Recklessly

by A. J. Sand

  Today was a little different, though. He had almost blown it in this very situation last year, and the thought of a repeat brought on some uncertainty in his performance, but today was also different because Lana was coming. She had been over at his place nearly every night in the four weeks before Teahupo’o, engaging in their REFT ritual: reading, eating, fucking, talking. They had also been texting back and forth the entire length of his trip, and access to Skype helped him see the things he couldn’t touch—things she touched in his place—but made him even more eager to see her. While this event was only a trial for an even bigger competition, it still lured surfing fans from all over, including lots of lots of women. The house he was staying in with all his friends had been night after night of passionate but unpleasant noises soaking through the walls, and sleepy girls leaving by the light of dawn with their belongings in their arms. While Wes had every right to indulge in the temptation, he just didn’t want to. He was sure everyone thought it was to avoid distraction, but he simply missed being with Lana. Which was why he couldn’t wait for them to spend the weekend together once the stress of the contest was off his shoulders. It was worth the morning shower jerks.

  “Here,” Abel said, shoving Wes’ cell phone at him after he jogged over to where Wes was on the beach.

  She’s here! “Where are you?” he asked excitedly, as he took the phone and pressed it to his ear.

  “Charlotte and I are walking in your direction right now.”

  “Where? I’ll meet you,” he said, smirking at Abel’s disgruntled look.

  “Umm…we’re at a juice stand. What? Charlotte says there are tons. So…hold on a sec.” There was some muffled discussion on the other end before she came back on. “Can you see me now?”

  Wes didn’t know what she meant but he spun around anyway until he saw her hovering over the crowd hoisted up on someone else’s shoulders. Of course some dude would’ve agreed to have her crotch against his neck. “Found you. I’m on my way!”

  But Abel pulled him back before he could walk and smacked him on the back of the head. “Wesley, you need to handle your shit.”

  “What are you talking about?” Wes frowned.

  “Get your head back in the game, Deuce, and out from between Lana’s legs.”

  Wes pushed him away. “It’s handled…”

  “Oh, so the ocean is back there? That’s where the ocean is? Dude, you were whiny all last year after fucking things up in Bali. I will strangle you in your sleep before I listen to you bitch like that again.”

  “Are you really mad because you’re not out there?”

  “Just handle your shit.”

  “Shut up. It’s handled. I’m gonna win. That simple. I don’t know what just crawled up your ass, though.”

  “I’m more concerned about whose ass you’re trying to crawl up instead of focusing.”

  Wes ignored him and strode down the beach. Because he was excited to see Lana, he was suddenly distracted enough to lose? Hardly. And coming from a guy whose dick had probably lost weight from all the work it had been doing the entire competition? But the truth was, Abel wasn’t in the competition, so that counterpoint was useless.

  Lana wasn’t in the air anymore, but Wes remembered the general location; it was the walking there while being asked for autographs, pictures and hugs that slowed him down. When she spotted him, she pushed people aside, ran right up to him and jumped into a hug.

  “Hi!” she said, kissing his neck right below the ear. “Hi! I’ve watched almost the entire thing. I’m so proud of you.” The reaction in him—his chest, groin, everywhere—was immediate, warm, electric. He’d had a great two weeks, but this…this had just ruined it.

  For the better.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “I missed you, too. A lot. I’m so glad you invited me. This place is beautiful.”

  “Damn, and Abel thought I wasn’t focused before…” he teased as he scanned her attire when he set her down: a black bikini and Lava baseball cap.

  “What do you think?” Her very tiny black bikini bottom had “Go Wes!” spelled out in little gemstones across the back. “Charlotte is literally the only person I know who owns the bedazzling gun you need to do this. But, hey, it works, right?”

  “You look amazing, Lana…you’re welcome to have my name on your ass any time.”

  “Lana? Who the hell is she?” someone said, and Wes remembered suddenly that they were standing in the middle of a nosey crowd.

