Cassie's Chance

by Antonia Paul

He smiled broadly. "I know you've been thinking about me. Probably constantly. But that's ok. I'll be back soon; day after tomorrow."

  Rangi, you do not own me," she said, with as much defiance as she could manage.

  He ignored the spit in her voice and the flames in her eyes, dragging a chair out to sit opposite her.

  "This is what's happening. My Dad rang. Some fellow who chartered a boat got sick and I'm helping crew it back to Whangarei. Leaving first thing tomorrow. Guy's going to manage the hire boats."

  "Guy?"

  "That's his name."

  So this was sayonara? The start of the slow drift away from a connection he no longer wanted. At least she knew.

  "You didn't have to come and tell me," she said, listessly.

  "I know," he said.

  "So why did you really come? A last look at your latest plaything?" She was determined she was not going to cry, as his sexy voice washed over her. She couldn't have him, and her body could quit responding.

  He stood, abruptly, and in a stride was beside her, his hands on her shoulders, then her face. She flushed as the electricity hummed between them.

  "I wanted to make sure you were ok," he said. "When you got out of the truck, you might have just been annoyed you didn't get your way. But you might have been really upset."

  ""Um, I'm fine," she said, her vagina muscles clenching involuntarily at the memory of his touch.

  "I can see you are." He grinned. "I also wanted another look at your face, so I'd have it fresh in my mind while I'm out on the yacht.

  "And . . ."

  What else did he want? But the attention was warming her.

  "I'd like to see that bird, if you'll show me."

  Concern crossed her face."I don't have it, now. I dropped off the tui at the gallery. Your uncle's going to frame it."

  "Good." He bent and kissed her cheek."I can wait. I've got plans for when I get back, by the way. Ever been jet-skiing?"

  Cassie looked into the eyes she adored. "No, but I've often thought I'd like to."

  "A date then," he said, replacing his shades. "And this time, you can't tell me we didn't plan it."

  She slumped in the chair as his back retreated down the steps and jogged to the street. She felt stretched out, twanged like a guitar string; drained. Wiped out.

  But he cared. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she wiped them with a flick. He cared. He wasn't just a jerk. She guessed she had herself a guy.

  In or out?

  Cassie didn't feel like swimming in the morning. She didn't feel in the mood for much at all. Rangi wasn't coming back for another two days.

  It was stupid to feel out-of-sorts over that, and she berated herself; the telling off didn't increase her appetite for painting, especially after she'd looked at the fantail and decided it wasn't salvageable. She'd got the pose wrong, somehow.

  Too much thinking about Rangi.

  She wasn't in the mood to start the painting again. She went back online, and decided to book another distraction. The Cape Reinga trip, through Northland to the top of New Zealand and back along the beach with sand-boarding included, seemed ideal. She could take it the next day, and that solved the problem of what to do.

  After that, she went in search of Suzanne. She'd decided to stay the extra week. Offered coffee, she gratefully accepted.

  She spent an enjoyable half hour, and when she mentioned the Northland tour to Suzanne, gave herself a smile. If Mr Chief Rangi wanted to know where she was when he returned from Whangarei, he could find out. Suzanne encouraged her to try the sand-boarding as she said her grandkids had had great fun doing it the previous summer.

  Cassie left the hotel and walked down to the gallery. Her painting wasn't hanging. Rachel said Stephen wasn't coming in.

  She went down to the sand, not to swim, just to walk. There was a figure by the catamarans, and her heart leaped. He was there? She could see it wasn't Stephen, but then the figure disappeared behind the boats.

  She had to investigate. She'd thought he was away. Maybe the yacht delivery had been cancelled. Had he made up a story to cover . . ? She stopped her march across the sand. Surely not?

  She had to find out; she wasn't staying away and staying ignorant. She walked more purposefully, up between the boats, and he was sitting there, slouched against the seawall, cap down over his eyes.

  He was Maori, but he wasn't Rangi.

