Bliss (32 page)

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Authors: Fiona Zedde

BOOK: Bliss
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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. "... incredible."

"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."

"Why? I like how you look in my clothes." Hunter chuckled. "It marks you as mine."

Sinclair politely showed her the middle finger.

"Later. We have somewhere to be right now."

At the barbeque, they walked out of a sprawling British
colonial style house to a backyard full of Hunter lookalikes.
Women, boys, old men, little girls, all various versions of
Hunter, possessed of some feature she wore all too well; the
dark skin, the fleshy mouth, even the look of cynicism that
Sinclair thought was cultivated. Now she had proof that it
was genetic.

"No surprises, huh?"

"What? This is a barbeque."

"With your family."

"So what? They don't act like deranged wildebeests or
gnaw on each other in front of company."

"I'm not amused."

"Yes, you are." Hunter grinned. "Come on. Let's go say
hello."

She marched Sinclair straight over to a slim, pale-skinned
woman who stood over a bowl of punch looking at it like it
was the worst disaster since disco. Her expression changed
once she saw Hunter. She hugged the dark woman as if she
hadn't seen her in months.

"Good to see you, prodigal Hunter. We haven't seen you
over here in a while."

"Well, you know, work for the university keeps me busy."

"I know you work at home so don't try that on me, young
lady."

Hunter had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I'm
not here five minutes and you're already making me feel
bad."

"Well, if you came around more often-" the older
woman made a dismissive noise. "Let's not get into this old
argument in front of your guest." She turned toward Sinclair,
extending her hand. "Since my niece is too rude to introduce
us, my name is Eunice Keller."

"Uh, sorry. Aunt Eunice, this is Sinclair."

Sinclair put on her most polite smile. "Good to meet you."

"Are you the new girlfriend?"

She blinked at the unexpected question. "I'm just here for
another few weeks."

"That's not what I asked you."

"Aunt Eunice, stop." Hunter tucked Sinclair behind her
and gave her aunt a stern look. "She's here to have a good
time, not to be badgered by you."

"Darling, we all want to know. We're concerned about
your happiness." Eunice brushed Hunter's cheek with the
back of her fingers.

"I know, but ease off. Please. If you treat all the girls I
bring over this way then you'll never see me safely married
off."

"What girls? You never-"

"We'll talk more later. I have to say hi to everyone else. Bye." Hunter pulled Sinclair away, but not before she saw
Eunice's look of amused speculation.

"Is this going to be an obstacle course?"

"Not really. She was the most important person for you to
meet. Everyone else will come over to us in their own good
time." She released a sigh of relief. "Now it's time for food!"

More family members did come up to them as the afternoon wore on. Most were merely curious, looking at Sinclair
with a speculative gleam in their collective eyes, though few
were as direct as Eunice had been. After an hour of subtle interrogation, Sinclair had enough and escaped into the house
for a drink.

At the bar in the sunroom, she ordered a Gilbey's and tonic
and sat back to take in the view through the wide French
doors. A familiar curve of ass caught her eye and Sinclair wolfwhistled in appreciation. Then she looked closer. No, that was
not Hunter. Sinclair quickly turned around on the bar stool,
hoping that the woman hadn't heard the high, piercing noise.
She waited a few minutes before turning to look at the woman
again.

The Hunter lookalike was very attractive. Tight brown
leather pants hugged her slim hips and a white tank top
showed off small, well-shaped breasts and a flat belly. She
saw Sinclair looking at her and winked. Hunter suddenly appeared from somewhere in the house and sat next to her at
the bar.

"That's my cousin, Ebony."

The woman looked exactly like Hunter only her hair was
long and wavy, trailing down to her hips in a silky cloud.

"You see anything you like over there?"

"She is very attractive." Sinclair had a moment of deja vu.
Would Hunter ask her cousin to join them tonight in her
bed?

"Well, that's too bad because you're taken."

She hid her sigh of relief. "I am? By whom?"

"Well, if it's not obvious then I guess I'm going to have to
show you."

Sinclair was suddenly afraid. She backed away as much as
she could on the bar stool. "No, it's OK, I believe you."

