by Daya Daniels
Inwardly, I groan when she stands and bends over the side of the table.
Kind-hearted. Beautiful. Insatiable. Fuckable. Mine.
Stefan mumbles a few more words I don’t hear, nor do I care to. I chuck the bottle I’m holding in the trash and head off.
“It was nice to meet you.” I tell him before sauntering away.
“Yeah.” He huffs.
Ayana has strolled outside by the time I make it to the buffet table. It’s full of everything from grilled meat to fish and shrimp and starches like macaroni and cheese and baked potatoes. I pile up a plate, while she looks me over skeptically with her big brown eyes. When she smiles, it’s silly and toothy and lights up her entire face. Ayana hasn’t said much to me since I met her. She’s clearly more of an observer than a talker when it comes to everyone besides Symone. I give her a grin and take a seat in one of the lawn chairs.
Joseph sways over to me, barely holding an empty bottle in his hands. He places it on the grass and demands another from Ayana, who scrambles to pull it from the cooler for him with a grouchy mumble. I laugh at their interactions that are full of love and annoyance at the same time. Joseph is Ricky and Ayana is Lucy. Together, it feels like they’re the Ricardos. Their dynamic is exactly like that.
“Não mais depois disso. No more after this, Joseph.” Ayana hisses popping the top for him.
“Obrigado. Thank you.” He replies loudly as she stomps away. “She thinks she can tell me what to do.” He rattles out, giving me a hard look.
I smile and take another forkful of mahi mahi. “The food is good.”
Joseph groans and stretches his legs out. “You’ll have to thank Ayana for that. I have nothing to do with it.”
I nod and laugh a little. “Vai fazer. Will do.”
“I’m a gardener. It’s back breaking work but it’s fed this family for more than thirty-five years.” He says proudly. “It’s a family business now that I run with my brother and my nephew.”
“Boa. Good.”
Joseph laughs. “I’m so proud of Cass.”
“She talks about you alot.” I tell him.
His green eyes brighten and he runs a hand over his grey hair. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, all the time.”
He pats my shoulder and laughs. “Ambrose has been a friend of the family for years. His father and my father were friends. They helped us when we first came to the island to get work and find a home. I used to fish on the boat you’re living on now.”
I nod and give him a smirk.
“Cass has hardly been here since she met you.”
I chew slowly hoping that hasn’t caused a problem.
“But it’s good.” He whispers.
“I know people will judge.” He groans. “Cass is still working through all that.” He mutters. “People will judge, judge, judge – that’s all they do. It makes me sick.” He slurs out, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “But I don’t care about what people think.”
“Neither do I.” I mumble.
Joseph laughs and slants his head to the side. “We have something in common then.”
“You see that fuckhead over there.” He says leaning into me.
“Stefan?”
“Yeah, that fuckhead.”
“Yes.”
“He’s going to be my son-in-law. I know it. I can’t fucking stand him. All about image and who thinks what and who has this and how many degrees you got from this school and that school. He can’t even change a fucking flat tire, let alone a lightbulb.
“If he isn’t sitting behind a desk, he’s fucking useless. Jesus Christ.”
I laugh out loud at the old man’s mannerisms.
“Why the fuck is he wearing a suit? Do you see anyone else around here wearing a suit?”
“No.”
“Well, fuckkkkk.” Joseph says slowly, with an amused laugh.
I finish my food and fold the paper plate in half, leaving the plastic fork inside.
“Symone had a nice boyfriend before him. He’s was nice.” Joseph repeats. “He was a tall black guy from down Devonshire. His family’s from Devonshire. His name was Terrance Laithe. He works for a cousin of mine now doing contractor work, building houses and stuff. Symone dumped him. She felt he didn’t make enough money.” He complains with a pout. “And picked that fool.
“Do you want another beer?” He offers.
“No, no thanks. I’m good.”
“Well.” Jospeph continues. “Symone isn’t like Cass. I know fathers aren’t supposed to have favorites, but I do.” He winks. “And Cass is my favorite. She reminds me so much of Ayana when we were young. Ayana was wild and crazy and marched to the beat of her own drum, much like Cass now.”
The sky is turning various shades of orange and pink in the distance. Longtails dip and dance above and music blares in the distance. Ambrose is still dancing and more people seem to have showed up in the last hour. The backyard looks like a scene from Project X.
“I like you, Nico.”
I give him a nod.
“As long as you take care of Cass, that’s all I care about.” He says offering me a handshake. For an old man, he has the bone crushing grip of a screaming pregnant woman giving birth.
I wince and pull my hand from his, shaking it out as he walks off.
"I love this song!” Joseph shouts. “It’s Bermudians Love to Drink by Bootsie!” He yells, shimmying away from me and into the crowd that has gathered near the firepit.
Cass gives me a wave, holding up another beer in her hands. I nod and pat the seat next to me, desperate to have her by my side. She heads over and scoots in next to me. I wrap my arm around her and place a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes smile at me beneath the ambient light coming from the Tiki lamps lit around the backyard.
“Você está bem? Are you okay?” She asks, pressing her lips into the soft cotton of the T-shirt I’m wearing.
