F3 Anything for Iris

"I'm gonna shower," Sierra announced, picking some clothing out of the dresser.

Cameron was about to joke if she needed any help, but felt he'd already pressed things way to far already. Not that he wouldn't love to help her, but that wasn't their agreement. "Take your time, I'm gonna check on our surveillance."

He had a powerful high-def camera targeted on the bungalow across the way. The resolution was enough that he could zoom in on any area, and read the cover of a book. Not quite newsprint legible definition, but more than enough for their needs. A parabolic reflector was aimed at the deck, while laser microphones targeted the bedroom and bath. He crossed the room and adjusted the optical receiver. Everything seemed to be working, and he set the system on auto.

Sitting at the laptop, he reviewed the data from their dive, putting it through a series of filters, analyzing the oxygen content, water flow rate, battery drain, Iris responses. All seemed to be within typical norms. He still had a nagging hunch that part of the euphoric feeling that each test resulted in was partially due to the high-oxygen content of the rebreather, or some similar effect of the scrubbed gasses. He was tempted to put the max batteries into the system, allowing a 2.5 hour swim, and see if there was any change. Sixty minutes was still their max test, but sooner or later they'd have to check out longer duration dives, and empty the batteries to the point where the artificial gills shut down, until they were reliant on the spare oxygen tank. They didn't have enough mini-tanks to do that more than once.

"Presentable?" Cameron heard from behind. He turned and gave his 'wife' a wolf whistle. "Gorgeous, Sierra. You really need to wear dresses more often. You'd scare the hell out of the guys in the lab."

She blushed at his teasing. "Your turn. Our friends show up yet?"

"Not a sign of them. I thought they were supposed to be here before dinner. I hope we don't lose a day."

Sierra walked past him, looking at the computer display. "Air traffic can be a tricky thing. It's still barely 3:00 o'clock, but I'm regretting skipping lunch. Get cleaned up, and let's see if we can't get fed somewhere."

As soon as he was out of the chair, Sierra was seated, doing her own analysis, checking out Iris's voice recognition accuracy. Near perfect, of course, but both Cam and she were the voice standards. She only hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux didn't stray much from the baseline. She realized that if they could catch the couple speaking on the deck, she could record their voices and 'train' Iris with them, minimizing last minute voice practice.

With the data verified, she retreated to the open deck to relax. Her second glass of champagne, and she was already feeling a buzz. The situation probably had something to do with her giddy feeling. It really was paradise. No bugs, ideal weather, warm water, and the gorgeous scenery. It was more than she could have imagined. Her first time out of the country, and it was to the Maldives, at a luxury resort. She had to hand it to Cam, if you were going to risk it all, why not do it in style?

She looked over in the direction of the corner bathroom, and was surprised to see he'd opted for using the bathtub. The tub was conspicuously located at the edge of the bathroom, surrounded on three sides by floor to ceiling windows. She watched as he stood up, the water dripping off his naked form, giving her a good view of his backside. She giggled, wondering if any of the suites across the way were getting the full Monty.

"Not bad," she murmured to herself, checking out his tight butt, and muscular back.

She reached down and adjusted her panties, where they crept up her crack. She had no idea what had driven her to wear a thong. She'd never liked them. Uncomfortable as hell. Yet her simple sundress practically screamed at her to wear one. She'd almost dredged up the courage to go braless. Almost.

"It'll do," she heard a powerful voice echo across the water. She was surprised how well it carried. She looked over, and started scrambling. Target acquisition, the Devereaux's had landed.

She tested the parabolic mic and found the gain too high. She turned it down, and listened in.

"What do you think," the man's voice from earlier spoke.

"It's not the Waldorf, but it's not bad," a soft, sultry voice answered. Sierra's hand automatically went to the amplifier, adjusting the equalizer.

"What's up?" Cameron's voice boomed from behind her. She glanced up and her heart leapt into her throat, when she saw the faces on the far deck turn their way. The zoom on the display instantly captured a look of distaste.

"You, I hope," she said loudly.

She bounded out of the chair, turning and leaping into his arms. He caught her before he could be bowled over, and trembled when her lips settled over his. She kissed him hard, her eyes open, staring into his, a look of... fear?

