Bliss

by Fiona Zedde

Chapter 24

  nd then there were just two days left. Sinclair sat at the .Breckenridges' kitchen island on a bar stool, watching Nikki cook the evening meal.

  "For old people, they have a lot of parties up here," Nikki said. "At least once a month. That's when I have to get at least two other people to help me with the cooking."

  "Do they ever invite you?"

  Nikki looked horrified. "No. Why should they?"

  A knock sounded on the back door. "Who could that be? Nobody makes deliveries this late."

  "Afternoon, ladies," Hunter called out. Despite her cheerful greeting she looked tense.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Coming to see you." She leaned on the kitchen island next to Sinclair. Up close her body was tension itself, coiled and waiting for something.

  Sinclair touched her arm. "Is anything wrong?"

  "Not really, but I'd love for you to come home with me now.

  Sinclair and Nikki exchanged a look. "OK. Let me just get my bag. I'll meet you outside."

  At the Jeep, Sinclair looked at Hunter's tense face again. "Are you sure that you're all right?" she asked.

  "I'm not. But I will be." Her hand curled around Sinclair's. "You have at least two days before you have to go. You can spend the last day with your family. Today is mine. Yes?"

  When Sinclair nodded, Hunter drove them down the hill to her house. Once there, she pulled Sinclair into her bedroom. "I love you." She kissed her. "No. Don't say anything."

  Her tongue stroked Sinclair to life, pressing her body's need into hers until Sinclair clung as viciously as Hunter did to her. She dragged the straps of the tank top down Sinclair's arms, baring her breasts. Heat slid under Sinclair's skin as Hunter's mouth claimed her nipples. She pushed Sinclair against the wall.

  "Will you stay?"

  Sinclair's body panted and wept yes but it couldn't speak. Hunter's fingers moved inside her, loving, fucking, shoving her against the wall and all Sinclair could do was say Hunter's name as she took what she wanted, what Sinclair wanted her to take. Her name tumbled from Sinclair's mouth when her body started to shake, thighs trembling, fingers twisting in the snaking hair, sweat weeping behind her knees and under her breasts, down her back, rubbing into the skin over her taut muscles. Hunter followed her as she slid down the wall, still pumping her fingers as Sinclair shuddered and came and screamed her dark goddess's name.

  But Hunter wasn't finished. She peeled Sinclair off the floor and took her to bed, covering Sinclair's body with hers, washing her with her sweat, her cum, her tongue. Hunter plunged deep for more milk from her lover's body, squeezing until Sinclair thought that she had nothing left. She was a supernova, rawness and pain pushed aside for the rapture that Hunter's hands brought.

  The dark woman pushed into her and Sinclair pushed back, thighs straining apart so Hunter could take more of her.

  "I need you to stay."

  Limp. Sinclair was limp when Hunter tied her arms to the headboard, spread her legs wide and tied them down too. Her teeth nipped Sinclair's ankles and toes, and the flesh of her legs and thighs. "But if you want to leave me, I'll let go. I won't make a scene." But she lied. Sinclair was helpless to the press of Hunter's tongue and fingers inside her, pulling the trembling out until she flexed taut as a bow.

  Sweat bathed her skin, stinging her eyes, salting her lips and tongue. She wanted to beg, for what, she wasn't quite sure. But the words kept escaping her, slipping away in the tides of sensation that buffeted her body.

  Hunter's teeth closed on her clit and her slim fingers slid even deeper into Sinclair's pussy. The whimper caught them both by surprise. Tingles scuttled under her hair, traveling down her neck and shoulders, into her hips. The cum shattered her, shrieking through her like pain. Sinclair sobbed. She fell back to earth, dimly aware of the throbbing ache of her entire body and her tireless lover licking the sweat from it. Her eyes closed. An after-shudder rippled through her as she tried to push Hunter away. But her hand sagged back to the bed and she fell heavily asleep.

  "There's nothing for you in America." Sinclair lay trapped in an exhausted slumber when she heard Hunter's voice from far away, she felt the steam of her seducer's breath on her neck. Like a fish diving into water, Hunter slid into her and Sinclair rose up from sleep. Her belly pressed against Sinclair's back, dark hips cupped her ass, a new part of her, hard and firm, buried inside her. Sinclair clawed at the sheets and arched her back. Hunter's name left her throat in a long, ragged moan.

  She was wet. An ocean, swallowing her, moving beneath her, with her. "Hunter. . ."

  "Stay, Sinclair."

  Hunter slid deeper inside, taking her body to a place of fire and ice. The wave of heat left Sinclair gasping, the cold clenched her and she sobbed Hunter's name again.

  "Stay." Her hand spread under Sinclair's belly, lifting her up to her knees, until her face was against the pussy-smelling sheets, her fingers curled into the soft cotton under her. Hunter folded herself over Sinclair's body and pushed into her. When she touched Sinclair's clit, the flesh beneath hers shuddered.

