresting, starting to curl deliciously in her belly…

“Cameron, Cameron! Oh yes, yes, yes…”

Meredith Taylor’s eyes shot open. Her orgasm burst inside her, wracking her with cruel, guilty pleasure, but her heart crashed and burned in a fiery death.

Cameron.

She’d been imagining him, but he’d really been there. Only not with her.