by Rie Warren
“I’m scared,” Shy said in a hushed voice.
“About the sex or the beach full of people.”
“The beach.” Her eyelashes fluttered down to the crests of her cheeks. “Both?”
I almost backed down, but this time Shy needed to be pushed. And I needed to give her this one thing she didn’t think she could have again. To show her it was possible.
The beach.
The ocean.
Sand and waves and water.
And sex—pure primal fucking with me. But not at the beach. Exhibitionism aside . . .
“I know.” I caressed her neck with a sole finger, feeling the fineness of her skin. “That’s why I’ll be with you.”
“People will stare.”
“Fuck ’em.” I showed her my two middle fingers.
Her head jerked up, and she smirked.
Oh yeah. I’ve got her.
“So that’s settled then.” From behind my back I pulled out a crocheted, tiny-looking, aqua blue two-piece thing that appeared to be smaller than my fist. “I choose this one.”
“NO! Are you insane?” Shy’s eyes tripled in size.
“Maybe.”
“I can’t possibly parade around in that . . . that . . .”
“Teensy-tiny sexy bikini? Because people will stare? Because of how rockin’ hot you are?” I twirled the two pieces of almost-nothing around on my finger.
She snapped the offending articles from me.
“You shouldn’t sell something you wouldn’t wear yourself, ya know?” I teased.
“Shut up,” Shy muttered, on her way to the dressing rooms in the back.
“I’ll just help you change.” I loomed behind her.
Pushing me back, she shut the door. “I’m fully capable of dressing and undressing myself, Handsome Rush.”
“Handsome?” April asked.
I tugged my hair back in a ponytail. “Uh, yeah. My roadname. With the motorcycle club.”
“Stop flirting, Maxwell,” Shy ordered in a muffled voice.
I rapped my knuckles against the partition. “Excuse me. You’re the only woman I flirt with, which I was trying to do when I wanted to join you in the dressing room.”
Her happy laughter filtered through the slatted door, and I peeked over the top to watch as her scanty panties dropped to the floor.
Fuck.
I was gonna be in a bad way when I saw her in the bikini.
Maybe I should’ve chosen a one-piece?
I was drooling at just the sight of her thong.
I lounged against the wall opposite Shy’s dressing room until she swung open the light barrier that separated us.
And made a mash of anything else in my head.
Except for the head . . . of my cock.
Which had a lot of appreciation for Shy’s bikini.
I shot straight up. My dick did, too. Her golden skin shimmered against the turquoise blue. Her upper arm strength showed in her silky shoulders and the deep, obvious cleavage between two miniscule triangles. Then she turned around.
“It’s Brazilian cut,” Shy chirped, the fantastic globes of her ass almost totally on show.
Fuck. Were her nipples showing, too?
Yep.
Doomed.
“I’m gonna Brazilian cut the eyes outta the first dude who leers at you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Floating, Bitches
GRABBING A COVER-UP from the racks, I gnawed off the tag after Shy’s jaw-dropping hot reveal. “Yeah. You’re putting this on right now.”
She batted her eyelashes at me. Flirty. Womanly. Knowing. “But you chose my new, almost see-through bikini.”
“Cover up. Now.” I growled.
As soon as I was sure she wouldn’t give a peepshow to everyone on the street, I ushered her out to my Chevy Nova. I used to think the classic muscle car was a thing of beauty, but it had nothing on Shy.
I tried very hard not to stare at her incredible body—almost totally on display—during the twenty-minute drive to Isle of Palms beach.
My plan had backfired as soon as my cock had turned into one thick long roll in my board shorts.
Or maybe not.
The plan was to empower her.
And Lord fucking knew she had total power over me. And my libido.
After parking, I dug out the chairs, a bag with all the essentials, a beer cooler, and umbrella.
I set everything on the sidewalk to help Shy from the car.
She grasped her crutches, and I tied another loop higher on her cover-up.
Her smile beamed up at me. “I’m not going to flash everyone with anything but my stump, hon.”
“I’m having second thoughts.”
“Because of my leg?”
I hoisted everything onto my back.
“No.” I scowled. “The bikini.”
Shy laughed loudly.
Funny. Har-har.
“Lead the way, Handsome.” She kissed my bicep. “You look ridiculously hot yourself.”
Slipping her hand down my back to my ass, Shy gave a tight squeeze.
“No more of that unless you want me sporting an even bigger boner.”
“I don’t think your shorts could withstand that.”
She wasn’t wrong.
The laces were already threatening to unravel as the head of my cock butted the low waist.
Deep breaths.
Get Shy into the water.
Don’t think about Shy. Wet and slippery in the water.
Doomed by hard-on.
I slowed my pace beside her across the parking lot, along the playground, up the wooden steps and decking that crossed the dunes.
Deep sand silted against the bottom steps that led to IoP beach.
Shy pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating the obstacle.
“Want some help?” I halted beside her.
“I can do it myself.” There was that stubborn edge to her delicate chin.
A good thing.
I wouldn’t let her fall. Hell no. But I knew Shy could do this on her own.
