On the Rocks

by Sawyer Bennett

Page 18

  “Warm me up, Hunter,” she says softly, and I lean in to kiss her on her temple.

  “Your wish is my command. ”

  I don’t waste any effort exploring the softness of the skin on her legs. I bring my hand down right to her center and run my finger up. She sucks in her breath and arches her hips.

  “You like that?” I whisper.

  “Mmmm. Hmmm. ”

  Tilting my head, I can see that her eyes are closed, her tongue peeking out between those full lips.

  I run my finger up and down her wet center, circling right where she needs me. Her h*ps starting gyrating in response and I go f**king hard as a rock within my wetsuit, which is slightly uncomfortable. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention and I see a middle-aged couple strolling down the beach, stopping every few feet to pick up seashells. They haven’t noticed us yet, but within a few more paces, they will.

  “You need to stop moving so much,” I tell her gently. “Someone’s coming. ”

  Gabby’s hand covers mine again, trying to stop my movements against her. “Stop for a second, Hunter,” she demands.

  “No f**king way,” I say, sinking a finger deep inside of her.

  She cries out softly and bucks her h*ps against my hand, causing me to laugh softly in her ear.

  “Better be still,” I warn her. “They’ll know if they look up here. ”

  I add another finger and she clamps her legs tight against me, trying to hold me still. It’s at this moment that the couple sees us, shooting us a friendly wave.

  I bring my unoccupied hand out from under the blanket and wave back, shouting good morning. At the same time, I’m pulling my fingers out and sinking them back in.

  A low groan comes out of Gabby’s mouth, but she holds her body perfectly still. I pump my fingers in and out, adding my thumb to rub up against her. Another couple comes from our left, glancing our way and then continuing on down the beach.

  The entire time, I slowly, tortuously, f**k Gabby with my fingers, murmuring for her to hold still as people continue to walk by.

  My girl does me proud and never moves a muscle. She does plenty of moaning and gasping, but the strollers are too far away to hear her. Finally, I feel her body stiffen and then start to shake as an orgasm tears through her. She bends her head down into the blanket to muffle her soft cries as they rip through her body.

  I hold on tight to her, keeping my fingers lodged within her heat. Every few seconds, I feel a tremor run through her and she squeezes reflexively against me.

  When her body finally quiets, I gently remove my hand and wrap my arms around her tight. Sticking my nose in her neck, I tell her, “That was just beautiful. Watching the sunrise with you and having you come on my hand. ”

  She turns her head toward me, leaning in to give me a kiss. “I want to do that more often,” she says with a smile.

  I grin at her. “I’ve turned my girl into an exhibitionist, huh?”

  “That was just intense,” she says in wonder. “Trying to keep still. I wonder if we could f**k out here and get away with it. ”

  I groan at the thought, leaning down and biting her shoulder. “You are so bad. ”

  “You led me down this path of sin and corruption,” she reminds me.

  “That I did,” I say with a soft laugh.

  The sun has risen completely from the water’s edge, yet I have no desire to go out there and surf. I’m completely content to just sit here with Gabby and watch the waves break without me riding them. It makes me wonder what that says about my desire to compete again.

  “They want me back on the Tour next year… my sponsors… my agent,” I tell her quietly.

  She turns her head to look at me briefly before gazing back out at the ocean. “What did you tell them?”

  “I haven’t told them anything other than I’d think about it. I was kind of wondering what you thought?”

  She’s quiet for a moment, but then she gives a little chuckle. “Remember when you were surfing in that amateur competition up at Jeanette’s Pier when you were like twelve… thirteen or something?”

  I’m surprised by her changing the subject. “The one where I sliced my head open?”

  “Yeah, I remember… rather than quit, you had your dad run you up to the urgent care clinic and stitch your head up. You made it back in time for your next heat. ”

  It’s my turn to chuckle now. “Thirty-two stitches. Dad thought I was nuts, and Mom was beside herself. ”

  “Yeah… but I thought it was the most amazing thing ever. Your dedication. You loved surfing and the competition so much, and you did whatever it took to get back out there. ”

  I’m silent for a moment, digesting what she’s saying. “So you think I should do it?”

  “I think if you still have that love for the sport, you have to go back. And I think if you do have that love for the sport, you’ll do whatever it takes to go back. ”

  “I don’t know what I feel for it. That’s the problem. ”

  “Well, how often do you think about it? Does it plague your thoughts?”

  I don’t answer, because I’m not sure Gabby is ready to hear the answer to those questions. Yes, I do think about it. Quite a bit. But it doesn’t plague my thoughts. No, Gabby plagues my thoughts, but surfing doesn’t.

  When I don’t give her an answer, she presses on. “Look, there’s no reason why you can’t go back. Brody can run Last Call. I know you think he needs you, but he can manage without you. There’s not a damn thing holding you here. ”

  There’s you, I think to myself, but I would never voice that aloud. Gabby doesn’t want to hear that, and frankly, that’s what I’m feeling right now. But will I feel that way next week? Next month? Next year when the Tour starts back up?

  I give Gabby a last squeeze. “I’m going to hit the surf. Think you can manage to get your shorts back on without me?”

  “I think I can suffer through it,” she says drily.

