Page 11 of Catch of a Lifetime
I shook my head, and he stopped at once.
While he couldn’t attach the meaning to the word-noises I made at him any more than I could understand his sounds, he had learned to interpret my gestures. Especially if I exaggerated them. A hard and frantic shake of my head was a clear indication that we were not on the same page with what was happening.
“Dave, I really have to go. I have to…” I stared at his uncomprehending face. Fine. Fuck it.
Here comes the mime.
I mimed unzipping my shorts. I mimed taking hold of myself. I opened my closed fist and mimed the blessed relief of pressure with a twinkle of my fingers, and?—
“Mhm.” Dave gave me a sultry look, unzipped me, took me out and?—
I let out a strangled shriek that had him dropping me like I was hot.
I crab-walked backwards, flipped over to my hands and knees and scurried clear. Throttling my dick to the point of nausea, I got to my feet, yelled, “Be right back!” and bolted for the dunes.
After a shocked silence, Dave called indignantly after me.
I flapped a hand at him over my shoulder as I ran. “One minute!”
Yes, I was being precious about it. Yes, most guys would probably have unloaded into the sea or simply turned their back but I had boundaries. Urinating in front of people other than when it was absolutely necessary was one of them.
I ducked behind the first hump of marram-tufted sand I came to. “Ahhhhh.”
Dave’s indignant calls turned demanding, and quickly shaded towards beseeching. At my heartfelt groan of relief, he paused. Then he called again with a questioning lilt.
“I’m here!” I called back. “I’m…you know, it doesn’t matter. One more minute, please!”
I concentrated on the job.
Good grief.
Four coffees wasn’t that much. Where was this even coming from?
I heard a loud thud and the sand beneath my feet vibrated. The second thud was louder, and it was followed by a harsh gasp of pain.
That’d have to do.
I zipped up and ran back to Dave. He’d dragged himself another foot or two up the beach and was flat on his back glaring at the sky, his tail twitching. I guessed that the thud had been him slapping the sand in demand.
The second he saw me, he held out his arms with a low, commanding growl.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I said, falling to my knees.
He grabbed me and dragged me on top of him, locking his arms around my waist and my upper back.
“Dave, be careful! You’ll hurt yourself and I don’t—ahhh!”
He nudged my head aside and buried his fangs in my neck, biting down hard.
4
He didn’t bite me just anywhere—he sank his teeth unerringly into the heart of the small silvery scar that he’d marked me with when he’d first bitten me. When he’d claimed me.
I’d claimed him right back with a bite of my own, but unlike Dave, I didn’t have fangs, and my human teeth hadn’t left any discernible mark on him.
Sealing his mouth to my neck, his arms tightened to the point that I could barely breathe, and he held me.
“Dave,” I whispered. “You absolute muppet.” He’d dragged me on top of him, which meant he’d dragged me on top of his open wounds.
