Free Ethan by Rian Kelley

this.”
    “To the end,” she assu red him, but her voice was soft, breathy. The kind of voice that would whisper intimate directives and then praise his skill and aptitude.  It worked on his cock as effectively as if it was the stroke of her hand.
    “I’m going to cool off.” He wasn’t looking forward to it, the complete shock to his system that would temporarily shrivel his member and return higher order thinking. But it was necessary.  “Give me a few minutes.”
    He grabbed his board and strode down the sand. He didn’t stop when the water swirled around his feet. He didn’t give himself a moment to adjust to the slightly chilly temperature. He wade d in until the surf was wrapped around his hips and he was able to float his board beside him. He guided it up and over a wave, then boarded and began paddling toward the horizon.
    It was almost seven o’clock. Sunset was a good ninety minutes away, but the sky was already descending. Yellow and orange streamers floated overhead and nothing would convince him they were something as simple as clouds. He loved the ocean. The mystery in its depths, the salty air that cleansed him from the inside out. Even the sometimes fierce momentum of the water. The ride was thrilling, but the anticipation was the best part.
    An d it was doing its job. The heat that burned through his brain cells and ignited his blood had dampened. He still felt it there, the way an oil fire burned just below the surface of the water, but it was contained. His trunks fit a hell of a lot better, too.
    He watched the swells and positioned himself for a curler that was building north. When the crest developed just a lip of froth, and the trough started widening, he turned his board and rose to his feet.
    The pick- up, with its belly-drop and roll, was exhilarating. The wave continued to curl until Ethan was inside the green room—a full cover-up tube. He crouched and rode the wave blind until it finally crashed over his shoulders. When the foam cleared his eyes he was in shallow water and Shae was standing several yards in front of him, bathed in a golden light and grinning at him full-force. Every surfer loved riding the tube.
    He picked up his board and clambered through the surf.
    “Lucky,” she drawled, when he got close enough to hear her.
    “The waves are good tonight,” he agreed.
    “Rippin’.” Her sassy smile poked fun at her surfer lingo.
    “So, let’s do it,” he invited, and waited for her to fall into step beside him.
    The next hour was educational for Ethan. Shae was a petite powerhouse. She caught wave after wave, rode most of them to their finish in the foamy surf, took a few dunkings, and one time dropped about eight feet after a late take off left her suspended above a deceptively placid ocean. She sputtered to the surface, caught his eye, and laughed unabashedly at her own foolishness.
    Ethan paddled over to her.
    “That was gnarley,” he said.
    “Completely,” she confirmed. “Just this side of festy.” She erupted in peals of laughter. “That’s all I know. I was never really big on the lingo. I didn’t hang out with the surfer dudes. It’s always been a solitary sport for me.”
    “It’s the closest I’ll come to meditation,” he agreed. He had hung with surfers when he was in high school, but afterwards his time on the water had become solace to him, even before his marriage began disintegrating and Tina died. There was something restorative about being just out of touch with the real world and all its demands.
    He watched her swing a leg over her board and lift herself to straddling it. He r body was toned, slick with salt water, and he traced a droplet with his eyes from just beneath her ear, down the slope of her neck and into the deep valley between her breasts. He felt the pressure build at the base of his cock and forced himself to tear his gaze from her body and focus on the shore some fifty or sixty yards away.
    “This is my favorite place to