by Sophia Lynn
For a moment, he seemed torn. She could see that he intended this pleasurable torture to go on for much longer, but from the way his body was responding to hers, he must have been wondering how long he would last.
“I wanted to give you so much pleasure,” he began, but Anastasia cut him off.
“You have, you are, you will,” she promised. “And later, after we have rested, we can play again, and again if we wish. But right now, darling, everything in me is crying out for you. I need you, please…”
He looked torn for a moment, but then he nodded abruptly. He reached for a condom from the wicker hamper, but instead of putting it on himself, he handed it to her. Her own hands shaking more than she thought they would be, she tore the foil packet open and began smoothing the latex down his member. The feel of hot flesh between her hands made her shake with need, but she took more time with it than she needed to. She stroked the flesh, squeezing it a little, even reaching down to run her tongue along its length. By the time she was done and the condom was on Augustine securely, he was moving restlessly and breathing harder than he had before.
“Little witch,” he growled, dragging her up for a kiss.
“Turnabout's fair play,” she said huskily. “How are you going to get me back?”
She yelped a little when he spun her around, pressing her down to the bench again. Now she was on her knees and with another quick movement, he had her down on her elbows. His hands were heavier as he ran them down her rear, and now she could feel the blunt edge of his nails as well.
“Do it,” she whimpered, pressing her hips back against him. “Augustine…”
Before she could say another word, he came to kneel between her legs. With one quick motion, he buried himself deep inside her. He was completely still for a moment, and then he started moving. His thrusts were slow, but deep, and with every press, she felt him fill her utterly. Anastasia buried her fingers deep in the weaving underneath her, holding her position as best she could and pushing back. It was so good, and every part of her was lit up and responding to this man.
She had been so keyed up with pleasure before he entered her that every motion was a sensual torture, sending her higher and higher and winding her tighter and tighter. She was shaking with need and want, and then, finally, the pleasure overtook her. She almost bit back her shout, but now there was no reason to, not when they were on an island with no one else.
Anastasia shouted her pleasure to the clear blue sky, crying out until she was hoarse. Her hands finally loosened from the weaving, and she would have gone utterly limp if Augustine hadn't been holding her up.
His strokes gentled now, but they still thoroughly consumed her. The pleasure dulled down to something deep and sweet, and she felt her body rock against his.
When his thrusts quickened, she felt a reflection of her earlier pleasure start up again. This time, she only smiled, murmuring sweet words to him as he spilled inside her. They froze for a moment, but then he pulled away. Before stepping aside to deal with the condom, he rested her gently on her side, squeezing her hand gently.
“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, coming back to sit next to her. She purred as she felt his hand stroking her hair.
“You're amazing,” she whispered. “This is perfect, and I never want anything else.”
“Want and will do are two very different things, my dear,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.
Before she could question him or protest, he leaned down to kiss her. Almost against her will, she leaned into the kiss, twining her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to lie down next to her.
She had said that they could tease and play later, but now they simply lay in each other's arms. In the perfect timelessness of the ancient shrine, it felt as if they were in a protected circle where nothing could threaten them.
Anastasia knew the truth, however, and when he started kissing her deeply again, a part of her was already in mourning.
The yacht came back for them at sundown. They were silent as Augustine rowed them back out to its dark bulk set against the brilliant orange and blue sky. Lights shone from the deck and a few cabin windows. Anastasia listened to the way the waves slapped against the ship, the mews of the evening gulls, the calls of the yacht’s crew from above.
After all of the sensations that she had felt that day, everything that she and Augustine had done to each other, she felt spent and empty. Something echoed hollowly inside her. Somewhere, she was shouting, but she couldn't hear herself.
***
The next day, Anastasia woke from her bed as groggy as if she had not slept at all. She felt as if she were full of sand, and when she turned on her phone, she could see why. It was their last day out at sea. Around sunset, they would be pulling into the Wild Waves' private dock at Porto Rafti. The day after that, they would be in Athens, and the morning after that, she was due on a first class flight back to New York.
A dozen messages had collected on her phone, some from her mother, some from her father, others from friends and acquaintances who wanted to make sure that she stopped by to tell them about her adventures in the Aegean. Though she knew that all of the messages came from a kind place, a place of warmth and care, she couldn't help but feel worn. The messages felt as if there were a dozen hands plucking at her clothing, demanding her attention until she thought that she was going to go mad.
Taking a deep breath, she set her phone aside. She would get up and shower. She would pack. She might go find Trinity and have breakfast with her. She would deliberately not find Augustine.
The rest of the day played out like a dream that she could never quite remember afterward. She wandered the Wild Waves, feeling like a ghost. This was the world that she had come to love, the one sailing high in the water, the crisp sea air salting her skin and her hair. The fact that after today, she would never come back struck her heart dully, like a tired fist.
Sunset found her at the prow, gazing towards the lights of Porto Rafti. Her fingertips dug into the railing, as if by doing just that, she could cling to what she had felt here.