“Yeah.” I breathe out, inhaling her scent.
She giggles. “My father is drunk.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
She laughs, giving me a sideways glance and kicks the football out from beneath my foot. I shoot out of my seat to catch it, tossing it up in the air and balance it on the inside of my foot. Cass stares at me wide-eyed.
“Show off.” She laughs.
“You know football originated in Brazil right?”
“Did it?” She asks mockingly.
“Yes. It did.”
Cass crosses her arms and smiles, watching me hop around controlling the ball in front of her.
“We have many greats! My country has produced some of the greatest footballers in the world! Pele, Garrincha, Ronaldo, Kaka.” I state proudly, kicking the ball up in the air again.
“And we!” She exclaims. “Have a Clyde.”
“A what?”
“Clyde Best. He’s Bermudian. He went on to play for Westham United.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” She says accentuating the p. “Clyde Best was the first footballer to really emerge from here. He was one of the earliest high-profile black players. He made like two hundred and twenty-one appearances for Westham United between 1969 and 1976.
“Then guys like Shaun Goater came along, who is most well known for his time playing for Manchester City. A guy named Kyle Lightbourne from here also played for a number of teams like Hull City, Stoke City and Fulham.”
I nod, listening to my ragged breaths. “Interesting, again.”
“Now, we have a young guy named Nahki Wells, who plays for Huddersfield Town as a striker.”
“We also have a few Olympians.”
My brows lift with interest. “Go on.” I encourage.
She searches her brain for the details and lifts a finger. “Let’s see. The only Bermudian that’s won an Olympic medal so far is Clarence Hill, who won the bronze in boxing in 1976.
“But a few other Bermudians have set records there. Let me think.” She smiles. “I might have to grab my father, who m
ight be useless right now.” She mumbles with a laugh, while I continue to control the football in my possession.
“Brian Wellman – triple jumper, who became world indoor champion in 1995, setting a new championship record.
"Clarence Nicky Saunders – high jumper, who placed as high as 5th going to the Olympics three times.
“Katura Horton-Perinchief – diver, who became the first black woman (from any nation) to compete in Olympic diving. She competed in the 2004 Olympics, which broke a 52-year streak, since the last Bermudians to compete in diving were Mickey Johnson and Francis “Goose” Gosling.
“I can’t forget to inform you, Nico about the great cricketer, Clarence “Tuppence” Parfitt.”
“Go on.” I encourage, dropping the ball to the ground and taking a seat, while Cass continues to talk.
“Well, he’s now a former international cricketer, who many consider to be one of the greatest bowlers Bermuda has ever produced.
“There are many more of course but it’s really too many great sportsmen and women from here, to mention all of them. There’s a lot."
“You’re a wealth of knowledge, Cass.” I mumble, jerking her small body into me, wrapping my arms around her waist.
She cups my face in her hands and wipes the beads of sweat away that have formed across my forehead. “I like being with you.” She whispers. “I like that you’re here with me.” Her fingers thread through my hair and a soft kiss is pressed to my lips.
“I like that.” I whisper.
“Want me to do it again?” She teases.
“Yes.”
Cass gives me another chaste kiss and my fingers twitch to squeeze her ass but I give consideration to where we are and the old women that are already watching us like curious kittens.
“Let’s get out of here.” Cass whispers, giving me a mischievous smile.
Nico
Cass’ brows furl and her lips pout. Her fingers dig into the skin on my chest and her mouth falls open, revealing her tongue. Sweat trickles down her temples and trails down her chin to settle in the small concave at the base of her neck. I brush her hair to one side, sinking into the feeling of her small body on top of me. She moves slow and hard, slicking my cock with her tight, wet heat.
“Nico.” She whispers with a hiss.
I massage her breasts and pinch her taut nipples, watching them bounce in front of me as she rides me. Her fingers slide to the base of my neck. She squeezes with one hand like I’m an animal she’s trying to tame, leaving her other hand on my pec.
Glorious sounds spill from her lips and her eyes water, when she moves faster. I run my fingers over the hot skin at her hips and grip her tight, watching her rise and fall in front of me. Bernadette by The Four Tops plays on the radio, echoing from the bathroom.
Lazily, I drag my hands over her sides unable to keep my own mouth closed. I’m panting for air and the spectacular sight in front of me, that makes my dick twitch each time she sheaths me with her pussy.
Wet. Tight. Warm. Mine.
There’s an ache in my balls that shoots up the shaft of my cock that’s begging to explode. Cass whines sweetly. I pull her in for a kiss, mushing the sound between our lips. Her face is covered in sweat and her long hair sticks to her skin.
“Cass.” I groan.
