Bliss

by Fiona Zedde

  "Are you now?" Della looked down at Hunter. "That dangerous charm of yours strikes again."

  The dark glasses shielded Hunter's eyes from view, but her mouth was smiling. "As long as the charm works on the ones I want then I'm not complaining. Are you, Sin?"

  Sinclair grinned. "Not at all."

  Della left them an hour later, to get back to the shop, she said. Hunter walked her out while Sinclair lingered in the backyard, taking sips from Hunter's abandoned cup of water and replaying the afternoon's conversations in her mind. She stretched out on the bench and put her feet up. Della didn't seem at all jealous that she and Hunter were together. Rather toward the end of her visit she had smiled oddly at Sinclair and said something about wishing that Sinclair could stay because Hunter needed some stability in her life. Stability? The older woman might as well have called her boring.

  "What are you smiling about?" Hunter let the back door swing closed behind her as she walked back to Sinclair.

  "Stability. Excitement."

  "Don't let Della get to you. Ever since we stopped being lovers she's been playing mummy and trying to find a suitable girl for me to marry."

  Is that what she was doing? "Wasn't Lydia suitable?"

  "Apparently not." She moved Sinclair's feet out of the way and sank down on the bench beside her, draping the long legs across her lap. "Have dinner with me tonight." Hunter watched Sinclair with a soft smile curving her mouth. "I want to give you a sweet reward for taking care of me yester,5 day.

  "Sweet, huh?" Her insides just officially turned into mush for this woman.

  "Definitely." Hunter's fingers played over the fine bones of Sinclair's feet, tracing the veins just under her skin.

  "With such promises, how can I refuse?"

  At Hunter's insistence, they ate dinner in the backyard, spread out on a blanket with the food laid out between them. Watching Hunter cook the meal and being unable to taste it had built a steady fire under Sinclair's hunger. By the time the dark woman had set the plates out, she was starving.

  "Where do I start?" she asked as Hunter presented the meal.

  "With this."

  Hunter took a thick, scarlet-colored fruit from a pile of three others in a white bowl and broke it in half. A honeycomb of bright red seeds lay in the pale membranes.

  "Pomegranate." Hunter took a piece in her hand and used a finger to detach a sprinkling of seeds. "You can eat the seeds if you want to. For fiber." She put them near Sinclair's mouth. "Open."

  The flesh-covered seeds were sweet, exploding between her tongue and palate with only the slightest pressure. Sinclair tried to suck off the juicy bits and spit the hard seeds into her hand, but it was messy and she wasn't keeping enough fruit in her mouth.

  "Try eating the seeds. You might find that more satisfying."

  She did. They ate until all that remained of the pomegranate was a shell that lay open like a crushed flower on the white juice-stained dish.

  "Are you ready for the rest of the meal?"

  Hunter fed Sinclair a steaming plate of run-down, its slowsimmered flavor of coconut milk enhanced by pink curls of shrimp and the delicious burn of scotch bonnet peppers. She poured the richly scented stew over boiled green bananas, ripe plantains, and firm, round dumplings. At the first bite, Sinclair released a breath of pure astonishment.

  "This is even better than my grandmother's." She threw Hunter a look of mock anger. "You've made me blaspheme." She took another bite. "But this tastes so good."

  "And all I have to do is cook to have you make those noises? I think you're about to turn me into a chef."

  Sinclair laughed and raised her fork to Hunter before returning to the serious business of eating.

  "I really, really like the way you cook," she said after the second helping. Her mouth was still full, this time with the starchy sweet combination of dumplings and boiled plantains. She chewed with her fingers covering her mouth. No need to express her thanks by spraying Hunter with food. Besides, it was too good to waste.

  "Well, I like the way you eat," Hunter returned with a smile, her fork poised over a modest-sized plate.

  Sinclair winked. "Save that kind of talk for later, missy. One oral indulgence at a time is all my poor little heart can take. "

  "Really? I took you for a multitasker."

  "Not where you're concerned."

  "In that case, I might have to take back your all-access pass."

  "I'd like to see you try." Sinclair let go another orgasmic moan. "If you cooked this well for Della no wonder she doesn't want to let you go."

  "She was the one who let me go, not the other way around."

