by Eric Asher
When she stands, popping the caps off and handing the bottles over, she doesn’t glance at the buyer. Her eyes are on me. Sweet Jesus, they’re the song of purity: warm, liquid brandy, with flecks of the golden sun demanding truth. For a second I’m speechless. This is the first time I’ve gotten close enough to speak to her, taking the last two days to stare from afar. Stalking really. But hey, I’m just a guy looking at a pretty girl. No, wait—a hot-as-fuck, sexy-as-sin woman. There’s nothing pure about my thoughts, and there hasn’t been since I first saw her.
“I’m not interested,” she says finally and her eyes move away.
“Aww, come on, I know it’s killing you.” I taunt, trying to engage her in conversation. Her glance in my direction is half frigid—leave me the hell alone—and half fire—I need to know. I’ve got her attention. It wouldn’t be unusual to know a bartender’s name, easily overheard by many shouting it out in passing. Not this girl. She doesn’t use her real name, so I know she’s curious.
Wiping the bar top down she makes her way back to me. Leaning in until our breath connects, her intense stare nearly brings me to my knees. I can smell her. The ocean breeze mixes with the warm hint of jasmine and I need to adjust myself before my cock slices through my jeans. Just as I’m about to speak she whispers, “Fuck off”. The side of her mouth lifts before she pushes away to answer a call for another drink. I like the view. Her ass sways in the barely-there Daisy Duke cut-offs she’s sporting with her bikini top. Laughter wells in my chest, and feels good coming out. Damn this girl is hot.
She’s arresting, and not in the typical drop-dead-gorgeous sense of the word. Her lips pout and are almost too full, but they’re not. Combine them with big, hopeful brown eyes and the slight upturn of her nose and she’s just right.
Just right for me.
I enjoy the way she works, fluid in her movement behind the bar, easy with the customers. Singing along with the music piping in over speakers, her voice is melodic, a temptation in and of itself. That and her smile, which is brighter than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, is enough for me to lie down at her feet and beg. I’ll plead for anything; talk to me, sing to me, touch me, fuck me. I'll take everything or anything. Throw me a bone.
I’m struck down by her laughter every time it flashes. It brings the night to heel and me along with it. There's something about her that calls to me on the most elemental level, fueling my need for this virtual stranger to be mine.
Two days ago, the need to escape my life was crippling. Day after day of constant travel wore me down. No matter how much I like what I do and whom I’m with, I needed time away. It’s a job, a fucking big one, but worth every hard-fought battle to get where I am today. This weekend brought about the first consecutive days I’ve had off in more than a year, and the need for separation too. I wanted a night of solitude, no one to watch after, and no one to talk too, just me, and a beer, with the ocean breeze rolling in—that was what brought me here to the beach and Faith.
Almost as soon as I’d settled into a lounge chair that first night, I’d seen her behind the bar. At the time I had no idea who she was, only that my body reacted instantly, blood pooling hot and needy in my cock. That hadn’t been so unusual; put a gorgeous girl in a bikini in front of me, and it was a natural reaction. Any other time I’d brush it off or get on it or in it, but fuck me, I couldn’t get her off my mind. Thoughts of her kept my dick hard and my mind running all night, brought me back yesterday, and here I am again today.
My boss forced me into it. Said she’s sick of me playing the martyr, sacrificing any hope of a personal life for my career. As astute as I have to be in my job to understand danger, she sensed my dejection and pushed me out the damn door. Now I’m sitting at the bar, closer than I’ve been on either night, watching every move Faith makes.
Part of my job is to investigate and ask questions, to know what’s happening around me and with those I protect. I started asking about her. I found the few locals who hang out on the beach, slurring their words, offering information easier than a dress coming off on prom night. With one phone call and a few minutes I had her name and that’s all I needed. But I got more. She’s hiding something; only someone with a past they want to forget runs away and begins using another name. It’s for her to tell, not for me to take, so I’ll leave it alone unless she shares it. But let’s be real—long conversations aren’t what I have in mind. Not with a body like that.
