Sail (Wake #2)

by M. Mabie

  I began to tell him how good the shot was when he stood and stepped around the table grabbing my face. He kissed me there in front of everyone eating and mingling at the bar. His impatient consumption of me took me off guard, but as his bittersweet tongue swept across mine, I no longer cared who watched. And just as suddenly as he’d kissed me, he stopped and said, “Beso.” Then he quickly kissed my lips once more before retreating to his side of the table.

  I went from overwhelmed with sensation to senseless in seconds.

  When he sat down and straightened his dinner jacket, he said, “Beso. Kiss. I forgot that part.”

  I laughed. How could you forget something like that?

  Without missing a beat, he told me, “I can also ask where the bathroom is, how to get a taxi, common pleasantries, and I know how to ask for two more of anything. I think there are a few others, but that’s mostly it.”

  I was still a little dizzy from the kiss and the shot, but it was hard to remember when I’d been on a date where I had zero expectations of what would happen. I loved how wild he was at times. He always kept me on my toes.

  We ate BLTs, which he’d prearranged to be available for us. There we were at a gourmet restaurant eating bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches—one of the best I’d ever had, mind you—and we laughed. We drank beers and shared stories about the funny people we’d met traveling for work.

  Then we drank a little more.

  Lame. Bebe. Chupa. Beso.

  I loved taking shots with him. He was such a good kisser.

  After three, I got up and went to him instead. The bartender clapped and gave a little, “woo,” catching me. By then the dinner crowd had cleared out, but we stayed as bar-goers began filling the space. Less and less, people were eating and sitting, and more and more were they dancing to the two-piece band.

  “Let’s dance, mi abeja.”

  That was a new one and tipped my head in question.

  “Let’s dance, my honeybee.”

  “Okay,” I said, but I was already floating.

  We swayed. The alcohol had made our bodies loose. I clung to him and during slower songs I laid my head on his chest and listened to him hum along to music he couldn’t possibly know. His deep rumbling, in time to the tiny band, sounded so damn good.

  “We need a new song,” he said looking down at me.

  “No, we don’t,” I disagreed.

  “I shouldn’t have danced with her to that. It was a low blow. I ruined our song.”

  “No. Sheryl Crow ruined it way before you did,” I joked. “I only liked it because I danced to it with you.”

  He pulled away and stopped, shocked. “Are you kidding me?” He smirked.

  “It was kinda sad. I mean, I don’t think that song has a happy ending. It just sounds sexy with all the ohhhs and ahhhs. It isn’t a good love song,” I explained.

  He wrapped his long arms around me and we started to move again.

  He kissed the side of my forehead. “Then we needed a new one anyway, didn’t we?” he asked.

  “I don’t want one song, Lou.” My feet shuffled parallel to his shoes. My left leg was between his legs. Our bodies coupled naturally, it felt like home. Like my other half was connected. Like Heaven.

  “How many do you want? Do I need a pen and paper?” he jested.

  “I don’t want just one song to remind me of you.” I tipped my head up, but in my heels I was already closer to his mouth. “I want every song to be our song. I want every song we dance to be ours to keep. I want thousands of songs with you, Casey.” Either tequila had magical powers or I was finally learning to talk with my heart. Both stood a good chance of being true.

  “I can’t deny that I like your logic.”

  “And if every song is our song, and we don’t dance with anyone else to our songs, then we won’t ever have to find new ones.” I had it all figured out. Me and the bebe. I wasn’t really jealous of him dancing with Aly, at least not the way I imagined he thought I was. I hated the very thought of her hands touching him, and what was worse, his hands touching her. But more than jealous, I was scared. Scared that I would lose him to her.

  It was a damn good thing I didn’t allow myself to think about them being together. It was wrong of me to feel hurt by it, but maybe not. If it hurt him when I’d been with Grant, it was only fair I’d felt the same pain knowing he turned to her for what I couldn’t give him when he needed it most.

