Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island 2)

My leg comes up and slides over his hip, the blanket falling away as I pull him closer, whimpering into his kiss when I feel how hard he is, knowing it’s for me and because of me, and I just want more. I want Shepherd to erase all the messy and replace it with nothing but the perfection of him. His smell and his taste and his touch, brushing over every scar and taking away every pain.

My hips jerk to feel his cock rubbing against the pulsing ache, and Shepherd responds with a growl from deep in his chest, his arm tightening around me and his mouth tearing away from mine to kiss his way along my cheek and down to my neck. My hand slides up the back of his head, pressing his mouth harder against the side of my neck. He sucks on that spot right below my ear, and I see stars. Squeezing my eyes closed, I let out a choked whimper when I feel his hand grip my ass, jerking me against him to help me swivel my hips and grind myself on his hardness while he nips and sucks on my neck. That pulsing ache mixing with a delicious fiery burn makes me start panting through my needy whimpers. My head drops back to give Shepherd better access to my neck while I happily dry-hump him, not even caring we’re on a public beach.

“Oh, hey there! You’re not my two missing swingers!”

Until I do.

A man’s voice from right above us in the sand is like someone just threw a bucket of ice-cold water all over both of us. Shepherd and I break apart and scramble away from each other in the pillows and blankets like two teenagers who were just caught making out by someone’s dad.

Except it’s not someone’s dad… and hopefully will never be someone’s dad.

“Wait just one minute,” Bodhi says, his face dropping to a clipboard he’s holding in his hand while my face is currently turning the same shade as a tomato, and I’m panting so hard I sound like I just ran a marathon. Or almost had a dry-humping orgasm from the man who is currently on the other side of the blankets from me, holding a pillow over his crotch and glaring up at the man who always looks like a homeless surfer with his shaggy blonde hair, faded and ratty T-shirts and shorts, and always smells like a mixture of pot and patchouli.

“Are you my missing swingers?” Bodhi asks, looking back and forth between me and Shepherd. “I didn’t see your names on the list, but I’ll double check. Tess never told me you two were kinky.”

Bodhi wags his eyebrows at both of us and winks before looking back down at his clipboard.

“We aren’t swingers!” I finally tell Tess’s boyfriend when I remember how to use words again. “What are you even doing out here? Swingers? Does Tess know about this? Are you guys swingers?”

I whisper that last part, my eyes widening, not even believing I’m having this conversation right now when, just seconds ago, I was blissfully unaware anyone else was on this damn beach. Bodhi just chuckles and shakes his head at me, tucking the clipboard under his arm.

“I can barely handle Tess. No way could I manage two women. And I don’t share, nor do I really like an extra dong being in the room with me and my woman. It’s distracting. I’m the activities director for a small swingers get-together this evening. We were just about to get started with the ring toss, but we lost Rick and Janet. You guys wanna be Rick and Janet for the night?”

“No!” Shepherd and I both shout at the same time.

“Suit yourselves.” Bodhi just shrugs, turns, and starts walking away toward where I now see a group of about twenty people at least ten cottages down, sitting around a fire on the beach.

When he’s gone and it’s just Shepherd and me again, we both look at each other for a few seconds and then start laughing. He stands up from the blankets and walks over to me, holding out his hand and helping me up.

“I’ll walk you out to your golf cart.”

I hate that the night is ending, but it is really late, and I have to be at the Dip and Twist early in the morning. As Shepherd laces his fingers through mine and holds my hand as he walks me through the sand, grabbing one of the vases of purple roses as we go with a promise to bring as many as I want back to my cottage tomorrow, I’m just happy knowing this is only the first of many more dates to come.

Once Shepherd secures the vase of flowers on the floor of my cart, we spend a few minutes standing in his driveway, kissing goodbye. He finally pulls back, puts me behind the wheel, straps my seatbelt around me, and gives me one last peck on the cheek before standing back up.