I’m practicing writing something a little “steamy” for a contest. I decided Reed was an easy target for the scene.
“Nice view –”
Before I can finish my sentence he has one hand behind my head and the other on the small of my back. His mouth crushes against mine, needy with traces of the tequila we were shooting earlier.
I stumble back against the stucco exterior of the high-rise. I only had a moment to take in the Atlantic Ocean sprawled in front of the building before he had me up against the wall.
A voice in my head tells me to pull away, but I tell it to shut up. It’s been months since a man has touched me like this, and I’m kind of enjoying the sensation of his tongue plunging inside my mouth.
I let out a groan as he tugs on my long hair, pulling himself closer against me, if that’s possible.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, no trace of genuine concern in his voice.
“No,” I say, not recognizing my own voice, low and guttural.
Now I find it’s me putting a hand behind his head and pulling him closer.
It’s only seconds before his hand is under my shirt, making small circles on my back. It’s nearly a hundred degrees out but the goose bumps appear on my skin anyway.
Thoughts race through my head, the proverbial angel on one shoulder and devil on the other, making my dizzy. I pull away an inch or so. “I never do this,” I say.
He makes a grunt I assume was meant to assure me he believes me, but it doesn’t.
The hand that was drawing quick circles on my back is on my thigh now. I know its destination, and I’m surprised I have no desire to resist.
The roar of the ocean is in my ears, or maybe it’s my own heartbeat. It grows louder as his hand slips under the thin layer of lace that separates naked skin from his touch.
I stumble backwards, unable to maintain my balance on my three-inch wedge sandals.
“You okay?” he asks, stepping towards me like a vulture eyeing its prey.
I nod my head and breathlessly say, “Yes.”
The dim lighting on the balcony reveals he has sandy blonde hair. I could have sworn it was brown in the bar. How many tequila shots did I have? I knew I should have stuck to the chardonnay.
I don’t have time to take in anything more before he has me backed against the wall again. The stucco is clawing into my back but I feel no pain. Only his mouth on mine again.
His hands are on either side of my head on the wall, his body pressed to mine. The sensation of his growing excitement against the inside of my hip makes me tingle. The feeling of being wanted hypnotizing.
As his tongue searches my mouth with greater intensity, I slide my hands under his shirt, running them along his back. Muscles grow tense beneath the surface at my gentle touch.
“Maybe we should take this party inside,” he slurs, pulling away. His eyes are dark and vacant, void of emotion.
The reality of coming home from a seedy beach bar to this guy’s condo begins a dull ache in my head.
Pounding on the door inside interrupts before I can answer.
“Fuck,” he says, raking a hand through sweaty hair. “Must be Austin.”
Shit. I left Carrie at the bar with his brother, Austin. Now if only I could remember my guy’s name.
I follow him in the open sliding glass door, white linen curtains billowing in the sea breeze. What was his name? Another city in Texas, some weird thing their parents have about their native roots.
“Dude, what the hell? Where’d you two go?” Austin asks, barging through the door that’s been opened.
Dallas! That’s his name. I let out a sigh of relief as Carrie stumbles in the room behind Austin.
“What are you two kids up to?” Carrie asks with a wink before tripping over her own feet and collapsing onto the couch.
“I was just showing Reed the view,” Dallas says, returning to my side and putting an arm around my shoulder to pull me closer.
“Bartender gave me a six-pack,” Austin says, holding up the proof of his bounty. “We were headed to the beach. You two coming?”
Dallas looks to me, raising an eyebrow as if to throw the question to me.
Thrilled to have an excuse to slow things down, I say, “Sure.”
Dallas’ hand finds mine in the elevator and our fingers lace. The gesture is sweet, although it’s only been mere minutes since his hand was pulling aside my panties.
I grab the Bud Light Austin is handing me and take a generous swig.
My heart is still pounding from the memory of Dallas’ hands on my naked skin when we begin our walk down the boardwalk into the inky black night. There’s a new moon and the only light on the deserted beach comes from the condos now a hundred yards away.
Austin tosses the six-pack in the sand and begins chasing Carrie across the beach to the right.
“No,” Carrie squeals as Austin catches up to her. I hear her giggles but can’t see her once she collapses into the sand.
Dallas is pulling me in the opposite direction, and I let him lead me towards the crashing surf.
“I’m glad you came back with me,” he says.
I catch a playful look on his face as he turns to face me and the condos. The light plays on his chiseled features, perfect lines forming his jaw.
“Now, where were we?” he asks, circling his arms around me to pull me closer.
His touch makes my skin tingle, and I decide behaving oneself is overrated.
I grab the back of his head with one hand and smother his mouth with mine. This time I’m the one who’s needy, plunging my tongue deeper and harder.
His hand is tugging down the top of my dress, slipping between the lace of my bra and my bare skin. Chills race across my body as he caresses and then grabs my breast in his hand.
I run a hand under his shirt, over his stomach and around his waist. I can feel muscles tighten and twitch at my touch.
I let out a low groan as he cups my ass with both hands and pulls my hips against his. He’s hard against me, and I feel the warmth between my own legs growing.
I know what’s next, but I won’t be the one to make the move. I run a hand through the hair on the back of his head, grasping the curly strands as I kiss him harder.
A hand slips under my dress and tugs at the lace resting on one hip. Just as I think he’s going to pull them off, he slips a finger underneath and runs it along my hip bone, tracing his way to my stomach and back again. I have no control as I shudder beneath his touch.
I nearly pull away so I can open my mouth to tell him to take me, when I feel his whole body stiffen against mine.
“Shh,” he says. “Someone is coming.”
We both freeze as a flashlight sweeps the sand fifty yards away. It’s a guard from the condo.
The light turns back towards the boardwalk and disappears.
I can hear Dallas breathing heavy next to me and work to control my own breathing. A minute of silence passes between us as we watch the light reappear near the boardwalk and bob up and down as the guard retreats.
“Reed,” I hear Carrie hiss from somewhere nearby.
I squint and still can’t see Carrie in the darkness.
“Reed, wake up.”
I feel a hand on my shoulder and realize it’s not Dallas standing next to me. It’s Carrie.
Struggling to adjust to the light, I look around and I’m not on the beach. I’m in the condo we rented for Aubrey’s bachelorette weekend.
“Some night last night, huh?” Carrie gushes, plopping down next to me on the bed.
Still attempting to separate the here and now from my dream, I mumble, “Apparently. My head is killing me.”
“That boy was so cute! I can’t believe I got stuck with his dorky brother. But boy did you hit the jackpot!” Carrie is beaming at me, far too awake for how drunk I think we got the night before.
Looking around the room at the scattered shoes and clothes from last night, I try to remember coming back to the room. The last thing I can picture is being on the beach when the security guard came around.
“Did we get in trouble for being on the beach? I remember there was a guard . . . . “ I squint in Carrie’s direction, light filtering in through the blinds behind her.
“No, silly. Just sort of ruined the mood and we decided to come home.”
Good. That means I didn’t have a random one-night stand after all.
“The boys are supposed to meet us out tonight,” Carrie continues. “I’m kind of hoping Austin bails, but I’m sure Dallas will show up for you.”
“Crap. Did we invite them? Tonight is Aubrey’s bachelorette. She’ll kill us when she gets here.”
“She should have known better than to send the two single girls a night early,” Carrie says with a smile.
As if on cue the doorbell rings. I turn to the clock on the bedside table. Eleven forty-seven. The other girls were due by lunch.
Well, let the fun begin. Right after I find an Advil . . .or three.
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