Bondi Beach Boys
Authors: Rhian Cahill
Bondi Beach Boys
By Rhian Cahill
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Published By:
Etopia Press
P.O. Box 66
Medford, OR 97501
Bondi Beach Boys
Copyright © 2011 by Rhian Cahill
ISBN: 978-1-936751-29-7
Edited by Georgia Woods
Cover by Annie Melton
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: May 2011
~ Dedication ~
Thanks to Selena for being the “ideas” person and asking me to take part in her brilliance. For all the women who have ever stretched out on a beach and watched the scenery go by. And for those who haven’t, here’s a snippet of what you’re missing.
To Mr. C. you’re all the scenery I need.
Piper pushed through the glass door and sucked in a blast of hot air like walking into the bowels of hell, but she wasn’t going back inside the air-conditioned interior of the café for anything. Not until she’d had her daily dose of what she’d affectionately dubbed her Bondi Beach Boys. She smiled at the nickname she’d given them. Having lived in Sydney for only ten months, she hadn’t fully understood the appeal of sitting by Bondi Beach on a stinking hot day, but summer was rapidly becoming her favorite time of year.
A waitress delivered her fresh-squeezed juice, and Pip thanked the girl without taking her eyes off the view. Picking up the ice-cold glass, she brought it to her lips. The heady mix of sweet aromas filled her nose, and the freshly blended flavors of mango and banana exploded on her tongue. Still, her eyes remained glued to the sight in front of her. A shiver skipped down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the chunk of ice she sucked on.
Bodies of all shapes and sizes, in all manner of dress, littered the hot sand. Kids with buckets and spades built sandcastles by the water’s edge. Teenagers in long, baggy shorts played a game of volleyball, kicking up arcs of golden spray. Women in skimpy bikinis lay on towels, glistening under the scorching sun. But Pip came for the men.
There were all kinds. Young, old, skinny and fat, some in Speedos with bronzed bodies worth drooling over; they were all there. Though none of those were the attraction for her. Two men in particular drew her gaze day after day, week after week. With her sunglasses shielding her eyes, she turned a little to the right and looked her fill.
Bronze hair and skin sparkled under the hot sun. Long, tanned limbs rippled with muscle as the sun god they were attached to reached up and removed the surfboard from the roof rack of the sporty, black sedan. She licked her lips. Tingling with the urge to run her tongue over every inch of the bare torso, Piper’s mouth had gone bone dry, the ice cube long since melted away. Her gaze skipped further to the right to find the second most glorious sight in the world.
His sleek muscles were dusted with dark hair, and the smooth skin holding it all together had to be what people referred to as a Mediterranean complexion. No less appealing than the golden specimen on the other side of the vehicle, he made her heart race and her palms sweat. Together they were a sexy temptation a nun would be hard pressed to refuse. Piper sighed and took another sip of her drink.
She watched them as they got ready, prepping their boards, throwing towels around their shoulders, and locking up the car. The blond picked up a backpack and turned toward the waves. For long moments, Piper admired the shift of muscles along backbones made for licking. Her temperature, already hot from the sweltering summer weather, went up a couple of degrees. Arousal swirled low in her abdomen, the once gentle stir now a churning whirlpool, and her chest rose and fell with her harsh breaths.
Today was no different from any of the others in the past few weeks. Her Bondi Beach Boys surveyed the waves as they rolled onto the sand of Sydney’s most famous beach. She studied them—her boys, not the waves. Their wind-tossed hair: one dark blond with golden streaks, the other black as night. Their smooth backs and narrow hips, miles of leg beneath brightly colored shorts. But the gorgeous arses hidden under the quick-dry material drew Piper’s eyes the most.
She’d always been a butt girl. Something about a tight pair of cheeks just did it for her. Pip wasn’t worried what covered a guy’s rear end, but she had to admit to being partial to jeans before this summer. Now though… Now she was a converted woman. Absolutely nothing compared to a set of firm buns wrapped in wet board shorts. No siree, nothing better. What a shame she wouldn’t be here to see them all wet and shiny when they came back to the car.