  “You wanna hang back at the house before the final?” he whispered to her. “We’ve got time.”

  “You really need an answer?” she asked, laughing.

  “I’ll meet you, okay?” He sent her off to redirect the attention of the crowd, and after another round of interacting with fans, he was back at the house. Wes and his friends had rented one of the few rentals in the actual village of Teahupo’o. It slept eight comfortably, but they were more interested in having fun, so they had more than doubled that number easily on a nightly basis.

  “Someone’s using a hardcover of Dickens as a coaster, Wes?” Lana, indignant, asked as soon as he walked in. “What the hell kind of awful place is this?” She pointed at the book, which had a distinctive white residue circle on it without taking her eyes off the screen of a laptop. Ironically, she was watching the live stream of the contest that was just footsteps from the sliding glass door.

  “Everything in this house is fair game for a coaster right now, baby girl,” Wes replied as he crashed down on the couch, behind her. Lana shut the laptop and lay supine beside him so they were nose to nose. As badly as he’d wanted her over the last two weeks, as much as he wanted her now, he didn’t even attempt to touch her right away because he had really just missed seeing her and talking to her in person.

  “Hi, pretty girl,” Wes said, touching the side of her face, brushing his thumb over the shallow impression of her dimple right before she smiled.

  “Hey, surfer boy,” she said. Wes pulled her on top of him, inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes, treating himself to her scent. Lana’s hand sank into his hair. “You scared me for a second there in the quarters.”

  “No yelling at the screen?”

  Lana shook her head, getting serious. “No, I was scared. I knew how crushed you would have been if you had lost, and I didn’t want you to be sad. I like it when you’re smiling, Wes Elliott.”

  “Well, maybe that’s because I seem to do it a lot when I’m around you,” he said, kissing her softly on the nose. “Can’t say the same for Sterling Kent though. He is really good this year…like threatening good…”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Not so much nervous…just not relaxed…I don’t want to have to deal with all that bad press like last year. I was really embarrassed. Definitely didn’t live up to the hype…”

  “You are the hype, and don’t you forget it. But it sounds likes you need some of that pure, unadulterated cuddling,” Lana said, laughing as she enclosed him in her arms, pressing her head to his chest. “You’re going to rock out there, Wes. I can’t think of any other way this is supposed to go. You’ve been working so hard. I’m glad you’re taking it seriously, but you’re talented, too. Remember that.”

  Wes kissed her on the top of her head. “Thanks, Lan. Appreciate it.” He’d needed those words, needed this peace, and they lay like that, engulfed by the silence of the house. Being in the water was unrivaled for him, but Lana almost made him regret having to go back out there. He had come to treasure their time spent together so much so that it was getting harder and harder being away from her.

  Lana squeezed even tighter suddenly, rocking from side to side. “Mmmm. This is good. Mmmm. This is some hardcore cuddling, Wesley. Hardcore. Warm and tight and breathless. The triple X kind. Too hot for TV…cuddling!”

  Wes chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re doing more of, making me laugh or making me hard.”

  Lana lifted her head and wound her hips against his. “From the
feel of things…both…equally. You have to head back out soon, right?”

  “Yup…I’m sure I’ll have to share my thoughts on the final with the media beforehand, so I’ll need to go soon,” Wes said, sitting up with her still on his lap.

  “How are your nerves?”

  “Better,” he said, stretching as he stood up and walked for the door, but Lana gripped his wrist.

  “How about we make them more than better?” she asked, one side of her mouth clicking up. Without waiting for the response he was surely going to give in her favor, Lana pushed him back against the door and pulled down his board shorts. So much lustful heat developed just from the sight of her getting down on her knees, he was forced to take hold of himself with a hard grip, jerking slowly as she wetted the smile on her lips. His eyes pinned to hers when she took control of his dick. She drew her mouth down midway on his shaft, and his body undulated like a loose live electrical wire until she pulled all the way back. He almost begged as she delayed the return of her mouth to him, and once she did bring her mouth back, Wes pounded his fists against the wood, letting out a hard groan when she clutched his balls, too.

