Son of a Beach

by Kate Hunt

  Finally, unable to just sit there not talking, I say, “Well, this is some trick you’ve pulled, getting us this table.”

  “Not half bad, huh?”

  “If we were actually married, you’d sure as hell be getting laid tonight.” Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that to him. “I mean, if you were here with your real wife. If you were married. Not if you and I—”

  Travis laughs. “It’s okay. I get it.”

  Our waiter comes out with two glasses of champagne and wishes us a happy anniversary. After he leaves, I lift the glass up and start to bring it to my lips. Then I realize that Travis is holding his out, waiting for me to clink mine against his.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, and tip my glass to touch his.

  We both take a sip, then both set down our glasses. Travis’s eyes are on me now, focusing on me, like he’s trying to figure something out.

  “What?” I say.

  He settles back against his chair. Keeps studying me.

  Finally, he says, “Why do you hate me so much, Bree?”

  ”I…” I feel flustered. I didn’t expect this right now. “I don’t hate you, Travis. I just don’t like you.”

  “Why?”

  He really wants to get into this right now? Fine. We’ll get into it.

  “Look, no offense, but guys like you just get to me. I don’t like the way you operate.”

  “What do you mean, guys like me?”

  I sigh. “Seriously? You’re a playboy, Travis. You turn on the charm, sweet-talk a girl into sleeping with you, and then dump her. It’s like it’s your life’s mission to sleep with a girl in every city you travel to.”

  His jaw sets. “Who told you that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah. It matters. Because it’s not true. Who told you that bullshit?”

  I shrug. “A girl I work with. Lacey.”

  Travis exhales. “I should have known.”

  “Should have known what?”

  “Years ago, when we were in the same city, I went out on a date with Lacey. It wasn’t a bad date, but I knew I wasn’t interested in seeing her again, either. She didn’t take that so well. She kept texting me. Calling me. Trying to convince me that we belonged together. Eventually, when I didn’t respond to her, she stopped. I thought she’d finally moved past it. But apparently she hasn’t.”

  I gape at him. Honestly, it sounds crazy. On the other hand, Lacey is a pretty intense person, and now that I think about it, it’s a little odd how often she’s badmouthed Travis.

  “Okay,” I say slowly. “Well…even if all of that’s true, that doesn’t excuse the way you’ve acted toward me.”

  Travis frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…you used a wet wipe on the plane after we shook hands. You made that cocky comment about how Pole Island could be a big story for you. You—”

  “Bree.” He leans forward in his seat. “Okay, first of all, I cleaned off my hand because it was dirty from handling my luggage.”

  “Right…” God, he has a lie for everything.

  “I’m serious. If I could, I’d prove it to you. And as for that comment, I didn’t mean me. I meant you.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “I meant this could be a big story for you. You deserve recognition for your work. I’ve read all your pieces, and you’re an incredible writer. You should have won that travel writing award last year. Not me.”

  Is he being serious? Is this just…him being his charming playboy self?

  When I look into his eyes, though—when I really look into them—I know the answer.

  He’s not faking anything right now.

  Before I can say anything in response, the waiter comes over with our first dish, a little amuse-bouche that makes me feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. And then Travis and I are talking about the flavors, and then our next course is arriving, and pretty soon, it feels like everything he just said to me is no longer part of the conversation.

  I’m still thinking about it, though. I’m still processing it all. I was so convinced about Travis being a certain way, but now that I think back, it all feels so different. He seems so different. What does that mean, though? Does it just mean that I’m no longer going to grit my teeth when I see him?

  Or does it mean something more?

  I continue to wrestle with the question as our meal goes on. Delicious course after delicious course is brought over to our table. As we eat, Travis and I talk about writing, and work, and our favorite places we’ve traveled to. Our conversation is easy. It’s nice.

  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…I like talking to him.

  A lot.

  After the meal is over, as we’re leaving, Travis wraps an arm around my waist. I know it’s just to keep up appearances, but this time, I can’t help but bask in his touch. His hand is firm on my waist—strong, even possessive. And the placement of his hand…it’s not that low, but it’s definitely a little lower than it needs to be.

  He’s almost—almost—resting his hand on my ass.

  Outside, I wait for him to call for a taxi. Instead, Travis glances toward the beach.

  “Want to explore?” he asks.

  Does he mean for our articles? Or for our own enjoyment?

  I guess my answer is the same either way.

  “Sure,” I say.

  We make our way down to the beach, Travis’s hand no longer on my hip; it feels nuts to wish he was still holding me like that, but it’s how I feel. When we reach the sand, I pull off my heels and carry them as we walk. The sand is cool and soft beneath our feet, and moonlight is reflecting across the water.

  “God, it’s so beautiful out here,” I say.

  “I know,” says Travis. “It’s almost unreal.”

  We continue walking, and I find myself wishing that the beach went on forever. But it doesn’t, of course. Eventually we reach the end, and we stop.

  “Guess we better head back,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.

  When I look at Travis, though, he shakes his head.

  “Not yet,” he says.

  He slides a hand around my waist and pulls me closer to him. I draw in a breath as our bodies press together. Heat rushes through my veins.

