Helmut bent to brush off the sand clinging to his bare calves from this morning’s stroll along the beach before entering Java Joint. Sam, the owner, always made a fuss of sweeping the entry way behind the tourists who wandered in from sunbathing for their caffeine fix. To call the crusty old man a barista was still a stretch, but over the past year, he’d at least learned how to brew a decent latte, and he had recently added Wi-Fi, in the fashion of all those “Yankee” coffee shops.
“You want the usual?” Sam asked, looking up from the spot of stainless steel countertop he’d been polishing.
Helmut nodded and shoved his sunglasses up onto his head, his eyes still adjusting to the shift from the blinding sunlight outside. He walked automatically to the table closest to the counter, and therefore farthest from the windows that lined both the beach and the highway sides of the small café. The glare of sunlight made his laptop screen nearly unreadable.
Sam began turning levers and pushing buttons on the espresso equipment behind the bar with a flourish and a mutter that sounded suspiciously like, “Come on, baby.”
Helmut’s lips quirked in a grin. Whether the shop owner would admit it or not, Helmut thought he liked the trappings of a “Yankee” coffee shop. Helmut pulled his laptop out of the canvas messenger bag he wore over one shoulder and booted it up.
“She yours?” Sam asked, sliding Helmut’s cup to the edge of the serving counter where Helmut could reach it.
“The coffee?”
“No, the girl.” Sam jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the street-side windows. “I don’t think she’s taken her eyes off you since you walked in the door.”
Claire.
The morning light pouring in from the east highlighted the edges of her golden hair, glowing like a halo that framed her face and rested on deliciously bare, toned shoulders. She wore a long white washed-linen sundress that fell to just above her knees. Dangling from one bare toe was a hot pink flip flop.
The shoe dropped softly from her foot, falling to the floor soundlessly. Heat flowed to Helmut’s groin as he remembered picking up that same shoe from the steam room floor. Carefully he cleared his throat and raised her gaze to Claire’s eyes.
Slowly she stood and walked toward him, hypnotizing him with the way her dress flowed around her legs, clinging to her hips and her breasts. As she got closer, he saw the ties of a string bikini at the neckline to her dress instead of a bra. His lips went dry.
She stopped inches from the edge of his table, her blue eyes wide and unsure. “I asked at the hotel where I could get a decent cup of coffee. I had a feeling I might find you here.”
Helmut smiled and found his voice. “You got lucky. I’m having a satellite dish installed later this week. Then I’ll be able to work without walking over here every morning.”
“Hey, you didn’t tell me that,” Sam said from behind Helmut.
“Sorry, Sam. I’ll be back for the coffee, though. Sam, this is Claire. She’s a, er, friend of mine from Chicago.”
Sam gave a wave from behind the counter and set to work washing a blender. One that Helmut was sure had been clean just sixty seconds ago.
Claire’s eyes darted to the café owner and back to Helmut questioningly. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“It’s such a beautiful morning. Why don’t we take a walk on the beach.” Helmut jumped to his feet and hurriedly packed his laptop back away. He motioned for the door and stopped a few feet away, then rushed back and tossed a five dollar bill on the counter next to his still-steaming coffee.
He almost grabbed it, but outside, the temperature was already pushing ninety. Too hot for coffee. And Claire’s unexpected arrival made him feel jittery enough.
She stopped at the edge of the sand and kicked off her sandals, then slipped them in a tote bag she had on her shoulder. Wordlessly, she followed him as he took off across the beach, past sunbathers already slathered with oil.
She broke the silence. “So, you have a vacation house down here?”
“Yeah. I rent it out most of the year.” In the sunlight, that white dress was nearly transparent. He gulped.
“Mmmm,” she said. “It’s beautiful here. Are you’re thinking of staying?”
“How did you know I might be staying? Oh yeah. The satellite. When did you arrive?” The sand was getting hot, and he walked closer to the edge of the tide where the cool gulf water could cool his feet.
“I flew in last night.”
“You drove down from Miami this morning?” he asked.
Claire giggled. The sound bubbled over Helmut, and his gut ached. God how he’d missed her smile.
“It turns out,” she said teasingly. “That I happen to work for a company that manufacturers small private jets. And the company even owns one or two that employees can use. With executive permission, of course.”
Helmut raised one eyebrow. “Figured that out, did you?”
“Of course I’ll have to pay all costs. This isn’t exactly a business trip.”
He stopped and dug his toes into the sand, allowing the cool water to wash over them. She stood so close now that her long hair tickled his face as it blew in the breeze. He lifted a small lock to his nose and inhaled the sweet scent of coconuts before tucking it behind her ear. “Why are you here?” he asked softly.
Claire’s eyes were wide pools of Caribbean blue, her pupils dilated, her lips parted just slightly. Helmut’s body was all too aware of her nipples, peaked and visible beneath her dress and swimsuit, and the soft rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. Just a touch too fast.
“Come on.” He took her by the hand up beach toward his house. Despite the hot morning, her fingers were cold in his, and he felt her tremble lightly as he guided her to the stairs leading to his front door, high off the ground.
