by Cate Ellink
***
I wish I could say I was sated but I can’t. The more sex we have, the more I want. I hate to think how Cooper’s feeling since he didn’t get any direct relief but I’m not asking him or we’ll never make the dive. Today the sea is like glass, so we’re heading out to dive at the Admiralty Islands and I’m not going to miss it.
I’m glad of my determination. The dive is brilliant with calm seas, great visibility and loads of fish and corals to see and photograph. Back on deck afterwards, while assisting each other out of wetsuits, I chatter hoping to distract myself from lustful thoughts.
‘Did you see that flutemouth at the end? Those tiny fins quivering a thousand miles an hour even though he was hardly moving. Wow. I’ve never seen one before. And my photo is awesome.’
‘The long pipe fish thing?’
‘Yeah, amazing wasn’t he?’
Cooper murmurs an agreement but since I’m wrestling the wetsuit down his thighs I can’t pay attention to his words, taken as I am by the play of muscles in his legs.
When he steps out of his wetsuit and starts on mine, all I can concentrate on is the puff of his breath across my nape and shoulders and the way shivers scurry through me. And then I realise he’s talking to me.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
Cooper smirks. ‘Are you off in Lustland again?’
I can’t help it. I laugh even as a blush sneaks up my face. ‘I’m trying not to go there but it sneaks up on me.’
‘What was the bright blue fish with the yellow dash across the top?’
‘A southern fusilier. Amazing colour, isn’t it?’
‘And those weird ones that were black with a yellow tail and a blue and yellow face?’
‘Yellowtail angelfish. Related to the black ones with that blob of white halfway down their body that dart in and out of the weeds.’
‘Oh, the skitty ones. They were funny. Racing around like they owned the place, then darting away to hide. I got awesome photos of all of them.’
I punch him in the arm before I remember how much it hurts. ‘You won’t beat my flutemouth.’
‘What were the red-tailed tiny things that looked like they belonged in a tropical fish aquarium?’
‘Firefish. I have a great pic of them too.’ I strip my wetsuit from my feet and take it to the tub. When I return, Cooper is in deep discussion with one of the older chaps on the dive trip, receiving a lesson on firefish, scorpionfish, angelfish, scalybacks and Moorish Idols. I bite my lips to remove the grin and sit quietly beside him. Then I relent and hand him a water bottle hoping to break him away from his lecture but it’s not to be. The man has a captive audience and Cooper is too polite to ignore him.
I stretch my back and lean my arms along the edge of the boat as we head back in. My fingers slide against Cooper’s back, tracing the dips and troughs of muscle and vertebrae. I tip my face up towards the sunshine, close my eyes and let my fingers wander. Warm. Silken. Strong. Alive. Velvet-like. A hard nub. A slide. Flex, stretch, vanish.
A shadow falls across me and my lips tighten and lift before his heated mouth drops on top of them. It’s a quick kiss. A brief brush. Claiming me before he sits back and soaks up the sunshine.
I hope I have some great photos of him too. Although you may not see much under all the gear, I love to watch his studied concentration as he lines up a shot, the intensity of his gaze while he examines. I love the outline of those hard muscles wrapped in neoprene.
And I hope like heck he doesn’t think too much about the photos. I tried to make them arty or get a strange light angle. You don’t take lots of photos of a holiday fling.
We unload, wash gear, do all the usual and then download the photos. There are bubbles in my stomach, a couple of wobbles in my knees, and a great big sense of satisfaction.
‘You go first.’ I wave Cooper towards the computer but he defers to my femaleness. Who am I to argue? I’m dying to see my photos.
Brian downloads them quickly and we begin the slideshow. The man who lectured Cooper about fish appears and stays to vote on the photos. We can’t kick him out, although I’d like to. With my shoulders thrust back, a gleam in my eye and a heartbeat just a little too fast, I watch my photos flick up.
‘Oh, that’s good.’ A nice Moorish Idol in a beam of light.
There’s a few more of Cooper than I remember taking. My arms fold across my chest and I bite my lips. They are arty. And good, even if I have to say that myself. Cooper says nothing.
