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Tyler
As much as I wanted—no, needed—to get laid, I wasn’t just looking for a pair of great tits and a nice ass. I’d had that time and time again. What I needed was a woman who could satisfy my mind as much as she could my body.
My stress levels were through the roof, but I wasn’t worried about that. Work was the only thing that was keeping me sane these days.
Christ, I needed a woman. If I didn’t find one soon, I would go insane.
My call sign might be Sandman because the ladies always referred to me as “super dreamy,” saying my looks were striking and mesmerizing, my body worshipful, but if there was one thing I wouldn’t admit to the couple of sad sacks I worked with, it was how hard up I was.
My eyes scanned the beach, packed with oiled-up, tanned bodies in barely-there bikinis. The sun, high in the sky, sparkled off the water, creating that intense ray summertime was known for, and it bounced off the beautiful bodies bobbing in the water and laying on the sand. Pinks and purples, blues and greens—it was a rainbow orgie on the beach. The kaleidoscope of colors pulled my eyes back and forth over the ladies splayed out. The sunlight blinded my eyes as they swept upward in silent prayer.
I could barely remember what it felt like to be touched by a woman. Let alone what it felt like to feel one beneath me, to feel the soft suppleness that iswoman.
And I was sick to death of jacking off. If I didn’t find someone soon, I’d have to name my left hand just to bring some intimacy to masturbation. I knew my dick wouldn’t fall off from all the jacking off I’d been doing, but it was seriously getting old watching porn and looking at strangers instead of feeling the warmth of a real-life woman.
I knew it was absurd to think it might just shrivel up if I didn’t put it to actual use soon. It wasn’t like the women I’d been with hadn’t been satisfied. Well, at least when it came to what I had between my legs. My body and my dick might be what initially enticed the women I’d been with, but lately, I’d become apathetic and slightly bored when it came to meaningless sex, which is why I opted for self-pleasure rather than one-night stands.
I wasn’t a complete sack of shit who just used women. Well, at least not all the time. I’d done that plenty back in my heyday. Not that I was proud of my behavior or my cavalier attitude back then. And I didn’t need someone who wanted to get married in six months either. I was a complex guy. But I just couldn’t hook up with one more woman who just wanted me for the night and what I could offer for the moment. I couldn’t stand one more woman looking at me with either disgust or sympathy because of my injury. More to the point, my leg and the carbon fiber piece that completed the lower half, which I’d affectionately named “Bee,” weren’t supposed to earn me sympathy sex.
I hated being so cynical, but what choice did I have?
Fuck that shit. I needed to find a woman who would accept me—scars and all.
A woman in an animal print suit sauntered past, tits popping out of the triangles that barely covered her nipples. I couldn’t help but watch in appreciation as they bounced with each footstep.
I dragged my eyes away from her to appreciate the rest of my surroundings. Birds soared high in the sky as the waves crashed onto the shore. The cacophony of children screaming out in delight, people laughing and talking, music blasting out of speakers—noises of happy people having fun.
Jackson Cole, my boss and friend, stood next to me at the railing of Diego’s patio, a bottle of beer in his hand. He was a former Commander of the US Navy SEAL Team Four. Now he owned and operated Cole Security Forces, which is where I have worked since retiring from the SEALs myself. He swiped a fresh beer from the table and passed it to me, and I nodded in silent gratitude. Cool bottle in hand, I surveyed the land again, carefully scrutinizing the crowd. The process was innate, and even though we weren’t doing tactical or intelligence-gathering work today, it was automatic and natural—just like breathing.
A gorgeous brunette skated past us. Booty shorts hugged her ample ass, and a tiny sports bra hugged her in all the right places. I couldn’t help noticing her face light up as she turned around, skating backward, and sent me a smile and a teeny wave.If she was talented like that on rollerblades, I could only imagine what her talents would be in bed.
She was cute, but not what I wanted. If I was being honest, usually, when I was this hard up, I wouldn’t be so damn selective. But right now, with the state of mind I was in—picky and cranky—I craved something specific. I just didn’t know what that was. But I’d know when I found it.
If I was desperate enough, I could hit up the bar tonight and pick up some buxom blonde. Or brunette. Hell, it didn’t matter what color hair she had. And even though I was bordering on the desperate-enough category, I still didn’t want just another one-night-stand.
Sexy bodies, perky tits, and ample curvaceous asses were aplenty and speckled the sandy beach like a welcome postcard for Southern California. I wasn’t impressed.
“What the hell are you thinking about?” Jackson’s voice interrupted my trance.
“Women,” I admitted without even thinking.
“Women, plural? Or someone in particular?” Jackson was referring to my ex-wife.
“Plural.”
A bark of boisterous laughter erupted on my right. Mark Dixon, who headed the offices in Virginia, shoulder bumped me. “Atta boy, Sandman,” he said, holding up his bottle in salute. “Ah, the days of being single and carefree. Right, Muffin?” Mark asked Jackson.
“I didn’t mean plural women at the same time. Just women in general.”
“Don’t think too hard. You’ll ruin the magic,” Mark said, trying to sound more insightful than he probably intended.
“What the hell does that even mean, Mark?” I asked.
He gave an absent-minded shrug. “Just what I said.”
“Care to impart your infinite wisdom on us, Twilight?” Jackson asked.
Mark expelled a giant sigh like he was dealing with two imbeciles instead of the expertly trained and highly qualified SEALs we actually were. “I’d be more than happy to school you unfortunate souls.”
