My heart beat hard in my chest as we drove, and I forced myself to take deep breaths and relax. I had surfed some gnarly waves over the past few months—Black’s beach, double overhead waves at Trestles, but nothing would prepare me for the massive waves of Todos Santos.
We arrived as the first light colored the horizon. When I saw that monster set of waves, my heart leapt into my throat, and an excitement I’d never felt before flooded my system. Goff threw his arms up in the air and let out an earsplitting whoop. “We are going to kill it out there today.” He clapped me on the back. “Remember everything we practiced, okay? Can’t wait to see you on some of those big ones.”
We were all caught up in the enthusiasm and as we made the paddle out to the lineup, the smell of saltwater mingled with sweat as I said a prayer to my father. “Papai, I’m here. You’re with me. You and me, let’s do this.”
The sea was my lover. She could be a passionate lover, or she could turn violent and angry.
As I paddled, the roar of the ocean grew louder. It sounded like a jet taking off, deafening. The thunderous sound only added to my excitement. I followed the rest of the guys—experts who’d been out here numerous times and felt the rhythm of the monster waves in their bones. I could do this. I had been in the ocean my entire life and it was part of me.
At first, I just watched as the veterans caught a couple, then I jumped into the lineup.
I paddled out, all my senses alert. One of the things I love about aggressive surf is that it brings me completely into the moment. I could feel every drop of seawater that hit my face, inhale every breath of life giving ocean air and feel it filling my lungs with life. I allowed myself a moment’s thought of my father and how I wished he were here with me.
And that’s when I saw the biggest wave I’d ever seen in my entire life roll toward me. The roar of the ocean was deafening, an ear-splitting din. The wall of whitewater came so suddenly, so forcefully that I barely remember how it was nearly on top of me that fast. My brain went into survival mode mixed with the excitement of all the months, years really, of training that had brought me here. I whipped my board around and dropped in.
The drop was precarious, a free-fall that left me feeling weightless. My arms spread out. It’s funny what went through my mind. I was certain I looked like one of those Mickey Mouse watches with his arms spread out at a weird angle. My feet lost contact with my board for a second, then I smacked back down on the board with force. And that’s when I lost my balance and was pitched headfirst over my board and into the raging ocean.
Before I went under, I took a deep breath.
The force of the wave pushed me down and I got plowed under and then sucked up the face as though I was in some bizarre spin cycle of a giant’s washing machine. My limbs felt like a rag doll. The strength of the ocean was so powerful that I was certain one of my arms or legs would be wrenched free of my body.
When I spun through the wave, I actually punched out the back for a moment. I took another deep breath of precious ocean air.
But when the monster wave slammed me down again, all the wind was knocked out of my lungs. A feeling of disbelief. Where seconds ago I’d been able to breathe freely, now I had zero air in my lungs at the worst possible moment.
I forced myself to remain calm. Goff and I had practiced our breath training and I had my flotation vest. Both of those things did nothing to prepare me for the savagery of the wave. I tried to relax and go with it but I got pounded once more, beat down to the bottom and started tumbling over the shallows. I plunged down into the deepest part of the ocean. It was freezing cold and almost black. I kept tumbling along and the constant movement was so disorienting that I had no clue which way was up or down. My fingers scrabbled frantically for the ripcord of my flotation vest.
The problem was that my fingers were frozen and stiff. I knew that if I didn’t get to the surface soon, my body would start to convulse and eventually I’d pass out and my body would involuntarily take a breath of ocean water.
As I was dragged along the bottom of the ocean, I could hear and feel the next wave breaking over me. I knew from experience that I needed to make my way to the surface at the precise moment when there was a break between sets or I’d be drilled right back down into the swirling abyss.
Finally, there was a momentary sense of calm when the sun streamed down through the seawater and I looked down and saw the ripcord. I tugged at it once. Nothing. I pulled harder. Nothing. Then, on my third try, the vest inflated and I was forced to the surface like some bizarre child’s bath toy.
