moonshadows: (Haven)
[personal profile] moonshadows
The beach isn't as empty as I thought it would be, this early in the morning. I'm glad I took my towel and the sunscreen and left Duke to nurse coffee and curse the early hour while I staked out a section of sand. The sun feels good, like it's melting my muscles, even through my t-shirt and shorts. Despite the clusters of people, there's still tons of room and it's not hard to judge angle and height and lay my towel on a patch of sand that, while currently sunny, will be shaded in a few hours. Then, trying not to be self-conscious, I shed everything but the shimmery turquoise bikini Duke has yet to see me in.

I'm pretty sure he's watching. I fully expect he'll brave the dreaded early-morning sun once he sees me putting on sunscreen.

While I'm working on my legs, and posing shamelessly, I hear two men talking nearly out of earshot. Surreptitious glances  show that yes, one of them is my gypsy-pirate, and the other looks like he was a jock in high school and possibly college, if he went to college. Looks late 20s, maybe early 30s, Caucasian, 6'5", still in great shape but also still immature. Short hair and a speedo, shirt and shorts tossed over his shoulder.

"Any chick," jockstrap insists. A laugh from the side obscures the next bit. "...eating out of my hand. Come on. Five big ones."

"All right," Duke concedes. I grin, waiting for the catch. "But I pick the target."

"If I can't pick her up, you get my five hundred. But if you can't pick her up either, I get yours."

"Deal." There's a pause, then Duke says, "That one."

Stupid laughter from the jock - uh-huh, uh-huh - and then he says, "Good one. Oh man, she's hot. Okay, watch this."

Hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play. Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid.

Showtime.

"Hey there," the jock says, crouching next to me, already going for violating personal space. "Need some help with that sunscreen?"

Start with a simple brush-off. "I think I can get it, thanks."

"You sure?" he asks, half-reaching for my hair. "I'd hate to see a pretty girl like you get sunburned."

"You just want to get your hands all over me." I call him on his suppose altruism, and he grins.

"Guilty! But tell you what, I'll let you...return the favor," he offers, gesturing to his well-defined chest.

More sunscreen in my palm. Twist enticingly to rub it onto my back. "I don't think that's really fair."

"I'll let you...go further." His tone insinuates plenty of things.

"I mean, I don't think it's fair to you." Coy smile, flutter the lashes. "Letting you have a free sample when I'm not for sale. Wouldn't want to lead you on, let you think you actually had a chance with me, when I've turned down better men."

He contrives to sound hurt. "Aw, come on. You just met me; you don't know what kind of guy I am."

"I know you're the kind of guy who doesn't respect a lady when she says no," I tell him pleasantly. My right hand slides under the shorts I'd shed, comes out with my kidney dagger which I am able to bring perilously close to that speedo because he's taken the bait of me leaning forward to peer down my cleavage. "How much more blunt do I have to be?" I ask in a low, enticing tone. A slight bit of pressure makes him inhale and look down. The knife trails a teasing path up his chest, almost touching but not quite. "Do I have to carve go away into your pecs?"

"I'll...just...give you space and let you think about my offer," he says shakily, eyes almost crossing trying to keep the blade in focus.

With admirable grace under fire, he scoots out of my reach and retreats. I don't watch him go; that would tip him off. Instead, I listen as I return to applying sunscreen to my arms.

"Good luck, man," the jock says. "She has a knife and I don't think she's afraid to use it."

"Maybe I better not risk it," Duke says with false concern dripping from his words.

"If you don't, you don't get the cash," the jock warns.

"I do like money. Alright, let's see how it goes."

He approaches from the side; half-buttoned denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, worn cargo shorts, battered sandals, hair tied back. Thoroughly disreputable. Once he crosses into conversational distance, he stops with a dramatic gesture of shock.

"A mermaid!" he exclaims before looking around as if checking for witnesses to corroborate his claim. "I thought you were supposed to be a myth!"

"I'm not a mermaid," I protest, trying not to laugh.

He comes a little closer. "Are you sure?"

I wiggle my toes at him. "No tail."

"Psssh." He waves that away. "I know you swap for legs when you go on land."

"Then what makes you think I'm a mermaid?"

Duke sits down by my feet and gives me the cocky gypsy grin. "Why, your unearthly beauty, of course."

"Unearthly..." Nope. I'm a girl.

"Well, yeah. Unearthly. Not of earth, which is land, therefore it must be of the sea, and that means..." Duke gestures, arms spread as if presenting a great truth. "You must be a mermaid. But I have to say, I'm a little hurt."