The sun is about to set. If the orange flames dying in the ocean are any indication, it’s not going down easy. Neither am I. Based on the last two nights and if I can trust her schedule will mirror them, her shift will end soon. I intend to go home with her. It’s time to make this happen.
“Faith,” I call, tapping my empty bottle on the counter. Without a word she bends over to grab one from the cooler, ass cheeks peeking out of the denim and my mouth waters. Her legs are a mile long. The only thing I can imagine is them wrapped around my waist as I fuck her, and she screams my name over and over again until she can’t speak. And then I’ll do it again.
“Hey.” She snaps her fingers in front of my eyes to get my attention, and she has it. “You want to start a tab?”
“No, I want to take you home. What time are you off?” I smile while lifting the beer to my mouth, taking a long drag and watching her mind reel from my question.
She eyes me up, starting with my hair that never really lies in place, especially at the beach. Bypassing my eyes, she stares at my mouth. “Not going to happen. About the tab?” she asks. The tip of my tongue glances over my bottom lip and I pretend it’s on her skin. Licking the ocean salt from her, then I’ll make my way to the rounded swell of her tits. Christ, this girl.
“Let me take you home.” I’ve never wanted someone like this. Her name is everywhere: whispered in the shadows, written in the sky, buried in the sand and clawing at my chest. Damn if I know why. It’s just there, and I’m done ignoring it.
“How do you know my name?”
“It’s my job to know who you are.” I smile again, hoping I don’t sound like a perv, but knowing it’s a good possibility.
“No one here knows it. How do you?” Faith’s golden-brown eyes meet mine and I’m speechless, struck by the perfect ripeness of her mouth. The fullness of her bottom lip is ready to be plucked and fucked, and I’m the man for the job. I want to turn that sweet thing into something dirty. Change the polite tone to sassing seductress. Touch her until she’s panting. Fuuucck, I need this girl.
“One night—that’s what I’m asking for. Give me all of you for just the night, only tonight. No strings, no expectations. We’ll walk away in the morning with memories of us.” I wait a minute, trying not to let my desperation show, to ease her into it, but my calm facade is failing.
“Faith, look at me.” When she does I continue, more demanding in my request, “I’m leaving in less than twenty-four hours and I want to spend every second I have left on this island with you. Take me home.”
Her eyes search mine and I see temptation swirling with doubt.
FAITH
“I don’t bring strangers into my bed,” I whisper, caught off-guard by him. I don’t even know his name.
“No worries. We won’t make it to bed,” he says in a tone as low as mine. The unexpected rough gravel of his voice rumbles in my belly, surprising a reaction from my body. His smile is seducing: Sex God meets Prince Charming, and I’m quite certain I could fall for his charms.
This man, with his crazy hair and clear eyes, excites me in a way no one has in a very long time. I’m sure he can see everything I’ve tried to hide and then some. His irises are almost devoid of color, cold ice on a clear day, yet they’re filled with fire as he stares into mine. They melt my heart and the pace of it accelerates with the intensity of the moment, along with my breath. I’m practically panting. What the fuck? Shaking my head to break the towline reeling me in, I begin to back away.
“You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m going home alone.”
Although I sought distance, I can’t take my eyes off of him. For the last two days, I’ve watched him from afar. He sat in the lounge chairs in the sand on Saturday and Sunday night, drinking beer. Women stared, some approached, but he never engaged with any of them. He spoke to a few locals, always short conversations, spent even less time on his phone and barely paid any attention to me—until tonight.
Pick-up lines and offers for sex aren’t unusual. They happen daily. Most of them are laughable and some downright disgusting. It comes along with the job. Work on the beach in a bikini and the offers come in droves. I’ve resisted them, but there’s something about this one. His bold request should be offensive.
It should be, but it’s not.
The attention and flattery felt from the singular request is empowering, bringing about my own bold thoughts and brazen responses. Why this man? Why now? I have no desire for a relationship, casual or not. My track record is poor, downright tragic. Everyone involved would be better off if I passed up his lurid advances, but there’s just something about him.
