by K. L. Savage
I’ll be swinging my bat until their heads come clean off.
My bats are special and not expensive. I also do something different with them than other people do.
I add nails through the body, and I’ll replace the bat when the nails eventually fall out, which happens after I swing it one too many times.
“Does this come in more colors?” The words are deep and husky. The sick part of me wants one for myself so I can wrap it around my cock and stroke myself while I think of her wearing it.
“You don’t like that color? It’s black. You like black, right?” she sounds so unsure as she holds the clothes to her chest.
“You got this for me?” the animalistic rumble in my throat has her eyes rounding to moons.
“Um, yes?” She toes the ground.
“I want this suit in every color. Where did you get it?”
She points to the rack behind me, and I snarl as I hurriedly finger through the rack, grabbing every color I see. Pink. Green. Yellow. Orange. Neon colors too.
And then there aren’t anymore.
Why am I so sad about this?
“Whistler, that’s so many swimsuits. I don’t even know if I’ll ever have the courage to wear something like that.”
“And when you do, I’m going to pull up a chair and watch you spin around for me because Cupcake, this is the kind of swimsuit that brings a man to his knees. You get that, right?”
She stays quiet for a minute, and I take the opportunity to walk her to the fitting room. I slide the curtain aside, drop all the swimsuits on the bench and stalk out, dragging a chair from the room next to us and plop it right in front of Charlie’s so I don’t miss one outfit.
“Will it bring you to your knees?”
“What, Cupcake?”
“The swimsuit. Will it bring you to your knees?”
Christ, this woman is going to be the death of me.
I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees as she pinches the red curtain between her fingers, staring at the frayed seam. “Charlie, I haven’t even seen you wearing it and I’m on my knees for you. Hell, I’m crawling for you, Charlie. Whether you get the swimsuits or not, I’m a fucking goner.” I might as well answer honestly, right?
I’d crawl over broken glass and burning coals just to have one glance at her.
“You’re so…”
Intense? Passionate? A bit obsessive?
I know.
“Amazing,” she finishes and slides the curtain shut.
Amazing, huh? Well, I’m not the kind of man who blushes but I’m a damn goner right now and the blood is rushing to my cheeks.
She’s reaping all kinds of havoc on my self-control.
The curtain parts and she’s standing there, arms stretched to either side of the wall as she poses. She’s in a simple dress to cover up her bikini. The straw hat she has on her head is huge and floppy. The sunglasses she has on are way too big for her face. To make them even more perfect for her, they are baby pink and shaped like hearts. She blows me a kiss and I catch it, stuffing it in my pocket.
She lifts the dress up and gives me a quick flash of the simple neon green bikini that I love. I can’t wait to peel it off her, but before I can look too long, she drops the hem of the dress and shuts the curtain.
“What do you think?” she asks me, wearing the tenth bathing suit she’s tried on. It’s bright red and she’s paired it with a floppy white hat that says ‘Beach Bum’ in black cursive letters and black sunglasses in the shape of lips to match.
Her style is so fun and loud. I can see just how much Kenneth was suppressing her by making her wear dresses and those ankle breakers called wedges.
“I think you look foxy, Cupcake.”
She claps her hands excitedly and jumps up and down. My eyes focus on her tits as they bounce from the movement.
Perfection.
“Hey,” she snaps her fingers in front of my face, “my eyes are up here.”
“You sure? Cause these were staring right at me,” I tease.
She giggles and the rings holding the curtain scratch along the metal rod as she shuts it. “Okay, last one.”
I readjust my erection, situating it to the left, and exhale when the pressure of the zipper is no longer pressing against my shaft. I’ve been hard for the last four hours. Doesn’t that mean I need to see a doctor?
Or shower…
“I need your help,” she says. “I can’t tie it in the back.”
No need to ask me twice.
