Hide: Downunder Ink Book 2

by Bronwyn Stuart

  I flinch a little and I’m sure my cock twitches where we’re still joined. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I tell her.

  “It’s human nature and try as you might, sometimes you can’t stop it.”

  “Not exactly fair when you open your door wearing not much more than dental floss,” I say.

  I can actually feel the smile on her lips against my chest. “That’s my favourite bikini.”

  I laugh. “I doubt that.”

  “It’s my favourite now.”

  I check my watch. “Well, it’s too late for your surf lesson.”

  “I like this lesson much better.”

  I stroke down her body again and this time when she stiffens, I ask her, “You’re fine with my mouth on you, but you don’t like me touching your stump?”

  Jen sits up and I get distracted for a second by her magnificent boobs. But she’s also wearing a frown and physically lifts my hand from her leg. “It’s weird.”

  I link my fingers behind my head so I won’t be tempted to touch her again while she’s talking. “What’s so weird about it? It’s part of your body. I could kiss every inch of you but not that?”

  Her eyebrows dip even lower. “Why would you want to?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t bother me. No more than kissing the scars on your belly, sucking on your big toe.”

  “Gross,” she says and rolls her eyes. “You are not sucking on my toes.”

  “Not a foot girl?” I chuckle.

  “No way. I can’t imagine anything worse than your mouth on my toes.”

  “My mouth on your stump?”

  She climbs off me to sit on the side of the bed and I’m instantly sorry for pushing her. I just want to understand why it’s so horrible for her. “I’m not saying I’d do it, Jen, I just want you to think about why it’s so bad. Touching your body is touching your body, all of it. If it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother you.”

  She has her back to me when she shakes her head. “I guess it’s just… It’s hard to explain. It’s hard to be so open to someone.”

  I roll over and rub her back. “If we’re going to do the surf lessons, I’m going to have to touch you. Sometimes it might be your stump, it could be your legs, your arms, nothing can be off bounds or I’ll be too worried about you reacting badly and when we’re out on the water, you can’t do that. You can’t flinch or not trust me.”

  Her chin droops to her chest. “I’m trying. I really am. I just can’t believe anyone would want to touch it.”

  I roll right off the bed and kneel in front of her. I take the stump in my hands and just give her a reassuring squeeze. “You said this was part of my job, that I’m used to it, but it doesn’t bother me. Not one bit. You’re still sexy. You’re still beautiful and amazing. You’re just missing a foot. It’s not ugly. It’s not shameful. It’s just different.”

  “I know. I know all of that. It’s just something I guess I have to…” She searches for the word but doesn’t say it.

  “Accept?” I offer with a cheeky grin.

  She slaps my arm and I surge to my feet and smother her with my body. She shrieks and I kiss her. I stroke her hair, her face, her body. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her between open-mouthed kisses and licks. “Unique. One of a kind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jen

  It’s two days later before we can get the surf lessons underway. Ben had another client the night after we had endless, mind-blowing sex. Three times. But I have to get my mind out of the gutter and into my work. If we fall into bed every time we see each other, we’ll never leave my apartment and I’ll never get those surf lessons.

  I spend all of Thursday doing good work. I’ve made a promise to myself that there will be no sex until after my lesson and all of Ben’s talk of self-control means he should be on board. I feel bad for him, that he’s been driving back and forth to feed the cat and poor Gizmo is likely pining for a decent cuddle. Making this vow means I can think about tattoos and art instead of orgasms and blow jobs.

  Mostly.

  I get ribbed all day since Ben left a hickey on my shoulder. I don’t give any details. They hate it. Jo and Jack want to know who he is because they’re worried about me. Still. It’s annoying and I find leaving them in the dark gives me just a spark of satisfaction that I’m annoying them in return.

  It’s juvenile but I am only twenty-five. Only so much time left to be immature.

  I’m home by five and he knocks half an hour later. I’m already dressed and I don’t invite him in. I pull the door closed but then he backs me up against it and kisses me until I can’t breathe or think or react.

  “Hi,” he says.

  I unconsciously touch my lips where they tingle.

  He laughs. “Did you get the air-conditioner fixed?”

  “Just needed a new sensor apparently. Dude was in and out in twenty minutes.”

  “Your nose is cold.”

  The drive doesn’t feel like it takes long and the top down is nice even though there’s a surfboard sticking up above me on the roof racks. It makes a whistling sound now and then. We make small talk about our days. He has a new client who is only fifteen at the rehab centre. She’s surly and hates everyone and everything. He asks me about the work I did today but it’s nothing notable really. Just the same old. I’m tired though after a few late nights. I’m not used to them anymore even though I should have the energy and the stamina.

  Ben doesn’t look tired at all. He looks fresh and sexy and almost like a cover model.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he warns as he pulls into the long driveway.

  “Like what?”

  “Like we’re about to get naked.”

  “I’d like to see you naked again,” I say but then I add, “After the surf lesson.”

  He pulls up at the house but closer to the pool house this time. He undoes the straps holding the surfboard and heads inside with it. I grab my bag and follow.