  And then his lips are on mine, his kiss assertive but tender.

  “Travis…” I murmur.

  He pulls back. Frowns down at me. “No good?”

  “No. Very good. I just…I want you.” I don’t even know what I’m trying to tell him. I just feel like I need to say those words to him right now. I need him to know that this is something I want, too.

  “I want you, too,” Travis says. His voice is low, almost a growl. He dips his head and starts kissing me again, and this time, there’s a new heat between us. I press harder against him, and he slides his hand down to cup my ass.

  His other hand moves over my hip and down to the hem of my dress—and then moves beneath it.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, between kisses, as his hand moves up my inner thigh. By the time his fingers reach my panties, my breathing is hard. He hooks his fingertips around the elastic band of my panties and tugs, like he wants to tear them right off.

  I moan pleadingly into our kiss.

  Finally, he stops teasing me. He slides his fingers into my panties and finds my clit. I gasp as his thumb slides over my slickness, circling the exact perfect spot.

  Our kiss deepens as he strokes me. He swallows my moans, squeezes my ass tighter, applies more pressure to my clit. My thighs start to quiver. My breath comes faster, higher. It feels like I’m going to faint. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t, but I can.

  I’ve wanted him this whole time.

  I understand that now.

  As the orgasm sears through me, as I cry out against his kiss, I finally give in.

  6

  Travis

  So much for not getting involved with a rival travel writer.

  Fuck it, though. I want Bree too mu
ch to resist her any longer. And now that we’ve cleared up all those misunderstandings from earlier, there’s nothing getting in the way between us anymore.

  I know we were faking it back there at the restaurant, but it felt right, her as my wife.

  Bree looks up at me with her bright, beautiful eyes. Even in the dull moonlight, I can see how flushed her cheeks are from the orgasm I just gave her. I fucking loved feeling and hearing her come. I could easily get addicted to that.

  “Wow,” Bree murmurs. “That was…intense.”

  I kiss her sweet lips. “You’re so beautiful, Bree. Especially when you come.”

  Bree laughs. She moves her hands to my belt and traces a finger over the buckle. “What about when you come? Do you become even more handsome?”

  I smirk. “You think I’m handsome, huh?”

  “Actually, no. I take that back. You’re fucking hot, Travis.” She tugs on my belt. “Oh, God. I want you so much.”

  I kiss her neck. Jesus, her skin is soft. “You sure you want to do this here? We could go back to the hotel.”

  “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

  “No. Just checking.” I reach for the band of her panties again, and this time, I pull them down. “I don’t want you to yell at me later for making you fuck on the beach.”

  “Trust me. You’re not making me do anything.” She undoes my belt. Tugs down my zipper. Then, abruptly, she stops. “Do you have a condom?”

  “Mmhmm,” I murmur, still kissing her neck. I pull away only so that I can fish my wallet out of my slacks and produce the foil packet.

  “Thank God,” Bree sighs.

  I’ll admit it, though. As we fall to the sand—as we kiss and tear off our clothing and I pin her down and she wraps her soft, bare thighs around me—I wish I could enter her raw. I want to come inside her. I want to claim her and make her mine completely.

  Because this isn’t just a casual thing for me.

  I’ve fallen for Bree.

  But that will come later. There’s time. For now, the love glove goes on. Fisting my rock-hard cock, I deftly roll it on and lower myself between her gorgeous, curvy thighs. Bree’s naked skin gleams in the moonlight, every inch of her pure perfection.

  I dip my head to one of her breasts and close my mouth around her pebbled nipple. Bree gasps and pushes her tit against my mouth.

  “Travis,” she moans.

  I move to her other breast. Lick her other nipple. Gently bite down on it, eliciting another moan from her lips.

  “Travis…”

  I move my mouth to hers. Grin as I kiss her. “Yes?”

  “Fuck me.”

  “I was getting there.”

  “Travis,” she groans. “Please, goddamn it. Now.”

  “Are you always going to drive me this crazy?” I reach down, grab my cock, line myself up with her entrance. I push into her slick, tight heat. “Fuck, you’re wet, baby.”

  “Uh huh,” she squeaks out.

  I draw out and drive back into her, deeper this time. Then again, and again, until I’m filling her completely with every thrust.

  Beneath me, Bree is already breathing hard again. She digs her fingers into my back and looks up at me with glittering eyes, her mouth parted in disbelief.

  “I’m going to come,” she gasps. “I’m so close.”

  Her mouth opens wider as the orgasm swells in her. Her breath quickens and grows higher and higher, until she finally arches her back and cries out. I keep fucking her as she comes. Her pussy pulsing around me threatens to set me off, too, but I don’t want this to end.

  Not yet.

  I ease up a little as she comes down the other side. I move my hips slower. I luxuriate in each thrust. As she regains herself, she meets my gaze again, then slides her hands up to the back of my head and pulls me down to kiss her.

  “Come for me again, Bree,” I grunt.

  “I don’t know if I—”

  I increase my rhythm. Drive into her harder.

