Sitting on the back deck, I finish up my grocery list for all the things I’ll need for my barbeque tonight. After running into Carol, the local seafood seller, yesterday, I spent all day scraping the old gunk off the grill and getting it back in working condition. She told me about her fresh seafood shack up the shore, and it got me craving some grilled lobster. My budget told me to stick to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ramen noodles, but maybe splurging once wouldn’t hurt. I promised myself I’d stick to ramen the rest of the month to make up for the hit I’d take buying lobster tails. Plus, she convinced me she’d give me a great deal being a new customer. Game on.

With the list now complete, I take a rewarding sip of my coffee, appreciating the view. Gran must have loved it here. Waking up to the beautiful ocean waves. The warm sun against her face while she lost herself in thought. I’ve only been here a short time, but it’s starting to set in why she made me promise to come out here.

And she was right to do so. The last few years, I’ve struggled with finding clarity—figuring out what I wanted out of life. I was in and out of jobs and boyfriends. I couldn’t pinpoint my purpose. I had dreams, aspirations, but I also had a short span for responsibility. I spent too much time trying to please everyone around me, I forgot to find pleasure in myself. I let guys walk all over me. Coworkers. Life. I just needed a change.

Gran knew it too. When I got here, there was a letter on the kitchen counter addressed to me. I recognized her handwriting right off the bat. But I’ve yet to open it. I know it’s going to be a gut-wrencher since it’s the last letter she wrote me, but decided I would open it when I felt the time was right. I’ve been here over a week, and yeah, haven’t touched it. One of these days, I’m going to man up and read her last words. But right now, I’m going to focus on today. Specifically, tonight’s dinner. Speaking of dinner, I get a move on it.

Taking a large sip of my coffee, I turn my head as my eyes peek over the rim of my mug at the neighbor’s house. Geez, what was I thinking? My vagina tells me, “Who cares? That was the best sex of my life.” My brain says it wasn’t smart. I mean, I let a stranger blow his load inside me for crying out loud. But I’m on the pill, and obviously living on the edge, so whatever. All I know is I swear I saw Jesus as I came, and I’ve been walking with a limp since Sunday. It’s Tuesday, and I still can’t walk straight. I had way too many lemonades and decided to take Katie’s advice and live a little. Have random sex—check. I didn’t go down to the water expecting all that to happen, but thank God it did.

A part of me feels like walking over there and thanking him for setting me straight—or lopsided, as the case may be, since I’m pretty sure he dislocated my hip with his dick. I’m also seriously considering asking him to do it again. You know, to fuck my hip back in place. And then I realize I’m insane.

He’s the bad guy, Lucy! And he is. I had to take a hose to some guy yesterday who was trying to take measurements of the property lines. Inspections aren’t scheduled until late July. It’s just one more thing he’s trying to do to push things along. He might be a bomb-ass lay, but he’s still the enemy. And I don’t care how fantastic his monster dick is, it’s not going to get me to move the closing date any sooner.

Besides that, it’s clear he’s a playboy. Monday morning, when I stepped outside to get the paper, I noticed a woman walking up his driveway. I threw myself inside my own door before he opened his so he wouldn’t see me. Was I mad he had another woman over so soon after giving me not one, but two explosive orgasms? I mean…no. Yes. I wasn’t! I’m a big girl. We’re both adults here. I needed to release an entire department store of hormones, and he needed to pound me into his lawn chair. Which now has me leaning over to check to see if it’s broken. No one would be shocked if it were at least bent. ‘Cause, I mean…

I shake my head. For real. Don’t care. This summer is about me and taking for once. And that’s what I did. I took his huge cock and used it hardcore. I look down in my coffee mug, wondering if I accidently poured booze in here. My thoughts aren't normally so brash.

I stand, dumping the remainder over the railing, when I get my first glimpse of him since the other night. He’s dressed in a grey suit, his crisp dress shirt missing a tie. Just like the last few times I’ve seen him, minus Sunday night. He’s in flip flops, though, not dress shoes.

“Such a strange dude,” I say to myself. He starts to turn toward me, and I thank God I’m a ninja. I jump through my sliding glass door and lift my head up through the window of the kitchen, only to duck when I find him looking over here. Did he see me? No way. Ninja skills. He stares a bit longer, until something else gets his attention. A woman walks out onto the deck, hands him something, then leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

Ugh. Playboy.

* * *

One thing Tampa clearly doesn’t lack is good looking men. Just walking down the beach, I claimed about four hot guys and did them all in my head. By the time I make it to the seafood shop, I feel like I need a cigarette and a nap.

“Ah, I see you listened!” I turn to the cute little lady I met the other day.

“I sure have. Gonna make this dinner my bitch tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

Grow up, Lucy. “Oh…uh, nothing. Gonna make some delicious dinner tonight. So! Whatcha got?”

She sticks out her hand, pointing to the entrance, and we head into her shop. The place is tiny, but jam packed with refrigerated display cases surrounding the outside and aisles of dry foods filling the middle space. I fight not to cover my nose at the overwhelming smell of raw fish. Maybe I should have stuck to burgers—

“You get used to it after a while.”

