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The sound of wind interrupts the call. I can tell he’s outside somewhere.
“Meet me at the beach.” He gives me the details and specific instructions of where to meet, a popular beach called Bondi located about fifteen minutes from where I am. I’m quick to let him know I’m not dressed for swimming, and he suggests I hit up the surf shops opposite the street.
I find several shops and settle on purchasing a hot red bikini. With the correct attire, I’m ready to cool off as the sweltering heat starts to make me feel lightheaded. The Australian sun is a lot stronger than back home, the harsh rays almost burning my pale skin.
Julian is exactly where he said he’d be beside a yellow Kombi-van housing surfboards. As soon as he lays eyes on me, he is distracted, and the scruffy young-looking blond guy is quick to turn my way. After an introduction, Julian insists we take surf lessons, and when I say we, I mean me. Julian is already skilled in that area, whereas I totally suck and keep falling off the board. Thank God, we are practicing on sand, though it makes me look even more pathetic if that’s possible.
Walking into the ocean, I feel the goosebumps all over my skin as the water makes contact. I’m amazed at how blue the water looks up close, and it’s so clean. It’s picturesque and calm until, of course, a wave comes crashing.
After almost gulping a mouthful of seawater, I catch Julian looking at me with a broad grin. His hair is slicked back, dripping wet, and totally sexy as hell. He hasn’t shaved with day-old stubble giving him this rugged look that makes me want to shove his face between my legs.
Calm the fuck down.
“Yeah, I totally suck. Go on, laugh it up,” I complain.
He encourages me to paddle my board again for a wave coming our w
ay. The freedom of the ride is surreal until I crash and fall into the water again. Julian swims over and pulls me toward him.
“You okay?” His eyes narrow, followed by a quick scan of my body to make sure all limbs are intact.
“Better than okay,” I murmur, looking directly into his eyes.
I see him struggle with being only inches away, and I close the gap, wrapping my arms around his neck as we float freely in the water.
“This bikini isn’t helping,” he strains.
I wrap my legs around his waist, and ding-dong, there it is.
“Well, how about I crown you as official Bikini Watcher? You let me know of any potential nip slips?”
“I’ll gladly accept that role.”
I make the first move, finding his lips with mine. At first, I sense resistance, but within seconds, his face and body relax in unison, and he is returning the passion. His fingers are gripping onto me with force as I tease him by applying pressure to his groin. With no one close by, his fingers move into my bikini bottoms as he caresses my ass with an enthused grasp. My lips tear away to make eye contact with him, the thirst reflecting back as I squirm into him and allow his fingers to move further down south. An impending wave is upon us, and the force of the current causes his hand to slip, gently grazing my swollen clit.
Oh my fucking God.
My head tilts back in pleasure as I grip onto his shoulders, digging my nails into his arm. I can fuck him right here, right now. Since when did I become an over-charged sexual lunatic?
And with that thought, in a split millisecond, my mind somehow wanders back to Elijah. The guilt consumes me again. Fuck! My body tenses, and my mojo is swimming away faster than the tide.
The instructor swims our way, and I welcome the interruption.
“You guys ready to head back?”
We follow him back to shore, drying off and heading separate ways to the change rooms.
Julian has a meeting in the late afternoon, so we agree to get together for dinner. I spend the afternoon shopping for last-minute items for Andy and everybody else back home. In the hotel, I struggle to get all the items in the suitcase, fairly certain I’ve doubled my luggage allowance. It feels surreal that tomorrow I’m leaving, trying my best not to count down the hours. I miss my baby, but being here, away from everyone and finally being able to breathe a little, has been therapeutic.
Julian organizes dinner at a revolving restaurant on top of a tower. The elevator ride shot my nerves to shreds, my fear of heights flooding me with anxiety as I stare out the window with the city at my feet. Occasionally, Julian pokes fun at me, but when he sees me on the verge of tears, he surprises me with a ridiculously over-priced chocolate cake that tastes like heaven on earth. It’s orgasmic and can possibly be better than sex.
Well, you haven’t had sex with Julian, and your brain seems to think that ten of these cakes still can’t compare. My body starts to shiver as the nerves rear their ugly head again. Julian is quick to notice and covers me with his jacket. If only he knew the real reason behind it.
Since it’s my last night, I want to make the most of it. We pack in the most we can in the space of a few hours before my legs feel like jelly, and the exhaustion is beginning to take over. Our final stop is a park bench under the bridge. Sitting in silence, we watch the yachts and ferries sail by. A party boat with drunken loons sails past us, girls flashing their tits at Julian, much to my annoyance. I don’t blame them, he is hot. One guy flashes his dick, causing Julian to frown as he covers my eyes jokingly.
“You look tired.” Julian places his hands on my shoulders and rubs them, releasing the tension as he kneads gently.
“God, you give good massages,” I moan.