  "Tell me you'll stay," she groaned into the back of Sinclair's neck. "I'll do anything you want."

  "I-I can't-oh, sh-oh!" Sinclair's world fell to pieces.

  When her body quieted, after the shivers of sensation had bled away, leaving her limp and sated, she opened her eyes to see Hunter propped up on her elbow watching her.

  "I've waited a long time for you," Hunter said. "Some days I look at you and feel that you're the reason I left England. It wasn't to find some idealized dream of an island that I knew less than nothing about. It wasn't even to reconnect with my family. It was to meet and love you." Hunter traced a pattern in the drying sweat on Sinclair's belly. "Don't say anything. I just wanted to tell you that before you left."

  Sinclair couldn't speak. Tears leaked from her eyes and ran down into her hair. No one except her Gran had ever made her feel this special, this essential to happiness. She needed Hunter, too, more than even she could understand. Her bones ached for the dark woman. And she was terrified. Sinclair had trusted Regina and even started to love her. That betrayal had been as painful as it was unexpected. What she felt for Regina then was like a pebble compared to this avalanche of emotion roiling through her. Sinclair knew that she would break if Hunter abandoned her. And because that made no sense, she cried.

  Hunter brought her breakfast in bed. "I'm sorry about last night. I wasn't quite thinking." She saw the look on Sinclair's face. "Not about the sex, I loved fucking you. I loved the way you called my name." A rueful smile shaped her mouth. "I am sorry about asking you to stay. That was out of line. I won't do it again."

  She fed Sinclair sliced mangoes from her hand, and eggs and toast and cherries. "After your shower I'll take you back home."

  Sinclair didn't know quite what to say. Her body was exhausted. She hadn't gotten more than two hours of sleep and her thoughts were sluggish. Yet she was alert enough to realize that today was her last day on the island and she needed to spend it with her family. "All right. Let me ... let me get started." Sinclair stood up. "Come. Shower with me."

  They undressed and climbed into the tub together, shrouded in silence and the heavy sadness of Sinclair's leaving. The shower spit and hissed as Hunter turned it on. She soaped her washrag and bathed Sinclair's body, taking every opportunity to show how much she would miss her. Only after the lukewarm water sluiced the suds from Sinclair's body did Hunter speak.

  "You already know how I feel about you," she said. "If it's that real for you, too, then come back to me. If it's not, then don't fuck with me. Don't call or promise to write, and please don't send me any of those insipid `wish you were here' postcards."

  Beneath the rain from the shower's nozzle, Sinclair promised, kissed her lover, blessed Hunter's skin with her hands, and promised.

  Chapter 25

  ook at the sky juice man." Xavier piped up from the ibackseat of the Honda. "Can I have some sky juice?"

 
; "Not now, baby. We have to get to the airport." Nikki rubbed the back of her son's neck.

  Sinclair's mouth suddenly felt dry, longing for a taste of the syrupy bag juice with its crushed ice. Banana was her favorite flavor. Sinclair remembered, as a child, curling her tongue around the cool plastic straw as she sucked for as long as she could without taking a breath.

  "That sure would feel good in this heat though," Sinclair murmured, meeting Xavier's eyes in the rearview mirror. The boy grinned. "The plane isn't supposed to take off for another three hours. We should have enough time."

  Her father pulled the car over before the last word left her mouth. Xavier started hopping up and down in the backseat, while Nikki just looked pleased. They parked the car on the shoulder of the perfectly paved road, the sort of road that was rare up where they lived, and locked it.

  "'Afternoon." Victor greeted the old man with the grayflecked beard and oversized hat sitting on top of his thick, knee-length dreadlocks.

  "'Afternoon, brethren. What can I get for you today?"

  "Four bags of sky juice." He looked at his family. "Pick your flavors."

  Back in the car, they all sucked quietly on their straws, while Sinclair told the story of the first time she had sky juice. Her father chimed in, too, because he had been there to buy it. He bought the second one, too, after she dropped the first one on the ground and started crying as if she'd just lost her best friend. Nikki laughed until she snorted and juice sprayed out of her nose, hitting her giggling son in the face.

  "It wasn't quite that funny, people," Sinclair muttered.

  "Right." Victor laughed softly as he maneuvered the car toward their destination with one hand.

  Still, Sinclair smiled at the memory. Her mother had been just as dismayed, especially since the bright yellow juice had hit the ground and splashed up on her new slacks. But Beverly had laughed, too, swinging the crying Sinclair up in her arms and held the new juice bag while her daughter suckled happily from the straw. Sinclair remembered the feeling of being carried by her mother, remembered the smell of jasmine and oil sheen in Beverly's hair.

  "I'm going to miss you," Sinclair said.