  The young man looked up, and she saw he admired her; she knew he admired her. He scrambled to his feet, and she backed off a pace. She saw him considering her. Eartha knew she didn't want his hands anywhere near. She thought he could put his eyes somewhere else too, and was glad she had on loose jeans and a baggy tee shirt so there was nothing he could oggle.

  He was too unattractive; too young, too everything.

  "Rangi's away," he said."I'm Guy."

  "Yes," she admitted, "he said you'd be here."

  "He's back tomorrow, late. If they get good wind. Otherwise Wednesday. Did you want a windsurfer?"

  Cassie shook her head, feeling silly she'd rushed over there. She decided to walk back to the studio.

  Her bus for Northland left at seven-thirty, so she was out of the house early. The early sun cast a long shadow of her across the road as she went to the wharf to join the tour.

  As the bus climbed the hill and headed north, she sat back and relaxed. She wouldn't be back in Marsden Bay for nearly twelve hours. Had she told him she was going? No, she hadn't decided until after he'd gone. But he could ask Suzanne, and he probably would.

  It was a fabulous day. Even getting sand in everything, through all her layers, didn't spoil the enjoyment of rushing on her stomach on a board down an enormous dune. And North Cape, leaving place of Maori spirits, was a wind-blown but moving experience.

  After that, the afternoon dragged somewhat, as the ride back stretched into early evening. When the bus finally nosed its way slowly along Marsden Bay's waterfront, Cassie looked forward to getting out and having a good stretch. She gathered her things together.

  She wondered if he'd found good wind, if he'd got home yet, and if he'd decided to seek her out.

  It didn't matter either way. She didn't think she had energy for a night out. But when the bus air-brake hiss died away, and the door swung silently open, he was there; she could see him as she stepped carefully down and out into the late golden sun.

  Heart pounding, she accepted his embrace, and let him slip her bag off her shoulder.

  "My place, or yours," he asked.

  She gave him a tired smile. "You don't want to know where I've got sand; I want a shower. And I'm tired. Take me back to my place."

  Rangi nodded. His truck wasn't far, and he drove her up the street.

  "I'll wait," he said. "Take your time."

  Cassie wondered what to wear. Her jeans were grubby now, and so was the sun dress. She had some long khaki shorts and a loose dark-red viscose top. She escaped to the bathroom. Rangi could wait, or not.

  She took a while, but felt renewed. She went out to the terrace, smiling when she saw him standing there, looking down toward the bay.

  She folded into his arms. No longer conscious of her own condition, she noticed his scent, fresh and crisp.

  "In, or out," he asked.

  She reached up and kissed him lightly. "In, if there's a choice. It was a long day. I don't have much food though."

  "There's always takeaways," he said. "And I'm not hungry right now."

  "I do have drink," she continued. "When I moved in, there were two beers and a bottle of wine in the fridge. I don't drink, as you know, so they are still there. Want one?"

  "I'll have yours as well," he said, and sat at the table on the terrace while she brought the beer, and tonic water for herself.

  He told her about his trip; an uneventful delivery of a very nice yacht, the sort he wouldn't mind owning if he won the lotto, and she shared her day, and told him about loving the wind in her face at North Cape as she'd thought about all the
Maori who according to myth had passed through there.

  "It's a sacred place," he said.

  She nodded. "Feels like it."

  They laughed when she told him about going to the beach and thinking he was still by the boats and finding it was only Guy, and then not being attracted.

  He doesn't do much for me either," said Rangi. He put the second empty bottle down with a deliberately slow move, looking into her eyes.

  "Last question, girl. Shall I stay or go?"

  "Stay," she whispered.

  He nodded, leaning back. "But Cassandra, I don't have any . . . accessories. You'll have to make do with just me tonight. Can you cum without being tied up and flogged?" His tongue flicked out and wriggled at her, inviting her to taste its pink wetness.

  He had to be teasing. She didn't know if she wanted any of that stuff. "I've never experienced accessories," she admitted.

  His eyes narrowed. "You surely have a vibrator."

  "Well . . . yes."

  "Anything else, girl?"

  "I'm not kinky," she told him firmly.

