Fox (Bodhi Beach Book 1)

by SM Lumetta

  “God, yes,” he groans before his lips, body, and breath melt into mine. He pulls the covers down, exposing my naked breasts. When he gets his hands on them, he freezes and looks down as though he doesn’t believe what he feels. “Do you always sleep naked? I mean we end up that way, but in general?”

  My voice is breathy; I’m panting. The kiss he just interrupted was possibly one of the best I’ve ever had. It was hungry and ravenous, and I don’t think someone has ever made me feel so wanted in my entire life. I stare at him for a moment as if I don’t understand English. He clearly has no idea what he’s done to me.

  Focus, Fordham. “Uh, usually. Sometimes I leave the knickers on.”

  He remains still until he’s forced to breathe and his chest presses into mine. The subsequent friction makes my nipples tingle. His hips slowly thrust forward. The layers of fabric between us feel like tissue paper. I feel every inch of him, every ridge and curve, thanks to his slow cycle of movements. I barely stifle a moan.

  “How about tonight?”

  “Not a stitch,” I declare, looking him directly in the eyes.

  “Fucking hell,” he says in a raspy voice before turning the previous kiss into a distant memory.

  I will berate myself later for being so easily swayed and convince myself that I was totally railroaded. The truth is, however, that I am not upset in the least. Yes, the sex between us is good—amazing, even, but Fox is also a comfort to me. He’s always been. I have Nora as my backup, my go-to. She levels me, keeps me grounded. But Fox? He comforts me, makes it okay to be human. I’ve known him longer than any other friends I have so the trust I have in him is kind of staggering. And given the difficulty I’m having with being a failure at womanly crap, I’ll take the comfort—and pleasure—he offers. I’d like to think I give it, too.

  In the morning, Fox sneaks out early as we both agree to keep our “benefits” between us. Jonah and Rae emerge from the brief hibernation not long after I do, though I am the only one who thinks to start some coffee. As good as it is to get out there early for some of the best swells, I struggle with anything “morning person-y.” I need assistance.

  Fox comes out and I immediately think back to earlier when his face was between my breasts and his hips were in the vice of my thighs. I came superfast being on top that time, but it was not the last—or the first orgasm of the wee hours. A quick pinch on my ass brings me back to the present. I whip my head around and catch Fox’s wink. I shake my head and smile into my coffee cup. Rae works part time for a coffee company so she brought some premium stock with her. It smells wonderful and provides a nice mental space for all the thoughts and reasons for my lack of sleep.

  “Man, who did that?” Jonah asks, his eyes running over Fox’s back. “You got some scratches.”

  I freeze, thinking back. Did I scratch his back? That’s so cliché, isn’t it? Luckily, he has an excuse. “Flower nailed me when we were messing around yesterday,” he says casually. Nice.

  My eyes fly to his as I say, “What a bitch.”

  His eyes darken and I grin. There is some snickering and a comment from Jonah or maybe Rae, but nothing that penetrates the haze between Fox and me. I shake my head to cut the connection. We’re going surfing, for crying out loud.

  “Come on, kids,” Jonah calls as he walks toward the sliding doors. “I got the boards on the deck and I am ready to get in the pocket today!”

  He doesn’t wait for us, but we’re right behind him, slurping the dregs of our coffees and juice. I look out over the water and notice the swells look decent, nice for the first time back in the water in a while. Tomorrow we’ll head over to Rivermouth although Fox is keen to hit Willow Creek. It’s supposed to be rocky with lots of point breaks there, but I don’t think it will be as relaxing as I’d like.

  Fox closes the door behind us and we pick up our boards one by one and walk single file down the boardwalk path to the sand. Once we’re close, we each stab the sand with our boards and drop our towels over the chairs next to the walk. I pull my long-sleeve rash guard over my head. The water’s supposed to be warm enough that a wetsuit isn’t necessary, which makes me happy. I want to feel the water on my skin.

  Jonah drops a backpack on one of the chairs and digs out some surf wax quick humps bars. He throws them around to each of us and we all get busy prepping our boards.

  Fox sidles up to me, close enough to feel his body heat. “Nervous?” He knows it’s been awhile since I’ve picked up a wave.

