Page 110 of Good Vibes Only
“Yay! We made it!” I shouted, jumping with excitement.
Holding hands, we made our way to the lake beach. We kicked off our boots and treated our tired feet to the soothing sandy shores.
“Happy Anniversary, my love,” he said.
“Happy Anniversary!” I said, squeezing myself against him. “What a year.”
We’d come here to celebrate our first wedding anniversary—and yes, if you’re curious, Dakota was Brett’s best man, which thankfully wasn’t anywhere near as controversial as I might have worried. To his credit, Dakota’s been nothing but respectful towards me ever since Brett and I started dating. Dakota has matured a lot over these past few years, and I think a big part of it was seeing his best friend settle down. Heck, I’m happy to call Dakota my friend, too.
Brett dug into his backpack. “Look what I got,” he said, pulling out two cans of BarDown’s Pest. He handed me one. “Here’s to us.”
That’s right—cans.After two successful years, BarDown was dipping its toes into distribution. Las Vegas couldn’t get enough of Brett’s hockey beers.
“Tous,” I said, our cans meeting with aclunk.
But we’d barely finished our beers when Brett took one look at the sun in the sky and said, “I should probably get to work making camp.”
“Already?” I whimpered, clutching him, not wanting to let him go. “Can’t we just relax for a little?”
“Believe me, I wantto, babe. But I want to get this done first so we can relax before the sun goes down.”
I grumbled, but he was right, of course.
“What’s wrong with us, anyway?” I asked as he climbed to his feet. “Even our vacations are work. It’s like we don’t know how to relax or something.”
He chuckled. “C’mon. Sure we do. What about our honeymoon?”
Last year, after the wedding, we ran off to an island resort in Fiji, where we spent two weeks with absolutelynothingto do in paradise but relax and be with each other.
“You’re taking me back there.”
“Next year,” he promised.
Fiji was amazing. We’d needed a honeymoon with nothing to do, because we’d had averybusy couple of years! Business was booming for us both. Good Vibes Only had turned into a success beyond my wildest imagination—a lot of that was due to the amazing success of the Showstopper, which wasstillflying off the shelves. I owed Brett a tonfor that, for obvious reasons—but he doesn’t want much credit. According to him, the Showstopper is really “just any old dildo,” and the actual work was in all the promotion and marketing.
I dunno about that … while I appreciate the sentiment, let’s not kid ourselves; he isveryblessed indeed. But of course, I might be a bit biased.
Anyway, the success of the Showstopper enabled me not to just to expand my staff, but my business, as well. We moved a few blocks away into a storefront about twice the size as the first one.
As much as I’ll miss being next to Brett’s brewery? The move has been good for us both, as BarDown—which was wildly popular due to its craft beers and bar fare food—expanded into my old spot. And as an added bonus, Brett doesn’t have to be tormented by those “dancing dildos” in the window displays anymore.
But he just groans whenever I tease him about that, and says something like, “C’monnn, babe. I was dumb back then!”
* * *
After a lovely evening—we made camp; swam in the lake; met and made friends with a few of our camp neighbors; ate dinner; watched a beautiful sunset; roasted s’mores around a campfire—Brett and I staked out a quiet, secluded spot to stargaze.
Alone, we held hands and stared up at the most brilliant, star-studded night sky I’d ever seen in my life. We talked for hours—about how far we’d come and how much we had to look forward to. We’d done and seen so much already, yet it felt like our journey together had only just started. I was so lucky to have found such a talented, hard-working, and supportive man.
With heavy eyelids and nonstop yawns, we finally called it a night and retired to our tent.
I slithered into our sleeping bag, and Brett zipped up the door to our tent. Brett turned around and pulled off his clothes, his sexy, muscled body a silhouette under the dim light of the stars. He climbed into the sleeping bag and snuggled up against me, and I felt him, rock hard, pressing against my side.
I wrapped my hands around his dick, which pulsed and throbbed with energy. I whimpered, frustrated. “I want you so bad. I wish I could have you. It’s not fair.”
“Why can’t you have me?” he whispered back.
“Because!” I pointed in the general direction of the other campers. “We’re not alone, remember? Someone might hear us.”
