by N. R. Walker
“Well, a beach with a café close by that sells coffee and puppacinos.”
He rolled his eyes but he smiled. “Yeah, come on Wicket,” he called to his sleeping dog. “We can’t forget you too.”
Wicket got up, shook himself, and grinned. Ten minutes later, we were in Dane’s car heading to Noosa.
“I don’t think he likes being in the back,” I said, looking around at Wicket in the back seat. Dane had taken the dog harness from the front seat and clipped it into the back. Wicket could put his paws up on the car door and look out the window but didn’t seem impressed with the view from the back. “Maybe we could put the window down for him.”
Dane laughed. “You spoil him so much, he’ll resent coming home with me.” He rolled the window down and grinned at me. “Happy now?”
I looked at Wicket’s grinning, windswept face. “He’s much happier now.”
Dane looked just as happy. He held his left hand out toward me, palm up. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with it. “Oh,” he said, kind of dejected. “If you don’t want to hold my hand…”
“Of course I do!” I said, grabbing his hand in mine. “I thought you wanted a high-five or something.”
He laughed and we drove the rest of the way in silence, holding hands and smiling. With the windows down, the sea breeze was warm, the sunshine bright, and it was pretty amazing. I could get used to this. Very used to it.
He found a park not far from Hastings Street, we hooked up Wicket’s leash, and we started to walk. I did have to wonder how he would act in public. It certainly wasn’t anything we’d discussed, and holding hands in the car was one thing, but walking down the street was something else entirely.
But Hastings Street was busy, as per usual, so we were walking single file for a bit anyway. But then Dane ducked into a walkway that led to the main beach and soon we were walking on white sand overlooking the aqua-blue ocean. “Wow, the water is clear today,” I mumbled.
He stopped walking and took his thongs off, so I did the same. It was easier to walk on the dry sand barefoot. He carried his thongs in the hand he held the leash with and looked at me. “Um, can I hold your hand?” he asked. He looked up the shoreline. “As we walk. If you want to, that is. I don’t mind—”
I slid my hand into his. “Thought you’d never ask.”
He grinned and the three of us headed down toward the waterline. And just like that, without a care in the world, the three of us walked, talked, and laughed. No one looked twice at us, no one cared. A few people smiled as they passed us going the opposite way, some even said ‘G’day.’ We let Wicket off his leash for a bit, and he chased the foam in and ran out again as the wave chased him back. He picked up some driftwood and we played fetch for a bit, and every time one of us threw the stick or ran with him, we’d fall back in beside each other and take each other’s hand.
At the far end of the beach, where the tourists didn’t go, we found a shady spot and sat down. There were some surfers and the occasional jogger, but we were pretty much alone.
Wicket dug until the sand was damp and cooler and then planted himself and, in two seconds, had his eyes closed.
Dane moved a little bit closer to me so our shoulders touched, and he dug his feet in under the sand too. He sighed contentedly. “This isn’t a terrible way to spend a Saturday. Well, it’s Monday for those suckers, but it’s our Saturday.”
I snorted. “Nope.” The truth was, I didn’t know if the term ‘perfect day’ had been defined officially, but I reckoned this was close. I lay down with my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. “Not terrible at all.”
I felt Dane lie down beside me, then felt him shuffle a little closer. Smiling, I peeked at him to find him on his side, with one arm folded under his head, and he was staring at me.
“You know, you’re really beautiful,” he whispered.
I snorted. “Are you high?”
He chuckled but didn’t look away from my eyes. He licked his lips. “How the hell are you still single?”
Jesus. My heart clanged in my chest, but I stared right back at him. “I’m kind of hoping I’m not…”
He huffed a little laugh and smiled as faint colour tinted his cheeks. “I’m kind of hoping you’re not too.”
“I thought we discussed the officially dating thing already.”
“We did. I just meant, why has no one snapped you up yet?”
“Well, my last boyfriend was my best friend and we spent years leading up to it, but it didn’t work out. We’re still best friends, actually. His name’s Nick, and he’s a great guy. We just weren’t meant to be together in that way. But I can be pretty bossy and I like perfection. Which is probably why I’m attracted to you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s high?”