‘Oooohhhh…’ My flutemouth is stunning. In the dark background, with sunlight picking up his fins, it stands out even better than it did in the water.
Cooper lifts an eyebrow. ‘You’ve set a high standard, Sam.’ He’s relaxed, head tilted back, eyes dancing, a lazy smile permanently attached.
A breathlessness takes over while I wait for his photos to download. The flutemouth is beyond my expectations. Surely he can’t better it.
His early photos are all wrasse, scalybacks and angelfish. Hardly surprising as he loves these fish that dart around him. There are photos of me, not unlike those I took of him. No wonder he said nothing. My back muscles relax even as my heart gives a flutter.
None of his photos are better than my flutemouth. My back straightens, my chest puffs and a smile bursts across my face. And then his firefish appears.
‘Shit.’ The expletive pops from my mouth before I can think. His photo is incredible. Perfect composition, stunning lighting, and the firefish fills the shot as the dramatic hero. ‘Coop, it’s fantastic.’ My hand closes over his forearm.
His expression is frozen. His mouth agape, eyes round and staring at the screen.
‘Cooper.’ I throw my arms around him and squeeze. ‘You need to enter that into some contest. It’s amazing.’ I should be upset to lose again but the photo is incredible. Usually when you come back the magical quality of the underwater world is left behind, but with this photo he’s brought it to the surface with him.
His body ripples before he turns into my arms. He hugs me. ‘Sorry to whup your arse again.’ His grin does what it always does and my insides go all gooey, my knees weaken.
I laugh, keeping it light because of the company. ‘I don’t like it but with you, I have to get used to it.’ I’ve never enjoyed losing but competing means you have to learn to lose. I’ve had those lessons and now I’m being taught them again. It is a little easier this time, easier on the eye.
A big grin and a wink are my reward.
Brian and the fish man add their congratulations to Cooper. The fish man leaves while our photos are copied to a memory stick. We delete them from the cameras, ready for more competing tomorrow.
Walking out, Cooper links his fingers through mine and our palms meet. He holds hands like a hug; engulfing and warmth flows through.
‘I didn’t expect to beat your flutemouth, Sam. I can’t believe I took that.’ For all Cooper’s fun gloating, there’s this more serious side.
‘I don’t mind being beaten by a photo that stunning. You really do have to enter it somewhere.’
He nods. ‘Maybe.’
I lean against him. ‘Enter with a pseudonym if you’re worried. It needs to be seen.’
We continue walking in silence for a while and then my competitiveness gets the better of me. ‘Watch out tomorrow. I’ll beat you yet.’
I sound happier and more confident than I feel. I’m wondering if I’ll ever beat him at anything. Swimming. I can beat him at that. I’ll have to race him in the water again.
‘Oh, I’ll be watching.’ His look is unfathomable. Maybe he doesn’t like to lose. Or maybe he likes watching me. I don’t want to know. I’m not sure what sort of a loser he is. I suspect he’ll be decent because he’s a very respectable winner. It would be nice to win so I could see his losing form.
Walking home, hand in hand, in the quiet of the late afternoon, the sun is in my eyes. I don’t have my sunnies and I should let go of Cooper’s hand so I can shield my eyes but I pref
er to squint. The thought sends darts into my chest. I swallow, deeply.
Cooper’s voice distracts me from my latest panic. ‘Do you think you could beat me?’
‘At what?’
He shrugs. ‘Anything, I guess.’
A laugh erupts. I hope he didn’t mean that to sound arrogant. ‘Of course I think I can beat you. I would have won yesterday if those people weren’t there.’
He frowns. ‘At North Beach?’
‘Yes, I was lengths ahead of you. If they weren’t there I would have beat you up the beach easy.’
‘But they were. So we’ll never know.’
‘What would you give me if I did win?’
He considers my question. His gaze skims across my face. His step falters, slows then he stops, pulling me against him. ‘If you beat me, Sam, I’d give you anything you want.’
‘That’s bloody confident.’
He smiles right into my eyes. ‘I am.’ Our stares remain locked for a long time. There’s no answer I can think of but I refuse to back down. ‘What would you want, Sam? What could I give you if you win? What’s the greatest thing your heart desires?’