When I reached the surface, I struggled like crazy, my arms stretched out into foam and bubbles. I knew I couldn’t take a breath too early or I’d inhale the whitewater even though my lungs screamed for oxygen.
I forced myself to wait and when I finally reached the surface, I was on the cusp of blacking out. I punched out of the ocean into blessed fresh air and took a deep gulping breath. Spots danced in front of my eyes. I could barely tread water. I could barely swim.
I lifted my hand, and one of the Jet Skis raced to my side.
“Hey man, grab my arm.” Goff was on the back of the ski and he pulled me aboard. “Are you okay? Dude, I saw your board tombstoning but knew you’d pop up.” He barked out a laugh. How’d you like that vest? Didn’t think you’d get to use it on day one.”
We raced through the angry ocean, and the world was a blur. I hunched over, taking deep breaths like they’d be my last. “Let me sit on the ski a while.”
We had reached the Jet Ski where the photographers sat, and Goff grinned. “You going pansy on me already?” He gave a little salute. “Have a cool one for me. I’ll meet you back out in the lineup.”
And that’s the way it went with big wave surfing. If I was going to hang with these extreme athletes, I needed to take my punches and train harder. I sat on the sled hooked to the back of the ski for a few minutes. I pushed the very real fact that I could’ve drowned that day to the back of my mind.
And then I thought of my father and how he never had the opportunity to surf a wave like these mackers in Mexico.
I would make my father proud. I would show my family that not only could I compete in gnarly surf like Pipeline with its bone crushing jagged reef. I could also take on the likes of Cortes Bank. A chill passed through me and I hugged my body tightly.
I would become expert at riding these gargantuan waves that had their own life-or-death rules.
I thought of Cortes Bank. Lola was right. It was kismet that the name of the rogue wave a hundred miles off the San Diego shore bore our family name.
Lola was on my side, my mother understood what I was doing, and Coco would come around.
It was with that thought that I checked my flotation vest—I still had extra CO2 cartridges—secured my rashguard and paddled back out to the lineup.
But I found myself acting uncharacteristically gun-shy. I stuck to the relatively smaller waves. They still turned out to be some of the biggest surf I’d ever ridden.
I didn’t want to admit to anyone, even myself how spooked by the wipeout I felt.
My goal of dominating Cortes Bank was going to be a lot harder than I originally thought.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dominick
When I arrived home late that night, I tiptoed past my mother’s sleeping form in the guest room and entered Lola’s room. She slept like a fairy angel, her long blond hair spilling over the pillow, her breathing even and peaceful.
I sat on the edge of the bed and marveled at my princess. I was incredibly lucky to have a daughter who loved me. We were a team. All those years I had traveled with the pro tour I was only home a couple of times a month and Lola made me feel like royalty every time I arrived at our humble abode, showering me with little presents like toy diamond rings or hard candy. She always made me laugh; we were two of a kind. She’d even learned to surf as a toddler.
But what had driven me back then—the goal of winning the pro tour a
nd placing the trophy on my father’s grave—was now a dim memory. I had a new goal and I could feel my father urging me on.
I smoothed Lola’s hair and bent to kiss her cheek. She smelled like babies mixed with cherry body lotion. I kissed her softly, and she jolted awake.
“Papai!” She sat bolt upright and hugged me tightly. “How was the surf?” She rubbed her eyes. “Tell me about it.” She arranged the blankets around her waist as a cool breeze wafted through the open window. “Tell me!”
I placed a finger over my lips. “Sh. You’ll wake Grandma.”
We began to whisper and I told her about the big waves as her eyes grew larger and larger. I didn’t tell her about nearly drowning and how I’d had to employ my flotation vest. Lola didn’t need to hear that. I forced myself to push down the conflict I felt between the promise I’d made to my father and my need to be here for Lola. I was a fantastic surfer. I would ride the Banks and make Lola proud.
