Page 176 of Better When Shared
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with what might have been the beginning of a smile. “Five minutes, Mr. Yamamoto. I need this space.”
“Scout’s honor.” I gave her a little salute as she turned and walked back to her wedding party.
I watched her go before heading into the trailer, ready to get out of my damp wetsuit.
When I stepped inside and closed the door, Hamish was still changing. He had his back to me, gloriously naked, water droplets trailing down the muscled planes of his back to the dimples right above his ass. He was bent over, rummaging through his clothing bag, giving me a view that made my mouth go dry.
I tried not to look, I really did. But it was such a nice ass. And then he bent lower, showing me even more.
“Holy shit,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He spun around, eyes wide, hands flying to cover himself—though not before I got an eyeful of what he was working with. And damn, he was working with a very nice dick.
“Sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Don’t you knock?” His face had gone crimson, his voice strangled.
“It’s my trailer. And we’re both guys, what’s the harm?” I started to push my wetsuit down over my hips, watching his eyes wide. “So, why’d you run from Wedding Lady?”
He turned away again, pulling on his boxers and jeans. “Sorry about that. I... I didn’t want to be seen. In a wetsuit, I mean.”
“Seen by who… the wedding party?” I tugged my wetsuit down over my legs, hopping a little as the cuff got stuck around my left ankle. “They’re too busy posing to notice a couple of surfers.” When I glanced up, he was staring, open-mouthed, at my dick. His soft intake of breath and widening eyes made heat pool in my groin, and I willed myself not to get a hard-on right in front of him.
His cheeks flamed red as he turned back around. “It’s, you know, propriety. Have you heard of that before?”
There was a little dig there, and I had to remind myself that he was married, here to impress his wife, and off-limits. It was becoming my new mantra.
“Well, I pacified Wedding Lady,” I said, drying off and grabbing my own clothes. “Told her we’d move in five minutes.”
“You did? What did she say?”
“She was quite grateful.” I stepped into my shorts, adjusting myself. “She’s fucking gorgeous when she’s mad. All flushed and proper and British. But her smile is stunning, too. Maybe I’ll even stop annoying her.”
Hamish made a choking noise.
“You okay?” I pulled on a t-shirt, wondering if stripping in front of him had been the wrong choice. Something had him flustered, and it was entirely possible it was my dick. “You seem jumpy.”
“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “I’m tired from surfing, I suppose. And, um, worried about the wedding lady being angry with you.”
“Oh, it’s fine. We flirted a little, and she was nice. She’s married, so I’m limited to a crush and a few flirty comments. Can’t let it get out of hand.” I glanced out the window to where she was repositioning the bridal party. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a quick fuck if she offered, and her husband approved.”
“Husband… approved?” Hamish asked, eyes widening.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s not a kink you’ve explored, but some guys are into that. And I’m pansexual, so I have no problem if a hot guy wants to watch me fuck his wife, you know?” I tugged on myhoodie and leaned over, picking up my wetsuit and hanging it on a hook to dry. “Though, in all honesty, I’d much prefer he joined in, if you know what I mean.”
Hamish was standing there, his mouth opening and closing. It was becoming clear that I needed to do better to respect his cultural boundaries. As a surfer, I wasn’t bothered by nudity, but he was uptight and British. Maybe his people didn’t change in front of each other.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to flash my dick at you. I keep forgetting you’re uptight and British. But we’d better get going, before Wedding Lady comes back!”
Hamish let out a weird little squeak.
Chapter 5
Hamish
I’d never pictured myself as the sort of man who’d spend most of a night frantically wanking to a fantasy of my surf instructor’s cock buried deep in my wife’s pussy, but here we were. I mean, I’d never pictured myself as the sort of man who’d have a surf instructor at all, really.
Imogen had been right about one thing: travel was helping me learn a lot about myself.