  “No,” I say, still considering. “Maybe a bit. I wiped out pretty hard last time so I guess that’s in the back of my mind.”

  He presses his chest against my shoulder, wraps his arm around me, and curls his hand around my bicep. His fingers, slightly sticky with Sex Wax, catch the fabric of my rash guard. “You’re a confident surfer, Lollipop. You’ll be fine.”

  I look at him and raise an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

  He grins and I know what’s coming. “You know how to handle a stiff board.”

  “Sick pig,” I mutter, elbowing him away.

  “Well, you do,” he says under his breath.

  I turn and whisper, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  His wax bar drops into the sand in unison with his jaw.

  I smirk and walk away, yanking my board out of the sand on my way to the water. It’s a little chillier than I hoped, but I’ll get used to it quickly.

  Finally, I’m surrounded by cool, moving water and I am reminded of how much I love this. I regret waiting so long. I slip onto the board on my belly and start paddling out. My stomach flips a little when the first swell rolls under and behind me. Not from nerves, though. It’s excitement.

  Fox catches up to me after a few waves. “I see a good set coming,” he says, pointing out toward the horizon and left. “Race you?”

  I tilt my head to throw some side-eye his way. “Kicking your ass at Mortal Kombat last week wasn’t enough for you?”

  His smile discounts the scoffing noise he makes as we paddle like hell toward our waves. We laugh and taunt as we get closer to position. When I pop up on my board first, Fox curses. I nearly lose my footing because the victory turns into a bit of a flail, but I recover. I holler like a moron as I hold the wave as long as I can. When it pushes ahead of me, I sink spectacularly into the water. And by spectacularly, I mean belly flop.

  When I surface, I pull back up on my board and see that Fox caught the very next wave. Instead of chasing him, I wait to see how far he’ll go while I sit up and just float. I look around, checking for Jonah and Rae, but I get caught in the absolute beauty of this coastline. While I love Southern California, I have a feeling I’d be happily content if I moved north.

  Fox breaks into my daydream with a splash. Literally. In my face.

  “Ahh!” I scream, growling to myself as I rub my eyes. The sting from the saltwater is sharp. “You’re a dick, did you know?”

  His responding laughter is more than I need.

  “I think you just lost your benefits,” I tease, knowing it’s pure bullshit.

  “Oh really?” He knows it, too. “I guess you won’t be getting three orgasms tonight, then.”

  But I have a secret weapon. Or two. I hold up my right hand and extend two fingers. “I think I can manage at least one or two by myself.”

  His eyes lock on me, surprise and lust swirling around his irises, and a flash of heat corrupts my skin. That fire rolls over every inch of me like the water and sweat all over my body were gasoline. His expression darkens, hungry and feral. It’s like we’ve made some discovery akin to the fountain of youth, and we can’t stop going back. I guess it’s true that good sex makes you feel immortal, if only for a moment.

  “Is that so, Lollipop?” His voice is low, his board drifting closer. He also pops the p at the end of Lollipop. Because of course he does.

  “Absolute fact, my friend,” I say, ready to lower the boom. “And speaking of lollipops.” My voice either sounds sexy right now, or like I’m get
ting laryngitis. Let’s hope for the former. “I was thinking about treating you like one later.”

  There’s all sorts of catcalling, hooting, and hollering in the audience right now. Jesus, they’re alcoholics. They shouldn’t allow drinking in there.

  And that is when the tip of his board bumps into mine. “You lie,” he hisses, simultaneously hopeful and desperate.

  “Why would I lie to you, baby?” I ask with a tilt of my head and what I hope is the most flirtatious smile I’ve ever performed. And I do mean perform because I do not typically like to flirt. It feels disingenuous and pretty goddamn unnatural, at least the stereotypical bat-your-lashes kind of flirting. When I have partaken in the act, I feel like I’m kind of scary looking or mentally deficient, truth be told.

  His Adam’s apple bobs and his tongue flick over his lips. “No, I guess you wouldn’t, would you?”

  I smirk but don’t answer before flattening out on my board and swimming for the next set. With each dip of my arms in the water and each stroke pushing me forward, I increasingly wonder what the ever-loving fuck I am doing.

