I let the red-hot water run over my body and scald my skin. I try not to think about her. I try to forget. But one brush of her memory and my want, need, and outlandish desire reacts.
I instinctively grab my swelling cock, the water streaming down my hair and over my face as I brace one hand against the wall. The inescapable memories invading—her big, brown eyes, her long, chestnut hair, the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts.
My mouth burns for just one more taste of her lips. The ones on her beautiful face, and the ones I never had a chance to become acquainted with between her thighs.
I bet she’s sweet. Forget bet, I know. I know she’s sweet. As sweet as the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.
I blindly took a bite, and now I'm damned in a solitude of hell.
I stroke my cock until it's painful. One kiss. One fucking kiss is all it took to completely destroy me. Destroy my concentration, my drive, and my interest in any other woman.
My muscles tighten like strangling vines as I squeeze my fingers around my pulsing shaft. I picture her mouth. Familiar with the feel of her soft, plump lips, I fantasize them wrapped around my cock. Fuck, it's too much. The simple thought. The X-rated visual. The inexplicable power she has over me. My air supply evaporates when I finally explode. My blood racing faster than a Formula One car, and my thoughts more sluggish than a snail.
I slump against the wall when it's all said and done, winded and pissed at myself I let it happen again. She gets to me every single time.
She’s under my skin.
Laced in my thoughts.
An ever-present shadow cast over my entire world.
2
Ty
I walk downthe beach with the ocean glittering in front of me. It's a warm June day, and I find myself at yet another marathon charity function. A surf competition today and gala tonight. My family’s company, Winters Travers, is a prominent developer on the East Coast. We're responsible for much of the beachfront redevelopment and new housing in dying and underpopulated areas. I’ve taken up residence in a small, coastal town in New Jersey that I'm personally overseeing the redevelopment of. Many of the locals were resistant to the change at first, Jenn being one of them, but as the area is growing, so is the economy. A year ago, no one would have ever considered holding a high-profile surf competition or gala in Surf City, but now it's an up-and-coming area families and young professionals are flocking to.
Saying hello to a few business associates as I make my way to the spectator area, I spot Chase and Jenn lounging on a checkered blanket watching one of the heats.
I drop my shoes into the sand and take a seat next to a shirtless Chase. He greets me warmly, bumping my fist. Jenn barely acknowledges my existence. I know we have a rocky past, but I really wish she would let bygones be bygones already. The cold shoulder is getting old. Not to be a dick, but if I had never come into her life, she wouldn't have Shane or Chase or a sparkly new restaurant that’s prime real estate on the oceanfront.
“When is Shane up?” I ask Chase as I scan my surroundings. Tons of people turned out today. A parade of food trucks are parked on the street, a line of mobile surf shops are set up near the announcer's area, and a mega bounce house and sand castle demonstration are occupying children of all ages farther down the beach.
“He should be up in a few. The competition just started.”Chase leans back on his elbows and laces his fingers with Jenn’s. I’ve known Chase since college. We attended Duke together and then both went on to law school. Once we graduated, I joined the family business and took Chase with me. He’s one of my right hands. Shane, who is currently sitting on his surf board several meters away from us chatting with other contestants, is my other. He looks to be in his element and every bit the surfer now as he was several years ago when I met him. Recruited him, actually. He’s responsible for many of the modern, clean designs of our buildings and housing developments. He has an incredible eye for detail, and with one look at his portfolio, I knew I had to have him on my payroll. Little did I know, I would be making a love connection with him and Chase in the process.
Jenn came into the picture a little over a year ago. When phase two of the beachfront project was approved, I moved Shane and Chase down south with me to get the logistics underway. Unbeknownst to me, they crossed paths with the biggest thorn in my side thefirst week they were in town. And to make matters worse, they went and fell in love with her.
I was in the process of trying to procure her dilapidated property, and she flat out refused to sell. It was a tug of war for months until I finally won out. Not in the most forthcoming of ways, but legal, nonetheless. She’s had a hard time looking past my little stunt ever since.
But business is business. I’m here to do a job, and I always execute. It's the Winters Travers way.
A horn blasts, and two surfers run into the ocean. They paddle out and for the next several minutes try to catch as many waves as possible in the timeframe allotted. New Jersey isn't known all too well for its surfing. The waves aren't huge like Hawaii or consistent like Cali, but on a good day, and on the right beach, they roll in large enough to ride. The show this morning is a pretty decent one. Two more heats go off before it's Shane’s turn. He goes head to head with a female surfer who gives him a run for his money.
He’s been talking about this competition for a month, and from where I'm sitting, he looks at ease on the board and takes advantage of every second in the water. When the heat ends, Jenn jumps up from the blanket and gallops down the beach in her little yellow bikini top and cut-off shorts to meet Shane, with Chase and I ambling behind her. She jumps into his arms just as he drops his board.
As we get closer to the shoreline, I catch a better look at Shane’s female competitor. My body breaks out into chills as she runs up the beach and her face comes into view. Long, drenched, chestnut hair sticks to her wetsuit, her cheeks are flushed, and her tanned skin is dewy with salt water. Simone jogs right by us with a white board under her arm, and every part of me follows behind her like a piece of dead metal under a magnet. It's undeniable and unstoppable, and my feet move faster than lightning before my brain can even process what I'm doing.
Fuck me. . .
3
Simone
I feel good.
Strong, confident, assured. The sun is beating down on my face, the sand is warm under my feet, and the air is fragrant with summer.
It's an immaculate moment.
