“We don’t really have to wait until your eyes get better, right?” I ask, honestly fearful that if he sticks by that resolution, I might die of anticipation. While every sexual encounter we’ve had this far has been explosive and full of depth, I crave the connection as much as I fear it.
Tahoe shifts under me, and I can feel his hard dick through his jeans, butting up against my ass cheek. “Want to drive my truck tonight?” he asks instead.
I go to open my mouth to ask my question again, but he’s kissing me instead, the sweet taste of his mouth making me forget anything I previously wanted to know. This is all the education I need.
He lifts his sunglasses with a free hand and sets them on the arm of the sofa, but his eyes remain closed as our lips lock. He lays me down on the couch, positioning himself between my legs, just how I wish we were, but naked, and starts jutting his hips forward. He groans a little each time, as he rubs himself against my wet panties.
The friction against my clit is immediate and every nerve ending focuses between my legs. He releases my lips and kisses my neck, and ear, and breathes in the scent of my hair. Wrapping my arms around his back, I find the bottom of his shirt and work it up until I get it over his shoulders. He pulls it the rest of the way off by grabbing the collar behind his neck. When I can see his skin, touch his muscles with my fingertips. It’s over. My pussy tightens in what seems like a death vice grip and then explodes, contracting around nothing, yet the sensations are full and amazing. Again.
I’m still lightheaded and lust filled, but I know I need to take care of him. His arms are shaking and his body is coiled—ready for release. If he’ll let me. “Let me give you a blow job.” The words don’t make me gag this time. Shirley said I needed to get used to it. That it wouldn’t be so bad once I had a few dozen under my belt. Told me if I could coerce him into eating pineapple that the come would taste sweeter than normal. The thought made me dry heave, but then I checked myself. I’m an adult woman. This is part of doing business.
“You make me dry hump you like a teenaged boy. You realize how wrapped you have me, right?” Tahoe says, his tone light. “Only if you want to. About the blow job,” he adds, licking the edge of my ear, sending goose bumps down one entire side of my body.
Pushing him up with one hand, I wait for him to situate himself. “Of course I want to,” I say, grinning in what I hope looks like a reassuring manner. I took notes. I have this. He sits down on the couch, and I kneel between his legs, trying my best to keep my hands on any part of skin I can in the process.
Licking my lips, I watch intently as he slides his shorts down. His erection, loud and proud, springs free.
“I love everything about this right now. How you look. How you’re making me feel. So out of control. I have no idea what to expect next and for once, I don’t care. It’s just you and me. I’m so happy,” he says, putting a hand on the side of my face as I take him into my right hand to stroke him up and down. The skin is so smooth, like silk, and his pleasure in my touch is obvious. “I’m not, ah, saying that because you’re about to put my dick in your mouth either.”
“You’re saying it because you mean it,” I finish for him.
He nods, his eyes still closed, a sleepy turned-on smile on his face. If I asked him to open them, I wonder if he would. Remembering Shirley’s words about tempo, mouth to hand ratio, spit, and zeal, I move in to wet it with my tongue.
Tahoe guides me with his hands on my shoulders, the back of my neck, and with gentle words. It doesn’t take as long this time. Because I want to be legit more than anything else, I even swallow
****
We would both be happy staying in. Cooking a nice dinner, having a glass of wine or three, and then heading to my bedroom to explore each other’s bodies for seven hours, but tonight Tahoe is the one urging us to go to the spot. We already discussed that I would drive his truck tonight, because his plans don’t involve staying sober. I’m okay with it, if anything, that’s what I’m used to. It’s always more fun to see everyone act like idiots with a clear focus.
I don’t drive often, and his truck is a big, old thing that probably shouldn’t be trusted, but he coached me all the way there, telling me how third gear sticks and what I should do to unstick it.
There’s a lot across the street where everyone parks relatively uniform, in lines spanning about ten cars deep. I make sure to back into the next spot for an easy exit. I recognize a few people parking and heading across the deserted street. “You don’t like coming here?” Tahoe says, pulling me against his side.
I quirk up one side of my mouth. “It’s not that I don’t like coming, it’s just that everyone else does.” Sliding my arm around his back, I hold on to him tightly. I’m still floating in that orgasm induced good mood when I see Britt and Whit. Whit is holding one of those tall metal cups that keeps drinks cold for a long time and Britt is wearing RBF like she’s the one who coined the term.
“It’s our friends,” Tahoe says, noticing them, too. He chuckles and shakes his head.
Swallowing down the nerves, I say, “You’re going to see everyone here.” We cross the street and head onto the property owned by a distant relative of Malena. It remains open to everyone just because it always has been and no one complains. It has access to a canal, which opens to the bay, and then the river that feeds to the ocean. There are picnic tables and someone is setting up the kegs on the concrete slab that was poured for this occasion exactly. “Watch out for the mud,” I tell him, during the walk over. “I meant to ask you. Leif have a thing for Malena? She was planning on coming tonight anyways. So don’t let your friend think she’s here especially for him. She is a bit feisty.”
Tahoe stretches his neck, his sunglasses still in place. “Leif likes feisty. Are you sure you don’t want to drink? We can produce a DD if need be.”
“I’m sure. You have fun. Is this some sort of tradition?” I ask. He didn’t give me specifics, not unlike anytime I ask about his job. He merely said it was something they did before a mission, and an opportunity like this is too hard to pass up.
Tahoe explains that the one time they didn’t go out boozing before a mission a SEAL was killed. Sort of like a good luck charm. He likens it to basketball players not cutting their hair, or hockey players not shaving until the end of the season, but that seems so trivial in comparison. We’re talking about life and death.
Britt and Whit are making their way over and I see Tahoe’s jaw tick. “Hey guys. A great night for it, huh?” I ask.
Britt agrees, looking only at me, and tells me about the boutonnieres she selected for the groomsmen today. I pretend to be overly interested, because Whit and Tahoe are talking about something completely unrelated, but they aren’t fighting. That’s what I want. For him to just be himself, not the outsider. A part of Bronze Bay.
“Shirley told me about NYC. You must be excited. Do you have plans?” Britt asks. I should be skeptical because she rarely takes this much of an interest in me, but I tell her the truth anyways. And I can’t help it, my excitement bleeds into my words. She’s smiling when I finish telling her about the reservation Tahoe made at a restaurant I saw onSex in the City.
“You’re lucky, Caroline. I’m so happy for you,” she says, her eyes downcast for a moment, then on her fiancé next to her. All traces of happiness vanish as she looks at Whit and my stomach flips with unease.
“Want to grab a drink?” I ask, making a grab for her arm. She smiles politely and comes with me toward the kegs. When we’re enough distance away. I just come right out and ask what’s on my mind. “Is everything okay? You seem really sad.”
Her smile is wistful. “I’m always such a bitch to you, and yet you’re the only person who has noticed I’m not the bubbly bride I’m supposed to be. Why is that?” she asks. I can’t tell if it’s rhetoric.
I glance back over my shoulder and meet Tahoe’s gaze. He winks once. To Britt I say, “Because it’s Bronze Bay and everyone in it ignores things that might rock the boat. All I do these days is rock the boat. Are you okay? You don’t have to give me details,” I say, shaking my head. “But if you need anything, let me know.” It’s the neighborly thing to say, and I think she’ll respond better to that than if I pry into her life.