He pushed her face away. "What the-"

Her hand was over his mouth cutting him off. He felt her lips against his ear. "They're here. On the deck. They can hear everything we say. Sound carries like mad across the water."

Cameron leaned his head to the side, sliding his lips over hers, kissing her softly, while peeking over her shoulder. Sure enough. Alan Devereaux, in the flesh, gazing their way, his wife Janine tucked under his arm. The couple stood at the railing, openly watching them.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He felt the air across his body. He'd dropped his towel when Sierra had surprised him. Here he was naked as the day he was born, standing with a hard-on, in front of their last hope. His mind was clicking away, while his mouth stayed connected to Sierra's, gaining a few moments to think.

He looked again, and was surprised to see that Janine was standing in front of Devereux, his arms draped around her, his hands on her chest, while they both watched intently.

Cameron reached up and grabbed the zipper at the top of her dress in back, and pulled it down. He almost stopped when Sierra bit his lip. "Stop!" she hissed.

"They're watching. Please go along just a bit. Trust me, Sy."

Sierra trembled, as the zipper slid down her back. Then she felt it falling, leaving her exposed, standing in the open, in only her bra and panties. Not even panties, for that matter. That stupid thong.

She had her head tucked into his shoulder, mortified. The way he was exposing her. She was having difficulty breathing. She could feel their eyes on her, looking, judging. Taking in her skinny boy-butt. Sierra gasped as Cameron's hand slid down her body, caressing her flesh. She moaned, unable to prevent it. She was burning up, her nipples diamond hard, trying to tear their way through her sheer bra.

"Please," she whimpered.

"Beg me," Cameron pronounced loudly, looking across the way. Janine Devereaux was topless, leaning into her husband's hands.

"Cam, please, please!"

He laughed, and scooped her into his arms, as if she was weightless. "Wave to the neighbors beautiful," he told her.

She was shaking, heart racing, face flushed. She'd never been so embarrassed, nor so excited. She was afraid they could smell her excitement from across the water. She lifted a hand and waved, head turned away in shame. She didn't see Alan Devereaux's cheerful wave back, but Cameron did.

Sierra was helpless and she knew it. She was all but naked and she could feel Cameron's hardness pressed against her hip. She moaned, turning her head, kissing his chest, as he carried her to the bed, their bed. She shivered, wondering how he'd be. Impersonal, like the lab, playful, like they were during the sea test, intimate, powerful, dominant, demanding. Which Cameron would it be?

She was on her back, raising her hips, waiting for him to strip off that damned thong. She opened her eyes, and saw him sit beside her, draping a towel over her exposed body. He leaned into her, holding her softly, his faint words butterfly kisses against her ear. "I'm so sorry, Sierra. They were watching. We're supposed to be newlyweds. I didn't know what else to do."

Do? she thought. He should have... She trembled, gasping, at the thoughts that ran through her mind. Surely, she didn't want, not like that, not in front of them. Not with him.

Cameron, held her gently. "I'm sorry, Sy. I'm sorry."

Part of her wanted to roll into his embrace, let him calm her, forgive him for exposing her like that. Another part wanted to slap him, while another, the scariest, wanted to deride him for not being man enough to see what she wanted. Needed.

She needed to take back control. She couldn't collapse like this. Not in front of him. She pushed him away. "What are we supposed to be doing in here?" She asked softly, glancing in the direction of the Devereaux's suite.

It was her turn to watch him blush. She glared at him. "Grab that chair and sit. Don't move," she hissed.

As he moved off the bed, pulling over the chair, and sitting on it, she noticed he'd lost his hardness for her.

That wouldn't do.

She moaned loudly, "Ohhh, baby." She reached under the towel covering her, and removed her bra, pulling it out from the oversized beach towel, and throwing it in Cam's direction.

"That's it. Suck my titties, baby. Yessss!" she groaned loudly, her hands moving under the towel, the action obvious to Cameron, where the cotton cloth tented over her chest.

He wasn't the only one that could put on a show.

"Bite it. Don't be gentle. Claim me. For always." She pinched her own nipple hard, gasping, crying out softly.

She opened her eyes, and caught Cameron stroking his new erection. She glared at him, mouthing a harsh "No!" He pulled his hands away, and she smiled. She was back in control. She'd teach that bastard to use her like that. Expose her. Get her worked up and leave her hanging? Let's see how he liked it.