I rolled so I faced him. “What about you? Because you might not be utterly perfect—” I rolled my eyes. “—but you are kinda wonderful, so why is no one knocking your door down? Or are they, and I just don’t know?”
His smile turned a little sad. “I don’t know. You’d probably have to ask my exes that. I’m not into bars or clubbing, and I work every weekend too. Actually, I work a lot. I have Wicket.”
“They were opposed to a dog?”
“No, they were opposed to me bringing him along everywhere.”
I frowned at that. “They sound like arseholes.”
He bit his bottom lip. “You don’t seem to mind though.”
“I don’t mind at all. In fact, I love bringing him along. Actually, if I had to choose between you and Wicket, I’m not sure…”
His mouth fell open and I pushed his shoulder and laughed. “I’m kidding. I choose both, or neither. You’re a package deal, I get it.”
Dane’s laugh was deep and rumbly, his eyes crinkled at the sides. “We are a package deal.” He leaned in close, our noses almost touching. “I like that you get that. You get me.”
I closed the distance and kissed him, sliding my hand from beneath my head across his jaw. He opened my mouth with his and deepened the kiss, pushing me back and half rolling on top of me. God, he was so warm, he tasted so good, and he smelt divine. I almost forgot where we were, that we were in public, and as much as I wanted to pull him on top of me, I refrained.
Wicket barked and made a growly huff noise. Dane ended the kiss slowly, resting his forehead on my cheek, and said, “Goddammit, Wicket. He’s not hurting me.”
I laughed at the dog. He was sitting there, watching us with his head cocked to one side. “No, but we should definitely keep the bedroom door shut tonight,” I said, kissing Dane’s ear and letting my lips linger. “Or he’ll think you’re hurting me.”
Dane turned his face, his forehead almost touching mine. His eyes were dark, his nostrils flared. “Griffin, Jesus.” Then he palmed himself. “You probably shouldn’t say stuff like that to me in public. I don’t want to get arrested.”
I laughed and kissed his cheek, then jumped up to my feet. “Come on, let’s go grab some lunch. I’m starving.”
Three hours later, we’d had lunch and taken a walk through Noosa National Park up to the lookout. It was an easy walk, if a little steep in places, but it was made for tourists straight off Hastings Street. By the time we got back, we’d worked up an appetite for an early dinner, so we grabbed some prawns, two six-packs of beer, and headed back to my place.
Bernice and K were sitting at the back patio when we arrived, so we cracked some beers, shared the prawns, and settled in for the afternoon.
Wicket plopped himself down in the shade and didn’t look as if he’d be moving anytime soon. Bernice put on some Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks, and the four of us sat around talking and laughing until the sun called it a day. Dane put his hand on my leg at one point, held my hand, or rubbed my arm, and Bernice and K never batted an eyelid. I really liked them. Despite our age and generational differences, they were incredible people who had worldly perspectives on life and amazing stories to tell. I could listen to them t
alk all night…
Until Bernice took a squinted puff on her joint. “So, which one of you is the vocal one?”
We stared, and my face went crimson.
“Last night,” she furthered. “One of you was doing something right.”
“Oh God,” I mumbled, wanting to die, but taking a mouthful of beer instead.
But Dane surprised me by laughing. “Well, I can take credit for the doing-something-right part.”
K laughed loudly. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You should hear the noises she can get out of me.”
Please, Satan, crack open the earth and swallow me whole.
Bernice snorted and looked at K. “Why do you think I play music loud some nights. So the neighbours don’t know you’re getting your freak on.”
I buried my face in my hands. “This feels like my parents have just started the birds and the bees conversation with my boyfriend.”
Dane laughed and took my hand, peeling it from my face, and lifted my knuckles to his lips. But then he looked at me for real and stood up. “On that note, we’ll be off. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He called Wicket.
I stood up, so very grateful, and waved them off. “Night, guys.”
