A Match into Texas (Mike Fuentes Fanfic)

11

Part 11

The beach I took him to was one of my favorite places to go. I had been going there ever since I was 9 years old, and my aunt took me one hot summer day. It was very secluded- a private beach owned by some rich guy who was never home.

It was an amazing place, because even though it was so small, there was a lot to do. There were rocks on one side that went into the water, and there was a sort of beach shack that had a huge hammock that could fit two people easily, three if you had too. It had an outdoor shower and a pretty kitchen, with running water, a small working stove, and a cute table on the porch in front. It was a great place for an adventure that called for dinner to be served afterwards.

'Where are we going?' Mike picked up his leathers and passed me a spare jacket, slinging his over his shoulder.

'Michael Fuentes, I am taking you on a date.' He leaned against the wall and his eyes lit up.

'Do you wanna take the bike, or would your truck be better?'

'That depends. How do you feel about sand and rain?' He grinned, and pulled on his jacket.

'Bike it is. Shall we? Your chariot awaits, my lady.' We walked out of the room, his arm over my shoulder. You know those totally badass couples you see in the movies, that biker and his biker chick, both in leathers, tattooed, wearing sunglasses and walking around like they had no worldly concerns? That's the way we looked. I remember the picture a friend took of the two of us probably a year after that day. We were wearing almost exactly the same thing, and we looked so at ease and so confident. It's a good look, in my opinion.

The parking lot was soaked. All the cars sparkled and gleamed as raindrops rolled down their windows, and Mike led me to a small covered area where his bike stood, waiting. He put on his helmet, and turned around and passed the spare to me. He tilted his head and looked at me up and down. 'You look like a badass in leather. You can keep that jacket, it looks better on you anyway.' There was that smile again, so easy, so charming. I put of the helmet and climbed on behind him.

'I've been riding horses for the last 17 years, so if my legs are too tight on your waist, just tap my knee.' In response, Mike grabbed both of my legs and pulled me even closer to him, and squeezed my thighs, right above my knees. I squealed.

'No such thing as too tight, sweetheart.' I poked him in the side.

'Oh shut up and drive.' I wrapped my arms around his waist, and clamped my legs against his sides, feeling him laugh. The engine roared to life, and the bike leapt forward. Mike kept his right foot on the ground, and the bike spun around and we were off.

There are a lot of things in this world that are known as your typical romantic places. The movies, a classy Italian restaurant, a Ferris Wheel, to name a few. But I'll let you in on a little secret. None of those places are much fun. The key to any romance is keeping it fun. If you're too serious about everything, nothing will make you happy, because you're too busy worrying about if its good enough. Don't. Do something fun, something that gets your heart racing and makes you laugh. That's why I chose the beach, because there is nothing more fun than fucking around on a motorcycle in the wet sand. It might sound crazy and dangerous, but hey, I've never been one for safety.

It took about 20 minutes of riding to get to the beach, and I directed Mike to the cottage, where we left the jackets and our boots. I wore a plain white tee shirt and my cutoffs, he wore a pair of ripped jeans and no shirt. We threw our clothes on the dresser and got back on the bike. The rain was falling harder now, and the bike roared across the each straight toward the water. As we got closer, Mike turned the bike sideways and we skidded to a stop, just above where the tide stopped. He turned to me and as the wind blew his wet hair, he grinned and asked me if I wanted to go for a swim.

He took my hand and pulled me toward the water, stopping and letting it lap at our toes. 'Its so cold, Mike!' He looked down at me, and I saw an idea forming behind those big brown eyes.

His arms were around me and suddenly I was lifted off the ground. He laughed and I squealed, and he began to walk farther into the water, as I struggled. He didn't let me fall, and once he was in up to his waist, he put his forehead against mine and whispered 'You ready?'. I nodded, and he fell backwards into the water, completely soaking us both.

Now, in case you haven't been to a beach when a storm is going on, I'll tell you what it like. The sand is warm, but the wind is cold. It whips around and play with your hair like a naughty sibling, poking and teasing. The water is very deceptive; it can look the same as it dies normally, but when you get in, it comes alive, swirling around. It changes color, from a blue green, to a deep grey, almost black. It becomes a being in and of itself, moving and behaving like some huge creature having a tantrum. But it won't hurt you. It moves furiously, yes, but it moves with a grace and poetry that forbids any harm.

Mike surfaced, but I stayed under, and swam farther out. I surfaced, and turned to look at him, treading water. He cocked his head.

'Do that again,' he called. Do what? 'Swim around again, and surface.' I dove under, and came up about a foot in front of him.

'You look like a mermaid. You move through the water like you belong in it. How do you do that?' I laughed.

'The ocean is basically just a big energy source. If you know it well enough, you can ride between the currents. You can become part of it, learn to let it carry you, instead of fighting against it.' He reached out and pulled a strand of seaweed out of my hair. His eyes never left mine.

'You really don't wear any makeup, do you.' It wasn't really a question. Enough of this, I thought. I knew what I wanted to do. I had wanted to do it all night, ever since he kissed me, ever since we met. I moved closer to him, and kissed his lips I didn't touch any part of him, the only thing that held us together was that kiss. The sea raged around us and the wind howled, but the cold and the wet didn't bother us at all. That kiss held all the heat and comfort in the world.

His tongue flicked gently across my teeth, asking for entrance, and I obliged. We danced. His hands went on my hips, and he pulled me closer my my belt loop. My fingers traced circles on his chest, and his hands roamed, one on my lower back, one on the back of my neck. His fingers gently lifted the bottom of my tee, icy fingers chilling my skin and sending tendrils of energy all over my body. His lips left mine and moved slowly over my jaw, behind my ear, down my neck.

'Lets go,' I whispered in his ear. He didn't need to be told twice. That bike has never been ridden as quickly as we rode it on the way back to the cottage.