  "No?" He definitely looked amused; his gaze disconcerted her.

  "What about a butt plug, nipple clamps, or a set of ben wa balls?"

  Cassie bit her lip.

  He pushed the bottles over towards her. "Put these away, and let's go inside."

  She took the glasses and bottles inside, and crossed to the bench. Before she could turn from the sink, however, he was right behind her, and drew his hands down her sides.

  She felt his fingers slide over the silkiness of her top. She pressed herself back into him, wanting to feel his cock against her ass and leaned back into his chest.

  She didn't resist as his hands reached the top's hem, and drew it up; she let him pull it off her and throw it onto a chair. She smiled as she felt him unclasp her bra, and she tossed it onto the top.

  She turned. Rangi caressed her face, holding her between his hands, fingers sliding over her skin.

  She placed her hands on his chest, dragging them down, lower and lower, while she held his gaze. She wondered if he'd pull her hands away again, because she wasn't going to stop unless he did. She started to pull his tee shirt up; he let go her face, crossed his arms, grabbed hold and yanked it off, not watching where it fell.

  "Cassandra, you desirable creature," he growled, and reached for the waist of her khakis.

  She loosened the top button for him, and then reached his belt and started to undo it, jerking it back to release the pin, and then letting it go.

  He found the zip on the khakis, and drew it down, just as she undid the stud and pulled his shorts apart.

  "Careful, you'll catch my hair." He stepped back, and with a quick movement, shucked the shorts, stepping out of them as they hit the floor, and kicking the white material aside.

  "Mmmm, she said, looking down at the view."

  "Well, you have my boxers."

  "Your only pair? Surely not." Her smile curled to tease him.

  "Let's see what you're wearing, shall we," he said by way of an answer. He stretched for the waist of her shorts, with both hands, and hooking her panties, drew them clear of her hips and let them go. The clothes fell away and she stood as naked as he.

  "Nothing, it looks like," Rangi said. He picked her up and carried her a few feet, seating her on the bed's duvet-covered edge. His cock rose full in her face; engorged, veined, quivering.

  "You wanted to see this some nights ago," he said, breathing heavily. "Show me what you had in mind. I can lie down if you prefer."

  She shook her head; she already had him loosely in both hands, her eyes sliding over his groin and up. She stared at what she held, her mouth open, her moist tongue scenting the air.

  She looked up at him, eyes full of desire.

  The opening was leaking; she wet her thumbs there and smoothed them down the shaft.

  He shifted slightly on his feet; he stroked her hair.

  Cassie felt the hot pulse as she tightened her grip and slid her hands along him. It felt shiny-smooth and silky like the top he'd just pulled off her and as more slime oozed from him she smeared it under her hands.

  His mouth was slightly open, his eyes nearly closed; she watched his face relax and the desire build on it openly. She knew he wanted her to enjoy it too, as he would.

  Her lips moistened, Cassie lowered her mouth and let her tongue kiss it more fully, longer, and then her hands slid faster and tighter as saliva mixed with his juice and the whole glistened like a well-oiled piston.

  "What do you like, Rangi," she whispered.

  One of his hands, to teach her, circled hers and taught her fist a rhythm that felt odd at first but included rubbing in a complete circle around his bulging end.

  His hips began to move in time, adding thrust as she pushed back, and keeping momentum when she faltered to change grip or hand position.

  She licked him more now, sucked him into the depth of her mouth and let him slide out again. Her tongue wanted to perform for him; it danced and licked and circled, and went back the other way, salvia dripping. With a mewl she drew him in deeper, almost gagging, but desiring the whole of it. She wanted him to know she had the measure of it, could meet and match any challenge set.

  "Cassandra," groaned the voice above her head, "keep going."

  She saw he sweated; his torso gleamed, and breath seemed to be forced into his chest. He heaved with the effort of it, yet kept thrusting into her tight grip.

  She knew she controlled his passion and release and could make him victorious over the urge to cum, or make it not happen, if she were careless or deliberately worked against his rhythm. She was powerful. The thought brought energy and increased strength to her tiring hands. She wouldn't fail; she wrench it out of him, she alone.