In the end I slung an arm around her waist as we moved from the soft, fluffy white sand onto harder packed turf. After spreading the blanket, I eased her down.
I was busy screwing the base of the umbrella into the sand when she whipped off the cover-up.
I almost fell over at the delicious sight of Shy reclining in the full sun, her golden skin shimmering, her short blonde curls shining.
That goddamn crocheted bikini I’d encouraged her to get.
Christ. I thought her tits were gonna topple out. And the bottoms barely covered her mound, held together only by two tiny bows tied at her hips.
I managed to get the umbrella sunk deep, and by that time my cock was as hard as the pole shoved into the earth.
I moved Shy’s crutches to her side as she sat up and dug through the bag I’d packed.
She pulled out the sunscreen while I tossed my shirt off.
Shy paused—her lips parted, her eyes roving over me, taking in the deep tan, the cut muscles, my long hair, and especially the ink from my shoulders to my wrists.
I flexed, putting on a show for her, and her silver-flecked eyes took an even slower trip up from my legs to my groin to my chest.
She halted at my lips.
Dropping that sexy stare again, she settled her aviators over her dilated eyes.
“Help me with this?” She handed me the bottle of lotion.
I laughed roughly. Because my cock was already strangling in my shorts. Laying my slick hands on her nearly naked body?
My stupid dick was likely to spray come everywhere.
“You are playing on dangerous ground, Miss Lockhart.” Sitting beside her as she lounged back, I squirted a dollop of sunscreen into my hand.
That I managed not to squirt a dollop of precome in my shorts was nothing short of a miracle.
She smiled. “Am I? How so, Mister Rush?”
I growled, starti
ng with her left leg first. “You know exactly what you do to me. Wench.”
“This?” Her fingers casually brushed the front of my board shorts, drawing a hard grunt from my lips.
My hips bucked forward.
I switched to her right leg, beginning at the ankle.
Her hand cupped lower, reaching for my about-to-burst balls.
“That.” Smearing more sunscreen between my hands, I pushed my thumbs against the gusset of her bikini, slowly pressing them beneath the fabric to slide along the puffy outer lips of her pussy.
She arched.
I dragged one finger down her center, gathering her moisture.
Her hand fell away from my thick pulsing cock.
I withdrew my fingers to glide up her tummy to the bottom of her tits, barely concealed by the tropical blue bikini top.
Her nipples formed hard points.
Her hips moved.
She licked her lips.
Massaging suntan lotion into her shoulders then down through her deep cleavage, I leaned over to slicken her mouth with my tongue she took hungrily inside.
“Turn over, minx.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, Shy complied.
I swatted her on the firm globes of her ass as soon as she flipped to her stomach.
“Stop being naughty,” I threatened in a low, throbbing voice set against her ear.
In return, she arched her back, bringing her barely concealed ass into prominence.
I slathered her back, dragging my hands down the center of her spine until I reached the deep ass dimples I bent over to lave with my tongue.
She hissed in a breath, her hands fisting into the beach blanket.
“I’m not sure I like this bathing suit, Shy.” My mouth hovered at her shoulder, my damp breath raising chills on her glowing, well-oiled skin.
“You love it,” she murmured in a smoky tone.
“You’re killing me.”
Turning to sit up, she pressed me onto my back. “My turn.”
To turn me on even more.
Great.
If my dick surged one more time we were gonna have a mess on our hands, and it wouldn’t be the sunscreen creaming all over.
I lay as still as possible—only groaning, moaning, twisting, grunting every few . . . seconds.
Fuuuuuuck.
Shy was good with her hands.
And when she straddled my hips to smear the lotion all over my chest, all I could think about was her riding me, hot and wet.
Yeah. Sex was happening tonight, if it didn’t happen in the water as soon as I got her out there.
Four little tugs on her little bikini, and I could have her naked in the water in no time flat.
Her barely concealed cunt pushed down on my aching meat as she swept her hands down my hard-clenching abs, and I gripped her wrists in a tight hold.
“We better pick this up later, unless you wanna get arrested for public indecency.”
She seemed to suddenly remember we were in public, and she wasn’t hiding her amputation.
Blushing lightly, Shy shifted away from me. “Is anyone staring at me?”
I leaned up onto an elbow, stroking down her arm to reach her palm and bring it to my lips. “Dunno. I can’t see anything but you.”
Her blush brightened, but she appeared less self-conscious.
Good thing.
Unfortunately, she curled up against me, and I went cartoon-style schwing again.
I needed to do something about the fucking rampant tent I was pitching in my shorts.
Jumping—lurching—to my feet, I cupped both hands at straining hard-on level.
Wiping a hand across my—drooling—mouth, I frowned. “Right. The point is to go swimming.”
“I thought it was to catch some sun.”
Shy stretched out, all luxuriant skin and skimpy bikini and tits . . .
Tits.
Bikini.
Shy.
“Up, woman.” I gave her my hand and easily swung her to her foot, taking her weight—nearly naked—against me.
Yup. Water. Needed now.