Almost as if she had summoned him, Augustine appeared at her side. Dressed simply in dark trousers and a light sweater, he looked every inch a sailor, one who was putting into port just long enough to get supplies and move on.
“You are always welcome back on the Wild Waves,” he said quietly. “You are welcome wherever I go.”
She couldn't answer. There was too much in her heart, far too much for her to truly answer him.
When Anastasia finally turned to him, he was gone, and she wondered if it had all been an illusion after all.
She was just getting settled into her hotel suite in Porto Rafti when a new message came through. For a moment, she thought about not answering it, but then she opened it anyway. As she read the brief lines, she frowned, and then she dialed the number indicated.
“Hi, is this Paul Short?”
“Anastasia!” said the warm voice on the other end. “It is. Did I time it right? Are you actually at Porto, and not still playing pirate off the coast?'
She laughed a little at his fanciful words. She had always liked Paul, who had attended her high school. He had gone on to make his fortune in Boston industry, but they had kept in touch. Her mother mentioned him frequently as a possible husband.
“You did, as a matter of fact, but what's going on? Are you in Greece?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” he responded. “I'm actually just getting dinner at the Golden Heron restaurant here in downtown. Everyone tells me it’s amazing, but now that I'm here, I find that I'm a little short on dining companions. Care to come and see what there is to see?”
Anastasia hesitated. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to order room service then crawl into bed in a nightgown. Then she stood a little straighter. After all, she would be back in New York in just a few days. If she didn't get used to making the social rounds now, she would be a wreck when she got back.
“I can't stay
out too long,” she hedged. “I'm pretty tired, and there's going to be a lot of traveling tomorrow…”
“Just fine. I would treasure even a few moments to say hello,” said Paul warmly.
In her luggage was a black cocktail dress of black silk crepe, gorgeous and far too formal for anything on the Wild Waves. She shook it out, slipped it over her head, and applied just enough makeup that she didn't look half dead. Putting on the tall heels and pulling out her black clutch felt as if she were putting on armor, but she supposed that that wasn't too far wrong.
In the lobby, however, she had an unexpected surprise. The elevator opened, and she nearly walked straight into Augustine's chest. He was still dressed in his sailor's garb. She knew that he had been seeing to the docking after everyone else had disembarked. For a moment, she breathed in the salty sea-air scent of him before her instinct of self-preservation kicked in and she stepped back.
“You look lovely,” he said, his voice hard. “Where are you going?”
“An old friend told me that he was going to be at the Golden Heron,” she said. “I'm stopping by for a drink.”
For a moment, Augustine looked absolutely incensed. There was something dark and furious in his eyes, and Anastasia felt that same fury rise up in her. She stepped forward, ready to fight, but just as quickly, the fire in his expression died down and he stepped back.
“May you enjoy your evening,” he said curtly and rang for the elevator.
Deprived of her target, she stalked through the hotel lobby, walking straight to the door where a car was waiting for her.
By the time she got to the Golden Heron, her anger had died down to a simmer, but it was far from cooled. Somehow she managed to greet Paul warmly, and after a few minutes, she even settled into a comfortable conversation with him.
Anastasia had wanted this exercise to prepare her for New York, and in that, it was extremely successful. She had forgotten how much the men of her acquaintance talked. They went on and on, and though the good ones, like Paul, might check to make sure that she was interested, there was never any of the silence that she had come to love on the Wild Waves.
More than once, she interjected with her opinion, simply so that she wouldn't be stuck as Paul's audience, and though he looked at her a bit oddly, he seemed to want to hear what she had to say.
As they finished up their dinners, he shook his head admiringly at her. “This trip has been good for you, Anastasia,” he said, making her raise an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it's always lovely seeing you so tan and fit, but it's more than that. You really feel as if you have grown and changed. You've become a woman to be reckoned with, and I have to say that is extremely attractive.”
“Thank you for saying so,” she said with a smile, but Paul shook his head.
“that wasn’t an empty compliment,” he said. “I was making…let's say, a statement of intent.”
She blinked at him. She had gone out expecting a pleasant dinner. She had not expected to encounter whatever this was.
Paul went on. “You and I have known each other for some time, and I like to think that we've always been friendly and held each other in high regard. I find your views on conservation and water fascinating, and I have always hoped that the wife that I chose would have some pet cause to devote herself to.”
Anastasia wasn't sure if she was more offended by the idea of him choosing a wife or of that wife having a “pet cause.” Paul didn’t seem to notice her reaction—he just kept talking.
“So I don't think that I'm being too hasty when I say that I would like for us to get to know each other a bit more when we get back to New York. I think we could start with a few dinners, perhaps whip out to the Hamptons to see what we think? It would be an advantageous match for both of us if we suit…”
She was building up to a towering rage, but then suddenly, she began to laugh. She realized that Paul, who was known to be quite handsome, looked completely small and insignificant to her. Surprisingly, he was laughing as well, watching her with a gaze that was distinctly possessive.
“That's your truth, isn't it?” she asked between giggles. “That you want a wife that you choose, who's tan and fit, and who has a cause that she devotes a bit of her time to, but not too much of it. Is that right?”