I turn to my left, not realizing anyone else was in the shop. A guy—I think number three on my mental do-me list—stands super close to me.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Not used to the fish smell. Where I come from, it’s normally already dead and wrapped in a pretty seal and probably pumped with tons of chemicals… Okay! So, hi. I think I just saw you on the beach. Are you a local?” I hope I just saved myself from looking like a complete idiot.

His smile is kind of to die for. Like most of the guys I’ve seen, he’s wearing a set of board shorts and a T-shirt that’s a wee bit too tight. Not that I’m complaining.

“You can say that. I live not too far away. And you?”

“Oh, I’m not from here. Well, I am now. Or for the next two months.” Seriously? This guy has my tongue all twisted. “I’m staying here for the summer.” There. Gah!

He smiles wider, taking another step closer. For a quick second, I think he’s about to reach for me, when he leans past, grabbing a box of rice off the shelf in front of me. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood…” He pauses.

Oh! “Lucy. The name’s Lucy.” I stick my hand out, and he takes it, shocking me when he brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to the top.

“Pleasure meeting you, Lucy.”

“All right, my darling!” The little lady steps between us, handing me a box. “You’ll make a great meal with these two. Make sure to come back again soon for more seafood.”

I smile at the woman, bringing my eyes back to my new hot friend. “Lobster night.”

“I see.”

Okay, so… “Well, it was nice meeting you, uh...”

“Jax.”

“Got it. Jax. Well, hope to see you around!”

“Oh, I hope so too.” And then, he’s gone. He drops the box of rice on the counter as he walks out and down the beach where he came from.

Tampa dudes are strange.

* * *

“This is not what I had in mind.” I stare down at the two live lobsters in the box on my deck. I expected lobster tails, as in, already dead and cut off for me to just sprinkle some salt and pepper and throw on the grill. Did not plan for alive.

“What do I even do with you two?” I’ve never killed anything before. I’m not planning on today being the day I start either. Disappointment smacks me hard. I just spent money on a dinner I’m going to end up putting in my bathtub, naming, and caring for until they outlive their lives. “You look like a Herald.” I point to one. “We’ll call you Bill.”

“Who’s Bill?”

I whip my head up to see Numbers walking up my stairs. He seems to have ditched the suit for a pair of shorts and a white V-neck. If I had a choice, I’d pass on the lobster and have him for dinner.

“Bill, my new pet lobster.” He makes it to the top, his large frame dominating my small deck. He leans down to inspect my box.

“You’re naming your dinner?”

“Well, it’s not my dinner anymore. They’re my pets now. I don’t believe in animal cruelty. So, meet Herald and Bill. They’ll be staying with me for a while.” Like, however long their life—

“Ninety-two years. Give or take a year.”

“Huh?”

“Ninety-two years. How long they’ll live. Imagining they’re matured enough by age five to eight to sell for a decent market price. Their full lifespan is up to one hundred years. If you plan on keeping them as a pet, you’ll have them for another ninety-two years. Give or take a year or two.”

“Seriously?” I look down at my new friends and realize I’m not financially capable of keeping a pet, let alone two, for the next ninety plus years. I look back at Numbers. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” If I weren’t secretly ogling him, I would've missed the quick flash of stress on his face.

“Simple facts. You live off the ocean, you know a little bit about lobsters.”

“Hmmm,” I hum in response. I can’t seem to stop looking at him, hoping he’ll keep talking so I have a reason to be staring at him. His shirt is way too small for him. Or maybe he’s just too big for the shirt. Either way, his muscles are bulging. Must be a Tampa thing. His board shorts fit nicely, even though he could use an extension in the crotch region since it looks like the poor guy is suffocating. Oh my God, lift your eyes! I do so, catching his smirk. No doubt, I just got caught staring at his junk. He doesn’t call me out, which I’m thankful for. Instead, he goes on again with his numbers. He’s not loud about it, as if he doesn’t realize he’s counting. And it's not just numbers. It’s like he’s repeating math problems.

“Okay! Well, thanks for the lesson. I’m...just gonna go inside and make my bathtub into their new home.” I bend down to grab the box.

“Here, let me help you.” He leans in, giving me a whiff of his cologne. He smells amazing. I want to tell him I’ve totally got this, but my mouth locks when he reaches down and his arm flexes as he wraps his hand around the box. I watch in slow motion as each finger squeezes the sides, remembering those bad boys ramming into me.

“Wanna lead the way?”

“To what?” I blurt, forgetting what was happening. Lobsters. Home. Right. It’s not helping that my hormones are once again skyrocketing. I’ve plowed through three erotic romances in the last twenty-four hours and there’s nothing more I’d like to do than reenact some of those filthy scenes with the man in front of me. “Oh, yeah…uh, this way.”

I lead him inside through my mess. I’m not much of a cleaner. Or an organizer. Or one who enjoys laundry, I think as I pick up a pair of dirty underwear and toss it out of sight. I feel the heat follow us through the tiny hallway leading to the even smaller bathroom, then stop at the door and lean against the wall for him to walk past me.

He’s so big, it’s no shock our bodies are forced to touch as he maneuvers into the tiny space. My nipples are super hard, and I take a quick look at his shirt, making sure I didn’t rip a hole in it when he brushed against my tits.