  “Shouldn’t we feed Gizmo first?”

  “I’m hot. Pool first and then we hang out with the cat.”

  I strip off without invitation and then set to work taking off my prosthetic.

  “I’m guessing you don’t own a one-piece,” he says in a dry tone.

  “Not today I don’t.”

  He does a little turning motion with his finger and I make a slow circle on the spot. God, I want him to touch me again. Everything inside me from my neck down burns with anticipation but he’s doing his best to keep a physical distance. It’s promising to me that it’s taking an effort on his part. I’m doing things to him.

  “Where do we start?”

  “By buying a little more coverage.”

  He’s still staring at my arse as I hop towards the edge of the pool and then dive in. I don’t bother fixing the top as I break the surface and push the water from my eyes. “Oops,” I say, all mock innocence even though I know my boobs are out.

  “That’s not playing fair,” he comments and then slides into the water, reaching for the board and settling it on the water.

  “You could have a wardrobe malfunction too?” I say and he laughs.

  “Tonight is about the possibility of learning to surf, Jen.”

  I cover my nipples back up and poke my tongue out at him. “Spoil sport.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ben

  She’s tempting me. It’s working. But I have will power. I have discipline. I’ve slipped. Twice. But it was a long time in the coming. Now, I’m back on track and she will not break me.

  “Have you been on a board before?” I ask.

  “Never.”

  “How is that even possible. You grew up as close to the ocean as it gets, didn’t you? You’re a swimmer.”

  “I was a swimmer. But I also lost my parents young. My aunt and my sisters were protective of me. My sisters still are.”

  “What do they think about you surfing?”

  “They’re more worried about th
e mystery guy I’m shagging,” she laughs. I don’t.

  “What did you tell them about me?”

  “Nothing at all. They have no idea. If you didn’t leave a bruise on my back and a smile on my face, they still wouldn’t.”

  “Bruise?” Did I hurt her? I didn’t mean to.

  Jen turns and shows me the general area of the koi. I have to move closer but there it is.

  “Hey,” she says, “Don’t look like that. I’m fine. More than fine. I didn’t even feel it while we were…”

  “Screwing?” I supply for her.

  “Is that what that was?” she says with an impish grin.

  “As long as you’re okay. I don’t hurt women.”

  “Not maliciously. It doesn’t sting when you slap.”

  “But you said you liked that.”

  “Oh, I like it. But I didn’t say it wasn’t painful. Or weird. Will you be doing it again anytime soon?”

  All of my blood rushes south to my dick and I’m hard within ten seconds. “Tonight we’re surfing.”

  Her grin flashes again. “For now we’re surfing. Later there might be slapping?”

  “Slow burn remember? A repeat of the last few days won’t be happening again for a while.”

  She closes the distance between us in the pool. “I remember. But doesn’t that mean being driven to the edge again and again? Without reprieve?” She reaches into my shorts and wraps her hand around my shaft.

  I hiss and close my eyes. She has the right grip, hard and fast, masterful. But then it’s gone and she steps back.

  “Let me know if I got it wrong though? Yeah?”

  “You’re a tease.”

  “I’m learning,” she says with a wink and then she turns away from me and sizes up my board. “Do I just hop on?”

  I’m still thinking about her hand on my dick. I’d actually love her to hop on. Me.

  “I want to see you get on and paddle from one end to the other. That’s the first step for you.”

  “Can you show me how it’s done?”

  I shake my head and get serious. If she wants to go out in the ocean for real, I need to know she can swim well enough, paddle, get on if she comes off. “I can’t. You have to do this yourself.”

  Her first attempt just has the board tipping over her, dunking her so she comes up sputtering and laughing. “That’s not right,” she mutters and tries again.

  I can’t do much but stand and watch this part. She’s having fun. For now. Usually we’d start lessons on sand with balance the key and then standing right after that but Jen will have to do it different. She won’t be going into the ocean to surf until I’m satisfied she won’t freeze up or drown. Then there’s her other confidence to boost. She wore those bloody jeans again. I’m beginning to hate them. They cover so much of her, leave her hotter than she needs to be in the middle of Summer and are annoying on every level I can think of.

  When she came out with me, little black dress on, bare knees, I thought we’d had a break-through of sorts. One step forward, two steps back. She is building confidence behind closed doors. I just have to figure out how to enhance that in the real world.

  As I watch her in her cheeky bikini and slipping top, I wonder if I actually want the world to look at her like this. Maybe it’s a view I can keep for myself.

  “Eureka!” she shouts as she sits on in the board and smacks the surface of the pool.

  “Well done,” I tell her with a slow clap. “But you’re backwards and you want to be on your tummy.” I tip her off the board without warning but again, she comes up laughing.

  “Bastard!”

  “Language,” I warn her but as soon as the word drops from my lips, she gets that contemplative glint in her eyes.

  “Fucking bastard,” she taunts.

  I shake my head but I can’t help but laugh at her tactics. “Surfing tonight, Jen.”

  “Start the count,” she tells me. “It’ll keep.”

