Olivia Cunning - Double Time

After the game, they’d taken a walk on the beach. Talked. About music. He’d never met a woman who knew so much about music. He’d hung on her every word. Was it because he was thinking about the way her kiss tasted, the heat he’d discovered between her legs, the cute way she squinted in the sunshine when she looked up at him? Only about half the time. She was genuinely interesting. He wasn’t just pretending she was interesting to get laid. He’d talked to women this way when he had no interest in them sexually, but this? This was new for him. This being totally turned on by a woman he genuinely liked blew his mind. Why had he thought this was a bad thing? Because he’d always felt like he was being untrue to Brian, that’s why. Screwing around with people he didn’t care about didn’t feel important. Every time Brian entered his thoughts, Trey still felt guilty for liking Reagan so much. It felt like he was cheating on Brian. It seriously messed with his head so he made an effort not to think about Brian. With Reagan beside him, it was easier than he’d thought it would be.

He and Reagan found a skate park on the beach and she talked a couple of dudes into letting her borrow their skateboards. She ollied and kickflipped like a pro. Trey tried to keep up, but he hadn’t been on a skateboard in about ten years and it showed. The skater dudes were impressed with Reagan’s abilities. Trey knew they were all thinking about fucking her. He could see the hunger in their eyes. Even though Trey spent most of their skate park adventure scraping his bruised body off the ground in a most unimpressive fashion, she left with him—much to her captive audience’s dismay—and they’d continued down the beach.

She spotted a drink shack and lit up with excitement. “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?”

He needed a Tylenol and an icepack for his elbow more than a beverage, but how could he say no to that eager look on her face? “Yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Vanilla shake.”

He bit back a quip about vanilla sex.

A Frisbee landed at Reagan’s feet and a big, slobbery, yellow dog barked at her excitedly. He wagged his tail and nudged the plastic disk with his nose.

“He doesn’t bite! Would you mind tossing that this way?” some guy yelled from near the waves.

Reagan gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and then tossed the chewed up bit of plastic toward the waves. She chased him a couple of steps and then stopped dead in her tracks. She glanced at the line at the drink stand and then at Trey.

“Go play with the dog,” Trey said. “I’ll get your drink.”

Her happy laugh was all the reward he needed as he found the end of the line.

While Trey waited for the cashier to make Reagan’s vanilla milkshake, he watched her throw the Frisbee down the beach for the Labrador retriever again and again. The dog’s owner was watching her almost as closely as Trey was. The dog was in total puppy love as she scratched him behind the ears, took the tooth-marked plastic disk from his mouth, and gave it another toss toward the lapping waves.

“Here you go,” the girl behind the counter said. “One vanilla shake. One cherry slush.”

Trey tore his attention off Reagan long enough to pay for their drinks. When he turned around, drink in each hand, he found Reagan laughing with the owner of the yellow lab. Trey hurried to her side. He wondered how many women the guy picked up this way.

“No he didn’t. Really?” Reagan said to the attractive, tan, and athletic dog owner. She had this way of holding one eye closed when she thought you were full of shit. It made Trey wonder what she looked like when she had an orgasm.

“Yeah. I thought for sure she was going to call the cops on me.”

Trey sidled closer to Reagan. She smiled at him when he handed her the vanilla shake, but she immediately turned her attention back to the dog guy. “So why didn’t she?”

“Riley didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said and turned to his dog. “Did you, boy?”

Riley took several backward steps, his tail wagging, and produced a loud WOOF! in agreement.

“He was just looking for love. Weren’t you, boy?”

Woof! Woof!

Trey slurped his slush as loudly as possible, hoping to regain Reagan’s undivided attention. A harsh, jabbing pain radiated up the back of his throat and pounded incessantly behind his right eye.

“Ah, God. Brain freeze!” Trey yelled and covered his eye with his free hand. “Fuck. Why does that hurt so bad?”

Reagan laughed at him. “Suck it more slowly next time,” she advised.

He had fifteen lines he could have used at that moment, but he had to keep things platonic between them for another hour or so.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she watched him wipe tears out of his eyes. He’d take a broken nose over brain freeze any day.

“I think I need to walk it off,” he said and gave the loser and his dog a pointed look.

“This is Scott,” Reagan said, misinterpreting Trey’s tell-this-guy-to-get-lost look.

Trey nodded at him without taking his eyes off Reagan. He’d never felt so possessive of a woman before. He didn’t even want Scott to look at her. The fact that Scott was using a dog as an excuse to flirt with her made him pretty lame in Trey’s book. Of course, if Scott had a medal of valor, five Olympic gold medals, and a Nobel prize hanging around his neck, Trey would have still thought he was lame. He was hitting on Reagan and Trey couldn’t touch her in such a way to make it clear that she was his. Trey had to be very careful not to give her a reason to blow him off. One more hour to behave. And then once he met her condition, all bets were off. If she tried to push him away again, he’d just have to take the upper hand and see how she reacted. He was starting to understand her signals. Maybe.

“We should probably head back to the limo,” Trey said, careful not to put emphasis on that last word. That would make him as lame as Scott. Trying to impress the girl with material possessions. He didn’t need stuff to impress a woman. But, hello, they had a limo at their disposal.

Reagan nodded and took a long sip of her milkshake. Her face twisted in pain and she covered one eye with her free hand. “Brain freeze,” she gasped.

“You should—”

“Suck it more slowly next time?”

“You can suck it as fast as you want.” He winced as soon as it was out of his mouth. He was so used to turning every phrase into innuendo it happened automatically.

Reagan laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll suck it real slow. It will last longer that way.”

As turned on as he was by this woman, there were no guarantees he’d last at all. No matter how slow she sucked. He stared at her mouth as he took another slurp of his slush, holding the frigid beverage in his mouth to warm it slightly before he swallowed this time.

Reagan bent and gave the dog another scratch behind the ears. “No more humping elderly women in wheelchairs, Riley. It’s not nice.”

Riley barked and wagged his tail. Trey laughed.

“Bye, Scott,” Reagan said without looking at him.

Two points for the Trey-ster. Trey so wanted to take her hand and hold it as they walked away, but he had a little over an hour to keep his hands to himself.

“So I take it you like dogs,” Trey said.

“I love dogs. Do you have a dog?”

“I had one when I was a kid. He got hit by a car. Haven’t had one since.”

Reagan’s features softened with sympathy and she slid a comforting hand down his back. Damn, he was horny. Even that small contact had his cock at full attention.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You haven’t had any pets since?”

“Just Eric Sticks.”

Reagan laughed. “I can’t wait to meet Eric. He seems like so much fun when I’ve watched interviews of you guys.”