Page 62 of Tell It To The Waves

I keep hold of her hand as I use the other to wrap behind her neck, pulling her face to mine, kissing her pouty lips.

I’m not sure how long we stood in the water, just kissing. But when we pull away from each other, her lips are swollen, and my dick is hard.

I lead her out of the water and onto the shore, where sand sticks to our feet. “I need to go get cleaned up.” My eyes travel to my soiled jeans. Not just from the water, but from last night.

She gives me a sultry smile. “That you should. I hear you have an important meeting today.”

I start walking but turn around when I don’t see her following. “Are you coming?” I call to her.

“You go on; I’m going to enjoy this morning a bit longer.” She waves to me. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.” I want to make her come inside, but she isn’t mine, and I don’t want to make it awkward, so I leave her standing facing the ocean, letting her get acquainted with an old friend.

With a look around the cottage, I slip on my shoes and head to my bike. Starting her up, she purrs to life. Vibrating between my thighs. The entire ride to town, I can’t wipe the smile off my face while I maneuver the slick roads.

I thought nothing like last night would have happened when I showed up at August’s. I went with no motive but to tell her the truth, which she deserved to know.

Before I can even park, I notice the car sitting out front of the bed-and-breakfast. “You have to be fucking joking with me,” I growl out, throwing a dirty look at Molly’s car. The immediate tension that fills me is unnatural.

I don’t even need to look around for her; I know she’s already in my room waiting. Everyone around here knows we're engaged; they would give her the key.

Twisting the doorknob, not even needing my key, my room door opens. I don’t walk in; I just stand in the doorway, looking at Molly sitting on the made bed.

Sauntering in, I walk past her, throwing my keys down on the table, followed by my helmet.

“What are you doing here, Molly?” I turn to her, eyes landing on her perfectly made face and hair, not one bit out of place. The only time Molly would get unkempt was when I would fuck her. Ruining her hair and smearing her makeup with my hands.

“I should ask you that question, Bo.” She cocks her eyebrow at me.

“The wedding is off,” I tell her, laughing and focusing on removing my clothes, before I’m standing in front of her buck naked.

She huffs. “The wedding isn’t off. You have a deal with my daddy.” The way she says daddy makes me want to vomit.

Moving to stand right in front of her, “The deal is off. I don’t want to be in a family with people like you all. Now get out of my room. We have nothing else to speak of.”

Her cackling trails behind me. “The fuck we do. We can ruin you.”

I turn around, my dick slapping my thigh with the force. “Do it,” I dare her.

Molly closes the gap between us. My eyes follow her as she gets onto her knees, hand reaching for my dick. But I slap it. “No.”

“No? You’re telling me no.” She huffs like a petulant child.

“I know the word no is hard for you to comprehend, but no. You and I are done. We’ve been done for a long time now, Molly. How could you force someone to be with you, because that’s exactly what’s happening. That contract is the only reason this stayed happening as long as it did.” I gesture between my naked body and hers fully clothed, as she’s still on her knees. “Get up and go home.”

She stands up on her feet like a pro, her eyes leering at me. “If she never came back here, this wouldn’t be happening.”

I laugh. “It would have happened; it probably would have taken me longer, but it would've happened.” I know that for a fact.

Keeping balance on her thin heels, she walks to her purse, snatching it into her hand. “Good luck paying the loan off. You, I, and everyone else in this piece of shit town know you don’t have the money.” Molly taps her chin. “Maybe we can turn Driftwood Marina into a resort.”

“Get out!” I roar at her, making her jump. But it does what I need it to do; she leaves, slamming the door.

Diverting from the bathroom, I pick up the room phone and push for the front desk.

“Front desk.” The strong accent announces.

“This is Bohdi Westmore, room 4. Do not allow anyone in my room. I don’t care if it’s the president. No one.”