K raised his beer bottle. “With a bit of luck, we’ll both have some music playing tonight, huh?”
I was too embarrassed to do much more than wave, but as soon as we were inside, I shut the door and leaned against it. “Oh God, that was so embarrassing. Do you think she really heard me last night?”
Dane, trying not to smile too big, came over and lifted my chin. “Don’t be embarrassed. The noises you made last night were the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” I frowned and he kissed me. “And don’t censure yourself. I’m hoping the noises I can get out of you tonight will be even better.”
Then Wicket barked beside us again. “We’re too close for his liking, I think,” I said.
“Mmm,” Dane said, stepping back just a little. “Well, he needs to get used to it, because I don’t want to stop anytime soon.”
The music downstairs got me thinking. “I have an idea. Can you dance?”
His eyes went wide. “That depends…”
I snorted at his expression, and taking his hand, I led him to the space between the kitchen and the living room. I turned to face him. “Slow dance with me.”
Dane pulled me close, held one hand up to our chests and slid his other hand around my lower back. We moved our feet and did actually dance as Stevie Nicks sang “Rhiannon” and “The Edge of Seventeen,” and Wicket didn’t seem to mind. We stayed like that for a few more songs, and Wicket soon lost interest. Though when I started to work my hands over Dane’s back, feeling his shoulders, his waist, his arse, his lips found mine, and by the time Kate Bush was singing “This Woman’s Work,” we weren’t dancing anymore. We were standing in my living room, kissing deeply, passionately. And when Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel were telling us not to give up, we were both hard and handsy, moaning and grinding.
Wicket was sound asleep on the couch.
Chapter Twelve
Dane
* * *
Griffin was a paradox. So shy about some things, so very forthright about others. When he said he was bossy, he wasn’t kidding. We’d had the best day. The beach, a hike through the national park, good food, some beers. We’d held hands, we’d made out. Being with him was so easy. There was an ease between us like we’d known each other for years, but that this is new excitement kept my nerves thrumming and my heart thumping.
God, when he was lying on the beach today in the shade with his eyes closed, he took my breath away. Grains of fine sand caught on his eyelashes and the filtered sunlight made him look earthy and warm. He had a spray of freckles on his cheeks, a few strands of his dark hair flopped down on his forehead, his fine-pointed nose and cupid-bow lips… But then he’d looked at me with those brown eyes with flecks of gold and my heart tried to claw its way out of my chest.
Yeah, I was in deep already.
After what? A week? A week of texts and phone calls, one date, and a full twenty-four hours together?
The way he’d blushed and shrunk in his seat when Bernice had embarrassed him made me want to save him. He was mortified and wary when he got upstairs, but then he bravely made me dance, and half an hour later he certainly wasn’t being shy.
The whole day had led up to this.
He’d hinted earlier that he’d be making noises as though I was ‘hurting’ him later, his tone dripping with innuendo, his eyes not even trying to hide what he wanted.
He was wrong about one thing though. I would never hurt him.
There was something unsaid, yet implied, heavy in the air, about where this dancing was taking us. The music was forgotten, we no longer moved our feet or swayed. We stood there, wrapped around each other, mouths joined, hands desperate. Griffin set the pace, and I followed his lead. If he wanted nothing more than this, I’d happily do this all night long. If he wanted to end up in bed with me inside him… Oh, God.
I shivered and moaned, and Griffin broke the kiss. “What?” he asked.
I could hardly tell him just imagining being buried inside him almost made me come. “You’re really turning me on,” I said.
He gave me a sultry smile. His lips were kiss-swollen, wet, and pink. I wanted to taste him again, but then he put a hand to my face, rested his forehead on mine, and closed his eyes. “I want you to take me to bed,” he whispered.
It took me a moment to answer. I kissed him softly. “Okay.”
“Dane,” he said, his eyes open now. Dark and honest, exposed and vulnerable. “I want you to fuck me.”
My blood ran hot and my balls ached and my cock pulsed. All I could do was nod.
