Old Kiera wouldn’t think twice. Tap that ass! Or whatever girls are supposed to say now. I work too much to keep up. The last few times I hooked up though? I ended up feeling depressed for days afterward. And it’s not like I’d wanted something more, I never intended more than a one nighter. But still I was left feeling like I’d had a break up. My mom keeps telling me I need more human connection. Andrea tells me I should have enough fun for the both of us. My sister tells me it’s time to find a real boyfriend. But I don’t feel like I have time for any of those. You stop swimming, you sink to the bottom of the ocean. DC is packed full of the best and the brightest, the top of every law school in the country. And if I don’t keep working, no one is going to stop and hold my place for me.
As I soap up the washcloth and rub it across my body, I can’t help think about how it felt to have Tyler behind me on the board. The way it felt to be wrapped in that strong body. To feel him pressed against my backside. My body is winning out over my brain, for sure.
I wrap the towel around me and go to my closet. I wish I still had that white bandage dress, but Andrea had worn it when she went out and I hadn’t seen her or the dress since. It looked better on her anyway.
I’m reaching for a loose, flowy dress when I look up to see Tyler in the doorway, watching me. The white towel wrapped around his hips is just barely tucked in, the gap exposing a muscular thigh. My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but notice the tenting starting at the front of that towel of his.
“Oh, hi!” I say, ever eloquent.
“Hey,” he says and takes a step toward me.
“I thought you were hungry,” I tease, as he puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me in.
"I’m very hungry," he says, nuzzling into my neck. My knees feel like they’d like to give way like Allie’s did. My hands roam over the broad expanse of his back as he kisses up my neck and behind my ear. The towel on my hair falls off when I tilt my head to meet his lips.
When our lips meet, he pulls me closer still, pressing our bodies together fiercely. Any doubts that thought they could nag me fall away, leaving me to the need of my body. When his towel finally gives up and falls to the floor, I let my hands drift down to his rear. As finely muscled as the rest of him, firm.
My touch encourages him to pull the towel from my body as well and our skin comes together in near desperation. It feels good, right. I back him toward the bed as we kiss and we climb in.
I am charmed by how pale he is from mid thigh to hip, like he’s put on a white bathing suit that has a shockingly anatomically correct (so very correct) drawing on the front.
“I say I’m always prepared, but I’ve slipped up. Hang on, I need to go to my bag,” He starts to get up.
There’s always that moment where I think “Do I offer the condom and look like a big ol’ slut that needs a stack of condoms at the bedside or just wait and let him get it?” And I know that no man should think less of me for it. But some do. And some find it sexy. I decide it’s best to know which sort he his.
“I’ve got you covered,” I say. “As it were.” I open the bedside drawer and pull out the little foil packet. I tear it open with my teeth, smiling at him all the while. It’s pretty clear he’s not the sort to be troubled by it. His already impressive erection grows as I pull the condom out.
When I roll it on, he lets out a moan. Nothing sexier than knowing a man is into what I’m doing. We’re not messing around here. Let all that surfboard time count as foreplay.
I’m so ready for him, but I delay just a bit by kissing my way down that gorgeous chest. All that popping-up and core-work balancing on a board has served him well. Each muscle is defined by sun-kissed skin. I lay back on the bed and pull him to me. It’s like we fit perfectly. I feel him pressing at my opening and my hips rise to take him in.
“In a hurry?” he breathes.
I just nod. I don’t have words or snappy comebacks I just want this man inside me. Now. I’ll worry about feeling depressed later.
He slides all the way in, stretching me. It’s been a while and he’s seriously hung.
“Oh, Kiera,” he moans. He leans down to kiss his way across my breast to my nipple. He pulls it into his mouth, hard, making me gasp. His hips are still as he moves to the other breast. I feel completely filled and my body is urging him to thrust.
Slowly at first, and gradually faster, Tyler begins to move and I move to meet him. My hands clutch at his back as I feel my pleasure mounting.
We find our rhythm easily, as if we’ve been lovers for months, but with the excitement of new passion. I’ve always been…easy to please and I climax twice before he finishes, crying out my name.
When, at last, he rolls to my side, we both lie there, spent. I don’t think I could move if the hotel was on fire.