"I need it Cam, baby. Inside me, stretching me," she cried out. "Don't make me beg again. Please. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me." She gazed down at his erection. Not huge, but definitely above average. Not that she was surprised. As if there was anything average about Cameron Riddle.

Her hands pulled her soaked thong aside, rubbing her wetness, teasing herself, just like she was teasing him, torturing him. Punishing him for exposing her like that. For getting her worked up, and leaving her high and dry.

Well, maybe not that dry.

"Whatever you want, I swear, just fuck me. Fuck me!" she cried out.

She shrieked, knowing she'd be heard in every suite up and down the walkway. She closed her eyes, imagining Cameron on top of her, seconds after they'd left the balcony, in her moment of weakness. He could have had her then, she couldn't have stopped him. Wouldn't have. Sierra slid two fingers into her depths, crying out, moaning loudly.

"Like that, Fuck me, you animal!" she groaned. "Beast."

Frustrated, she brought up her knees, and tore off her thong, throwing it across the room. Heedless that the towel barely covered her waist, her tiny tits exposed to his view, her nipples standing tall, one leg free of the towel, exposed to the hip.

"Fuck me, Cam," she groaned. "Fuck me, fuck me. FUCK. ME!"

She closed her eyes, leaning back into the pillow, both hands working now, one rubbing, one probing, the wet sound of her own desperate desire the only sound in the room, beside her heavy breathing and groans.

She fell into a rhythm, her actions interspersed with loud moans, and abjurations to give it to her harder, deeper, faster. On and on she abused herself, time drifting away, her surroundings no longer relevant.

Sierra's moans grew in intensity, the burning feeling blocking out everything. Her legs hurt from being too tense for so long. Her hips were bouncing off the bed. She wanted to come, needed to come, needed it so bad. She strained, crying in her need, shaking.

"Come, Sy. Come for me."

She opened her eyes, seeing him beside her. He adjusted the towel to cover her, providing that littlest remaining shred of privacy. "Come, baby. Come for me."

His voice was stronger than necessary, putting on a show, but his gaze, his eyes locked on hers, his hand moving up and down his turgid staff, proved it was more than that. His other hand caressed her cheek, burning where it touched.

Sierra was going crazy, her fingers a blur, but the ending was just out of reach. She groaned, tears of frustration flooding her eyes. "I... I can't." She couldn't believe her own words when she gasped, "Help me?"

His stare pierced her. He lay down beside her, and she moaned when his hand left his cock and slid under the towel. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her near hand free, her fingers soaked in her juices. He brought them upward, staring into her eyes, as he smelled them, breathing in deeply. She felt his hardness pressed against her thigh, rubbing against her, searing her sensitive skin. She felt a wetness, sliding against her hip, and sensed his desperate need.

"Come for me, Sierra, my beautiful wife," he whispered, only for her. His mouth opened, sliding her fingers between his lips. Sucking.

Sierra felt the jolt through her spine. She screamed, her hips reaching for the ceiling, the towel cast aside, her hand clutching between her legs, trying to stem the flood. Her body shook, and she clutched at him as he took her in his arms, holding her tightly, his hand caressing her, possessing her. She cried out again, feeling his warm juices bathing her hip, where he ground his hard cock against her. The stifled whimper that leaked from his lips set her world on fire.

His arms, his chest, his smell, that was her world, and she wanted nothing to interfere with it. Time ceased to exist in her isolated fantasy world, where she was his, without restraint, without remorse. She felt movement, shifting, as her lips pressed against his chest. She curled up tighter, a little naked ball in his powerful arms. His calm caresses slowly opened her up. She let her knees edge away from her belly, for the moment embarrassed at how exposed she must have been, curled up like that. She looked up at him and saw his concerned face. It blocked out the sky, and she realized they were out on the deck. It took her a few moments to get her bearings, and she was thankful her head was pointed toward the Devereaux's suite.

"Are they..." she whispered.

"Yes. Enthralled. You're one hell of a woman, Mrs. Riddle."

She curled up tighter, leaning against him, both terrified and satisfied.

"I'm embarrassed," she whispered, her finger tracing patterns on his chest.

"I know. It's ok." His hand brushed back her hair, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you inside and taken care of."

He stood, holding her easily, and returned inside without a glance at the other suite.