Hunter laughed and brushed her lips against the vulnerable spot just beneath Sinclair's ear. She shivered.

"See, it wasn't that bad, was it?"

Yes, it was. Apparently Hunter had already discovered one
of her more sensitive erogenous zones. Sinclair put the glass
to her mouth.

"What is this that I'm getting into with you?" she asked.

The other woman shrugged. "This is us having fun for as
long as you're here. Don't feel pressured because I brought
you here and you've met my family. This doesn't quite mean
the same thing here as it does in America."

"Fair enough." Sinclair leaned toward her dark lover and
lightly nipped her ear. "Does this mean we can come here
and use their hot tub whenever we want?"

"How did you find out about the tub?"

"Unlike some women, who shall go nameless"-She patted Hunter's thigh. -"the people around here are a mighty
informative bunch. They already outlined all the perks of
being your girlfriend. One of them being twenty-four-hour
access to the hot tub to do whatever I want with or without
said perceived girlfriend."

"Really? What are the other perks?"

"If I told you then I'd have to kill you," Sinclair deadpanned.

"Do little deaths count? If so, we can get started on that
right now. My old room is free and it has a nice fat lock on
it." Hunter wiggled her eyebrows.

"You are incorrigible."

"As my perceived girlfriend, it's a good thing for you to
know. It'll make everything go that much smoother." She
kissed Sinclair quickly on the mouth. "Now come on, let's go
dance. They're finally starting to play some good music."

A long time later Sinclair pled exhaustion and left Hunter
on the dance floor shaking her ass to the fast-paced calypso
music. She asked the woman behind the bar for some fresh
carrot juice, but she looked at Sinclair as if she didn't know
what the Americanized woman was talking about. With a
glass of water in hand, Sinclair left the bar in search of more
intelligent life.

"Where are you going, Sinclair?" Eunice called out to her
from her lawn chair. She sat ringside with some half-dozen
other members of the family who'd gotten tuckered out by
the heat, dancing, or the children. "Come sit. Have some
rum punch with us."

"No thank you for the drink, but I will sit with you."

They made room for her on a padded lawn chair next to
Eunice. Sinclair was beginning to sense some sort of conspiracy.

"Everybody here knows Sinclair, right?"

Several people nodded. Sinclair remembered meeting them
but couldn't be sure of all their names, all except for Ebony.
"For those who don't know, this is Hunter's new girl."

"I am not her new girl." Sinclair scowled at Eunice who
gave her a look that was all innocence. "We're just keeping
each other company while I'm on the island."

Ebony laughed. "You say that, but I bet if one of us tried
to push up on you Hunter would take us out."

"Damn right." A thin man with pale gold eyes grinned.
Sinclair remembered that his name was Cliff. He owned the
restaurant on the beach.

"So you're Hunter's girl," Ebony stated, laying back in her
chair. "Subject dismissed."

Eunice nodded. Sinclair was glad to fade into the background once again as they began talking about something
else. She quietly sipped her water and watched Hunter's family.

"Conchita sent some money from America the other day," Eunice was saying, "not much money, just two hundred-dollar
bills."

"Didn't she marry that American dentist last year?" Tima,
an Indian-looking cousin with her hair cut stylishly short,
asked. Her amber eyes glowed in the afternoon sun.

Eunice waved her hand for silence. "Yes, she can afford to
send much more than that, but that's not why I'm telling the
story."

People in the group laughed or sucked their teeth, whichever their inclination.

"She sent it to Bailey's house and you know Bailey sent
little Michael to the bank with money to cash."

"No, don't tell me," Cliff groaned.

"Yes, man. The thieving woman at the bank told the boy
that the American money was no good and sent the boy
home without any money."

"What?!" Winsome gasped. She was the quiet one who
looked like Billie Holliday at the peak of her career, complete
with a white flower in her pressed hair.

"My God, this is worse than those crooks at the post office
who open all the mail from foreigners, steal whatever money
that happens to be in there, then toss the letters in the rubbish bin not expecting to get caught."

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