Her normal routine had to be rearranged for a meeting with potential new clients, and there was no way she was going to risk blowing this contract. She really didn’t need to go back over the designs—she’d been up til three a.m. making sure they were perfect—but she couldn’t help wanting to give it one more look with fresh eyes before the meeting. This job could be the big break that allowed her to quit her part-time cleaning gig and purchase that new software and hard drive she had her eye on. Tipping up her glass, she drank the last of her juice as her boys made their way down onto the sand.
Piper grabbed her bag and stood. Having paid for her drink when she ordered, she made her way between the tables to the sidewalk. The blond dropped the backpack and his towel, and jogged to the water’s edge. His friend followed at a more leisurely pace. She paused, watching them as they dropped their boards to the water and lowered their buff bodies to the fiberglass lengths. They paddled out, ducking under the waves and giving her one final glimpse of taut butt muscles before she forced herself to leave. With a sigh, Pip turned and headed home.
* * *
Sam scanned the tables, searching for the brunette. Disappointment surged when she proved to be nowhere in sight. He and Nate had gotten used to seeing her the past few weeks. Dropping his bag, he leaned his board against the car and knelt down to retrieve the car keys from the bottom of the backpack. He pressed the button to unlock the doors. Nate stepped up next to him, and Sam noticed his friend doing exactly what he’d done a moment before.
“Damn. She’s gone.”
“Yeah.” Sam glanced at his wristwatch. “Looks like we’ve all got somewhere to be this morning.”
“Bugger. If I’d known that I’d have hung around longer before hitting the waves.”
Sam smiled. He’d had the same idea. He really wanted to find out who she was. The need to know her had been building for days—weeks—and that morning, when they’d pulled up and seen her walking into the café, he’d decided to introduce himself. Another look at his watch told him they didn’t have time to dwell on her early disappearance.
“Tomorrow, I think I’ll skip the surf and have a smoothie instead.” He grinned over his board at Nate and tossed him the keys.
His mate snatched the keys out of the air one-handed. “Not without me, you’re not.”
They locked their boards into the racks and climbed into the car. As Nate started the engine, air blasted through the vents. The stale, hot gust slammed into Sam’s face before the air-conditioner kicked in to cool it. Maybe he should offer to teach her to surf when he talked to her. No doubt about it, he’d be making a new friend before lunchtime tomorrow.
Five minutes of fighting with traffic and they were pulling into the underground garage beneath their house and office. He and Nate ran their business from the first floor of the three-story refurbished home. Sam had a soft spot in his heart for the place, their second fixer-upper. The first had netted them enough profit that turning this one over hadn’t been a necessity, and both agreed it made a good base for their growing business.
Nate parked the car and got out, heading straight for the door leading into the basement and the spiral staircase to the other levels, leaving Sam to clean the boards and put them away. By the time he finished and headed upstairs to shower, he passed Nate coming back down in their usual business attire, cargo pants and polo shirt with the company logo over the left-hand breast pocket.
The emblem was the only thing they’d requested the new web designer keep, and Sam looked forward to their meeting, anxious to see what the guy had come up with. He looked forward to not having to update the site in the future too.
With the company growing, they found it more and more difficult to keep up with all aspects of the business, and like some of the actual labor, they were hiring someone else to oversee their website. The guy they’d sold their last house to recommended the designer. Jeff’s website was brilliant, and Sam thought it took someone special to make a dentist’s online presence look good.
He tossed the wet towels in the laundry as he strolled past; he’d throw them in the washer after their meeting. He walked through the bedroom and headed straight for the bathroom. Stripping out of his shorts, he stepped into the large shower recess, the supersized area one of his biggest indulgences. Multiple jets angled to spray every part of the body with steaming water, and an alcove with a bench seat and a glass wall looked out over the ocean, all pleasure for the senses. Sam reached for the soap and lathered it in his hands.
“Need some help with that?” Nate asked.
“I’d love some, but we don’t have time for that right now.” Sam eyed the bulge in the front of Nate’s pants. “What’s got you all hot and bothered?”
“The brunette.”
Sam arched a brow. “Really?”
Nate laughed. “Like I don’t know you’ve been jerking off to the image of her in your head for the last few weeks.”