I stand and look behind me to make sure the sales associate isn’t staring at me, and I slip by the curtain. I come to a standstill when I see her standing there in the black bikini I love so much. The cut down the middle stops at her navel, showing the fullness of her tits. She gives a shaky, timid spin and the thong of the bikini is settled between her cheeks, but I can also see a faint outline of her underwear underneath too. Good. Didn’t want her trying on stuff other people have without washing it.
Her ass is something men have fought and killed over. I clench my fists to stop myself from reaching out or worse, slamming her against the wall, pulling her swimsuit to the side, and fucking her raw until she’s screaming my name.
“Do you like it?”
She didn’t need my help at all. Charlie wanted us to have privacy because she knew how much I’d like it.
“No.”
Her shoulders slump.
“I fucking love it, and I’m going to leave because I’m too close to ripping it off you and fucking you against that wall.” I point to the wall across from her that has a metal hook in the middle holding the outfits that she likes.
“Oh.” Her lips make a cute O shape.
“Yeah, oh. And you’re getting all of them because there will be a day where I fuck you against a wall. It just won’t be this one.” I press a hand over my cock and her eyes drop between my legs. I snap my fingers, taking a page from her book, and say, “My eyes are up here Cupcake.” But I give her another once over, grunting a frustrated noise from not being able to touch her, and force myself to leave.
“Excuse me, Sir? Only one person allowed in the fitting rooms,” the associate says, her high-pitched nasally voice grating my nerves.
I sit down and don’t bother to hide the effect my woman has on me. “Sorry. She needed help with her thong.”
“Whistler!” Charlie scolds me from the fitting room, and I give a cheeky smile to the sales associate.
The annoying saleswoman who causes my erection to flag opens and closes her mouth and fiddles with her mousey brown hair before scurrying away. I give her a four-finger wave, a simple toodaloo.
When Charlie comes out, she’s wearing a new green flowy dress and by the looks of her hard nipples, she isn’t wearing a bra, and my mind comes to the conclusion of no bottoms either.
Out. To. Kill. Me.
“Hey, Sexy Cupcake,” I greet her with a low rumble, staring at her perky tits.
“Cupcakes aren’t sexy.”
“You obviously haven’t seen yourself.”
She shakes her head, but a small smile plays on her lips. She spreads my knees apart to stand in the middle between my leg and she runs her fingers through my hair. I hum in delight from her touch and close my eyes, enjoying her fully. She’s coming to me, touching me, needing me…
Nothing has ever made me feel better.
“You have everything you want, Cupcake?”
“What can I get from everything?”
“All of it.”
“Whistler, that’s too much. I didn’t expect us to get all of that.”
I slide my palms under her jaw, and she flinches but doesn’t pull away. “You can get all of it. I want you to. We are going to be here for as long as possible before I have no choice but to go back. And we can always come back out here, every weekend if you want, and you’ll have everything you want. Then we will come back in here and get you more stuff because I want to spoil my Cupcake rotten.”
“This is
enough stuff to last me years.”
“Good. Plus, this is more for me and less for you, I promise,” I tell her, kidding yet not at the same time. Seeing her in a bathing suit is for me and it’s selfish, I know.
When it comes to her, I’m going to be selfish and selfless all at the same time.
She wants all the stuff? It’s hers. See? Selfless.
You mean I get to see her in a thong bathing suit? Fuck yes. Selfish.
Not ashamed of it either. Not even a little.
She gathers a pile of clothes and I do too, so she doesn’t have to struggle with all of the goodies. I rip the price tag off the white hat and black sunglasses shaped like lips and plop them on her. Her personality is bright and loud when she allows herself to show it and I want her to with me.
“I can’t wear the hat. It will blow off on the bike,” she says.
Good point.
“Fine but the moment we get on the beach, I want to see you wear it.”
She stands on her tiptoes and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, making me feel a bit boyish.
We can’t hold hands since ours are full of stuff, but we manage to pile some unhealthy snacks on the top of the mountain of clothes and towels.