  “Oh—” Bree whimpers. “Oh, God—”

  This time, her thighs start to quiver around me. I claim her mouth again and we kiss deeper—feverishly, desperately—as I drive into her. I’m so fucking close I can hardly stand it. Jesus, how badly I want to tear off the condom and fuck her raw and—

  Bree cries out as I come inside of her, her entire body shaking against me uncontrollably. Our lips stay sealed together as the ecstasy washes over us.

  Eventually, she stops shaking. Eventually, we pull out of our kiss.

  A smile spreads across her lips.

  “You’re still inside me, Travis.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  She laughs. “No. But I think it’s going to kill me if you make me come again. At the very least, I need a breather.”

  I grin. I pull out of her. I kiss her—sweetly this time—and then help her up from the sand.

  “Think anyone saw us?” Bree says, looking up at the houses above the beach as we get dressed.

  “They’re lucky as hell if they did,” I say.

  “Oh, God. I’ve got so much sand in my hair,” she sighs.

  “I’ll help you wash it out,” I tell her, already thinking about sharing a shower with her. And a bed. “How much of a breather did you say you needed?”

  Bree gives me a teasing smile. “I didn’t.”

  7

  Bree

  The moment I wake, I stretch my arm out, expecting to feel Travis beside me. But my hand just lands on crumpled bed sheets. He’s not there anymore.

  Opening my eyes, I sit up in bed, still drowsy from sleep. Across the room, the door connecting our hotel rooms is open, and the sound of tapping keys is coming from the other side.

  After pulling a t-shirt over my head, I slide out of bed and stagger across the carpet. When I peer into Travis’s room, I see him sitting at the small desk in his boxers and nothing else, facing away from me as he types at his computer.

  “How long have you been up?” I ask, yawning.

  He turns around and grins when he sees me.

  “Not long.”

  “You know, if you’d waken me,” I say, crossing the room, “we could have had a little fun before you got to work.”

  Travis pulls me onto his lap and I yelp with joy. As we kiss each other good morning, I feel him harden beneath me, and my body buzzes with need. I still can’t believe how many times he made me come last night. I’ve never felt so good—so desired—before.

  “Hi,” I say softly, kissing him again.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says. Moments later, he’s inside of me, gripping onto my thighs as I slide up and down on his cock. I’m so lost in the moment that I don’t even think about the fact that he doesn’t have a condom on until after I come.

  He hasn’t come yet, though. Although by the look in his eyes, I can tell he’s close. I move off him and kneel down in front of his chair. Immediately, I take him into my mouth, sliding him in as deeply as I can.

  “Jesus, Bree,” Travis grunts. “Oh, fuck.”

  I suck him harder, savoring his mild sweetness. A few seconds later, he explodes, shooting warm cum down my throat. I swallow and wipe my lips clean. When I meet Travis’s eyes, he laughs and shakes his head.

  “That felt fucking amazing, Bree.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  He laughs again. As I stand up and straighten myself up, I glance at his computer screen and see that he’s working on his article.

  “What’s your angle?” I say. “Or am I not supposed to ask?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Depends. You gonna copy me?”

  “Yes, Travis,” I say dryly. “I just gave you a blow job so that I could steal your story idea.”

  “Well, hate to disappoint you, but so far, my piece is pretty bland. I’ve mostly just been writing out some descriptions of places while everything’s fresh in my head.”

  “Mmm. I see.”

  “You figure out yours yet?”

  I shrug. “I
t’s still coming together. I just know that I want my article to give people a truly genuine understanding of the island—at least, as much as you can get from reading an article. There’s so much richness here. The conflicting stories about how the island got its name, the old family-run businesses, the sleek new ones…it’s all of that put together that makes it such a special place.”

  “That’s lovely, Bree.”

  I grin. “Now don’t steal it, jackass.”

  “Never,” says Travis, pulling me toward him again.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting out on Travis’s balcony enjoying a big room-service breakfast: freshly squeezed juice, still-hot croissants, bacon and eggs, and a side serving of mixed tropical fruits. After breakfast, we compare our day’s schedules again, and I regret now that they don’t match up at all. If only we’d cleared the air earlier—then we could have explored the island together.

  Oh, well.

  At least neither of us has dinner plans tonight. We agree to meet up this evening, and I head back to my room. I get ready for the day, and say goodbye to Travis just before I leave.

  “Have a good one,” he says, leaning in to kiss me. “See you tonight.”

  “Can’t wait,” I say. I can’t believe how giddy I feel right now. But that’s the affect Travis has on me.

  On my own, I visit King’s Cloak Falls, where water cascades into a near-perfect circle of a pool. After that, I visit a bunch of the island’s beautiful beaches. Next, I tour the maritime museum, then eat lunch in a gorgeous old colonial hotel. In the afternoon, I drop by a small fishing village and seek out some more locals to interview. They tell me about how their ancestors hailed from Poland, which they believe is the origin of the name Pole Island.

  After making a few more stops, satisfied that I have enough material for my article, I ask my driver to take me back to the hotel. Just before we get there, I spy a beach bar and ask him to pull over there instead.

  I can tell even before I enter that it’s a genuine local hangout. It hadn’t been promoted to us by the tourist board, anyway. I feel my lips turn up into an anticipatory smile as I step through a beaded entranceway.