She squealed with delight as I spoke about the intensity, the force, the thrill and the photos the surf photographers had captured. I swallowed hard remembering my wipeout and quickly shook off the thought.
We spoke about the surf for a few more minutes. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and gazed into her large brown eyes. “How was school today sweetheart? Is everything okay with those bullies?”
She looked at her hands as she worked the blanket between her fingers. “Yes.”
I lifted her chin and forced her to look at me. “You’d tell me if you needed me to go to the school and talk to someone’s parents right?”
Her chin trembled. “Yes.” She sat straight. “I can take care of myself.” She smiled that enamoring smile that I’d fallen in love with the first time I saw it when she was a baby. “You don’t worry, Papai. You just get out there and ride those big waves. Any idea when you’ll get a shot at Cortes Bank?”
All the big wave surfers had been glued to the meteorological reports and the El Niño conditions. “Hopefully in the next couple of weeks. Or sooner.” Big wave surfing was a far cry from domestic life. But I could do both. I kissed her cheek. “You get back to sleep.” I arranged the blanket into her sides. “All tucked in. Sweet dreams.”
When I entered the sanctuary of my bedroom, it was well past midnight. I called Coco right away. She answered on the first ring.
“Dominick! Are you okay?”
I chuckled softly. “Yes, I’m fine.” I gently closed the door and landed on my bed. The adrenaline of the day seeped out of my body as I melted into the warmth of my comforter.
She let out a breathy sigh, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her right then and kiss her from head to toe. Coco was only concerned about me because she cared.
Her voice was almost high pitched when she spoke. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? Did you inhale seawater? Did you wipe out bad? Did you have to use your flotation vest?” She paused and took a deep breath. “Please tell me you didn’t break anything.”
The vision of the monster wave that had almost killed me flashed through my mind. “No, I didn’t break anything.”
Her voice sounded panicked. “It’s just that I can’t stand the thought of you drowning.”
I jerked my head from her voice, held the phone away from my face and stared at it. “Calm down, meu amor.”
“I … I’m sorry. I just worry about you, baby. I worry a lot.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Don’t you have faith in me?” I cared about Coco. She was becoming part of our family. Why was she so upset? I remembered Goff’s words. Big wave surfing ain’t for pansies. You know how many times I’ve heard folks say I’m going to die out there?
Her voice was small. “Of course I do.”
“I’m right here in my bed, safe and sound.” I made my voice as deep and honey-like as possible. “Now, what are you wearing?”
She let out a low laugh. “Oh, Dominick. You always know how to make me smile. I’m wearing your favorite. The red satin underwear.”
I didn’t care if she was wearing a Disney Princess T-shirt. I wanted to rip it off her, suck those luscious nipples, spread her legs, eat her juicy little pussy and make love to her all night. My hand went to my crotch and my cock twitched. “Surfing makes me want you. Babe, you should’ve seen the great waves we got today.” I was silent a beat. “My dad would be proud.”
She cleared her throat. “I know your father’s proud, honey. Just as long as you’re sure—”
“I’m sure!”
Now that the possibility of winning the pro tour was history, I had a greater fire. In a weird way, I was even more excited about riding a macker out at Cortes Bank than I’d been to win the ASP Championship. Screw those judges. That’s what they were. Judges. Men who held my future in their hands with their scores.
I was a Cortes. A Cortes stood tall. We worked hard. We created the life of our making. We didn’t depend on anyone else. We took care of our families, and we took care of ourselves.
I would put the shock of almost drowning aside, get out there and achieve my goal.
I took a breath and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of the sheets. “I miss you, baby. I’ve got clients in the morning but can I meet you at the shop before Lola’s out of school? We can walk her home together.”
“That would be lovely. I can’t wait to see you.”
We hung up the phone, and I decided that surfing big waves really did make me feel amorous as I succumbed to an especially satisfying whack off session starring Coco.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dominick
“These are for you.” I stood in the showroom of her lavender scented shop and handed Coco the bouquet of freshly cut roses.