  She drew her teeth along the bottom edge, eyeing him like she dared him to move, before she finally closed her lips around him. Her mouth hugged his erection as her tongue slithered over the tip, and with a firm grip around the shaft, Lana worked it in and out of her mouth.

  “Fuck….” Wes loved the way he filled her mouth, and he watched her until he felt his thoughts fade as the pleasure yanked him into the ether. Closing his eyes, he focused on the light slurping sound, the heat emitting from her throat. He rocked his hips forward slowly as they found a coordinating rhythm, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and combatted the tug of release mounting somewhere inside him. When he grunted, she moved her mouth and hands faster, and he nearly slipped off the edge of control. He almost begged her to stop. No. He never wanted her to stop.

  “Lana…” Wes fought the trembles vibrating up from his toes. “Lana…” She pushed his hips into the door, her mouth sliding back and forth without the assistance of her hands. Wes braced his knees against the wood and groaned so loud he was sure it rattled the walls. There was a slight yanking in his loins then a fiery, insistent pleading for release that spread to his entire body. “Lana…I’m gonna… Oh shit… Lana…I’m gonna come…”

  Staying kneeled, she pulled her head back and lifted her gaze, her lips just short of a smile. “Stop. Talking.” She finally smiled. “And just come in my mouth already.” Yes, ma’am. Her warm, wet mouth was on him again, enclosing his flesh, and Wes fell back against the door. Gripping her shoulder, he sank into the gathering wave at his core, letting it envelop him, before he came with a rumbling grunt tearing out of his chest.

  In the few minutes it took to cool down, his cell phone rang, and he knew it was Abel without even having to check. “Well, you cured me, and we should probably go before my brother shits a brick,” he said when Lana walked out of the bathroom. Hand in hand, they strolled down the beach toward where he needed to be to speak with media before the finals started. Lana seemed wary about walking with him with their hands clasped because so many people were staring, but she didn’t let go. And he probably wouldn’t have let her. He wanted her up in the front, in the cordoned off VIP viewing area, watching.

  “Wait, I know you…you’re keg, right?” a woman said at Lana’s left. It was clear that she was speaking to Lana as she was walking in stride with them, and his heart thudded in ominous apprehension.

  “Excuse me?” Lana asked her, seeming to sense it too; her hand tightened around his.

  “You know, keg…like I heard Wes isn’t the first surfer around here to tap that,” the woman said, and her pals laughed.

  “You need to back the fuck up…now,” Wes said. “Leave her alone.”

  A mixture of anger and embarrassment flashed on Lana face, but she was steely after that when she spoke. “I sure would like to tap my fist to your mouth, and see what you call me then, but you’re really not worth it.”

  “Just because ho and housewife share the same two first letters, Wes, it doesn’t mean you can actually turn one into the other!” one of the other women yelled out.

  “He’s trying to be Captain Save A Ho,” her friend responded, laughing. But at least they weren’t following them, even though they were making a spectacle with their laughter, still mocking her. Rage broiled in Wes’ stomach but he kept his tone as mellow as possible for her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, Wes. I am,” she said with a curt tone.

  “You know I don’t care what anyone says about you, right? ‘Cause I know you’re an amazing, sexy, smart, beautiful person…”

  “And an extreme cuddler, don’t forget that…” Lana nodded with a slight smile. “I’m a big girl, Wes. I’ve had to deal with people saying that crap for years.” She didn’t seem complacent about the insults only that she’d found a way to make them not get to her, and for some reason that made him even angrier.

  “I don’t like that they do that to you.”