  "That's surprising."

  "Why?'

  "She just seems a little ... possessive of you, like she hasn't completely let your past relationship go."

  "That is definitely not the case. She put me aside like a child, like she'd given me as much of her time as she could before setting me free, so to speak."

  "Were you angry?"

  "For a while, yes." She shrugged and sipped her water. "Then I wasn't."

  Sinclair nodded, content with that explanation. They ate the rest of their meal in companionable silence, each swept up in the eddies of their own thoughts.

  When the meal was over Sinclair stood up to help Hunter with the dishes. In the kitchen, she ran hot water over the small pile already in the sink. Thankfully, Hunter was the kind of chef who washed as she cooked. The kitchen was nearly spotless, with only their dishes left behind to clean.

  "Go ahead and make us some tea while I take care of these," Sinclair said, glancing over her shoulder at the other woman.

  After she finished the dishes, she escaped to the backyard to lie on the blanket that had been cleared of all remnants of their dinner. Sinclair looked up at the sky. Daylight was just beginning to fade. Other stars were still pale shadows hidden by the brightness of the sun, but that brilliant star was preparing to make its exit. She released her breath in a long sigh of appreciation. The sound mingled with those of the swaying leaves and the wind ruffling the grass near her. The back door creaked open.

  "You are not going to fall asleep on me," Hunter murmured near her ear. "I have other plans for you." She set the tray of tea in the grass beside the blanket.

  Sinclair opened her eyes, smiling. "I wouldn't dream of ending our day so soon."

  "Good. Have some tea with me."

  The brew was simple yet fragrant, a mixture of fresh orange leaves and honey. Sinclair took a few sips before leaning into the shelter of Hunter's arms, replete.

  "You are a wonderful cook. A beautiful, ravishing woman," Sinclair murmured, well on her way toward a nap. "And sweet. Like a pomegranate."

  Hunter chuckled and gathered her closer. When Sinclair opened her eyes again, the sky was wreathed in stars.

  "You're awake then?" Hunter asked, nipping gently on her ear. At Sinclair's sleepy smile, she grinned. "Good. Let's move this party indoors then, shall we?"

  Hunter locked the night out and left the blanket and tea cups in the kitchen to be dealt with later. She took Sinclair's hand and walked toward the bedroom. Once in the room Sinclair excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she came back Hunter was turning down the sheets on the bed. A trio of candles glowed from the windowsill.

  "Very nice."

  She came up behind Hunter and dragged the T-shirt from her body, taking time to touch the warm skin with its shifting muscles and irresistible womanliness. Sinclair was careful not to aggravate her bruises.

  "I finished the painting," Hunter murmured.

  Sinclair's hands paused their exploration. "Really? When can I see it?"

  "When you turn around."

  The painting hung suspended on the wall between the two large bedroom windows, a study of greens, copper, and reds. The woman in the painting-because this untamed creature couldn't really be Sinclair-lay on a bed of ferns with her head tossed back and her hair spread in a cottony cloud over upraised arms. The top two buttons of he
r white blouse were undone, giving a teasing glimpse of her breasts. The long legs, accentuated in tight blue jeans, were strewn in a pose of postcoital relaxation. Only her cheek, the graceful slope of her neck, and the corner of a moist-lipped Mona Lisa smile could be seen. The rest of her face was lost to her coyly turned-away head. It could have been a photograph, the image was so real.

  "You like?" Hunter asked.

  "Very much." Sinclair looked at the large painting again. Was that how Hunter saw her? "I'm never going to see that painting again, am I?" she asked.

  "Of course you will. Whenever you come into my bed room, it'll be hanging right there." Hunter kissed the back of her neck and anchored her hands on Sinclair's hips. "Now, where were we?"

  Sinclair chuckled and turned around. "Right here, love."

  Her fingers loosened the drawstring pants and pulled them down Hunter's legs. The dark woman was wearing panties, of a soft, white Victorian lace, the kind that sat low on Hunter's hips to show off the flat expanse of belly and the inviting slope that led to her pussy. Sinclair took a peek at the back. The lace lay high across Hunter's ass like butterfly wings, leaving the sleek bottom half of her cheeks bare. Sinclair wet her lips.