  "Ahhh, Cassandra," came his words as cum came too, thick into her mouth. She swallowed some, a thing she'd rarely done for others as they'd not inspired her or demanded it.

  She wiped the white trail that oozed beyond her lips. She licked him as he calmed, and managed to reflect a grin as he managed one for her.

  Her pussy wet with hope and want, she wanted to bury her hand in there and relieve it, she wanted him to use his slender fingers again and drive her over the edge.

  And she wanted the part of him which now sagged, spent. She wanted it hot, hard, in her. But she'd have to wait if she wanted that.

  He laid himself on the bed behind her, panting, pulling her down beside him. "Rest a moment, girl. You're fabulous."

  Her hand could not withstand her need a minute longer and as he kissed her and she smiled into his eyes while his breathing settled, she let it find a way in through her thighs, and rested it in her seeping crack. Now she had something she could squeeze.

  She smiled internally as well. She could make many moments like these, and draw power from him when she wanted it.

  Come here; sit

  He touched her face.

  One moment, girl." He sat, and rolled off the bed, stood, and waited for a moment till he could walk evenly, strode to the pants he'd tossed aside and picked them up.

  Was he going to stop in the middle again? This was ridiculous. At least she'd now seen his cock. But she wanted to feel it, she wanted it between her labia, stretching her. She wanted to feel vibrator-full, but with flesh; his flesh.

  "Rangi." She sat up. She had to put a naked foot down about this slow-start stuff. She wanted Formula One on her bed immediately.

  He turned and a condom wrapper fluttered to the floor. He handed her the thing. "All yours. Make me hard and get that on. Since you're not restrained, you can be on top."

  He laid down, and stroked a hand across her chest. "It seems a long time since I met you, Cassandra. Really, it's been a scant few hours. Yet each has seemed to stretch into a year. Sit on me. Make the wait worthwhile."

  She grinned. "Aye, aye, chief."

  He watched her as she knelt and applied her mouth again to coax it, Lazarus-like, to continue the rising it ha
d already begun. Soon she was able to make a fist around it, gripping it, and that destroyed further reluctance; soon he stood hard.

  She rolled the latex on; a wicked-looking smile broke out as she imagined the imminent feel of him inside her, but shook a little while she did it. If she ripped it, she would have to start again. She'd pushed him away and now wanted him; she couldn't wait.

  She moved and sat above him, her lips widening as she straddled him, opening up to his gaze. He reached up and stroked it.

  "Take all of me, girl," he told her. But he would have been too late if he'd wanted her to stop; she'd slid on to him already, feeling comfortably expanded as she enveloped him.

  Her pussy contracted on it, and she pulled back slightly to increase his pressure on her. He felt as good as she'd imagined.

  She moved herself on his shaft, smoothly, almost letting him pop free and then burying him again. His hands lightly resting on her thighs, he let her move for a minute as she wished.

  "Ohhh." She struggled to focus on his face; she couldn't keep his eyes on hers and felt control slipping. His cock bulged against her vagina walls as she stroked it, clenched around it, urging her climax to hurry, for she wanted it so desperately.

  "Cassandra."

  Pain registered. His hands were squeezing her thighs hard; they hurt. "Ow!"

  She stopped, a bead of sweat ran into the corner of her eye and she wiped it. The mattress stilled. She looked down at him.

  "What, Rangi? Ow. That hurt. And I was going to cum. You meanie."

  He smiled, moving himself inside her to keep the erection. "You can cum when I tell you to, and not before."

  Cassie was focusing. "What do you mean?"

  He thrust upwards a little harder, bouncing her. "I mean I control your orgasms, not you. I do want you to cum. Often. But only when I say. Now, keep going."

  "This is being submissive is it?" She knew her tone was not. It was anything but submissive.

  "You got it, Cassandra," he said contentedly. "Now get rockin', girl. I've been waiting days for this."

  "Days?" She stopped again.

  His eyes opened and he spoke silkily. "Keep going, brat."