“So”—I lifted her into my arms—“I’m gonna carry you in. Unless you have any objections.”
That blush was back, but her eyes sparkled with a teasing glint.
She twined her arms around my neck and twirled her fingers into my hair.
“Just don’t let me fall.”
I kissed her softly. “Already told you that was never gonna happen.”
The soft sand was warm under my feet. Shy was hot against my body. We passed the lifeguard chair, and I waded up to my calves then to my thighs.
The water was bath-warm. Probably wouldn’t do a damn thing to reduce my erection. But getting Shy to swim?
Was gonna perform miracles on her self-confidence.
And I was so getting laid tonight.
Bubbles from breaking waves foamed around us, and Shy leaned back, letting me support her in every way as the Atlantic lapped over her legs and up her midriff.
“You ready, baby?” I kissed her at the scallop of her collarbone.
She nodded. “You can let me go now.”
Releasing her from my arms, I watched her take a deep breath of the fresh salty air. And—damn me—fresh salty tears backed up behind my eyelids.
She floated for a moment before easily turning to her front, stretching out before diving under.
I hit the water beside her, knifing through the incoming white-cresting waves. Hitting the surface with a whip of her head, Shy grinned at me.
“Why didn’t I do this sooner?” she shouted above the sound of other swimmers and surfers.
“Because you didn’t have an overbearing boyfriend.” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I hauled her under with me for a deep-sea salty kiss.
She smacked my chest and propelled free, swimming farther.
God. She was fucking stunning.
By the time I caught up to her, she floated on her back, the sun warming her body.
I trailed a lone finger up the center of her tummy and teased my lips beside her ear, “How does it feel?”
Her arms flapped lazily.
Her smile beamed so bright.
Tears pushed from the corners of her closed eyes.
“No pain.” Her breasts expanded with a deep breath. “I’m weightless, Max.”
I floated beside her, linking our hands together.
“I feel clean . . .” She squeezed my hand. “Free. Finally.”
“Good. That’s good, baby.” I looked up at the sun until it burned the tears from the back of my clogged throat.
So we floated. Holding hands. The sun caressing our skin. The ocean bearing us up and bumping us together.
Possibly the most important moment of my life.
Until a giant wave crashed over us, and we came up sputtering.
I eyed another breaker headed toward us. “You feel like body-surfing?”
“Oh yeah.”
Then I grumbled, “Not sure your bikini is up to it.”
Shy merely splashed me in the face.
A huge wave barreled down on us, and she started kicking to catch it in time.
One step behind her, I crested the wall of water, rushing toward the shoreline.
Shy came up beside me.
And yep.
Bikini top fail.
I quickly scooped her breast back into the tiny triangle, trying not to fondle the pearl of her nipple.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.
“I know. Get your tits out much?”
She hugged me around the waist. “I just body-surfed. I’m standing!”
Well yeah.
But boobage.
It happened.
I lifted her into my arms, wading through the shallows, and she hid her face against my neck.
“You just flashed the whole beach! How can you be shy now?” I grumbled, striding across the sand.
Tugging me down for a long, lashing hot kiss that almos
t made me stumble, she whispered against my hungering mouth. “Because that’s what you call me.”
I laid her down on our blanket and stopped her from covering up when she pulled a towel over to hide her stump.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s not for me.” She glanced out across the beach packed with tourists and college students and families out for the day. “I don’t want to make anyone else uncomfortable.”
Framing her face in my hands, I crouched in front of her.
“You don’t. And people don’t look at you. They don’t stare at you. Except for the fact you’re fucking gorgeous.” I brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. “Who cares anyway? Let them ask. You’ve been through hell. You should be proud.”
“I’m not as strong as you think.” A glimmer of tears threatened her softest gray eyes, and she dropped her gaze.
“You are exactly as strong as I think and you know it.”
“Max . . .” Her lips quivered.
“Okay?” I stroked my hand from the indent of her waist to the curvy swell of her hip and down her left side.
“You gave me back something I never thought I’d have again.” Shy let me stroke her leg, her hand on top of mine.
“What’s that?” I spoke roughly.
“Me.”
“You were right here all along.” Pushing closer against her, I kissed her chin, nibbled at her bottom lip.
I teased my fingers along her back. Then over the smooth features of her face, capturing a tiny drop of a tear that slid toward the corner of her mouth.
Nudging her lips with mine, I whispered, “I love you.”
She grasped the back of my neck, parting my lips with her tongue, going in for a fuller, deeper, hotter kiss.
When our mouths slid apart, I chuckled in a rugged tone. “People might be watchin’ now though.”
Throwing her head back, she laughed freely, falling back onto the blanket.
I kept watching her, a sudden dryness in my throat.
Dryness that wouldn’t be doused by a drink of water.
Thirst for a future with her.
One where we didn’t have to worry about her cancer.
When we could talk about having kids.
And we woke up together every morning.
Pulling away from Shy, I rummaged around the bag I’d lugged down to the beach. My fingers closed around the box, and I pulled it out, tight in my palm.