I bypass the champagne along with the orange juice, knowing I’m not going to drink this morning. It’s a figure of speech. Nothing says misery like drowning yourself in alcohol at sunrise. Not like it really matters since sleeping didn’t happen, again. God bless my dad’s friend and attorney. He tried to get me in to see a therapist or even a doctor to help prescribe me something to help me get sleep. The only problem with that is my intolerance to medicine, because when I do take it, I’m out for a solid forty-eight hours. I mean, sure, that could be a good thing, but not when you’re alone at a beach house with not a friend around. Even if the neighbor is ridiculously hot. I didn’t mind the view he was giving me one-bit, dark hair, shaved on the sides, longer on the top, his eyes that see far too much are also dark, almost black, a few days’ growth of stubble on his jaw, giving him that sexy rugged bad-boy appeal.
That was only the beginning. He didn’t see me checking him out while he was stretching, his muscular back giving way to a firm backside, and when I made my presence known, let’s just say there was a reason my nipples tightened with need. He was drop-dead gorgeous, the whole freaking package, until he opened his mouth. Then it was all over. I had no problem turning around and leaving him with his mouth hanging open.
So, that’s why I’m forgoing the mimosas, marching up the staircase, and am going to scrounge together some semblance of a bathing suit. That is if I packed one. Knowing my luck, I forgot to pack one. I’ve already been to the store too many times in the few days I’ve been here. Apparently, I thought it was okay to not pack the necessities, you know, like panties, a toothbrush, and body wash. I really am a freaking mess. That’s why when I dig through my still packed suitcase, I’m shit out of luck in the bathing suit department.
“Whelp, I guess that cancels out the plans to laze around in the sun all day.” Instead, I throw on a pair of panties, shorts, a tank top sans bra—because hello, built-in shelf bra, which is the best thing a woman must have invented—scrub my face and teeth, not bothering with brushing my hair and just fluffing up the top so it doesn’t look so flat against my skull, and then do the same to the bottom. A baseball cap and flip flops complete my look. Then I grab my bag. Even the rumble of my stomach isn’t going to stop me from going shopping today. I could eat before I go out, but who wants to do that when it’s a gorgeous day outside? Okay, I take that back. I’m more than likely going to stop at the local coffee shop to grab more caffeine and something to eat, because that’s the only thing I seem to be living on these days. The sun is calling my name, and if I have any luck at all, a lounge chair on the beach, the sun, and the surf crashing in the distance will lull me into a much-needed nap, since sleeping at night isn’t happening.
I walk out the door, loving the keypad as a lock instead of a key. It’s so much more user friendly. A part of me is wondering if I shouldn’t box everything up back home in California. The thought that I would be getting rid of a piece of my father makes me tremble with a drowning feeling, so I shut it down completely. Though going back there at this point in time won’t be happening either. For now, I’ll stay in South Carolina, be a tourist, and pump money into their economy by checking out all the local shops, because, you know, that whole lack of packing issue, and then, of course, food. This small tourist town is full of hidden gems with amazing food to eat your way through while shopping. And that’s what I’m set out to do this early in the morning.
5
Fox
My run did absolutely nothing to clear my mind of the vixen that has seemed to be taking up permanent residency in my head for the past twelve fucking hours. So much that when I took a shower after coming off the beach, my cock was hard as a rock and I was fucking my fist to the thought of her riding me reverse cowgirl, my hands in her hair, pulling it back, my mouth sucking on her neck as she grinds down on my cock. It had me coming in record time. Not that it did a shit ton of good—the fucking thing was harder than nails ten minutes later. I rushed out of the shower, more pissed off than when they air lifted my ass from Iraq to Germany, my knee a ripped-up mess, knowing full well my career as a Seal was over.