Page 114 of Wild Thing
My thoughts drifted to the stranger who watched us have sex on the beach. I wondered if he went home and fucked his wife to the memory of two strangers fucking on the beach?
Once clean, Brax handed me some of his sweats to wear.
I slipped on his hoodie, which was long enough to be a dress on my small frame. His leathery, woody scent was embedded into the cotton.
I wanted to melt into it.
What was it about a man's clothes that make women weak at the knees?
I trotted down the hallway to where he was waiting for me with a glass of red wine. He had a look on his face that promised more pleasure.
"What?" I asked.
He handed me the wine. “You look fucking sexy wearing my clothes.”
He kissed me on the cheek and my entire body responded with a shiver.
Grabbing my hand, he led me out onto the back verandah, where the ocean stretched out before us. On the picnic blanket, laid out in the late afternoon sun, were cheese, crackers, the bottle of red wine and a portable speaker.
I nestled between Brax's legs as he stretched his large frame across the rug, leaning back on his arms. We watched the ocean in silence, our bodies heavy with exhaustion from the sun, the sex and the secrets.
Shifting his body, Brax wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder.
I loved being held like that.
I'd been so starved for affection that I forgot how good something so simple felt. Or maybe it wasn't the act itself, but rather the man behind it.
James Blake’sRadio Silencewas the only sound competing with the crashing waves. The usual chaos of my mind stilled.
“What are you thinking about?” Brax asked, placing a small kiss on my neck.
“That the world could end right now and I would be totally fine with that.”
“Why?”
I wanted to tell him that it was because we deserved to die.
I surprised myself with how dark my thoughts had become.
I turned to face him and kissed him gently, pretending that I was okay, and that I was just being dramatic. I was getting really good acting. Time to change the subject. “I saw my sketch hanging on the wall.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
“I can’t believe you kept it.”
A few moments passed.
“I kept all of the drawings you did for me.”
“You did?”
“Yep. Every single one.”
“Even the ones of my tits?”
He reached underneath the hoodie and squeezed my tits. “Especially the ones of your tits.”
“What did Ally think about the picture?” I died a little on the inside when I said her name.