  “I don’t like it either, but why even give them the time of day by getting really upset? How important must I be if my very existence and the very sight of me pisses them off?” She shrugged. “I’ve always held the belief that if you react so negatively to someone doing something that doesn’t really impact yours or anyone else’s well-being—like just living their life—you’re giving them a lot of power over you. So, if anything, it’s a compliment that I get under their skin so much. Sometimes crazy bitches are so crazy they don’t even realize when they’re making your ego bigger ‘cause they’re acting like crazy bitches.”

  “That’s quite the bright side to see, Lan. You’re a modern day Mother Teresa.” But I’m not. Those women were responsible for their rudeness, but there was one person who was behind all of this, even if it was indirectly. Brody Swift. That motherfucker. And once Lana was settled in the VIP viewing area, Wes stomped toward where Brody and his entourage were sitting, a few stands down.

  “Wes!” Abel snatched his arm. “What happened?”

  “Some chicks were talking shit about Lana.”

  “Okay, but what does he have to do with it?”

  “Are you serious?” Wes smirked. “Not rocket science, bro.”

  “Okay, I get it, but this is the shit I was talking about earlier. Look at you, about to go all Bruce Banner over this—”

  “Don’t you mean The Hulk?”

  “No I meant Bruce Banner. You’ll be The Hulk when you’re actually at the apeshit stage. Just so you know, Sterling won, by the way. He’s talking to the press about the final. Remember that? You know, the final for you to get back to Padang? You’re here to surf, numb nuts.”

  “Really, fuckhead? I wasn’t aware. And I’m not going to hit him or anything,” Wes assured. “That’s the fastest way to take myself out of the competition and have to hear your nonstop bitching. I’m just going to talk to him.”

  Abel wasn’t convinced, so he walked alongside his brother to Brody. A hush settled over Brody and his friends—both guys and girls—and Brody stood up just as Wes reached him. Aggression pulled Brody’s expression tight and he glared at Wes with disgust, fists clenching. Well, the feeling’s mutual, Wes thought.

  “Look, you need to handle your fangirls,” Wes said, controlling the urge to shove him as he got right in his face. “Stop letting them talk shit about Lana.”

  Brody was unfazed. “I told you, I don’t control what’s said. You should grow some balls and a backbone if it bothers you that much.”

  “No, how about you call them the fuck out on it when they do it instead of just sitting around like a little bitch, Percy,” Wes said, smirking.

  Brody’s eyebrows pulled together and his expression darkened further. “A little bitch?”

  Abel did the shoving before Brody could and pushed Wes back. “Good, you understood me; I annunciated well,” Wes said.

&nb
sp; “Lana Langston must have quite the magical box. Lana Langston and Her Magical Box, has a nice ring to it. What do you say, Brody, you would know, right? You knew of its wonders before Elliott, right?” one of the guys yelled out, and Wes was flooded with anger, but Abel was holding onto him.

  He stared right at the women behind Brody. “If he lets strangers talk about the mother of his child that way, he’s not shit. Imagine what he’d let them say about you. Remember that. He was in love with her, by the way, might still be. They were together for years on and off. She wasn’t just some ass to him. He’s just too much of a dickhead to admit that.” He pointed at Brody as Abel pulled him away. “She’s the goddamn mother of your kid, asshole! Do not disrespect her anymore! Any of you.”

  “Okay, now that it’s out of your system, can you please go surf now?”

  “Yes, boss,” Wes said when they were back where Lana and Wes’ other guests were sitting. The warning siren sounded just as Wes was slipping into his blue sponsor label-covered surf shirt, and Abel handed him his surfboard.

  “What was that about?” Lana asked, brow furrowing as she ticked her head in Brody’s direction.

  Just taking care of you. Wes pressed a kiss to her cheek and smiled. “Nothing.”

  *

  The waves lived up to the area’s name, providing some of the most treacherous conditions Wes had seen in a long time, with the barrels so colossal it appeared as though the ocean was actually folding in on itself; it made for the perfect final. Every roll of a wave offered the perfect tube for Wes to collect high scores from the judges, with one ride earning him a perfect ten.