“Come here,” he whispers again. Damn if I can say no. Like a magnet I’m drawn in, moving until our breath mingles. His breath is heady from beer, sharpened and coming faster by the telltale signs of lust. He leans in further until the tip of my nose caresses his. Closing my eyes, I bask in the pure unadulterated heat of this moment, the steady draw of his breath working over my lips and mapping a path to the irrational part of my brain that wants to say yes,take me and make me feel everything but the past.
“I can see your pulse pound right here.” His voice reverberates against my mouth and I feel rather than see him move. The warmth of his tongue dips into the thrumming beat at the base of my neck. Shit. My breath speeds up again. I should ask him to stop, but something about him keeps me in place and I let him continue as he murmurs into my skin, warming a path to just behind my ear.
“Let me touch you everywhere.” He’s gentle until he nips the sensitive lobe, causing an involuntary gasp to part my lips. Taking it in, he sucks until the sting passes, bringing pleasure from pain.
It's wrong to allow this to happen yet it feels so right, and I don't stop his roaming mouth from hovering over my jaw. I haven't felt the heat of a man in so long. My skin aches for his touch and my body sings for the sweet relief he could bring. Flashes of what the firm grip of his fingers traveling over my body would feel like leaves an unexpected warmth to gather in my bikini bottoms. This is crazy. It’s been easy to turn away the countless men who’ve hit on me; I’ve been attracted to none of them until now. I’ve forgone physical contact and an emotional connection a part of me longs for. History is sure to repeat itself, leaving loneliness in the wake of pleasure derived from any man. This man included.
It’s time to stop the insanity, so I draw back. “You sound very close to begging.” Smiling to ease away from the moment, I wipe the bar down in front of him.
“I’m not opposed to it if it’ll help my cause.” His smirk causes my heart to pitter-patter like a schoolgirl in love for the first time. A ridiculous reaction, even if he is gorgeous. I let my eyes wander over lean muscle and his simple style, gray T-shirt stretched across a solid chest. I like what I see.
“You don’t strike me as someone who needs to beg to get the girl.”
“You’re right; I don’t. I always get what I want, Faith. And I want you.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Not this time. You can try to resist, but I’ll be in your bed before the night is through.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I can guarantee that won't happen.”
Our eyes connect and I’m sure he can see the determination in mine. His narrow, before he continues. “You sound sure of yourself.”
“For sure I’m sure. I never break my rules.”
He squares his shoulders and drops his eyes to half-mast. “Rules?”
“Three simple, hard and fast rules.”
“I can give you hard and fast, if that’s what you’re looking for. I can also break down any walls you’ve constructed in the guise of rules. If need be, I’ll break your bed too. ”
I roll my eyes and throw his smirk back at him. “Modesty becomes you.”
“I don’t need modesty when I have truth on my side.”
“What makes you so sure I want what you’re offering? I know nothing about you, not even your name.”
He tips his head and his ice-cold stare drives a shiver down my spine. Suddenly, I’m hot. A flush reaches across my chest and he bites his bottom lip while watching it spread into flames. When he finally talks, it takes a moment for him to drag his eyes away from my breasts to find mine.
“Maybe I’ll try another approach.” He clears his throat, sipping his beer to smooth out his voice. “Faith,” he says, and it worked. His tone is soft, but somewhat throaty, arousing in his deep delivery. “I’m Kyle Thomas Sommerton.” Reaching out, my hand automatically gravitates to his. He’s warm; his grip is hard. Strength flows through him and I sense there may be a bit of danger in the power simmering just below the surface.
“Born June first, 1983, my mother had a crazy crush on some guy named Magnum, so my middle name is driven from a T.V. P.I. with a porn-stache. My dad would have let her name me Marmaduke; he was just happy to have some testosterone in the house. After three girls he thought a boy would balance out the hormones, but I’m not so sure about that. I spent the first four years dressed up like a baby doll with bibs and ruffles.”