Cam was gentle with her, placing her on the bed, and covering her with one of the oversized towels. He brushed her hair back, grinning at her. "I think they'll accept our cover now."

Sierra felt awkward and nervous. She was naked and extremely embarrassed over her performance. "Can you give me a minute alone, Cam?"

He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. "Take as long as you need. We'll get something to eat if that's alright. Dinner should be starting shortly, and I'll call and get us a seat at Velhi. I think a quiet evening away from the buffet would be best."

Sierra only then realized he was still nude. He stopped by his dresser, slipped on a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt before disappearing into the bathroom. She heard the bathtub filling, before he returned.

"The bath is heavenly. I've run the water for you. When you're ready, I'll be out on the deck."

A twenty minute soak had her feeling a little more in control of her situation. She reclined amid the bubbles and bath oils, staring out through the window at the distant suites. In a moment of nervousness, she looked back through the window toward the balcony, but could only see the back and side of Cam's head, where he appeared to be relaxing in the nearest lounge chair. She still couldn't believe her behavior, blaming it on the situation, the excitement of Iris's testing going so well, the champagne, and the atmosphere of the place.

"What must he think of me?" she wondered, as she dried off, tying her hair back in a simple pony-tail.

Sierra was not one to wear makeup, but she applied a little lipstick and perfume. She found her dress, which she'd worn for a short while earlier, laid out on the bed, along with her thong. Her bra was notably absent. Sandals were placed at the foot of the bed.

She grinned. Cocky son-of-a-bitch, picking out her wardrobe. She was tempted to ignore it, but she knew that would let him know he was getting to her. She swapped out the sandals for a different pair, but stuck with his choice of clothing. She was surprised she didn't feel more awkward, dressing in the bedroom, which was open to the deck. All he had to do was turn his head to see her.

"Not like that would be anything new, now," she thought, adjusting her dress. She looked in the mirror, trying to decide if she really dared go out without a bra. Her breasts were small, admittedly, barely a B cup, but her nipples were large and sensitive. They were already hardening from feeling the soft material brush against them.

"Hell, I'm a honeymooner, right? Newlywed?" She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. "If the guys in the lab could see me now..."

She walked out on the deck, and Cam nearly fell over, jumping out of the chair. He gave an instinctive look across the water, where she could hear a gentle rumble of muted conversation, but nobody was visible.

"Damn, you clean up nice, Sy. You're stunning."

She walked up to him, offering her cheek for a kiss. "Nobody's watching. You don't have to suck up."

Cam grabbed her chin, and turned her face forward, kissing her on the lips. Nothing too egregious, but nice, nonetheless. "Honest to God, Sierra. You're gorgeous. Every man on the island's going to be jealous of me."

She blushed, and was surprised to find her hand sliding up his side in appreciation. "You dress down nice. You should go casual more often. Dress suits and wet suits are all I ever see you in."

"No suits on this trip," he told her, his hands nearly encircling her narrow waist. "Shall we go? If you'd rather, we could have food brought in."

She shook her head. "I think we need to make an appearance. Make it look right. We're around, but not interested in socializing."

"Works for me." He put his arm around her waist, guiding her out the door, onto the long wooden dock that connected the suites to the main island. Once out the door, he slid his hand down to hers.

"For show?" she teased, wiggling her hand in his.

"If you insist," he said softly. "Iris was perfect today."

"Unbelievable. I know we had updated the marine charts and marine life tables, but I didn't expect that!" she exclaimed, leaning into him.

His hand casually released hers, his arm rising up her back, his hand warm on her bare shoulder. "Not one miss. We must have seen 40 different types of marine life, and she nailed them all."

"Thirty nine fish, two sharks, and 22 types of coral and plants," she corrected him.

"I didn't think it was possible. I mean, seriously, the interpretation from a photo to the real thing? I was praying for a 50/50 hit rate."

She giggled. "You think so little of me?"

Sierra was surprised when he stopped abruptly, turning her and pulling her into his arms. "Hardly. You are without a doubt the most exceptional woman I've ever met, and a genius with your AI."

She braced herself for the kiss, when his face lowered toward hers. His lips glided past her mouth, brushing her cheek along the way. "We have an audience," he whispered, nibbling her ear. "At the concierge area."