Free The Beach House by JT Harding

daughter with such contentment in
her eyes. He followed the curve along her side to her hip, narrow
but obvious, jutting at the waistband of her jeans. He scanned down
over slim legs, back to take in the way the denim snugged tightly
between her thighs, sure he could discern the outline of her full
pussy, the faintest hint of an opening where the jeans pulled
tight. Her waistband was low at the front, her sweatshirt rucked up
where Ami wriggled and sucked at the bottle cradled to Jenni’s
breast, and a band of tanned skin showed, the dimpled lower edge of
her navel, and Joe realized he was making the situation worse for
himself and turned his head, looking beyond the two of them at the
breakers.
    Before too long Jenni said, “I think she’s
finished.” She held the empty bottle out to Joe. Ami nuzzled gently
against Jenni, satisfied. Joe took the bottle, again their fingers
touching, the contact throwing a jolt along his arm and he wondered
if she sensed the same thing too, or only him.
    “You’d better put her on your shoulder,” Joe
said. “Here, put this over you.” He stood, aware that if Jenni
glanced down the evidence of his arousal would be obvious; not
quite as prominent as a moment before, but unmistakable. Why would
she do that, Joe asked himself? He was the one losing his composure
around here. He shook a small white towel and placed it over
Jenni’s shoulder. His finger brushed against the skin of her neck
where her sweatshirt had slipped aside, but she seemed unaware of
the touch, and he let his finger linger a moment longer than he
should.
    Jenni lifted Ami to her shoulder and Joe
pulled his hand away. “Do I pat her back or something? Is that how
you do it?”
    Joe laughed. “Rub gently, in a circle. She’s
going to burp, but if you’re gentle she won’t bring too much up. It
helps if you walk as well. I think the movement eases the
wind.”
    Jenni started to move slowly, walking as
though on hot coals, each bare foot lifting and stepping like a
gazelle. Joe put the empty bottle back in the rucksack, stayed
where he was for a moment, kneeling, watching Jenni’s ass flex and
move as she took those tiny steps. Ami let out a giant burp and
Jenni laughed. She glanced back and almost caught Joe’s eyes
practically devouring her.
    “Am I soaking, Joe?” she asked, her eyes
sparking.
    He joined in with her laugh and stood,
slinging the rucksack over his shoulder and walking to join her.
“So far so good. Let’s get her back. She’ll probably sleep for a
while now. Do you want to come in and meet Kim?”
    Jenni glanced at him. “I’d like that. What
will she think about you bringing strange women home?”
    “You’re not strange,” Joe said.
    “How can you be sure? For all you know I
might be a crazed islander intent on stealing pretty children.”
    “In that case next time Ami starts crying at
three in the morning I’ll give you a call. You’ll be welcome to
take her then.”
    Jenni gave the little bundle sleeping on her
shoulder a hug. “Don’t tempt me,” she said, her voice so soft Joe
barely heard, but he did hear the emotion.
    “Besides, you’re not a stranger,” Joe said.
“We’ve watched you swim every day.” As soon as the words left his
mouth Joe realized how perverted they might sound and his pace
slowed.
    Jenni laughed. “You think I didn’t know you
were watching me?” she said, her voice low, and Joe tried to work
out what he could hear. Acceptance, encouragement, disappointment,
disapproval?
    “What I meant to say was Kim would love to
say hello. You will come in, won’t you?”
    “If you’re sure, Joe?” Jenni asked.
    “I’m sure,” he said, nodding firmly, the
moment filled with unspoken expectation, but Joe feared it might
just be on his part.
     
    ***
    Jenni let him walk ahead a little, watching the way
his slim ass moved inside the baggy swim shorts, cradling his baby
against her shoulder, enjoying the way Ami’s legs pressed against
her, enjoying