He answered with a smile, took my hand, and led me to his room. He closed the door behind us and slowly, like it was a performance just for me, he walked over and switched on the bedside lamp.
He pulled his T-shirt off and gave me a shy smile. Then he met my eyes and slid his shorts and briefs off without looking away. He stood there, naked and beautiful, slowly stroking his long cock.
“Fuck, Griffin.” I dry swallowed.
He smiled victoriously and went to his bedside drawer. He took out a bottle of lube and some foil wrappers and threw them on the bed, then climbed on after them. He lay there, legs spread wide, slow-stroking his long cock, while I could barely breathe.
“You’re very over-dressed,” he murmured. Then he took the lube and poured it onto his hand, never breaking eye contact as he reached down to his hole and slicked himself.
Then he slipped in one fingertip and arched his back.
Fuuuuuuuck.
“Dane,” he growled impatiently.
I shot into action, stripping my clothes and kneeling on the bed. I crawled so I was between his legs and leaned over him, looking down at his face. “You are so beautiful,” I whispered, then kissed him. Slow at first, then deeper and harder, until his hands went to my face, then my hair.
He was smearing lube all over me and I didn’t care. I was so turned on, I could barely think. He rocked his hips up to meet me, desperate for friction, so I pressed down on him, letting him feel my weight.
He hummed low in his throat and lifted his knees to our chests, and I knew then he was getting more than desperate.
Breaking the kiss, I pulled back. “How do you want to come? Before I’m inside you, while I’m inside you, or after?”
His nostrils flared and he gripped his hair like he was struggling to compose himself. “Fuck. Before and during.”
Twice? Jesus Christ. I added lube to my fingers and rubbed his arsehole. “And after, if I can coax a third.” I slipped a finger into him.
Griffin arched his back and moaned, then he gripped his own dick and started to stroke. “God, Dane, I’m so fucking turned on right now,” he whined, rocking his hips and stroking his cock.
I pushed in another finger and he pushed back
on my hand, his mouth fell open, and he went rigid as his orgasm ripped through him. He came hard, silently, shooting ropes of come onto his stomach before he slumped back on the mattress.
“Oh, damn,” I murmured.
He gasped back a breath then writhed in front of me. “Dane, need you to fuck me now.”
Right then. This was where the bossiness came into it. I fumbled with the condom, grimacing as I rolled it down my length. God, this was going to be over way too fast. I gave the base of the head a squeeze to stem the urge to come a little, then spread more lube over my cock and his hole. I pressed the blunt cockhead against his entrance and eased inside him. He gasped and whined, so I leaned over him and kissed him while I breached him.
He lifted his knees higher and I slipped in a bit further, but he was so tight. So fucking tight. I groaned into his mouth and he lifted his hips in response. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to rein back the overwhelming urge to thrust and fuck. When he held my face, I opened my eyes and found him staring at me, wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Oh my God, Dane, yes.”
“You feel too good. I’m not going to last.”
“Yes, you will,” he said, rolling his hips back and forth so I sunk deeper inside him. “Oh yeah, all the way in.” His voice was gruff and he pushed his head back, the veins down his neck protruding.
He was, without doubt, the sexist man I’d ever seen.
I was buried all the way inside him, every inch of me, and he took it, wanted it, wanted more.
He whined until I pulled out a little and he moaned when I slid back in; the most incredible sounds that made my balls ache, longing for release.
But he wasn’t ready yet. He said he wanted to come again while I was inside him, and so I leaned back and fisted his still-hard cock.
“Oh fuck!” he cried as I pumped him in time with my cock inside him. “Yes. More. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
His words made me fuck a little harder and his eyes rolled back in his head, his chest and neck and cheeks flushed red. And the noises he made… sweet mother of God, he moaned with every thrust. I filled his arse and pumped his cock over and over and he raked his hands over his chest, tweaked his own nipple, and his body went rigid. Like a cresting wave, starting in his feet, his second orgasm rolled through him. He arched his back, impaling himself on my cock as he came, almost screaming as he did.