“Oh, wow,” he breathes.
“No kidding,” I say. It’s an effort just to make my mouth move. “I’m going to need a nap before dinner. Before I take another breath.”
Tyler brushes a wisp of hair off my forehead. “Want me to lay here with you or will you sleep better if I get up?”
My smile comes easily. “If you’re sleepy, stay. If you’re going to fidget, scram.”
“I’ll see you when you wake,” he says, stroking my arm as he gets up.
“Wake me up in an hour if I don’t get up myself!”
I’m pretty sure I’d have slept through until morning on my own, but it was nice to wake up to that smile anyway.
“I’m hungry for food now,” he says standing beside me, “although I could probably be coaxed back into bed.”
“Uh-uh” I say, sitting up. “I’m hungry for food, too. I’m going to shower again and this time you have to let me get dressed.”
“No promises.” He’s already dressed in shorts and a linen shirt. The linen has that perfect not-ironed-but-not-too-wrinkly look. I can never figure out how people do that.
When I emerge after my shower, in that flowing blue dress at last, Tyler is sprawled on the couch, scrolling around on his phone.
“Mm, you look gorgeous,” he says, sitting up. “The spirit of the islands. How about some authentic Aruban food?”
“Iguana and coconut? They don’t grow a whole lot here.”
“I read that iguana’s illegal now, but if you have a hankerin’” there was that Southern accent again, “I’m sure I can find a guy to hook you up.”
I make a face at the thought. “I’m good, thanks.”
After a ride in to the center of the island, we pull up at a big old house that has been converted into a restaurant and gallery. It has the usual feeling of benign neglect. Much of this island feels like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Hard to leave work completely behind.
When we enter, the man behind the little podium lights up.
“Mr. Tyler! You came back! Welcome!” He embraces Tyler and kisses his cheek before doing the same to me. “You brought us a beautiful girl!”
“This is Kiera, Fredo.” He turns to me, “Fredo has the best Aruban food on the island.”
“Or anywhere else,” Fredo booms, “because you don’t find Aruban food anywhere else!”
Once we’re seated at a cozy little table, I ask, “I thought you’d never been to the island before?”
“Oh I haven’t. I just came here a couple of days ago. I’m a good tipper. I make an impression.” He opens the menu.
“So, what do you do to give you that good tippin’ money? You say the surfing doesn’t pay, but clearly you spend a lot of time doing it.”
Fredo arrives at the table with a bottle of white wine. “Compliments of the house,” he says, pouring.
We thank him and when he leaves again I say, “Are you in the mob?”
Tyler laughs. “No, nothing that glamorous. I just made some good investments.”
I give him a little kick under the table. “You know you’re making it worse with your half answers. What do you do?”
He folds the menu and sets it down
. “Um, nothing?” he says with that crooked grin. “I’m currently between jobs.”
Ah. A beach bum with a trust fund. He works to make enough money to play and when the money runs out he goes back to work. Never worries because there’s family money to fall back on. I’ve met the type. Cute and funny as he is, I’m glad this is just an island fling so I don’t end up having to loan him money or letting him crash in the guest room.
“What do you do?” he asks.
I take a sip of the wine, wondering if I should come up with a lower paying job to throw him off the trail. I decide it isn’t worth the hassle. I’ll be leaving soon anyway. “I work at a law firm in DC. I handle corporate cases. Well, not handle, I’ve only been with the firm three years, but I work on corporate cases.”
“Ah, like people suing companies or copyright law or what?”
I hesitate. It’s still a little embarrassing. “Defense, usually. Like, environmental complaints lodged against companies.” I see the look in his eyes, I’ve seen it before. Hell, I’ve felt it myself. “I know, it’s evil, mostly. But it pays really well and I have a lot of debt. I went to Georgetown Law and that does not come cheaply. I figure I put in some time here and then I can go do what I want.”
“What do you want?”
I sigh. “I wish I knew. Not this. It feels good to pay the bills and go on vacation with my friend. But it does kill my soul a little.”
“Just a little?” he smiles and the candlelight on his face is just…there’s no other word, he looks beautiful. Why do I want to spill my guts to this slacker?