  "Were you expecting to get lucky today, Miss Willoughby?"

  A shrug sent delightful ripples across her cleavage. "It didn't hurt to be prepared."

  Hunter's eyes challenged Sinclair to continue her exploration, to hook her fingers in the waistband of the panties and fling them to some corner of the room. But she wasn't ready to get rid of the gorgeous wrapping quite yet. Instead, Sinclair's hands touched dark hips and pulled them close to her nose. With a low trembling sigh she inhaled the smell of Hunter, the delicate musk of her that was like the earth after rain.

  "May I?"

  "Please do." Hunter's voice was rough.

  Sinclair laid her cheek against the pale lace, feeling the heat with her face, indulging herself in the powerful, primal scent of her lover. Patient, Hunter breathed slowly above her even though her body obviously begged for satisfaction.

  "You can take them off if you want."

  Sinclair smiled. "Thank you." She caressed the dark skin through the white lace, excited by the increased pungency of the other woman's scent.

  Hunter groaned. "Do you just get off on torturing me?"

  "Is that a rhetorical question?" Sinclair laughed softly.

  "Very funny." Hunter pulled her to her feet and with spare quick movements undressed her. "Come, let me show you something."

  "I remember hearing that line before."

  "Then you know this won't hurt." She pressed Sinclair down into the bed. "Not even the tiniest bit."

  Hunter kissed Sinclair. She was gentle, her exploration curious rather than passionate. But Sinclair invited her to do more, opening her mouth under Hunter's and sliding her fingers into the other woman's hair. Her legs captured Hunter's, curling around her like twin snakes so she wouldn't take the pleasure away, so she would keep pouring heat and wetness into her body until Sinclair forgot everything. The smooth curves of her lace-clad ass undulated under Sinclair's hands.

  "Hunter ..." Her voice trembled with need.

  Hunter's body truly came alive then, rising up over Sinclair like a dark tide. She pressed her thigh between Sinclair's and shoved her hands above her head. She moaned and pushed into her, desperate to have Hunter's body against her sensitive nipples.

  "I loved feeling your pussy on my face," Hunter whispered. "You taste like ackee and saltfish. I could eat you all night." She licked her throat and followed the arched line to her breasts. Sinclair could feel her hovering, could feel her breath, waiting. Hunter's mouth covered her nipple. She sighed, drowning in the liquid delight. Hunter sucked her nipples into the warm wet of her mouth, sucking, milking until Sinclair gasped and writhed against the bed. She took Sinclair's breasts into her hands, pressing one into her mouth then the other. Sinclair trembled under her.

  "What do you want?" Hunter bit her nipples and stained them again with her tongue.

  "I want your fingers, your mouth, anything." Sinclair thrust her hips against Hunter, beyond pride, begging.

  Her hands slid between Sinclair's legs, searching for the ache. "Here?"

  "Yes."

  The fullness was a surprise. It was only one finger, but it felt so good. Sinclair's body arched off the bed, stung by the sweet pressure Hunter finally offered. "More."

  With the second finger she would have promised Hunter anything. Sinclair's hands clawed her back, sinking into the solid muscles that moved as Hunter nipped at her sensitized nipples and fucked her with agonizing slowness. Hunter lifted her head, sending her hair dancing over Sinclair's heated skin.

  "You've ruined me for other women." Her fingers moved steadily inside her. "I hope you know that." She bit a bloodflushed nipple.

  The pain sparked a higher flame inside Sinclair. She panted and arched into Hunter, sliding on the long fingers until she was crying from the sensation, her hips rocking against Hunter's palms, moving to the tempo she set. "I-oh!" The stroke of her fingers stole Sinclair's breath, until she was whimpering with need, her belly tight and trembling. The bed shook as she exploded in Hunter's hand, shaking and arching her breasts against her lover's mouth.

  Hunter released her slowly, licking her breasts in lazy, circular strokes and holding her body still as shudders of satisfaction rippled through it.

  "Not fair," Sinclair gasped. "This was supposed to be my show."

  "You weren't fighting me off." She kissed Sinclair's chin then buried her face in the damp neck. "But don't worry. You'll get your turn soon."

