“And what kind of place might that be?”
“One where both of us are naked.”
A smile spread across his face. “Would you actually enjoy that? Generally speaking, you’re not exactly a fan of giving up control.”
I told him, “Actually, the only time I like to do that is during sex.”
“In that case, say yes to me giving you a blow job, right here and now.”
Although the thought of it instantly made my cock swell, I said, “It’s tempting, but I don’t think you’d want to deal with the consequences if someone came along and filmed us messing around.”
“We probably won’t get caught. When I went for a walk earlier, I noticed all the houses on this stretch of beach seem to be vacation homes, and they’re all closed up because it’s off-season. Also, while this is a public beach, it’s also a fairly chilly weekday in March, and I haven’t seen another soul since we’ve been here.”
“That’s a compelling argument.”
He smiled at me and asked, “Is that a yes?” When I nodded, he jumped out of the hammock so fast that it almost dumped me out, and he said, “Pivot around so you’re sitting crosswise with your back to the bay.”
I did as he asked, and he dropped to his knees in the sand and made quick work of my belt and zipper. He pulled down the front of my briefs and ran his tongue up my cock, and then he slid his mouth from the tip to the base as I shuddered with pleasure.
What followed was quick, intense, and startlingly intimate. He rested his hands on my thighs, and when he met my gaze, it actually caused a physical reaction, reverberating through me and making my cock throb.
Add in the public setting and the thrill of potentially getting caught, and everything was amplified somehow—our connection, the sensations he was sending through me, and the orgasm that tore from me after a few minutes. I grasped the hammock with both hands and totally failed to stifle a yell as I shot down his throat. It went on and on, and by the time it ended, I was a wreck.
Fortunately, Harper still had his wits about him. He pulled up my briefs and zipped my jeans, then helped me pivot back around on the hammock. When he climbed in beside me and draped an arm over my chest, I muttered something like, “That was…holy shit…no words.”
He grinned and said, “You’re cute when you’re all loopy and satiated.”
I chuckled at that and tipped my head to the side, so it rested against his. After a minute, I managed, “What about you? I want to return the favor.”
“I’ll gladly let you, but let’s wait a while. You seem very relaxed right now.”
“Yeah, I’m basically a puddle.” I flashed him a goofy grin and murmured, “That was incredible.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“Liked it. Total understatement.” I took his hand and held it between both of mine.
We watched the palm leaves swaying overhead for a while, and then I said, “Tell me something about you, Harper.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. It’s funny, a lot of what I know about you comes from interviews I’ve read or from watching you on talk shows. I have all these random facts filed away, like that you grew up in Naperville, Illinois, you used to spend your summers on the east coast, and you went to college on a football scholarship. But you didn’t actually tell me this stuff, and I don’t know what any of it means to you.”
“I used to love summers at the coast,” he said. “We owned a beach house on Martha’s Vineyard, and I felt so free when I was there. Hudson and I were totally unsupervised, because my dad never came with us, and my mom spent most of her time with her friends. When we were little, my brother and I would pretend we were pirates and go on these elaborate treasure hunts. Then when we got older, we’d go sailing for hours and hours. It’s still one of my favorite things in the world.”
“That sounds like a pretty ideal childhood.”
“The summers were. There was a lot of pressure on my brother and me the rest of the year to get good grades, excel at sports, basically be the perfect sons. But every July and August, we just got to be kids.”
I asked, “Does your family still have the beach house?”
“No, my dad sold it during my senior year of high school. I was devastated.”
“Have you ever thought about trying to buy it from the current owner?”
Harper nodded. “I used to daydream about that all the time. But about three years ago, I went back to Martha’s Vineyard with friends and discovered the magic was gone, which was pretty depressing. It wasn’t that the place had changed, but I had.”