Baewatch - Xavier Neal Page 0,18

through them despite how hard our cheeks hurt; however, when she misses the footing on a landing, it causes her to clumsily trip. Shame instantly makes a wrongful attempt to surf in, but before it can grab a hold of her, I do. One arm swoops around her waist and helps tip her to the side prior to repeating the action the opposite direction. The unusual, offbeat rocking receives a smile of gratitude that means more to me than I can fathom.

Is it so crazy to want a woman who isn’t afraid to rely on you for more than just a shoulder to cry on or what’s in your bank account?

Can’t say I’ve ever had one before now.

“One more,” Sal cheerfully chimes into the mic. “I’ve got one more, and then you guys can buy me my first round.”

There are collective cheers from the crowd, and we’re happy to join in with them.

I may just pick up his whole tab.

“We’re gonna slow it all down. Give many of you lovers in the crowd a chance to get a little…closer.”

My eyes cut him a glance just in time to see him shoot me a wink.

Cheeky shit.

I don’t need a song to have Brooklyn closer.

All of a sudden, her big brown eyes peer up at me as her arms tangle around my neck in anticipation of our next actions.

Alright.

Fine.

I don’t need a song, but it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love” graces our ears, and I can’t wind myself around her fast enough. Opting out of everything remotely traditional from steps to hand placement, I rest my head against the side of hers, tuck her tightly to me like a board I’m afraid the ocean is going to try to carry away, and quietly serenade her right above a whisper. Each line pours out of me passionately, the words freely flowing with what I imagine to be the deeper meaning intended when the song was originally penned. Brooklyn’s fingers flex gently against my nape, and the simple reaction to my singing has me retaliating by squeezing her tighter. Lightly nuzzling her cheek. Her neck. Every romantic movement I make is immediately reciprocated by an equally amorous action until it feels as though the two of us are no longer just dancing but allowing our souls to completely coalesce.

The last note touching our ears is more than just the indication our entertainment is going on break – it means we should put our shoes back on. It becomes my cue to pay our check and her to grab her bag. It becomes the approved segue from us sensually dancing to starvingly kissing against the side of the building. Having my tongue diving into the depths of her mouth while she’s pressed up against the brick, trapped to the roughness of my actions swells my cock, but having her needily scrape my stomach right underneath the edge of my white linen shirt causes it to leak precum.

To plead to join the beachside party.

Throat clearing from the hostess or perhaps another patron pulls our lips apart yet not our frames. I search her gaze for the information she may not be sure she can say. I scan for signs we’re moving too fast or that maybe I misread her earlier behaviors or any implication that tells me I was seeing what it is I wanted to see. When I’m positive the only thing her body language is telling me is to guide us away from here and back to my place, I swiftly pull her along, hunger growing stronger with every stride.

We stumble across my threshold, the sound of our poor footing, startling my black, white, and brown basset hound. He lets out a deep bark from where he’s lounging on the edge of the L-shaped, light grey couch. The noise isn’t one that’s indicating intruders. No. It’s one complaining that his sleep has been interrupted.

“Relax, Houndrix,” I insist in between stealing sucks of Brooklyn’s bottom lip. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

He huffs in what can only be described as disbelief.

Yeah…He’s right.

We probably won’t.

And I’m okay with him losing a few winks of sleep if it means listening to her scream all night.

Fuck, I hope she’s a screamer.

And, if she’s not one?

I plan to work very very hard at turning her into one.

Brooklyn whimpers from my latest hard suck before leaning back to inquire more about my floppy-eared roommate. “Is he friendly?”

“Not as friendly as I’m trying to be,” I