“They’re beautiful.” She smiled a devastating smile and gave me a big hug. I inhaled a whiff of her delicious femininity—a mixture of expensive perfume and sex. She accepted the roses, taking a deep inhale. Her gaze scanned my body. “You’re still in one piece. Oh, let me look at you.”
Her sensuous blue eyes took a tour of my body, and I wished we were alone so I could make long slow love to her. I skimmed my fingertips along her jawline feeling the creaminess of her skin, and her lips parted. A shiver ran through me as I let out a moan.
I glanced around the store. A few of her clients stopped perusing lotions and potions to stare at us. I quickly put my hands in my pockets and marveled at what was happening to me. Was I falling in love with Coco?
I wanted to possess Coco, to claim her. To make her my woman.
I’d had too many females in my days; sexy babes who hung around the pro tour long enough for a session or two of hot sex, rarely to be seen again.
Coco was different.
She cared about me, and she loved Lola. She was even enamored with my mother who could be a pain in the neck.
I stood up straight and thrust out my chest. Coco made me feel like a king; like I was the only man she’d ever met, ever made love to.
“Let me put these in water, and we can go.” She hooked an arm through mine. “Come on upstairs.”
I followed her up the spiral staircase. She moved to the kitchenette and arranged the flowers in a vase. She cocked her head, taking in her artwork. “Gorgeous.”
My heart pounded as I inhaled her scent. Coco exuded a feminine, primal aroma that made me want to rip her clothes off. “Come here, minh amor.” I led her over to the furthermost area of the loft, her hand tight in mine. I slammed her against the wall, my mouth urgent as our tongues found each other’s. I broke our kiss and buried my head in her neck. “God, you smell good. If we weren’t in your shop, I’d fuck you for the next week and not let you up for air.” I nuzzled her soft tresses.
She placed a finger on my lips and smiled. “There’s always time for a quickie.” Her hand reached for my zipper. I glanced toward the railing. No one could see us but the possibility was thrilling. “Let’s do it right here.” Her smile was sly. “Nobody has to know.” She sunk to her knees and pulled my cock out, holding m
y girth in her hands, her blue eyes gazing up at me. Fuck. I was hard, my cock throbbing in her face. “How fast do you think you can come?”
“Right here?”
She licked the head of my cock and gazed up at me. The look in her eyes was so erotic I could barely breathe. “Right here.”
My heart thud against my ribcage as I grasped her head with both hands. My voice was hoarse when I spoke. “Two minutes, tops.” She ran her tongue up and down my shaft then began licking the swollen head. Damn. I needed to deep throat her. “Oh Jesus Coco. Swallow it. I want to give it to you. Deep.”
She licked her lips as my stiff cock pulsed. I pulled the back of her head, eager to feel her warm mouth. She fiddled with my hard-on, her warm fingers running up and down the shaft. She closed her mouth over my massive erection and I let out a long, slow groan. I gripped her head and watched her suck me off. “Fuck. Do you know how much I missed you?” I pulled her head harder onto my pounding heat, my pelvis thrusting forward as I fucked her mouth.
Her soft mouth took all of me, her warm hand jacked me off at the same time, and one hand massaged my balls. I closed my eyes and savored the feel of my raging erection moving in and out of her hot, sensual mouth as I took hungry possession of Coco. Damn, she knew how to suck me off. I ran my hands through her silky hair as my legs tightened. I didn’t care that we might get caught. I could lift her dress up, pull her panties down and give it to her hard. “Let me fuck you baby.”
Her eyes flicked toward the railing and then met mine. “I need to suck your sexy cock.”
I pulled her head harder onto me, and my eyes fluttered closed as I shoved my raging hard-on further down her throat. The excitement was almost too much. I threw my head back as the sensations engulfed me. I opened my eyes and tilted my head, watching the slide of my fat cock in and out of her luscious mouth. I knew I wouldn’t last long.
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