Sighing, Sam turned under the spray to rinse off. His friend was right; the little brunette had gotten under his skin in a big way. And considering he didn’t even know her name, never mind the color of her eyes, he was probably in big trouble.
“Don’t stress it. We’re in the same boat.” Nate held out a towel. “Tomorrow we get to know her.”
“Tomorrow,” Sam agreed, the word a promise and a prayer.
Nate made his way back to their office. He’d already rung Burt, their foreman, and knew the Baker Street job continued to be on schedule, he’d spoken to Emily at the bank about their overdraft, and he’d cleared the conference table ready for the meeting with the web designer. All that remained to do was to start the coffee. Sam walked in, his blond hair still damp from the shower, and Nate glanced at the clock to see if they had time for a quickie. They had thirty minutes until show time, plenty to get his rocks off and remove the raw edge he currently rode.
“Drop your pants.” He growled the words as he stalked across the room.
“Like that, is it?” Sam smiled with that know-it-all grin that always got Nate’s demanding nature riled up.
“Yes. Drop ’em.”
Sam turned his back, pushed his hips back, and wiggled his arse. “Make me.”
Nate almost crash-tackled him to the ground. In record time, he had the button and fly of Sam’s pants undone and the gorgeous cock hiding inside in his hand. He stroked hard, the way Sam liked it. A moan slipped from Sam’s throat and Nate ground his erection into the curve of his friend’s arse.
“I need…”
“I know.” Sam broke from his grasp and pushed his pants down. He always knew how to soothe the savage inside Nate. They’d been friends long before they’d become lovers, and Nate still thanked the woman who’d shown them this other side of themselves. Fumbling with his belt, he struggled to control his trembling fingers.
“Jeez, she’s really got you on edge.” Sam brushed Nate’s hands aside and dispensed with Nate’s trousers.
“Totally.”
“Good. We’re in the same place then.”
“No offense, but I’m gonna pretend you’re her when I bury my cock in your arse.”
“None taken.” Sam slid a condom down his length, sending fire into Nate’s balls and a shudder up his spine. “I’ll be doing the same when I fuck you.”
Nate laughed as he shoved Sam over to the table. “Hold on.”
Sam leaned forward, thrust his arse toward Nate, and gripped the table in front of them. Lining himself up with Sam’s puckered hole, Nate slid forward, his mate’s arse easily taking his thick cock all the way to the balls. He pulled out, pushed in. Hard and fast. Slam after slam, his thighs hit the back of Sam’s as he fucked him until the heat in his balls boiled over and he came in a rush.
“Agh…” The cry tore from his lips and he collapsed on Sam’s back.
“No time for rest yet.” Sam stood up, dislodging Nate from his resting place.
Nate pulled his spent cock from Sam’s still clenching hole. His legs were like rubber, so he turned and leaned his butt on the table. He wrapped his fingers around his softening length and removed the used condom.
“Too tired to stand?” Sam had the know-it-all grin going on again as he rolled a condom down his cock. “I can work with that.”
He grabbed Nate’s ankles off the floor and pushed them up, making him lie back on the table. Nate’s legs were tangled in his pants, but that didn’t stop Sam. He just pushed until Nate kissed his own knees and Sam could step into Nate’s waiting body. The position put his arse in line with Sam’s cock and he soon found himself on the receiving end of a good, hard and fast fuck. Muscles stretched to fit the thick rod driving into him. His sated cock was rejuvenated by the slide of Sam’s erection over his prostate. Much more and he’d be coming again.
As if he’d read his mind, Sam’s hand wrapped around Nate’s rapidly hardening cock and pumped, the harshness of the caress designed to drive him over the edge. Nate might be demanding and rough at times, but Sam liked to prove he could take him down a peg or two, and much to Nate’s pleasure, it seemed as though Sam was of a mind to do just that. His friend slowed the thrust of his cock, but sped up his hand. Nate shoved his pants to his ankles and widened his knees, made it easier for Sam to wank him off. With blinding speed, Nate raced to his second release. Cum flowed from his cock, spurting onto both their stomachs as Sam leaned into him.
“Done now?” Sam asked.
Nate’s hands shook where he held his knees against his shoulders. The tremors of his orgasm continued to roll through him, but he managed a nod.