  Hunter lay back on the bed and her body relaxed into the rumpled sheets, soothed by Sinclair's wandering hands and soft, warming kisses. She hummed her approval when Sinclair touched her skin, still clothed in its Victorian lace panties that made it look like dark silk. The contrast of white lace against bitter chocolate skin made Sinclair's body heat again. So beautiful. Hunter waited patiently while her lover lay quietly against her thighs.

  Her hand touched Sinclair's hair. "Teasing at this stage of the game isn't very nice."

  "No. That's not it." A weak laugh trickled from Sinclair's lips. "Give me a second."

  The dark woman quieted. Sinclair kissed the smooth line of Hunter's stomach and watched, amazed, as the muscles rippled under her touch. Her body was wet again. Had it ever been dry in Hunter's presence?

  She pushed the lace out of her way to better feel the heating flesh and the rough spring of hair under the tiny panties. Her scent was hypnotic. She touched her nose to Hunter's flesh again. The dark woman squirmed under her, but didn't resist when she tugged at the white lace. The panties peeled away with a sigh, revealing their moist treasure. Above Sinclair, she hissed.

  "Can I see?"

  Sinclair looked up and saw her nod. Hunter widened her legs. The dark curls were wet, glistening around a deep pink snail that thrust its head out even further as she watched. Her tongue tingled.

  There it was again, that faint taste of mangoes and wildness. She grasped the tight ass cheeks and pulled Hunter closer, diving into the banquet before her. Salted honey flooded over her nose, down her chin and neck, still she ate, licking and sucking until Hunter's thighs tightened around her ears and all she could hear was the hammering of her own heart and the thirsty sound of her mouth. Fingers grasped her head, pulling her deeper into the feast, encouraging the hungry movement of her tongue and the frantic snaking search of her mouth between slick thighs. The fingers tightened on her head, the thighs trembled, hips shuddered, and the soft flesh streamed wetness as it undulated under her tongue. Hunter's fingers loosened and fell away.

  "Damn." Hunter's thighs relaxed against the bed. "I have to say ... that was really worth the wait."

  "I should hope so." Sinclair kissed her lover's thigh and moved up to snuggle under her chin.

  Hunter shuddered again and tightened her embrace. "You are. . ." Her voice drifted away in a sigh. "... incre
dible."

  "Hey, Nikki." Sinclair rolled over in the bed and adjusted the phone at her ear. "I don't think I'll be home tonight. Is that OK?"

  She heard her stepmother laugh. "It should be fine. Just don't forget to tell Hunter that she's invited to dinner one night soon."

  Sinclair cursed Nikki for making her blush again. Instead of bothering to deny who she was with she sighed. "I'll tell her. See you tomorrow morning."

  "Trouble?" Hunter took the phone and put it back in its cradle.

  "No. But Nikki does want you to come over for dinner with me before I leave."

  "Ah. To check me out as your suitor instead of Lydia's. Interesting developments." She trailed a hand between Sinclair's breasts down to the soft curve of her belly.

  "Not really. I think Nikki really likes you and wishes you'd come around more often."

  "Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter, baby." She kissed Sinclair lightly on her nose, moving her hand farther south. "It's fine. I'll come to dinner with you one day to satisfy Nikki's curiosity. To be honest, she and I have yet to have a real conversation so that could be interesting."

  "What?" Sinclair had stopped listening the moment agile fingers dipped between her thighs. Her breathing deepened.

  "Never mind," Hunter's voice deepened. "We can talk about all that later on."

  That next evening they went out together to a barbeque in Mandeville Hills.

  "It's informal, I promise," Hunter said before they left. "And no more surprises."

  "Please and thank you. I don't think my heart can stand any more of your surprises."

  "I don't know, you seemed to hold your own pretty well." Hunter pulled on a white tank top and smoothed it over her belly. Her smile was just a tad too self-satisfied.

  "Brat." Sinclair put on a stripe of postshower deodorant, then checked herself for hickies. Her neck was faintly bruised, but there was nothing to be done about it. She buttoned her shirt. Hunter had lent her some clothes, a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that somehow looked more feminine on her than they ever did on her dark lover. "The least you could have done was let me go home and change into something of my own."