The cashier couldn’t come fast enough. I was losing grip on my stuff. We groan in unison as we throw it on the worn black conveyor belt. I sneak in a few packets of starburst from the shelf as the lady rings us up, each item dinging to signal a new purchase, and run to grab a red lifeguard backpack.
“Did you get flip-flops?” I ask Charlie as I pull out my wallet.
“Oh. No. Good idea.”
“Get me a pair too. Size fifteen,” I tell her.
“Holy crap,” she whispers when she hears my size.
“You know what they say about big feet,” the cashier jokes, and Charlie gasps before hurrying away to the shoes. “I was only kidding,” the lady says, a hint of regret in her voice. “I didn’t get to finish the joke.”
“Big socks?” I finish it for her.
She nods hurriedly but doesn’t say anything else, too nervous to offend us. Charlie isn’t offended, I’m sure she’s overwhelmed though. Her mind went straight to sex, which there is no pressure about at all, but I can understand her wanting to run away from anyone that brings it up.
Charlie comes back with black flip-flops for me and bright blue flip-flops for her with small cupcakes on the plastic.
“She’ll wear these out,” I say, snapping off the price tag and handing it over.
Charlie’s old sneakers are plain, a brand that reminds me of Keds, but they aren’t. She slips off the wet shoes and slides on her flip-flops, sighing in content when her feet are no longer trapped in wetness.
I hold all of the bags as we walk out of the store. The sun is higher now, brighter and hotter. I catch Charlie aiming her face toward the warmth and she yawns, closing her eyes as she basks in the sun.
“You want to go back and take a nap before we tackle the rest of the day?”
“Yes, that sounds great.”
I stuff as much of our new purchases in the saddlebags as I can, and her arms wrap around me when my hands are free. “You’re going to have to carry the rest of it in the backpack.”
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me, Whistler.”
If it’s anywhere as close as how much she means to me, then I have an idea.
I’m starting to get nervous.
The only man I’ve ever spent the night with before is Kenneth and he didn’t exactly pave a positive path for what men expect at night. Granted, Kenneth stopped wanting me years ago, and I’m thankful for that.
I know what mindset I should be in.
I’ve been in a relationship where I was abused. I need time to adjust to my new reality, but what I want more than anything is to be wanted. Truly wanted.
And maybe I’m crazy for that. Maybe I’m twisted in the head after so many hits from Kenneth that I’m hoping something happens between me and Whistler.
On the flip side of things, I haven’t loved Kenneth in a long time or even respected him. He traumatized me and sent me to my breaking point. I’ve been done and over Kenneth for a while now and I didn’t realize how ready I was to move on until Whistler said I was never married.
Talk about a chain being broken and my cage being opened. I couldn’t get that ring off fast enough.
The kiss with Whistler on the beach was everything I missed in life, and I want more of it, more of him. When I dared to dream about my life and I pictured someone I wanted to be with, Whistler fit the description.
I hate that I met him when I’m so broken and jaded, learning how to trust and love all over again. He deserves more than that with how amazing and beautiful he is to me.
If he were anyone else, there’s no way I would be on the back of their bike holding them tight. Whistler is different.
Whistler has me seeing all the things I will miss in life if I continue to be afraid. And I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
“Come on, Cupcake. Let’s get checked in.” He holds out his hand, and I take it as he helps me down from the bike.
I set down my helmet and smooth out my dress. He reaches into his saddle bag and plops the hat he got me on top of my head. I strike a pose and pucker my lips. He wraps one arm around me and dips me across his knee. My hand holds the hat on, so it doesn’t blow away. His lips crush mine in a kiss that shows ownership, a claim. I whimper when he sets me back on my feet, lips swollen, breathe stolen, and my heart racing with desire.
Heck, my entire body is thrumming with it. And I’m going to be alone in a room with a man who truly wants me? Yeah, my control doesn’t stand a chance.
