Jake grinned. “Yeah, I guess. Great technique in bed and a nine-inch cock aren’t bad reasons, either.”
Danielle glanced from Jake to Trey and back again and grinned. “Certainly reasons I find quite convincing.”
Jake wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “You’re bad, sweetheart. Real bad.”
She slid her hand discreetly under his robe and stroked his free-wheeling cock. It rose at her touch. “Of course I am. That’s why you both love being with me so much.”
“Nine inches, eh?” Trey stroked her shoulders. “Does that mean you like Jake better than me?”
Danielle chuckled. “You may not have the same length, but you know what to do with it.” And, of course, he was thicker. Her hand itched to stroke him, too.
She released Jake’s cock and stepped away. He smoothed down his robe.
“So you won’t be choosing between us anytime soon?” Jake asked.
“Not if I don’t have to.”
Of course, she knew it wouldn’t be a matter of her choosing. They would choose each other. It was as simple as that.
Danielle unfastened her shorts and pushed them off, then folded them and placed them in her beach bag. Jake removed his shirt and rolled it up, then set it on the picnic table they’d set their cooler on. Sunlight glittered on the water, and several windsurfers skimmed across the surface. One sailor swung his bright-colored sail around, sending his board curving in a new direction. Danielle watched as a young woman stepped from the dock onto her board and took off on the wind. Her companion followed suit, and a moment later they were in the middle of the bay sailing side by side.
“Trey seems to have had some luck,” Jake said.
She glanced across the beach to the grassy peninsula where the rental stand was and saw Trey heading back toward them, a smile on his handsome tanned face. The breeze rippled through his short spiky hair, the sunlight accentuating the blond highlights in the sandy-colored mass.
When they’d arrived and seen the parking lot full and the crowd at the rental booth, they’d resigned themselves to the possibility that they wouldn’t be windsurfing today. Trey had gotten in line while Jake and Danielle gathered their things and took them to the beach to claim a picnic table.
“I got two boards,” Trey said, holding up two slips of paper.
“Only two?” Jake asked.
“I figure we’ll take turns showing Danielle how to use the board.”
Jake turned to Danielle. “I thought you already knew how to windsurf. We taught you before you moved to Boston.”
“That was a long time ago. I haven’t been on a board since.”
“Let’s fix that.” Trey reached for her hand.
She placed her hand in his larger one, enjoying the feel of his large fingers wrapping around hers.
“Don’t forget your water shoes.”
She pulled the blue rubber shoes Trey had brought for her from her bag, knowing they were a wise precaution against getting cut by the sharp clam shells on the sandy bottom of the lake. Why he had a pair of ladies’ size 7 shoes on hand, she didn’t know . . . and didn’t ask. The tug of his hand drew her forward as he crossed the sand to the grass, then toward the shore.
“That’s us. Numbers five and twenty-seven,” he said, gesturing to two windsurfing boards lying on the grass by the water’s edge. “The last two.”
Number 5 had a bright blue-and-green sail, while 27’s sail was purple with bands of turquoise and hot pink.
She gravitated to 27.
“I knew you’d like that one.” Trey pushed the board into the water.
Danielle sat on the grass and dropped the shoes into the water, then dipped her feet in. Goose bumps rose along her legs. “It’s cold.” She tugged on one shoe, then the other.
“It’ll be fine once you’re used to it.” Jake pulled on his shoes, then stood up and waded into the water, guiding number 5 ahead of him. When he was thigh deep, he sat on the board, then pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed the boom of his sail, then drew it upward. He tipped the slack sail until the wind caught it, and deftly sailed away.
Trey pushed number 27 into the water. “Here, climb on.”