  After a quick kiss on the temple, I jump up from the blanket. Thank God my hard-on has subsided.

  I stand in front of her, pulling up the top half of my wetsuit while she shimmies slightly under the blanket to get her clothes back on.

  “So, you’ll stay the rest of the day with me? I don’t have to go into the bar at all today. ”

  “Sure. I’m going to stay out here and watch you a bit though. ”

  I reflect upon her lovely face for a moment. The sun is still casting orange and pink, and it makes her hazel eyes sparkle. She’s looking at me, her eyes wide and her head tilted slightly at an angle.

  I wonder what she feels for me. Is she still carrying around deep feelings, or did I crush them completely five years ago?

  Is this just sex to her, or does she want something more? By the mere fact that she doesn’t want anyone to know about us, I’m thinking this is just sex.

  I’m a dude though, and that should be perfectly fine by me, right?

  Right?

  Hmmm. I wish I knew for sure.

  13

  “So… have you given any more thought to telling Casey about you and Hunter?” Alyssa asks as we watch Casey get us another round of drinks at the bar.

  Casey stands in all of her full vixen glory, wearing a pair of designer jeans, a baby doll camisole, and peep-toe pumps. She has her hair up in a high ponytail with large hoop earrings glistening from the backlighting behind the bar. Every guy in the place, regardless of whether they are single or sitting with their significant other, is checking her out in some way.

  And she’s not oblivious to it all. No, Casey is very much aware of the affect she has on the male persuasion, as evidenced by the way she stands on the railing at the bottom of the bar, her elbows resting on the glossy wood and her ass sticking out.

  She says something to Brody as he makes our drinks, and he actually gives her a half smile. I can see him warming up more and more each day.

  Turning my attention back t
o Alyssa, I shake my head. “No… but I will. I’m just trying to figure out how. ”

  “Usually, opening your mouth and letting words come out works pretty well. ”

  I give her a ferocious glare. “Smart-ass. ”

  My eyes slide over to Hunter as he stands at the end of the bar, watching the crowd. He rarely works if he comes here at night, preferring to just be present and keep an eye on things. Brody has been managing the bar and the staff just fine, and it’s been a calculated move on Hunter’s part to give him that responsibility. It makes me wonder if he’s already started the grooming process on Brody, so he can make his escape back to the Tour.

  It’s crowded for a late-April, Monday night, which is great. Normally the heavy tourist season won’t start until after Memorial Day, but I expect Last Call is quite the novelty now that Hunter has taken it over and done a basic refurbish. He had to fire most of Salty’s old staff because they were lazy or skimming money, but his new staff is friendly—with the exception of Brody—and efficient. He replaced all the old booths because the leather was dried and cracked, and the Formica top tables went as well, replaced with heavy wood pieces.

  The last thing he did before reopening under the name Last Call was to redo the decor by taking down all of Salty’s lame-ass fish netting that he used to conceal cracks in the wall, repair the damage, and decorate with a surfing motif. Large photo prints of surfers riding Superbank in Australia, The Bubble in the Canary Islands, or Cloud Nine off Siargao Island hang on the walls, along with surfboards, surf shop prints, and plaques that said things like “If It Swells, Ride It,” and “No Waves, No Glory. ” A huge, life-size print of Hunter taken from inside a wave as it curled over him hung on the west wall, and I found myself staring at that just as often as I stared at him.

  He was glorious. His wet hair slapped across his forehead as he crouched on his board, aiming right at the photographer. His right arm stretched out, his fingers dragging through the wave as the barrel rolled over him. He was looking straight at the camera when the photo was snapped and, when I stared at it, it seemed like he was looking directly at me.

  It’s mesmerizing… just like Hunter himself.

  The only reason I’m here on a Monday night is because Hunter is here. Otherwise, I’d be at his house with him. He’d probably either be riding me hard or taking me slowly… you just never knew with Hunter. But he asked me to come out and hang here tonight because his buddy, John, would be showing up soon. He had flown into Raleigh and rented a car to drive in, and he and Hunter arranged to meet here and have a beer or two before heading home.

  I pointed out to Hunter that there was no need for me to come out. It’s not like we could really interact, at least not without giving away something. And I could certainly meet John another day.

  But he had insisted… telling me that even if he couldn’t touch me, he wanted to look at me. That warmed me straight through to my toes. Of course, he told me that this morning, just before he pinned me up against the wall of the shower and pushed himself into me from behind. Just the memory of that has me squeezing my legs together to ease the ache I’m feeling.

  Hunter slides his gaze around the room, his eyes coming to rest on mine. He stares at me hard, his eyes burning and needy. I have to swallow twice to get past the lump that is there, because the way he’s looking at me right now makes me feel like the most special and cherished individual in the entire world. It makes me want to stand on top of our table and shout out to the world, “Hunter Markham is mine. ”

  But I won’t, because even if that was something I had the freedom to proclaim, I’m too afraid that I’m not his and would never get the same sentiment back.

  Shaking my head from those morose thoughts, I tear my gaze away from Hunter and watch as Casey carries over our drinks. We decided to go with Bloody Marys this evening because Brody makes a damn spicy drink, and they are on special tonight.