“Yes?” His laughter died out.
“No. I'm sorry. No. Good night, Paul. Maybe I'll see you back in New York.”
She left the restaurant at a brisk walk that stopped just short of being a run. She knew what the truth was now, and she knew who had to hear it. Anastasia was set to get back to the hotel as quickly as she could, but she didn't count on running into the exact man she was looking for the moment she stepped onto the street.
Pedestrians split around the two them, giving them a strange little oasis of quiet in the center of the sidewalk. Streetlights turning on added flickering light to the scene. Anastasia's mouth was dry as she stared at him, half believing that he was some sort of vision that she had conjured.
“Augustine—”
“Let me talk,” he said roughly. “Please. I need to say some things to you.”
Apprehensive, she nodded. He looked intent and almost fearful himself. When he took her hand, she could feel him shaking a little.
“Anastasia, some weeks ago, we had a…difficult conversation where we swore to be honest with each other. More than that, we swore that we would always share our truths. You have been…as transparent as the waters of the Aegean with me, and even when we began together, I knew what a precious gift that was. I knew how much it was worth, and I can only excuse my behavior by saying that I was overwhelmed.
“What we had, I should have fought to keep. I need it with every breath, and when I saw you go out tonight, it was as if you were taking my heart with you. I should have fought for you, but I didn't, and when I thought it was too late, I felt something in me die.”
“Augustine—”
“No. I need to finish. I am done with lies, even the lies that I tell myself. I am done with fear, and I am done with thinking about a world that will not allow what I want. I am a man who shapes the world and rides the sea, and I will make it fit what I want…as long as you are willing…”
Her hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide. As she watched, trembling, he removed a velvet box from his pocket.
“Anastasia, this is my truth, and it will stand forever if you will allow it to. I love you more than I love the motion of the waves or the wildness of the sea. Will you marry me? Together we will create a world that will allow us both what we need.”
He opened the box to reveal an enormous sapphire the same color as the Aegean at night. It was surrounded by glittering diamonds, and she had never seen a finer gem.
“Yes,” she whispered, her heart beating so hard she thought it would burst. Once she said it, she couldn't stop saying it.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried, and she leaped into his arms.
She was laughing and crying and nearly delirious with joy, and the crowd around them burst into applause.
“My truth is that I love you,” she said softly. “No more and no less than that. I love you and I want to spend my life with you.”
His smile was radiant as he pushed the ring on her finger, and she knew that they would never be apart.
Seven Months Later
“Did you know that you can tell Shakespeare's comedies from his tragedies by whether there is a wedding or a funeral at the end?” said Trinity, straightening Anastasia's veil.
Her best friend and maid-of-honor's comment had come out of nowhere, but Anastasia looked up, grateful for the distraction.
“I had thought that getting to know Augustine and meeting him on the Wild Waves was a romance, not a comedy.”
“All of the best comedies have romances in them,” said Trinity firmly. “After all, you are a better Beatrice than you are a Juliet.”
“Yes, absolutely no stabbings at all.” Anastasia fu
ssed with the hem of her dress. “How do I look?”
“For the thousandth time, beautiful. You are going to be incredible, Ana.”
The Wild Waves had been decked out in fragrant white and gold roses, while silk banners fluttered high above. The enormous yacht was swarming with the people closest to Anastasia's family and to the royal family of Greece. It was a comfort of some kind to know that over the last few hours, Augustine was likely being kept calm by his brother Apolo.
“I don't know what happens next,” she found herself saying. “I always told Augustine that I would tell him the truth, but I can't look forward. I am afraid that…that perhaps he will be disappointed in me, or perhaps we will be a poor fit.”
Trinity took her friend's shoulders firmly, waiting until Anastasia was looking into her eyes.
“Ana, listen to me. You two are amazing. You are taking a chance, but that is what everyone in love does. You have found passion and love with Augustine. After that, everything is details, okay?”
Anastasia took a deep breath. She knew that Trinity was right. The question of where they would spend their time, where they would live and how they would live together would be answered later on. After the turmoil and tempestuous waters that she and Augustine had sailed in together, everything else was going to be easy. As long as they were together, she realized that there was nothing they could not do.
The wedding coordinator cracked the door open, waving Trinity forward. Trinity squeezed her hand one last time, winked at her, and started down the aisle.
As she had in rehearsal, Anastasia took ten deep breaths, and then she opened the door. She stepped forward into bright sunlight and a sea that was achingly blue. The deck was lined with chairs, and as she made her way down the red-draped aisle, the guests stood respectfully as she passed by. She could hear the appreciative murmurs and even the odd sniffle, but all of her attention was focused on the end of the aisle and the man waiting for her there.
Augustine was dressed to stun in a well-fitted black tuxedo. Though his expression was grave, she could see a twinkle in his dark eyes, and a wealth of love there as well. She was faintly aware of Trinity, who stood to the left, and Apolo, next to Augustine, but everything else was faint and unimportant compared to the man who had finally given her a truth that she could believe in.