  But it didn’t matter anymore and certainly not at that moment. All that mattered was wrapped around me, in a fairy-tale location where shots came with kisses and every song belonged to us.

  That night we kissed without worry of being caught by my guilt and his insecurity. We didn’t have to hide. We were Casey and Blake, two people simply trying to figure out the second chance we’d always been fighting for.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered in my ear and it was almost like we transported there. As if we thought about it and then all of a sudden we were there.

  The room was dimly lit with the few lights we’d left on. It was late, and even though I was tired from travel and just life in general, I craved the feel of him.

  Our suite was warm, void of chill or worry. In the bedroom, we didn’t bother with a light, knowing where everything was by memory. He guided me to bed. He let my hair down and brushed it off my shoulders, and then he held me close and pressed his lips to mine. Casey laid us down so softly I barely knew we were moving until I felt the fluffy pillow under my head.

  I deepened our kiss and moaned when his body pressed against mine.

  “We’re not going to have sex tonight, Blake,” he said breathlessly around my lips. Why? I wanted him so badly. Just like that. Slow and easy.

  I tried to evict thoughts of uncertainty from my mind, but they snuck in with his words. His behavior was contradictory. He’d shown me nothing but affection and care since we saw each other in the airport. Why wouldn’t he make love to me?

  Old demons felt the need to speak up.

  What if he doesn’t want you after the chase? What if he only likes the thrill?

  I felt my body begin to tense for the first time since we’d arrived. The hands that had been wandering across his back stilled. The leg I had started to wrap around his waist slowly began falling to the side.

  “Hey, where are you going,” he said, as he kissed my neck and ran a hand through my hair to the nape of my neck.

  “I don’t understand,” I contested. “I want you.” He shifted his weight and I felt how hard he was against my inner thigh. He was definitely turned on. So what was his deal? “Don’t you want me, too?”

  “Mmmm,” he breathed near my ear. “God, I want you.” His big right hand hitched my leg back around his hip and he palmed my ass, bringing my dress up to my waist in the process and exposing my pale pink underwear. “I’ve wanted you day and night for so long now. I don’t know how to not want you.” He spoke between kisses and rubbed his nose along my clavicle. Then he bit me gently at the crook of my neck. “But there’ve been too many times I’ve let that need for you cloud my focus.”

  “But I—”

  “No, Blake. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to make you come and then I’m going to sleep next to you. I’m going to fall asleep with you in my arms. All those nights I missed out on holding you and feeling you next to me. I stole them from both of us being scared and stubborn. I have to be better this time. I see all that you’re doing and I’m so damn proud of you, honeybee,” he said calmly. “But I want more than just physical things from you. It isn’t that I don’t want you. Fuck, do I want you. But I need all of you. Not just this.” He moved against my center and I knew I had to change his mind. After hearing those sweet words, I had to have him and I wasn’t going to fight fair.

  “Please, Casey. Fuck me.”

  He growled and pressed his forehead to my chest. “You’re evil.” He laughed. I wished he sounded defeated, but mostly he sounded amused. “You’re not making it easy for me to
be noble.”

  “Don’t be noble then,” I said as I wound my arms around him and pulled him closer to me.

  “If you knew what I was thinking about doing to you, you’d know I wasn’t.” He rolled partially over toward the center of the bed and ran his hand under my dress and up to my breast.

  “Then tell me,” I shamelessly suggested.

  The tips of his fingers roamed down my stomach and my pulse sped up. His fingers slid under the sheer fabric of my underwear and my breaths came in spurts as I mentally begged him to keep going. I was so wound up.

  “Don’t worry. I told you I’d take care of you.”

  Casey’s hand moved over me and he delicately pressed into the exact spot where I wanted him.

  “I love how much you want me, Blake. I can feel it.” He kissed my shoulder. “Sit up.”