  After a long morning in the water, Rae cooks up some amazing stew and serves it with her own homemade bread.

  “Holy hell, lady!” I exclaim. “You baked this?”

  “I have a bread maker. It’s really not that complicated.”

  I marvel at my lack of serious kitchen expertise and shake my head. “How does anyone have time for that stuff?”

  “I just like to cook,” she says. “Otherwise, y’all would be having cold cheese sandwiches, I’m guessing.”

  “Mmm,” Jonah says as he reemerges from the shower, his floppy ginger locks slicked back and dark. “Cold cheese sandwiches.”

  Rae throws a crust of bread at him. “Yeah. Your favorite when I’m not home to feed your lazy punk ass.”

  He wraps his arms around her from behind, kissing his way around her long neck and chin. I’ve always thought she looked a bit like a dark-skinned Botticelli, specifically The Birth of Venus. Of course, her hair isn’t long like that; it’s a bouncy, curly mass. One that I’m super jealous of, but I have no doubt it would look ridiculous on me.

  “It’s a sad, lonely time,” Jonah says softly, more for her than anyone else in the room. “It’s just me, Brutus, and an overflowing drawer of cheese.”

  Brutus is their cat. He’s ten pounds and super fluffy. Jonah lives to say “Et tu, Brute?” to him. Every time I’ve ever been at his house, he says it at least once.

  Rae giggles and turns in his arms to kiss him. They continue talking quietly between the two of them. I ignore the weird urge I get to snuggle up to Fox. What is it about seeing couples being affectionate, intimate even, that makes you want to grab the nearest body and do the same? Not that Fox is just the nearest body. He’s—never mind. I don’t like where my mind is going.

  The audience grumbles. I tell them to shut their faces.

  We take our crazy awesome stew and eat on the patio. Aside from sounding like a choir of orgasms while we eat, we also manage to discuss the possibilities of a bonfire that night. The pit is huge, so of course Fox and Jonah want to make it look like a Viking sacrifice by the time we’re done.

  “The stars will dim and the s’mores will disappear in the blaze of glory we will create!” Jonah yells.

  Their manly verbal renderings leave Rae and I making faces at them, and I am compelled to remind them that we might not have the lumber for a scaffolding of such a sacrificial magnitude. They give me dirty looks and insist I will be the first to be offered up.

  “I offer up double middle fingers,” I say sincerely, said fingers on display. Rae chuckles.

  “I may have married you, darling,” Jonah says, “but I will not save you from the flames of Valhalla.”

  She narrows her eyes, pushing some of her tight curls behind one ear. “Good luck getting laid tonight.”

  Jonah looks legitimately concerned. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

  Regardless of my doubts, the fire they manage to build is, well, fucking huge. It’s quite likely that if there were a neighbor closer to us, they would have called the fire department by now. Any ships looking for a lighthouse will be ashore right before us at any moment. It feels that big. I’m sitting pretty far back, but I’m convinced my marshmallows will spontaneously combust just from the heat kicking off this fiery teepee.

  “Christ on a cracker, guys,” I say. “It’s like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. But in hell.”

  Everyone laughs at that, but Fox’s eyes are gleaming. He’s stupid proud of this and is very obviously logging away everything they did so that he can recreate this at his house—where he will almost certainly be ticketed, fined, and possibly arrested for it. He doesn’t even have a legal fire pit, for Chrissakes. Luckily the fire settles some, burning down a bit, so it’s not so much like a funeral pyre anymore, and I’m less afraid that we will be jailed because of it.

  I eat my weight in s’mores, but as it is with some desserts—thank goodness—I’m no fuller than I was before I started eating them. Just slightly nauseated, but not bloated, so there’s a bonus. Rae eventually passes out on one of the oversized lounge chairs we dragged off the deck. Jonah picks her up and carries her inside sometime before midnight.

  Once they’ve gone in, Fox not-so-stealthily joins me under my blanket on my chair.

  “Hi,” he says, grinning like a madman.

  I breathe strategically through my nose, trying to keep a straight face, but I lose—my smile tears across my face. “Hi. Can I help you with something?”

  “As a matter of fact,” he starts, lifting the blanket as if to show me something very particular I can help with.