  My dick twitches and I wonder why I torture myself like this. I would have stayed late at work and then hit the gym on any other normal Thursday night. There’s no satisfaction to constantly having sex. I tried it. A long time ago.

  I buried myself in a woman for months and it didn’t change anything. Didn’t work as a blow off valve to my temper. Didn’t make me forget any of the shitty stuff I had going on. Eventually it was all just so hollow. I was making the moves and noises but there was no satisfaction. When I look at Jen, I see someone worth the payoff. She pays no lip-service. She doesn’t hold back, not even for me. She is a firecracker and I don’t want to burn out with her. Not yet. Then there’s the professional aspect to this, the reason I went to her home for that drink in the first place. I’m pretty sure seeing each other for a while won’t hurt any future working relationship we might need to keep in place, but without her seeing my side of getting inked too early, we won’t have a working relationship at all.

  I don’t bring any of that up. It’s too early and this is the wrong place. I know it will sour the mood and what we’re exploring is new, exciting, fun. I don’t want to ruin it with an argument.

  Jen gets the hang of getting on the board quickly even though I dump her off twice more.

  “Okay, good, you’ve got that. Now I want you to paddle from one end to the other a few times. I want to see your technique.”

  “How does this help since there’s no swell here? Nothing to paddle against?”

  “Just start and let me see how you do it, please?”

  She quirks both eyebrows with innuendo but then paddles towards the deepest end of the pool and back.

  “Good,” I tell her. “Now do it again but I want you to lift your feet in the air. Foot…in the air. You’re thumping down on the surfboard like you’re actually swimming and you’ll get injured. Bend your knees and lift everything below. You don’t kick your feet above the water, only below. Your arms have to do all the work.”

  She has lady biceps and I’m kind of impressed with her arm strength. “Tight fingers,” I yell to her. “You want to push the water, not play with it.”

  A few feet away from me, she stops and sits up on the board, breathing hard. “It’s more strenuous than it looks!”

  “You’re doing great but it’s going to be baby steps to start. You’ll need to work up some more strength in your arms, weights will do that. For the first twenty minutes on a good day, you’re paddling against the current, against the waves, it’s not easy.”

  When she nods, it’s hesitant, almost fearful.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “How am I going to stand on the board?”

  “With great difficulty,” I tell her. I don’t sugar-coat it. “You might have to learn on one knee at the beginning.”

  “You showed me the video. Guys do this. They stand up.”

  “They do but not until they find their rhythm and get their balance. I’m sure some never stand up but the thrill of riding a wave is no different with one knee down.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  I pull her from the board and hug her, kiss her, rest my head on her head. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Jen.”

  “Except get my foot back.” She laughs but it’s a self-deprecating joke and I have a feeling she’s told it a few times.

  When a voice sounds from the house side doors, I don’t know who jumps higher, me or Jen.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jen

  I peek around Ben’s shoulder and see a woman. She’s glaring like she just busted us doing something wrong. Her light hair is up in a stylish bun and she’s dripping with jewellery, wearing expensive slacks and a silk blouse. Leopard print pumps flash under her hems.

  “Mum?” Ben says. “You guys aren’t supposed to be back until the weekend.”

  “Your father got us on an earlier flight.”

  An awkward silence descends until Ben introduces me. “This is a client of m
ine, Jen.”

  Client am I?

  The woman sniffs and looks down her nose at me. “Is that what you’re calling them these days?”

  He stiffens next to me and his fingers curl into fists. “What are you talking about? I’m teaching Jen to surf.”

  She rolls her eyes. “In a pool? I wasn’t born yesterday. Wait till your father hears you’ve bought a working girl into our home.”

  I know it’s not graceful but I sputter.

  She doesn’t stop her tirade. “Now we’ll have to drain the pool.”

  “Mother,” Ben finally stops her in a sharp tone. “Jen is a client. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m embarrassing myself? How old is she? Eighteen?”

  I am never the favourite with mothers of a certain age but I’ve never been mistaken for a sex worker before today. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” I announce and move to the edge of the pool. Ben races me and jumps out before I can get there. He’s wearing an apology in his expression as he helps me from the water and hands me a towel. I want to tell them both to fuck off but in this moment, the swear seems like it won’t do much. It’ll seem like I’m bothered and defensive. I’m not.

  “I am so sorry about this,” he murmurs into my ear.

  I shrug him off. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll just be a sec, then can you take me home?”

  “Yeah, of course. I really am sorry.”

  I turn my back on them both, dry myself so quickly my stump is still wet when I attempt to slide the sock on. I swear, take it off, towel a bit more and then try again. It’ll do. I don’t even bother with my jeans, I just throw on my top, snatch my hat and bag from the lounger and flee as quick as I can, one bright pink runner on my prosthetic, my other foot bare in the soft dirt. I’m so embarrassed, so angry, no, mortified.

  It’s not long before Ben silently straps down the board and starts the engine. He wastes no time in ripping out of the driveway, churning gravel with his wheels as we go. He stops at the end of the driveway, checks for traffic but doesn’t roll forward.