He pulled her inside the house into the cool air conditioning. He put one hand on the inside of the door, above her shoulder, positioning her between his body and the steel of the door. He closed it gently, and touched her hair again, then stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes at the caress.
After two months of hell, she had arrived, looking like an angel in white. A temptingly sexy angel. Slowly, he leaned in toward her, letting the body heat from her breasts warm first his T-shirt, then scorch his chest. He slid one knee between hers, and lowered his lips until they almost brushed hers, then stopped there. “Why are you here?” he asked again, dreading the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.
She looked up at him through her lashes, her temples pink with heat. Her fingers found his chest and traveled upwards, leaving trails behind like footsteps in the sand, until they found his shoulders.
Blood pulsed through Helmut’s cock, straining at his khaki shorts, but still he waited. The move was hers to make.
And move she did.
She snaked her fingers through his hair and drew his lips to hers with a sudden fierceness. Helmut’s hands left the door to wrap around her and cup her butt, pressing her against his erection. Their lips clashed and tangled, both greedy for the taste of each other, both impatient.
He pulled on her skirts, bunching them up around her waist so that he could feel the bare skin of her hips and thighs with his fingers. He found the strings that held the sides of her bikini closed and tugged one bow free.
Claire groaned as he lifted her knee upward and wrapped it around his waist so that he could explore her with his hands. She was wet. Slippery. Hot.
Helmut trailed kisses across her face to her ear as he teased her clit and he felt her shiver and nearly lose her balance. He had to adjust their stance so that he held her firmly against the door, and his body complained as it put space between the two of them.
But then he slid two fingers into her, and she moaned and writhed, and he could set aside his own need to watch the emotions and pleasure play across her beautiful face as he stroked her. Deep and swirling. Lightly brushing her clit with his thumb, and then harder.
She moved against his hand, urging him higher, harder, more. Until he felt her contract around his fingers and still briefly.
“Helmut,” she whispered, her eyes stormy. He slowly removed his hand and swallowed her protest with his kiss. He then lifted her other leg up and around his waist and carried her.
The heat of her sex rubbing against his cock, still trapped inside his pants, was tortuous as he walked across the living room to the bedroom and his bed. He lowered her bottom to the edge of the bed and with a quick jerk of his arm swept the covers onto a pile on the floor.
He sucked in his breath as she worked the button on his shorts. Then her fingers—no longer cold—hit the bare flesh of his abdomen. She yanked his shirt upwards, and he swept it up and over his head while she unzipped his pants. He gritted his teeth as she pulled his cock free and rubbed its hard length with her hands, then her tongue.
Helmut pulled back and kicked off the rest of his clothes. “Now yours,” he said.
She pulled her dress off over her head, and the bikini bottom was already gone, lost somewhere between here and the front door. That left her sprawled on his bed, wearing only two tiny triangles of fabric and some string.
Helmut knelt and kissed her bare belly button, flicking his tongue around her navel and grasping her hips in his hands. She sucked in her breath in anticipation, but he moved his mouth and hands higher, not lower. He kissed her sternum and slid up her ribcage and around to her back.
He sucked first one nipple, then the other, through the fabric. She arched her back pressing more of her beautiful breasts to his mouth, and allowing him to untie her top. With his thumbs he brushed the scraps upwards, exposing her nipples. And then rubbing them. Up, down, his thumbs worked the sensitive flesh until she was panting and rubbing her pelvis against his thigh.
He slipped the top up and over her head and then kissed her again, and pressed his full weight down on her. His cock rubbed against her wet opening, and she pressed her breasts against his chest.
With a groan, he found a condom in the nightstand and then he was inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her butt, allowing him full access. Helmut thrust deeper, harder. She kissed him hard on the mouth, thrusting her own tongue into his, echoing his thrusts into her hot center.
She wanted more. He got up on his knees, pulling her hips up off the bed so that he could penetrate as deeply as possible. She looked exquisite, with her hair arrayed around her head as she thrashed with pleasure. Her entire torso was bare to his view, and to his touch. He cupped her breasts with his free hand, and then reached between their bodies to rub the pad of his thumb over the nub of her clit.
Claire cried out, and he repeated it, rubbing in time as he stroked his cock in and out. In and out. She arched, and he changed the motion of his thumb, swirling it faster as he controlled the strokes until she was begging, her legs locked tight around her back.
“Please,” she begged and their gazes locked. Her eyes were glazed with passion and pleasure.
Helmut closed his eyes as he brought them both to their climax. As her contractions rippled over him, his own poured forth. The power of it scared him.
Claire yawned and stretched as she looked around Helmut’s bedroom. The furniture was simple: a bed with no headboard, a whitewashed dresser, a chair with a pair of jeans draped across it. But the water view was spectacular. One entire wall was made of windows with French doors leading out to the same deck she had crossed on her way in the front door.
He was there, leaning on the railing, staring out at the sea. How long had she slept? After making love, they had lain together quietly, limbs entangled, both lost in their own thoughts. Both afraid to speak for fear of shattering the perfect silence.