  I rose up. There we both sat on a bed I’d hoped we would be messing up by then. I loved that he wanted to show me he appreciated me for more than just sex, but at that point in our relationship, I’d kind of figured. What guy hangs around this long, going sometimes months without any physical contact and keeps coming back?

  He wrapped his arms behind me and lowered the zipper on my dress, then pulled it over my head. I wore only my strapless bra, which was on a little sideways from his wandering hands, and my panties.

  “Lay down and put your hands together like you’re holding them, like I hold your hand.”

  I interconnected my fingers together and laid them on my stomach while smiling at him expectantly.

  “Blake, I want to be someone who gives you more than I take. That’s what this is about. Giving to you. But I’m still just a man, so keep your hands together. When you touch me, I lose focus and all I can think about is being buried inside of you. Which is going to happen, just not tonight,” he reassured in a matter-of-fact way.

  “Okay,” I said softly. Just as always when he instructed, I followed. My hands were clasped and they wouldn’t part until he said. I loved when he possessed me. I was confident he would give me what I needed. I didn’t have to make any decisions. I didn’t have to worry about what I was giving him to show him how much I cared. It was freeing.

  He sat above me on his knees. The twilight shining through the windows backlit him in the dark room. Tauntingly slow, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and then took off his undershirt letting them both fall on the plush carpet. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn’t know how much he could see. Still, his touches were so precise that either he had great night vision or he just knew his way around my body in the dark.

  His hands found my breasts and he masterfully removed them from the strapless cups. His thumbs rolled over my nipples. His mouth covered one then the other. Hot and wet, he sucked and gently bit at them until my back began to arch and my ass pushed into the bed wanting more of him.

  I always wanted him to declare himself, to show me he actually wanted us. And now he was. I loved him. I loved that he was doing it for us. I knew he was capable of giving more now, and in that, felt a sense of peace and safety. And now, thank God, sexual release at the hands of my sexy man.

  It was wonderful receiving all the things he had to give me. I wanted it all.

  Friday, January 8, 2010

  I WANTED TO GIVE her everything. The things she never knew existed, but mostly the things she dared not ask for.

  The feel of her in my hands, the taste of her on my lips, it was always more than I could store in my memories. And even when I was with her I wanted more. More minutes. More hours. More places on her body to find and claim for myself.

  I touched her breasts and wished I had two extra arms and hands. I loved the shape of her and how she fit perfectly in my palms. I loved how, when she lay on her back, they fell to her sides a little and left a clear path for me to kiss down the middle of her chest. Perfectly, her nipples reacted to my curious touch, growing stiff when I applied even the smallest amount of pressure.

  Bending down, I kissed the pair and then my fingers touched over her soft flat belly, which rose and fell shakily as I took my time. She felt like silk or something equally smooth. I always wondered if my hands felt rough moving over her skin. She always seemed to like it, so I wasn’t ever going to stop.

  My fingers made their way to her panties, but instead of moving under them I teased her by rubbing her over the top. Her arousal made them wet and she lifted into my touch. She squirmed, but her hands stayed clasped together just like I told her to do.

  She made me feel incredible and she wasn’t even doing anything. Following my requests gave me power, when I used to have none. And hearing her tell me she liked when I told her what to do or what I wanted, well that would keep my dick hard well into my eighties.

  “You’re making me crazy,” she begged. “Please, Casey.” Her bare foot dug into the top of the bedspread.

  It would have been easy to yank my pants off and push myself into her. Really, really fucking easy. But I owed it to myself—and to her—to be a man who gave without taking.

  “What do you want, honeybee?” I asked against her tummy and kissed my way down to her pussy. “Do you want me to touch you with my hands?” I kissed where I knew her clit was through the satin underwear. “Or my mouth?”

  “Both,” she panted.

  I gave her what she needed. My fingers and mouth bringing her to orgasm in only minutes. Then I did it again.