“Couldn’t help myself.” He hums while brushing his thumb along my bottom lip, something I’ve noticed he likes to do. He likes touching me.
And I like his touch, which is odd considering I promised myself to avoid anyone touching me ever again if anything should have happened to Kenneth.
Whistler had to go and prove himself trustworthy, and now he’s wiggled his way into my heart. I thought I had hardened it to iron, but Whistler has proved it’s made of quicksand with how fast he has sunk inside it.
“Help yourself more often,” I reply and a serious expression drapes over his face.
He cages me in his arms, blocking me in a tight space with the bike behind me. One of his hands grips the handlebar while the other lies flat on the seat.
I have nowhere to go.
“Don’t temp me. I know what’s not under that dress and it’s already hard for me to concentrate.” He drops his gaze to my chest and his thumb brushes along the side of my knee. A soft growl escapes his throat before he pushes himself away. “Come on. Before you drive me out of my mind with lust.”
Why does that make me feel so good?
I take his hand and I follow behind him while we head to the door that has a piece of wood hanging on it that says ‘Front Office’ painted in flamingo pink.
It’s a beachy motel, meant for just sleeping, and I adore it. There’s sand everywhere and salt lingers in the air since all the doors and windows are open. The waves crash in the distance and the seagulls sing. I close my eyes and lean against the counter, smiling when another dream comes true.
“I’m sorry it isn’t nicer. I should have gotten us a condo; I was looking for the closest place after riding for so long.”
Why does he sound disappointed? I grip his arm tight. “Whistler, this is more than I could have asked for. It’s perfect. I wouldn’t want anything else.”
“You sure? I feel like you deserve more.”
“I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” I skim my fingers up and down his hairy arms. There are a few pale scares hiding under the dark hairs, but they’re hardly noticeable unless you’re really looking like I am. And if another woman starts staring that hard, we’re going to have a problem.
“If you’re sure,” he trails off and dings the bell.
> A guy pops up from the floor, and I gasp jumping back. I didn’t expect him there.
“Hey, welcome to The Pink Penguin Motel, my dudes.” His red eyes widen when he sees me, and he smiles. “Sorry. Dude and dudette. My name is Brayden.” He points his thumbs at his nametag and runs his hands through his long blonde hair. He’s the California surfer cliché. The voice, the hair, the tan, and I’m pretty positive he is high. “Anyway, my bro and bro-ette. You see what I did there?” he laughs, and it reminds me of Bevis and Butthead. “How can the Brayden help you out today?”
Oh god, he just spoke about himself in the third person.
“Well, Brayden. I have a reservation under Whistler.”
“Whistler. I feel that. That’s a cool name, man. Can you like, whistle really well?”
Huh, why haven’t I ever asked?
Whistler smirks and leans forward, placing his elbows on the counter. He gestures at Brayden to come closer, and the eager surfer leans in as if he’s about to learn a secret. “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you, Brayden. And I like you, so killing you would suck.”
Brayden is wide-eyed for a minute before he doubles over laughing then points at Whistler before slapping his hand on the countertop. “Ah, you’re a funny dude. I like that, man. I get it. Secrets and stuff. It’s cool, bro.” Brayden snags a key from a row of hooks and the keychain is a pink penguin with a silver key dangling from it. “One king size—”
“—Woah, I got a room with two beds, Brayden.”
My hope and heart plummets to the deepest part of my stomach at his words. Why would he get two beds?
Brayden hits a few keys and places his baseball cap on his head backward. “Ah, sorry Mr. Whistler. Looks like we were all sold out. I only had the King left.”
“Can you give us one minute?” Whistler holds up a finger and circles my arm gently to tug me off to the side. Even his grip is soft with me where Kenneth’s was tight and painful. He always left a bruise.
“Sure thing, my man. I’m just going to watch some Baywatch. Pamela in that tight red bikini just does it for me, ya know?”