Before I Ever Met You

A small moan escapes from my lips, the pressure from his fingers growing harder. He reaches down with his other hand to free his cock from his shorts while I grab the board and lean back against it with my arms spread out.

“Can you touch the bottom?’” I ask as his lips go to my neck, sucking the salt water off of me.

“Mmhmm.” He pushes aside my bikini bottom and runs the tip of his cock up and down my slit, teasing oh so slowly.

To be honest, I’ve never had sex in the water before, and I’m grateful that he gets me wet and ready so fast, because when he starts to push in, it’s friction city. I suck in my breath, my fingers digging into the surfboard, trying to hold on.

“Just breathe,” he tells me, licking my earlobe. “I’ll take it slow until you tell me otherwise.”

I nod and let out my breath, feeling myself expand around him. The pressure of his fingers on on my clit fill me with an aching hollowness, like I need more of him inside, like I’ll never have enough of him.

“That’s it,” he groans, mouth at my neck. “Fuck yes. You’re so tight, Veronica, so fucking tight.”

I can’t say anything back to that, I can only breathe, my head back and face to the blue blue sky above. He starts pumping into me faster, deeper, controlled jabs of his hips against mine. The friction of the water seems to slow down time, making me feel every single inch of him as he thrusts in and out.

Someone has to be watching us, someone has to know that we aren’t just two people hanging out in the water. They have to know I’m getting royally fucked in public.

We’re so bad. But so, so good.

Each spot he hits brings me to a new level. I don’t know if it’s the shimmering water that envelopes us or the stark sunshine that illuminates everything, but I’ve never felt so alive and exposed at the same time. The darkness and the doubt and the guilt are banished for this sweet moment. It’s just us, all of our flaws and imperfections exposed. It’s us and we’re in this together, stronger for it.

I’m starting to think this man is my world. I’m starting to think he’ll never not be.

Logan looks up from my neck, staring right into my eyes. His breath is ragged and rough as he moves in and out of me, picking up the pace. But his eyes never break from mine and I watch as the fire inside them builds, just as it builds inside me.

I can’t hang on anymore. “Oh, oh,” I cry out softly. “I’m coming.”

“Fuck,” he swears, his eyes snapping shut as he thrusts in harder, deeper, his fingers on my clit rubbing me to completion. My legs convulse, trying to hold on as I let go and he pumps into me until he’s grunting and cursing into my shoulder, finding his own release.

“Don’t drown,” he manages to say, his voice thick and sated.

I grip the board harder, aware that I’m floating in the ocean while I’m floating in the stars. Just when I think he can’t make me come harder, when I think he can’t make me feel more, he does.

When I’ve finally caught my breath, I raise my head and give him a lopsided smile. “If this is included in every surfing session, you’re going to have a hard time keeping me out of the water.”

He kisses me softly on the lips before he slowly pulls out of me. “Freckles, you have no idea how hard it is to stay away from you in general.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face, eyes searching me for something. He almost looks pained.

“What?” I ask.

He gives his head a slight shake. “Nothing. I just…can’t believe I have you.”

My heart warms from those words. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to knowing that I’m his. “Of course you have me.”

“But I don’t want you just for now,” his voice grows softer, deeper, just as his gaze does. “I want you forever. Just like this. Under this sun, in these waves. With me.”

Something inside me is starting to break. Little cracks, here and there, in the hardened plaster that used to keep me together. If Logan keeps this up, I’ll be shattered in no time. There will be nowhere to hide and I’ll have no chance to rebuild.

I don’t know how to answer him. I’m feeling too much, my body still aching from where he was inside me. He clears his throat and looks up at the sun, squinting. “Well, since we’ve got a beauty of a day, we might as well take advantage of it. Your turn. Don’t worry, I won’t make you sing this time.”

“You better not,” I tell him. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you sang ‘Purple Rain’ to me again.”

“We’ll see,” he says.

So, I get on the board and he coaxes me to stand up on yet another wave, all while he is singing “Purple Rain.” Even if he made that shit up and I’m not the one singing, it still works.

Well, at least the first time it did. I bailed on the last two waves, getting pummeled both times. Guess I was picking waves a bit out of my league and getting over-confident.

Funny what love can do to you, I think as I drag myself out of the surf.

The thought nearly stops me dead in my tracks.

Love.

It’s nearly as terrifying as the wipeout. Hell, love is the wipeout. It pummels you, turns your world upside down until you don’t know what way is up. The only difference between the two, is when you’re underwater, there’s always the surface. When you’re in love, there’s no way out.

I’m not quite sure where I am in this emotion but the longer I’m with Logan, the more I’m tumbling, turning, and lost.

“You all right there, Freckles?” Logan asks as he comes out of the waves and onto the shore. “That last wave got you pretty good.”

I think you’ve got me pretty good, I want to say.

After that we head to Tahiti Nui to catch some lunch, sitting out front and having their Mai Tais and poke bowls, watching the world of Hanalei go by – when we aren’t watching each other, of course. Logan is probably the only person more stunning than the scenery.

We’re careful with each other since everyone in town knows Logan (as demonstrated by every person that passes our table stopping to chat with him), but even though we’re not touching each other or whispering sweet nothings, we’re one-hundred-percent invested. We spend hours there, just talking about everything under the sun, and the more we talk, the more I want him to talk. You know those people you could just listen to for hours, that always have something interesting to say? That’s Logan. Whether it’s his thoughts on local politics or growing up in Australia or whether traveling the world should be as mandatory as a high school education, the man makes me think, as well as feel.

And let’s face it, listening to that accent over and over again gets me as drunk as the Mai Tais do.