  “You’re such a pervert,” I tell him, but the effect is ruined because I’m snickering. Goddammit, I sound like such a girl. Which is fine, of course, but I mean like girlie girl. One of his substanceless girls.

  “And that’s bad?”

  “I’m just making sure you know.”

  His teeth shine in the firelight. “Well aware, Lolls. It’s why we’re friends.”

  “No it’s not,” I argue playfully, turning toward him onto my side. “We’re friends because I’ve known you forever, so it’s kind of like a grandfather clause. You’re my friend no matter what, unless you pull something heinous enough that I can’t even look at you anymore.”

  He leans his head against the cushy back of the chair. “Like murder someone?” he offers, bugging out his eyes so he looks ridiculous. As if his sarcastic tone of voice wasn’t enough.

  “Pfft! Only if it was someone dear to me. Otherwise, I’d probably help you bury the body,” I say. “You know, good friends will bail you out, but only the best friends will be sitting in the jail cell next to you.”

  He makes a low throaty sound. “Christ, do you even know how hot that is?”

  That comment makes me laugh so hard I almost fall off the chair. Fox twists and grabs me, his hand conveniently landing on my ass. Not to mention, our bodies are flush and I’m now physically aware of what it is he wanted to get my help with. It’s kind of poking me in the belly, as a matter of fact.

  “Why is that funny?” he whispers, his mouth at my ear. I feel his lips tracing my neck. Immediately, my heartbeat picks up, heavily obvious in certain erogenous zones. A set of waves wallop the sand several yards away and I feel my pulse everywhere.

  Breathy, I tell him, “So covering up a murder with you is a turn-on? I think you’re a little twisted.”

  He turns his head to face me, our lips millimeters apart, our noses brushing. “I think you like me that way.”

  All I can do is breathe right then. It’s not like I don’t know where this is going, but ever since I woke up this morning, I’ve been doubting my decision to move into this so-called “benefits” situation. I agreed too easily, I know how Fox works. He doesn’t fall for the women he sleeps with. He doesn’t do commitment.

  Not that I want that from him. I don’t. Really
. I’m pretty damn sure… ish.

  Based on their rude and presumptuous commentary, I am forced to gag the audience.

  The gap in conversation is all the invitation Fox needs. My mouth is suddenly occupied, quite masterfully, in fact—I wasn’t kidding about his kissing expertise. He shames everyone else I’ve ever kissed.

  My leg lifts up and over his hip, but not by my own doing. Fox is somewhat crazed, pulling at me from every direction. “Should we go inside?” I suggest when his lips are suctioned to my neck.

  He detaches himself briefly enough to grunt, “No.”

  I huff. “Rae or Jonah could come out at any second.”

  “That’s part of the fun, though, right?” He pulls back to hold my face in his hands. “We got these great blankets, the most bodacious bonfire ever, and no one needs to go running for condoms!”

  I can’t help the peal of laughter. “You make an excellent point, sir,” I tease. My fingers leave his back and find the hem of my sweatshirt and tee underneath. I pull them both up, and Fox helps me out of them. From there, I’m not even sure how we get naked and remain under the blanket, but I’m going to chalk it up to luck if not crazy nimble skill.

  And then we are a mess of limbs, feeling and touching, groping and caressing. I bite his lip, he squeezes my ass. I grip his hair, he pins me to the chaise. It’s a veritable tit for tat. Or tit for tit. For dick. For—

  The audience removes their gags to groan. These are the jokes, people!

  “What are you doing?” I ask when his lips and tongue shift their attentions away and below my breasts. He moves lower, kissing my belly button and tracing it with the tip of his tongue. Finally, before I yank him up by the hair, he lifts his face to look at me.

  “I want to taste you.” All my blood rushes to the pussy pearl so fast, I think it might just explode before he gets there. I mean, I didn’t think about all the things we could do outside of the sex. The sex was the point, right? Can’t get pregnant from oral, so it never occurred. Now that our agreement has expanded, the possibilities are endless. Unless he suggests butt stuff. I mean, I’m always open to suggestion, but that’s just… I might need some significant material coaxing like, I don’t know, a house in Tahoe to pull out those stops. When I say nothing, he asks, “Please, Lolls. Can I?”