The intensity of both his gaze and his voice has my heart pounding. With his first question I was going to be flippant. The second made me stop to think. The third seeps into my soul, tendrils of hope weaving their way around my heart. I feel my mouth open. I know I am going to say something. I have no idea what it is.
‘A child.’
The words spill. My heart clamps tight. My throat closes. My knees sag. I break from the stare, closing my eyes and screwing the lids tight.
Fuck no. Fuck no. Fuck. No.
I wrench my hand from his clasp. ‘Cooper, I didn’t mean that. I’d never.’ His face is ashen. I could not have said anything worse. ‘Shit. I’m sorry.’
I run. Paying no attention to where I’m going, bolting along the road, gasping breaths and cursing myself. I run out of road. I jump down the small drop to the beach and I run across the sand heading straight for the water. I drop my gear, shedding as I run and launch myself into the water without a care for my safety, without a thought. I stroke and kick. Hard. Stretching out, thrashing at the water, not caring about a rhythm, not caring about style or technique. I want to belt at the ocean until my life rewinds. I want to swim as far away as I can. I want to disappear.
I can’t believe I said that.
I can’t believe I want that.
I can’t believe Cooper will come anywhere near me after this.
Chapter 8
When my breath comes in short supply, my arms ache with each stroke, and my legs are dragging rather than kicking, I turn and head for shore. My brain’s sorted. My secrets spilled. My holiday fling shot.
Head low, I stagger up the beach to where I dropped my belongings, hoping they’re still there. A shadow looms from the half-dark but I’m too exhausted to care.
Darkness? I hadn’t noticed the light fade.
A towel wraps around me. I sink into an embrace so warm I snuggle deeper before my brain kicks into action.
‘Jesus, Cooper. I’m sorry.’ Before I can say any more, the pad of his thumb brushes across my lips then presses lightly.
‘Don’t say anything. Let me get you home and warm. Then you can talk.’
At another time, his words would be ominous. Tonight, I don’t find them anything but a promise. I have apologies and explanations to give before I leave. It’s a relief to have him willing to accept them.
After a shower, clothes and hot food, I’m snuggling into the lounge ready for sleep but I have to get the words out and walk to my place before I can close my eyes. I sit up straight, roll my shoulders and look at Cooper.
‘I’m sorry for running, Coop.’ When he opens his mouth to speak, I hold up my hand. He stops and I continue. ‘And for swimming for hours. I scared myself. I had to process and I do that best swimming. I apologise that I didn’t think about you. I didn’t expect you to wait. I’m sorry I put you to that trouble.’ I drop my hand into my lap. ‘Thank you for looking after me. It’s more than I deserve.’ I lean over to kiss his cheek and then I stand.
‘Why does this sound like goodbye?’
I pause as I bend down to gather my gear. ‘Um, because it is. I’ll see out the rest of the dives but I think it’s best to leave it at dive buddies now.’
He’s off the couch and has my wrist snagged in his hand. I jerk up but don’t pull my arm away, his grip isn’t tight. ‘What if I have a different opinion?’
I pull my lips together and tuck them into my mouth. My brow furrows and I feel the need to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. ‘I’m willing to listen.’
He gives a tight nod, but I need to explain. ‘I scared the hell out of myself back there, Coop. I didn’t for a second think about what I was saying. I’d never trap you into having a kid. I know you live for football. You were upfront about that. I…um…I didn’t realise I wanted that…um…quite so much. I wish I could forget I said it.’
Cooper leads me back to the lounge and sits beside me, still holding my wrist. ‘I think you scared yourself more than you scared me.’
I spin to look at him, mouth and eyes wide.
‘In the past week, you’ve never taken advantage of me. You’ve been an awesome dive buddy, a great bed-and-other-places buddy.’ He gives me that one-dimple sexy grin before continuing. ‘I thought our conversation was light-hearted and fun until you bolted.’ I drop my head, staring at my knees, mentally cursing that I’d run instead of laughing. ‘Sam, footy’s still my life but I’m 30. I know it can’t always be.’