He’s talking fast, and I can’t help but smile as he clamps down on my hand and pulls me in. “To compensate, my dad bought me a lot of guns and I shot the shit out of their Barbies and anything pink. Mom called me a rogue cowboy until ten when my dad died in the line of duty. My fascination with guns continued, so she pushed me over to my granddad’s. He’s a philosopher. He’d fill me with stories and ideals on how to make this a better world.”
I giggle when he takes a second to drag in a breath and keeps going. “So that’s what I did. Make the world better, but not with words. I was a marine for two years past high school and I would have stayed, but the bullet in my side said otherwise. Damn fucking Afghan desert. When I got home I went in a different direction and it led me here. No wife, no kids, no girlfriend. I’m not one to mince words; you had to speak up in my family to get what you want. For me, right now, that’s you.” He smiles again, proud of himself.
I shake my head. He’s definitely all man with a boyish charm that’s endearing, but that doesn’t mean this is going anywhere. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a date.”
The smile fades and his brow furrows, “With who?”
I giggle at the hint of threat in his eyes and his rigid jaw. “No, offense, but it’s none of your business.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see a tourist approach, he’s wearing a God-awful shirt with a colorful parrot on it, buttoned up the front. No doubt he’s trying to reincarnate his Jimmy Buffet days in a bad way.
“How about another drink?” he asks.
Untangling my fingers from Kyle’s I nod to the customer who pulled up next to him. “Sure, what’re you having?”
His face is sunburned, painful red skin stretched taut over his chubby cheeks. “Ahhh . . . how about a Sex on the Beach?”
All levity is driven into the sand with the thought of Kyle’s hard body under mine. With a glance in his direction, I see Kyle’s nostrils flare and chest expand on a sharp inhale.
Under his breath he whispers, “I like sex on the beach.”
I roll my eyes and smile, pulling the vodka and schnapps from the shelves behind me.
“How’d you end up here, Faith?” Kyle waves around the Tiki Hut, the bar I’ve worked at for the last two years. It’s perched on a pristine beach, white sand, and the brilliant blue ocean folding out in front of it. Every night I watch the sunset slide into the horizon, closing another day. The small island off the coast of southern Florida is my refuge, the Tiki Hut
a haven to loose myself in the monotony of easy days. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a smooth wooden bar topped with a thatched roof, surrounded by sand and stools. Tables and lounge chairs sit alongside it, filled with patrons visiting the upscale, small island.
“I longed for the good life and it brought me here. Nights filled with Sex on the Beach and Screaming Orgasms.” I wink at Kyle, turning back to the customer with his bill. He's eyeing me up—actually, more like leering, after my comment—but I'm used to it. I can feel Kyle's eyes on me and I know he's checking me out too. Somehow his stare is different, welcomed with a thrill of knowledge. There's something between us: a hum of energy, a bizarre need, and a desire to break my rule and bring a stranger into my bed.
KYLE
I’m trying hard to ignore the Screaming Orgasms. The well of sexual retorts that comment lays foundation for is deep, yet I don’t want Red over here to get any ideas. He already can’t stop staring. Faith’s so beautiful; she’s hit on all the time, I know this. It makes it difficult to think of having her for one night and leaving in the morning. She’ll be alone again. “What time do you get out of here?” I ask, reminding her I want to go, too.
She hesitates a moment, her eyes catching mine, looking deep and searching. I can tell exactly when she finds what she’s looking for. Her vision clears and stiff shoulders relax. “About fifteen minutes. The guys are closing the bar so I can go out.”
Shit, we’re back to that. “Want some company?” I try a subtler approach, softening my request to that of a friend versus a potential lover.
“I’m not sure Mickey would like a tag-along.” Her eyes flash, along with her smile.
“Mickey? You’re going out with a mouse tonight?” I’m hopeful she’s joking around, and her date is with a Disney movie.
She stares at me as if I’m stupid, mouth hanging open, and I laugh.
“No, jackass. Mickey and I sing karaoke at O’Toole’s every Monday night. It’s a standing date.”