“I’ll…uh, just put them in the tub?” he asks, and I nod. Put them in the tub and run. Or I’m gonna do something I’ll probably regret. I really need to lay off those books. He drops the box, then bends down to pick up Herald—or is it Bill?—before dropping each into their new home.

I have absolutely no idea what is really happening. I’m too busy staring at his ass. His tight ass cheeks I remember squeezing like a stress ball just before Jesus paid me a visit.

“You may want to carry some seawater up here, to keep them happy.” He stands, moving out of the small bathroom. Stopping in front of me, he says, “They tend to live longer when—”

I’m on him like a cat attacking catnip.

I jump just high enough for him to quickly get the hint and catch me, lifting my legs around his muscled waist. My lips reach up and attack his, kissing him just like Fabio kissed his princess in The Dirty Lord—my latest read.

The best part is, he’s on me just as fast. His mouth opens and our tongues collide, suckling at one another like two teenagers in heat. I feel the thump as his back hits the wall. His hands coddle my ass. I’m not shocked he’s already hard and grinding into me. He seems to keep that thing that way.

There’s a small chance I’m going to regret this, but a way bigger chance I’m going to be patting myself on the back later.

He removes a hand from my ass and brings it up my back before wrapping it into my hair. When he’s got a good hold, he squeezes and pulls my head back a smidge, allowing better access to my lips. His tongue takes over, swirling around and fucking my mouth. I moan, so turned on and overheating.

“Bedroom.” It’s all I need to say. He pushes off the wall and takes long strides before falling back on the small mattress. With him on the bottom, I’m in control, and it delights me to know I get to take the wheel this time. My mind has been in the gutter ever since Sunday night, and I’m so sick of masturbating. Having him under me to do as I please excites me.

I raise my body, pressing my hands to his chest. He really is built like a brick house. I scoop my fingers under his shirt and tug. “Shirt’s gotta go.” He’s up instantly, and the shirt is gone.

Jesus. I must have done something right to earn this one.

“Your turn,” he says.

Only fair. I lift my tank over my head and toss it to the side. His hands are on my tits instantly, and I couldn’t be happier. He kneads my nipples between his thumb and index finger while I tug at his shorts. “Off we go,” I say, losing my power of authority. His simple teasing is getting me going faster than I’d like. I might even settle for some dry humping to get off.

He’s a smart man and lifts his hips so I’m able to drag his shorts down, almost getting whipped in the face with his gigantic dick. God forbid we never make it to the good part because he blinds me in one eye beforehand.

“Your turn,” he repeats. Sure thing, I think as I stand up on the bed and step out of my jean shorts. I pull my underwear down with them, bypassing the bashfulness of him seeing me naked. This is just sex. No time for overthinking.

I drop back down, crawl up, and kiss him. His lips are plump and inviting. I make good use of my hands, touching his pecs, abs, and working downtown to direct traffic, as in get the big guy inside. I’m rewarded when I reach his cock and wrap my small hand around him. He’s smooth to the touch. Large. I kiss him harder, anticipating what’s to come. I’ve been on edge the past two days; I don’t have time for foreplay. I’m already wet—no shocker—so I settle him where he needs to be and slide down. I’m not sure who moans first. It sounded like a tie. I want to tell him I won, because I’m competitive like that, but he starts working his hips, thrusting into me.

“Your pussy is fucking perfect,” he groans, gripping my hips and lifting me up and down on his cock. “You just suck me up.” He lifts me again, and slams me back down.

“Gobble, gobble,” I moan, feeling like his dick possibly just hit a rib. I also forfeit trying to rehash what just came out of my mouth. Gobble, gobble? Really?

“Fuck, I gotta flip you,” he grunts, and whoospie daisies! Before I have a chance to argue, I’m on my back, and he’s thrusting me into the mattress. My legs wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life as I moan, groan, and almost cry out in ecstasy. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Each time he slams into me, my eyes roll back. I fear I’m going to choke on my own tongue. We’re both starting to sweat. I can feel his skin getting clammy when I grab for his ass and squeeze. “Jesus Christ,” he growls, his balls slapping my ass for good behavior. There is one thing I like about him, and it’s that he doesn’t take things slow. Neither time has he tried to woo me—which is far from what I want or need. I need to be fucked. And he is doing a fantastic job of it.

Pounding into me again, he reaches between us and pinches my clit. I throw my head back and break. I moan in silence, since my throat is bone dry, and cry out my release, my back arching off the bed.

One, two, on the third hard thrust, he comes, pushing my back up the mattress.

His body falls on top of mine.

We’re both breathing heavily. Him more than me, since I can’t really breathe at all with his heavy frame on me. I give it a few more seconds before the awkwardness settles in, then tap him on the butt. “Okay, well…I have to go check on my new friends, so…”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask questions as he pulls out and stands. I feel his semen dripping out of me. Fuck. I need to be smarter than this. I get up without making eye contact, and grab for my tank top and shorts. “So, I’m just gonna go…I’ll see ya around.” I walk out of my bedroom to the bathroom, forgetting I was already in my place.

Idiot.