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CHAPTER1
Pins & Needles~Blue
I woketo arrows of sunlight bathing the windows as the signature scent of salty air cascaded into the room. That's what I loved about Del Mar, the beach and the calm. I sliced my gaze to my suitcase perched against the wall. Coming to Del Mar once a month became a ritual for me after my best friend took her last breath two years ago, but my visits were twofold. I came to clear my mind and soak up our memories, anything to prevent them from washing away like the tides.
Then there was Hunter, her dad. A man who was old enough to be my father and shamelessly showed me just how much he wanted me before our lives were turned upside down. The first time he touched me was the night after my eighteenth birthday. I couldn't get to sleep, not with the storms and lightning flashing across the sky. Ashley got me a vibrator as a gag gift, and since I couldn't sleep, I tried it out. I was certain the buzzing wasn't loud enough to seep into the hallway, but I was wrong.
Like a beautiful siren song, the low hum drew him in, and it wasn't until he was standing over my bed, with one hand over my mouth with the other hand holding the vibrator to my clit that I knew everything would be different from that night onward. He watched me come as I fisted bunches of his shirt in the palm of my hands.
He witnessed my first undoing, making sure my body relaxed back into the mattress before raising his fingers to his mouth to taste my juices. I never looked at him as anything more than Ashley's dad, but at that moment, I wanted him, and it was clear he wanted me to.
A beat of silence passed as we stared at each other through the darkness, and then the garage door opened, signaling Ashley's return home. I opened my mouth to say something, only for his lips to crash down onto mine, stealing the breath lodged in my lungs before sneaking out of my room like a theft in the night.
That was two years ago, and so much had changed, yet my feelings for Hunter and what happened that night lingered in the back of my mind like a bad memory. I wanted him, although he was old enough to be my dad, and he was my best friend's father. We never got a chance to talk about what happened because Ashley died two days later, throwing both of our lives into a whirlwind.
The ocean waves called to me, forcing me out of bed. It was a little after 10 AM, and I was certain Hunter had already left for work. He never slept past 7 AM and was usually out the door before I woke up. As much as I wanted to explore my now buried feelings, I was grateful for the few missed connections in our day.
Nothing thickened the air like having a cup of coffee with a man who watched you come and hadn't said anything about it since. I swung my legs over the bed and slipped my feet into a pair of soft slippers before entering the hallway. It usually smelled like coffee, with a mix of burnt eggs and bacon, but today it smelled like nothing.
With a lazy yawn on the edge of my tongue, I wiped my eyes and walked into the bathroom, only to lose my breath. Hunter stood naked with his cock in hand, peering in my direction. I froze, every inch of me became paralyzed, and the only thing I could focus on was the throbbing flesh in his hand. He held my gaze, refusing to let me yield, and slid the shower door open. Then he stroked.
"Umm…I…." I muttered a few words as my limbs forced me back into the hallway.
The light jog back to my room was no match for Hunter's wide strides because he was hot on my heels by the time my feet met the soft carpet.
"I'm sorry, I didn't—"
He cut my words off with a kiss, forcing me to melt into him as his flesh pierced my belly.
He broke our kiss and rested his forehead against mine as drops of water skipped down his face. "Don't be sorry."
His words were polarizing. Low, deep, and carnal. The mix of his intoxicating gaze and the leftover scents of his body wash made my brain go into a frenzy. I opened my mouth to speak but yelped when he picked me up and sat me on the edge of the dresser.
"Hunter?" I asked, my fingers digging into the skin of his arms
He spread my legs and wedged himself between them, putting his very hard dick in my line of sight.
"Touch me."
I couldn't deny that I wanted to because I did. But a part of me felt guilty like I was breaking some sort of immortal bestie bond with Ashley, which made a surge of guilt corrode through me.
He inched closer until the warmth of his minty breath grazed the shell of my ear. "Go on, be a good girl and stroke."
My fingers flinched at his words, torn between wanting to keep them in the comfort of my lap and extending them to graze the swollen bulb of his flesh. The itch to touch won the battle, and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as the pads of my fingers crawled up his thick veiny shaft. I kept my eyes down, and he rested his lips on the shell of my ear.
"Good girl. Now fist it." He wrapped one strong arm around my soft waist and guided me with his other hand.
His words and touch made me melt, and with each pulsing ache that vibrated through me, a brick was laid in the wall of regret that slowly grew.
My small hand could barely fit around the entire thing, and with each unintentional squeeze, it pulsed.
"Like this?" I asked my words scarcely a whisper.
"Mmhmm. Now stroke, start at the base, and end at the tip."
I did as told. Starting slow, and with each stroke, his favorite four-letter word dripped off his tongue, and my grip tightened.
His fingers found their way into my thick curls, and he pulled. "That's my girl. He growled into my ear. "Fuck."