In all those words, I should have another question but what spurts from me is, ‘You’re 30?’
Cooper chuckles. ‘What did you think I was, 15?’
I laugh and tension releases. Muscles relax across my shoulders that I hadn’t noticed were clenched. My neck muscles loosen. ‘I was pretty sure you were legal.’
He swoops in and kisses the tip of my nose. ‘That’s a relief,’ he says with a big melty grin. The pad of his fingers brush beneath my eyes. ‘You’re stuffed, Sam. Come to bed and talk about this tomorrow.’
‘You still want me here?’
‘You aren’t that scary, Sammy.’ He tugs my wrist before picking me up and carting me across to the bed. Instead of tossing me on, like he usually does, he lays me softly and places the gentlest of kisses to my lips. ‘Sleep. I’ll be with you in a sec.’
I wish I waited for him but the next thing I know, it’s sunrise. My time of the morning, when the sun peeks above the horizon and the sky wakes. I stretch, trying not to wake Cooper who sprawls beside me.
He’s beautiful. On his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other out to the side. His legs are apart, a sheet straggling across his hips and over part of his legs but his feet poke free. The rise and fall of his chest is mesmerising. A peaceful rhythm moving his torso as if it’s washed by waves. Dark brown nipples punctuate his pecs and call silently to my lips. I don’t want to wake him but I can’t resist their cry.
I twist my hair into a knot to stop it brushing against him. Leaning over, careful not to touch him except with my mouth, I close my lips over the nearest nipple, his right. My tongue laps across the top, before tracing around the cylindrical nub. It stiffens, allowing me to suckle.
A slow hiss of air and I realise Cooper’s awake, or at least waking. My hand slides from the bed over his hip and onto his stomach. My fingertips reach beneath the sheet.
‘I’m glad you stayed, Sam. I could get used to waking like this.’ The husky morning voice prowls down my spine. It’s warm, rich, deep and tinged with sleepiness.
Sucking on that nipple, flicking with the tip of my tongue, I sneak my hand under the sheet before curling it around his cock. Then a slow squeeze as I bite his nipple. His groan sends shafts of need through me. There’s major muscle tension across his chest and abdomen. I bite and nip my way from his nipple to his groin, all the while squeezing and releasing his
hardening cock.
I remember what happened yesterday but I shove it aside. I want him. I want to give him this. I want more than the memory of me being an idiot, and so must he. I want to be remembered for great sex, not a stupid meltdown from a thoughtless comment.
While licking around the base of his cock, small moans fuel my interest in making him wait for my full mouth. I wriggle to slide between his legs, ensuring access to all areas. My other hand runs along his thigh, stroking the soft skin at the top of his leg, then the wrinkled sac of his balls. I pinch the excess skin between thumb and forefinger as I lick up the side of his cock. There’s only a catch in his breathing. I have to try harder.
Next time I slide my tongue along his cock, I cup his balls in my palm, weighing, lightly kneading and tugging. I get the groan I was waiting for and reward him by holding my lips around the top of his cock, breathing out slowly to push warm air down his shaft.
‘Sammmm…’ Begging with a breathy moan.
I only flick my tongue across the head.
‘Please.’
I love hearing him beg, it makes me want to bring him to his knees. After yesterday, I owe him glorious, fantastic morning sex.
Taking his cock fully into my mouth, I add suction as I press downward. I feast. Licking like I’m scooping dripping ice cream. Sucking as if I have the longest straw. Taking my time. Mixing up mouth movements. Allowing saliva to flood his cock while my hand curls tightly around the base.
My other hand plays with his balls, strokes his thighs, pushes his legs wider for better access. My fingers stroke, pinch, nip, tease and explore. I’m listening for breath catches, moans, a groan, a sigh, a word. Paying attention for signs of pleasure: muscles tensing, breath speeding or stopping, legs wriggling or squirming, arms tensing, hands clenching. Cooper’s responsive. It’s easy to know what he likes. Sometimes I give him more of what he likes, other times I give him less. It’s no good making it predictable, much more fun making sure he doesn’t know what’s happening next.