"You're hurt?"

"I've been a sailor since I was a teenager, and I've never seen a mermaid until now. What was I doing wrong? Do I need to drink more grog? Sing raunchier songs?"

I can't answer, I'm laughing too hard.

"Is it my tattoos? Do I need more pirate-y tattoos? Because I'll go get one right now, a mermaid with your face, wherever you want it." He fumbles with his pockets until he digs out his phone, and then gestures with it. "May I?"

"You don't need to get another tattoo," I tell him firmly.

"Then can I get a selfie with you? I mean, a mermaid. I want to have proof when the other disreputable scallywags think I'm making this up."

"But what if they don't believe I'm a mermaid?" I ask, as much wide-eyed innocence as I can manage, which isn't much between the blushing and trying not to giggle.

"Then I'll still have a selfie with a woman more beautiful than anything they've ever seen," he returns earnestly.

I'm such a girl.

"Okay, one selfie."

Duke's face lights up and he half-stands to pivot and sit next to me. Phone in his left hand, he leans over with his right hand on the towel behind me and snaps a selfie, then offers the phone to me so I can approve of it.

"Do you like it?" he murmurs into my ear, and I do. I like it a lot.

Instead of answering, I turn to claim his mouth and press him down into the sand, kissing fiercely, half-laying on him like a mermaid with a willing captive. Then, remembering that we're kind of on a public beach, I lever myself back up and leave him gasping on his back.

"If you're going to drag me out into the ocean and drown me," he says breathlessly, "I am completely okay with that, as long you kiss me like that again. Or maybe not," he says, wincing. "Cold water would not feel good right now."

"I don't know," I tease, "that is kind of what mermaids do. Unless..."

Duke levers up onto his elbows. "Unless?"

The fingers of my right hand walk up his chest to tug playfully at the top button. "Unless you can...convince me to let you live."

The cocky smile comes back and oh god, I'm going to need to go jump in the water myself in a minute. "Tell you what," he says, warm and enticing, "let me help you with that sunscreen, wait on you hand and foot all day, and then take you to dinner. After dinner, if I haven't convinced you, you can drown me and I'll go without a fight. But if I have...if I've entertained you and you want to see what else I can do..."

"Oh?"

"I'll take you back to my room and sail your ocean."

"Oh..."

"All night long."

Nope. It's either I go into the ocean right now or we're going to get arrested for public indecency.

"I have to confer with my mer-sisters," I blurt.

Roll to my feet, sprint, and plunge headlong into the surf. The cool water is a shock, and I push through it, swimming through the shallows until it's deep enough that I have to tread water when I come up for breath. Back on shore, Duke and the jock are talking. He's making gestures of helpless disavowal while the jock shakes his head and hands over what I hope is $500. The jock walks off with a sort of defeated slouch, and Duke goes over to sit on my towel, so I swim back to shore.

By the time I get back to the towel, Duke's spread his out and shed his shirt and shorts for a pair of swim trunks that make me wish this was a private beach. He stands as I approach, a terrycloth robe in his hands, and like a queen I allow him to slip it on me.

"So," he says as he rubs me gently dry, "did you overhear any of that? Or was that just your natural awesomeness in action?"

"I heard enough, but it didn't change anything. Mermaid?"

"Gorgeous woman in a shimmery sexy bikini like that, what else am I supposed to think?" he teases. As I blush again, he kisses me lightly. "I think I rubbed off your sunscreen."

"You did offer to help me with that," I point out.

"I did," he agrees. "Does my lady wish me to put my hands on her lovely person?"

Why was the water not colder?

"If you keep that up," I tell him sternly, "we're going to have to go back to the room and we'll lose our spot."

Duke laughs. "Okay, okay. Any thoughts on dinner? I seem to have come into some unexpected funds."

I shed my robe and hand it to him before lying down on my towel. "I'll trust you on dinner, but maybe this afternoon we could go looking for the sort of dress you want to take me into a dark corner in because you can't wait long enough to get me alone to take it off."

There's a pause while he works through that, and I imagine him doing the 'no sex' headshake. "Wicked wench," he breathes in adoration. "I am the luckiest gypsy in the history of everything," he says as he starts rubbing sunscreen into my back.

"Love you too, Boss," I chirp.

Lips press briefly against my shoulder, and then the relaxing motion of his hands resume.
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