Chapter 1
Sean
F rom my spot in the parking lot, I whistled at the rare beauty. Sleek and sexy, the sunlight shone off her curves. She hummed like a dream. Man, I wanted to take her for a long, fast ride.
Then like something out of a wet dream, she slid out of the dark blue 1968 Mustang Shelby GT.
I was a breast man, pure and simple. As a lifeguard for six years, I’d seen plenty. From small and perky to large and full, I didn’t discriminate. I loved the feel of the soft flesh in my hands and the way they felt pressed against my chest during sex. Loved the gentle moan of a woman responding to my mouth sucking on her nipple.
The blonde, though, had her breasts hiding behind a gold t-shirt. In white lettering the word ‘Angel’ stretched across the front. For my sake, I hoped that wasn’t true.
Because the white micro-mini skirt she wore left her long, shapely legs bare. An image of those legs wrapped around me, pulling me in deeper, revved my engines.
A woman who could handle the piece of American muscle she drove could definitely handle mine.
Man, I wanted to take the blonde for a long, slow ride.
I had to meet the owner of the hot rod and of that smoking bod, but I had no business pursuing a relationship. With the promise to my parents to wait four years fulfilled, at this summer’s end I’d be sweating it out in basic training, then heading off to God only knew. Luckily most rich girls didn’t seem to have a problem with a summer fling with a local who wasn’t husband material. I’d learned that the hard way. Twice. With a car worth about a hundred grand, she had to be loaded. She’d break my heart without a thought. Three times a charm.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped out of my Jeep and followed her into the drugstore. Spotting the flowing mane of hair, I covertly entered the next aisle over and pretended to shop. I’d been with plenty of blondes, but she didn’t seem like the typical stuck up, wealthy Hampton summer resident. I liked that she wasn’t overly made up like all the girls who descended on my hometown each summer. I doubted she thought about makeup before hitting the beach. She was…what was the word? Breezy. Natural. Mine.
She looked up, our gazes meeting over the shelving that separated the aisle. Despite being caught staring, I couldn’t look away. The light brown eyes peeking back at me reminded me of the sun setting over the ocean after a sweltering day.
“Hi, ya.”
Her sweet Southern accent spoke directly to my cock. My body heated like a third-degree sunburn.
Before I could respond with even a grunt, she turned and approached the cash register. I followed, but realizing I had nothing to buy, I grabbed an item off the end cap shelving and slid in line behind her. Nice ass, too .
She turned and arched an eyebrow, catching my gaze. “Checking out my assets?”
I laughed. Funny, too. I was in trouble. My cock hardened. Big, big trouble.
“Guilty, as charged.” I noticed what she was holding. Tampons. “Bummer.” Crap. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“You have no idea.” She laughed and tossed the box onto the counter. Nodding to the package in my hand, she said, “Or maybe you do, huh?”
I looked down, horrified to find a package of sanitary pads.
Why couldn’t it be a box of extra large condoms?
She charmed the cashier with politeness. Or it might have been the accent, but the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ flowed naturally from her mouth. Yes, she definitely wasn’t the typical Hampton summer resident, except she didn’t spare me another glance as she left the store.
I tossed the offending package I held into a bin by the door and followed her yet again. Was I crossing the line into stalker territory? “Wait up,” I shouted.
But she was already waiting outside the door with a big smile. “Did you forget something?” She nodded to my empty hands.
Relieved that she hadn’t run off, I slowed and we naturally fell into step as we walked
Sean
F rom my spot in the parking lot, I whistled at the rare beauty. Sleek and sexy, the sunlight shone off her curves. She hummed like a dream. Man, I wanted to take her for a long, fast ride.
Then like something out of a wet dream, she slid out of the dark blue 1968 Mustang Shelby GT.
I was a breast man, pure and simple. As a lifeguard for six years, I’d seen plenty. From small and perky to large and full, I didn’t discriminate. I loved the feel of the soft flesh in my hands and the way they felt pressed against my chest during sex. Loved the gentle moan of a woman responding to my mouth sucking on her nipple.
The blonde, though, had her breasts hiding behind a gold t-shirt. In white lettering the word ‘Angel’ stretched across the front. For my sake, I hoped that wasn’t true.
Because the white micro-mini skirt she wore left her long, shapely legs bare. An image of those legs wrapped around me, pulling me in deeper, revved my engines.
A woman who could handle the piece of American muscle she drove could definitely handle mine.
Man, I wanted to take the blonde for a long, slow ride.
I had to meet the owner of the hot rod and of that smoking bod, but I had no business pursuing a relationship. With the promise to my parents to wait four years fulfilled, at this summer’s end I’d be sweating it out in basic training, then heading off to God only knew. Luckily most rich girls didn’t seem to have a problem with a summer fling with a local who wasn’t husband material. I’d learned that the hard way. Twice. With a car worth about a hundred grand, she had to be loaded. She’d break my heart without a thought. Three times a charm.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped out of my Jeep and followed her into the drugstore. Spotting the flowing mane of hair, I covertly entered the next aisle over and pretended to shop. I’d been with plenty of blondes, but she didn’t seem like the typical stuck up, wealthy Hampton summer resident. I liked that she wasn’t overly made up like all the girls who descended on my hometown each summer. I doubted she thought about makeup before hitting the beach. She was…what was the word? Breezy. Natural. Mine.
She looked up, our gazes meeting over the shelving that separated the aisle. Despite being caught staring, I couldn’t look away. The light brown eyes peeking back at me reminded me of the sun setting over the ocean after a sweltering day.
“Hi, ya.”
Her sweet Southern accent spoke directly to my cock. My body heated like a third-degree sunburn.
Before I could respond with even a grunt, she turned and approached the cash register. I followed, but realizing I had nothing to buy, I grabbed an item off the end cap shelving and slid in line behind her. Nice ass, too .
She turned and arched an eyebrow, catching my gaze. “Checking out my assets?”
I laughed. Funny, too. I was in trouble. My cock hardened. Big, big trouble.
“Guilty, as charged.” I noticed what she was holding. Tampons. “Bummer.” Crap. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“You have no idea.” She laughed and tossed the box onto the counter. Nodding to the package in my hand, she said, “Or maybe you do, huh?”
I looked down, horrified to find a package of sanitary pads.
Why couldn’t it be a box of extra large condoms?
She charmed the cashier with politeness. Or it might have been the accent, but the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ flowed naturally from her mouth. Yes, she definitely wasn’t the typical Hampton summer resident, except she didn’t spare me another glance as she left the store.
I tossed the offending package I held into a bin by the door and followed her yet again. Was I crossing the line into stalker territory? “Wait up,” I shouted.
But she was already waiting outside the door with a big smile. “Did you forget something?” She nodded to my empty hands.
Relieved that she hadn’t run off, I slowed and we naturally fell into step as we walked
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