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Things between Keaton and me were becoming too heavy, too fast — and I don’t just mean sexually. Our conversation from the other day was heavy as hell, and I can’t say that I’ve slept well since.
She can’t go through all this alone, and I want to be the person she turns to for help, but I know that’s going to take a lot of trust building on my part. Keaton has every reason not to trust men. I get that. But I really hope that she can learn to put her faith in me. I want to be a safe place for her. However, that also means that I need to be able to discern when life becomes too much. When it’s time to just take a break. And my girl definitely deserves a break.
So, I took the top off of my convertible, packed up all of my beach gear and told her to meet me out front of her house this morning.
When I told her my plans to take her to the beach for the day, she protested at first, saying we could just as easily go to the beach behind her mom's house. But that defeated the purpose of getting away, so I told her to put that fine ass in her cutest swimsuit and to be prepared for a day of sun and relaxation.
The second we hit the interstate with the wind whipping in her hair, I knew I'd made the right choice. The smile on her face said it all.
We drove for close to an hour before pulling off onto a winding road along the coast.
“Oh wow,” Keaton says, turned in her seat to face the crystal blue of the ocean.
I chuckle, but would have to agree with her. This part of the ocean is nothing like back home.
Once we park, Keaton hops out to help me grab all of our stuff before lugging it down to the beach. We lay our towels out and set up the umbrella, positioning the cooler and her bag beneath its shade.
When I'd come up with this idea, I didn't have any of the necessary beach items, so I’d run out and purchased everything I thought we might need. Sunscreen, beach towels, the cooler and umbrella — which I completely splurged on to get one that had privacy screens built in, just in case.
“So,” I say, turning toward Keaton and clapping my hands together for emphasis, “what do you want to do first?”
“There are options?” she asks, laughing as she shields her eyes from the sun.
“You always have options, Princess,” I say in all seriousness.
Color rises to her cheeks and I'm certain it has nothing to do with the heat today. She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, fighting off a smile, and shakes her head.
“Alright then, what are my options?”
“Well, let’s see. We could eat, or go for a swim, or just lay here — though if we do that, I can't promise I'll keep my hands to myself. I didn't bring any game stuff, though. Now I'm thinking I should have,” I say, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck.
“Don’t sweat it. It probably wouldn't be as fun with just the two of us,” she says, shrugging her shoulder before turning to face the water. “I think for now, I just want to lay in the sun.” She smiles at me warmly and steps toward me, reaching up on her toes to press a sweet kiss to my lips.
“Whatever you want, Princess,” I say, stealing one more kiss before dropping down to my towel behind us.
Keaton steps out of her shoes, moving them off to the side before undoing the button of her cut-off shorts and sliding them down over her hips. Her long, copper legs look satin smooth, and I want to reach out and run my hands up the length of them, from ankles to thighs, before settling myself between them. The memory of my face buried between them makes my dick twitch in my trunks, and I roll to my stomach in an attempt to hide my growing erection.
Once she pulls her faded black t-shirt over her head, I watch her with a heated stare, the hunger to have her beneath me growing by the second.
In a bright, neon yellow bikini, Keaton is a sight to behold. My girl could be on the cover of a sports magazine, no questions asked. Her long hair flows in the breeze around her before she piles it high on her head and adjusts her sunglasses on her face.
Either she doesn’t see the way I’m watching her, or she’s really good at paying me no mind. My eyes are glued to the swell of her ass as she bends to retrieve the sunscreen, and the thoughts that filter through my mind are filthy. Like, bend her over and eat her from behind, filthy.
She squeezes the sunscreen into her hand and then makes fast work of applying it to every square inch of her body. All that she can reach, anyway.
When she had told me the other night that she sometimes worried that she might end up with cancer like her mom had, I knew that being sure I remembered sunblock today was a must. It was more than just skin care or ensuring she didn't burn. It was her way of fighting back.
“Can you do my back?” she asks, coming down to sit next to me, handing me the bottle.
“Yeah, sure.” I roll to my knees behind her, taking a moment to adjust myself while she’s not looking, and begin rubbing the lotion into her shoulders, slowly working it down her back and sides.
“Mmm,” she moans, her head falling forward as I work the pads of my thumbs into the tense muscles at the base of her neck.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, the bulge in the front of my shorts very obvious now.
“What?” she asks, turning her head to peer over her shoulder at me.
“You’ve got to stop making those noises, Princess,” I say, not even trying to hide the lust in my voice.