  "Does that mean you won't make it another twenty years before you come to visit us again?"

  Sinclair shook her head and swallowed her mouthful of light banana syrup mixed with fresh water and grated ice. "I won't let it be that long before I taste Nikki's cooking again."

  "In the meantime, you better eat something. You can't come back to this country looking like a refugee."

  "Trust me, I won't let that happen again either."

  At the airport, there were strained goodbyes. Xavier started to cry and a sniffling Nikki tried to comfort him with the promise of more sweets on the way home. Victor shrugged and pulled his daughter into a crushing hug. "Get there safe."

  "And call us when you land," Nikki said juggling her son in her arms to hug Sinclair one last time.

  Sinclair felt tears of her own well up. "I will."

  A red-hatted porter trotted over to help her with her two large suitcases. "What airline, miss?" When she told him, he slung the bags on his trolley. "This way."

  Sinclair turned to hug Nikki and Xavier again, then waved at them as she trailed behind the porter. A frantic half hour later she was checked in and waiting at the boarding gate with the hundreds of other passengers who would share the same plane with her. Sinclair checked her purse to make sure that all her paperwork was in order before taking out a book to read. But she couldn't focus. Her eyes ricocheted off the printed page to watch what was going on around her.

  Everywhere she looked people seemed excited about getting to the city. Some faces sagged with the world weariness of the well traveled, others held the dreamy afterglow of a blissful honeymoon, while others seemed simply anxious for the plane to come and take them back home. Sinclair quietly acknowledged that she was none of these. Just as quietly, questions began to form. Why? Why was she going back to the city? Were any of the excuses she'd given herself really valid? Her oversized apartment? Her vapid job at Volk? All the friends she'd made while living in the city? Right. And what was she leaving behind?

  Sinclair remembered the first time Regina touched her and the waves of sensation she felt. It was like diving underwater, those first few moments of disorientation, of wonder. She felt those things just by looking at Hunter. A couple walked into her line of vision, a slim young man and his more voluptuously built woman. He looked at her intently as she spoke. It wasn't until they passed that Sinclair noticed he held her hand in his and that his thumb moved lightly over her knuckles. The woman carried her own bag.

  Sinclair watched them then felt an inexplicable sense of loss when they disappeared around the corner. He loves her, she thought. A moment later she reopened the novel her father had given her from his collection. Something British, he'd said, but she might like it anyway. The words in the first paragraph swam before her eyes. He loves her. Sinclair looked up, surprise settling on her face. She stood and grabbed her carry-on bag and her purse. Before she knew it she was dashing through the airport, her loose hair bouncing around her head. The blast of warm air when she stepped outside the airport doors made her pause. What was she doing? Sinclair saw the line of taxis waiting, and her fingers spasmed around the strap of her purse.

  "Where are you heading?"

  She turned automatically to answer, but her breath caught in her throat. "Um ... back."

  "Can I give you a ride?" Hunter's smile was pure sin. Her unfastened hair stirred in the balmy afternoon breeze, brushing the shoulders of the man-tailored shirt she wore unbuttoned over a white tank top and black jeans. She looked freshly scrubbed, as if she was going courting.

  A smile slowly shaped Sinclair's mouth. "Yes. Yes you can." She followed Hunter to the jeep and threw her bag in the back before climbing into the passenger seat. They sat staring at the line of cars ahead, feeling the soft caress of the afternoon breeze. Hunter fiddled with her keys but made no motion to start the truck.

  "So," Sinclair said softly. "What are you doing here?"

  Hunter looked startled, as if she'd been prepared to wait in the silence forever. "I wanted to tell you something that I forgot to the other day." She cleared her throat. "You matter to me. It's not about the sex or the other things we do together. All those things are good-shit, they're fantastic." Hunter shifted in her seat but didn't look away. "I want you to understand that I care for you. Deeply. You're the first. If you say that I have to move to your big city so that we can be together then I'd do it. For you I'd do it. No bullshit."

  "I thought you weren't going to bring this up again?" Sinclair teased, allowing her smile to slowly show itself.

  "I lied. Sorry. Am I being a total asshole here?" She seemed to notice Sinclair's smile for the first time. "This is good?"

  Sinclair looked into the smiling face of her lover, knowing her cheeks were creased just as deeply with the signs of her happiness. "I love you," she said.

  "This is good." Hunter laughed softly. "I guess we can sort out the rest of it later?" She nodded, answering her own question. She started the jeep and began to slip back into the slowmoving stream of traffic. Her hand drifted to Sinclair's thigh. Their fingers linked.

  Sinclair leaned back into her seat, feeling the wind's teasing fingers through her hair. On the horizon she could see light sprinkles of rain, but beyond that the sun waited. She took in a deep breath, feeling for the first time in her life, satisfied.

  "This is good."

 

 

 
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