  When she was sated and worn out, she curled into my chest and fell asleep. Had she ever given herself so fully to me? So unguarded? Fearless? I have loved her for so long, but in submitting so easily to my desire to look after her, she gave me herself. At that moment, she gave me everything.

  Monday, January 11, 2010

  “For a chef, you’re kind of a monster when it comes to cracking crabs,” I teased.

  With her tongue half out, she worked the cracker thing up and down the length of the king crab legs we’d ordered to share. We were on our third order and to say we hadn’t been drinking would have been a major lie.

  We had barely drunk at all that week, aside from our first night in Costa Rica, and it had probably been the best thing. We talked a lot. I actually listened and it gave me more control than ever in our relationship. And since I’d put the kibosh on jumping right in the sack, it was like we were truly concentrating on reality. Even when we were together at my house in October, there had been something hanging in the air over us.

  Maybe it was being on a real vacation.

  Maybe it was being there with her and out in the open and seeing new things together, but it all felt peaceful. We were so much closer in lots of different ways. Closer to being a real couple. Closer in distance and communication.

  But I hadn’t let myself get as close as I wanted. Even though she’d come every day, sometimes twice, and so had I, we still hadn’t had sex. Okay. It wasn’t like we were celibate; we’d only been there four days. There was a benefit to holding back. Both of us were like live wires. Still, she never pushed, letting me take the lead.

  There were a couple of—damn fine—reasons to finally have sex. We were fucking good at it and it felt fucking amazing. But the more time we spent together, the more I was confident that holding off a few days was a good idea.

  It just didn’t seem right jumping back into our old habits, into the old ways that had never worked out for us. I’m not saying it was always just sex with us, but we had a lot of sex in the past when we could have been building a foundation or just talking. We never expected us to be a reality.

  Us. A real relationship.

  Besides, she’d just moved out of her house. She needed a goddamned minute, and even though her body was ready to go with a few touches or words whispered, I had to make sure her head and her emotions were ready too. It was my job to make sure she was doing okay. Her nerves had to have been shot. She was still reeling from the holidays and then poof, she was in paradise with me? It was enough to make anyone’s head spin. Everything back home wasn’t magically fixed. She
still had a divorce ahead of her and I knew it weighed heavily on her mind.

  That night—after not drinking much over the past few days—she was a little loose from the Rum Runners we’d been drinking. She was calm and at ease. Her shoulders were relaxed and sun-kissed beneath the tie of her bikini she still wore. She wore a strapless dress thing that hugged her chest and fell just below her knees. Her hair was swept back in a messy bun, having been wet and then dry, and then wet and dry once more that day. Pieces had fallen free all over. She wouldn’t have looked better straight out of a salon.

  With one foot up on the extra chair, she sloppily worked at her crab.

  We’d stopped at the beachfront restaurant after walking around the little town on the coast, and decided to have a late lunch. Which turned into dinner. And there we still were. Laughing, drinking, and eating. Those seemed to be our three talents.

  “I’m on vacation,” she said. “And I’ve been drinking. My hand-eye coordination must be off.” She didn’t look at me as she pried every last piece of white and orange meat from its shell.

  The air was cooler and since we’d been putting down the alcohol, I was going to call a car to pick us up anyway. I didn’t want to worry about the long walk we’d have back to the resort. And the ride bought us more time. There was no rush.

  The whole trip had been like that. Easy and carefree.

  I threw my napkin down and leaned back in my chair. There was no way I could eat another bite. I watched her adorably struggle with another leg.

  “You look pretty doing it though.”

  Her eyes finally met mine, having been focused on her food. The compliment got her attention.

  “Are you flirting with me?” she asked.

  “Maybe. Are you going to eat that piece of crab on your cheek?” It had been there for a while. Her lips glistened from the butter. She was going to taste good. Then again, she always did.

  “I was saving it for you,” she said, joking, as she faked a seductive voice.

  “That was thoughtful.” I winked at her playing along.