Reaching down, I massage her clit, sinking deeper into the soft mattress and run a hand up the middle of her chest, feeling her tits, squeezing them and rolling each nipple between my fingers. Cass’ pussy wraps around my cock like a coocon and with every single move she makes on top of me, she milks me. The head of my dick is swollen, throbbing and begging to explode inside of the sexy-as-fucks woman on top of me. She bounces even more and I become a moaning monster beneath her. She impales herself on my dick like she could be two hundred pounds. Each time I grunt, my abs clench at the feeling of her wetness, that’s already trickled down to my balls, surrounding my swollen flesh. This woman is incredible. I’m like a fucking exposed nerve beneath her and every move she makes along the length of my cock becomes perfect fucking agony. I squeeze the round globes of her ass and deliver two smacks to each cheek, coaxing a loud whine from her throat. Her bottom lip wobbles and her perky tits jiggle with her desperate movement. The supple mounds are handfuls beneath my fingertips. I pull her closer and take each one of her pink nipples into my mouth, leaving wet patches behind when my lips release them with a pop.
“Nico.” She whimpers, when I cup the back of her head and consume her mouth with my own.
A cry spills from her lips when I hold her against me. Her frantic breaths brush against my cheeks. She impales herself hungrily on me, chasing her come. She moans and then screams in my grip. It’s primal. It’s hungry. It’s for me. She stiffens and her fingers dig into the back of my neck. I bury my face between her tits and suck. She clenches around me, milking every last drop of cum from my cock. I groan into her skin and hold Cass tighter. Hoarse grunts escape from my throat, with every harsh jerk my dick makes deep inside of her. I bury my head between her tits, breathing hard and heavy.
I’m devastated, spent, done.
The small body in my grip shivers with relief. I run kisses over Cass’ soft lips.
“Are you okay?” I ask, listening to her pants that are almost in rhythm with my own.
She manages a faint nod and drops her head on my shoulder, keeping her arms wrapped around my neck. I inhale the damp skin that’s now a heady mixture of her sweat and mine. I stroke her hair and pull her against my chest, making us more comfortable. Cass rests sidelong against me, tosses a leg over mine and rests her cheek on my peck. The intrusive sound of the boat rocking fills my ears again. The feeling of it helps me to realize how exhausted I am.
I rake a few fingers through Cass’ hair only to find her already asleep. Eventually, my eyes shut.
Cassandra
The sound of wind outside that’s picked up and the feeling of the boat rocking more than usual, urges me awake. I blink a few times, taking in the sight of a tiny light illuminating the room softly. I shift again and Nico’s large thigh comes into view that’s propped up in front of him. A book rests on his leg and his hand holds a fountain pen to the pages. He’s shirtless with the sheet draped around his waist and his reading glasses are on. When I meet his eyes, he’s already looking at me.
“I couldn’t sleep.” He says softly, scribbling more words on the page.
I pull the white sheet against my chest and rest on my side. “What are you doing?” I smile.
“Writing.”
“A book?”
“No, not technically just writing.”
“About?”
“Anything and everything.”
“Like a diary?”
Nico laughs and takes off his glasses. “No, not like a diary.” He closes the book and clicks off the light.
“Que horas são?” I ask. “What time is it?”
“It’s three in the morning.”
“Oh.”
He eases down into the bed, lying next to me flat on the bed. It’s quiet while we both stare at each other for a while.
“Have you ever seen Davy Jones lurking around out here?” I ask in a whisper.
Nico laughs and places a kiss on my forehead backing away again. “No, if I did, I’d be dead. Davy Jones Locker means, bottom of the sea.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” He whispers. “Believe or not, Davy Jones was real.”
My brows knot at his words.
“Yeah.” He says firmly. “He was real. As in a real person.”
I smile and give him a look, pressing him to go on.
“Well, there’s always an inkling of fact in fiction, right?” He wiggles his brows. “There’s no octopus-faced man of course who has his heart stored in a chest, keeping it as a forever memory of his love’s betrayal like in Pirates of the Caribbean.” He whispers with a laugh.
“Who was he then?”
&nb
sp; Nico smirks. “There’s lots of stories, Cass. Some believe he’s the ghost of Jonah, you know from the bible story Jonah and the Wale. Others believe Davy Jones was an incompetent sailor or a pub owner who even kidnapped sailors. Davy Jones is the sailor’s devil.” He says jokingly with a shudder.
I rake my fingers through Nico’s hair and give him a long stare under the darkness, that’s now only illuminated a little by the moonlight creeping in through the small porthole above us. The sound of the water splashing against the hull of the boat, cuts through the quiet.
“So, what have you been writing?” I ask again, skimming my hand along his scruffy cheek.
“It’s nothing really.” He breathes out. “It’s just memoirs sort of. It isn’t a diary. Just short excerpts on the days I spend fishing.”
“Oh. Can I read it?”
“No.” He answers flatly. “It’s private.”
I knot my brows and whack him in the shoulder.
Nico laughs. “It’s private.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He breathes out.
“Why don’t you type it?”
He smiles. “Because I like to write.”
“Old school.” I mumble.
“I suppose. I am in a lot of ways.” He says softly inching closer.
“Why do you love the water so much?” I shift closer to him, allowing his large hand to wrap around my thigh.
“Freedom.”
“Oh.”
He smiles. “When I’m out here I feel free, Cass. To not think. To be myself. To live.”
“Me too.”
“That’s why we are here.” He chuckles.
