Deep Diving (22 page)

‘How do I do that?’ My mind is jumbled up with words and images and need. I can’t separate them to make sense of his plan. I can’t for the life of me think through each phase and transition. How do I swim and transition to cycle, cycle then transition to running? I can only think of the finish, and that’s not the way to get through a triathlon.

‘You’ll work it out, Sam.’ He flashes a quick grin as he skims his shorts off.

Oh, yeah, great way for me to work it out
. I’m already in a lust-daze, and seeing him naked and aroused is so going to help.

While I’m staring, he walks into the sea. The waves lick at his calves, then the backs of his knees, his thighs. And then his butt sinks into the water and he lies amongst the waves. He ducks his head back so he’s submerged and then sprays water through his lips like a fountain. My breath catches. He could be a god of the sea, except I’m pretty sure they’re not as buff as him.

Swimming around his glorious body is going to be fun. And I haven’t been banned from touching, or tasting, or any other pleasure-taking. This could end up being my favourite type of triathlon.

Ditching my swimmers, I wade into the water and make a shallow dive so I glide out and under him. I pop up on his far side, take a breath and then duck under. The water is so clear, I can open my eyes and make out his shape; not the specific details because it’s blurry but enough to enjoy myself. I brush the pad of my thumb along the veins of his arm, dipping into the bend of his elbow and up along his bicep swell. My hand moulds around his shoulder joint and I align my body beneath his, peeking my head up next to his to take another breath.

Breath taken and lungs filled with air, I scull with one hand until I’m slipping underneath his body, one hand trailing over his skin from shoulder, over shoulder blade, down to waist, the top of his butt and over the swell of his buttock, down his thigh, behind his knee, over the rounded calf before cupping his foot and lifting my head up for another breath.

This time after submerging, I swim under his legs to his buttocks and roll beneath him so I can blow a stream of bubbles along his spine from base to neck. I hope they tickle. I hope they dance along his flesh like spidery touches. I hope it’s worth the head spin I get when I pop up near his shoulder, gasping for another breath.

‘Try not to drown doing this, Sam.’ His dry comment makes me smile. The head of his cock, poking further out of the water than any other part of his body, has me grinning.

I lie beneath him, held up by the buoyant water, head next to his, knees loosely hooked on his thighs to keep my body against him. Turning my head, I nibble against his neck, beneath his ear, suck on his earlobe, bite along his ear and then back again. My tongue slips along his jaw before sliding down his neck to his collarbone. I’m enjoying myself way too much when Cooper’s arms start to wave underwater. I stand and steady him before I drown us both.

‘Sorry, got carried away. I promise I won’t drown you.’ Laughing, I move between his legs and hook them around my hips. I can’t drown him but the way I’m feeling, I hope I’ll notice if I am.

My hands close over the top of his tight thighs. My fingers massage the tense muscles, slipping ever upwards until I curl them around the base of his cock. I lean forward to taste the head and before my mouth touches his flesh, I see his arms waving in the water, sculling.

‘You could tell me before you sink, Coop.’

‘It’s okay. I didn’t want you to stop.’

I chuckle and slip one hand beneath his butt to keep him afloat before stroking his cock with my right hand.

‘I thought you were going to taste,’ he says in a kind of strangled voice, although maybe he’s just swallowed too much salt water.

I grin. ‘I got distracted.’ But I don’t taste. My fist dips up and down, water swirling with each movement. Waves wash rhythmically and I time my hand to the ocean. The water adds to the slickness and cools his heated flesh but the muscle beneath the skin is hard and unaffected by the cool ocean.

When my head doesn’t dip to his cock, Cooper relaxes, no longer waiting or expectant. He stretches his arms out wide and floats. His gaze flicks between my face and the bright blue sky. His hips rock in time with my hands and the waves. He seems to lose himself in the rocking motion.

Only then do I bend and close my mouth around the tip of his cock. He doesn’t move, only a flinch lets me know he feels the heated moist cavern of my mouth. Then I lick the flat of my tongue across the top of his cock. One strong lapping motion. A hiss escapes his lips.

I make him wait for more.

My fist still pumps and my mouth surrounds the head but my tongue is kept tucked away.

I wait an agonising 10 waves before I curl my tongue around his cock, flicking and tasting, sampling and sliding. I love this part. I love the feel of his cock against my tastebuds.

A larger-than-normal wave washes over us and I leap up spluttering. Water has washed into my mouth and nose, robbing me of breath and burning me with salty tang.

Instead of complaining, Cooper laughs. We’re standing waist deep, laughing, and I’m spluttering. Not the best path to arousal.

‘God, that wasn’t meant to happen.’ I heave the words between coughing.

‘You mean you’ve never been dumped by a rogue wave in the swim leg?’

I look at him with something like a quizzical frown, I hope. ‘I know you’re good, but there’s no way you planned that. No way in the world.’

He laughs and slings his arm across my shoulder. ‘I am good, you’re right, but not that good.’ He grins and plonks a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘I think the cycle leg is next.’

‘With a lousy transition,’ I mutter as I drag myself out of my splutter. In triathlons, transitions can make or break a race, and my change from swim to cycle here is terrible. Thank goodness it’s not a race. ‘How does the cycle go?’

‘I was imagining you in the wet sand, legs in the air, cycling.’

I stop and stare. Splutter completely gone. ‘You…what?’

He grins and winks before waving his hand towards the sand. ‘Beautiful secluded beach. Nice lazy way to cycle. Awesome view for me.’

I shake my head in a no-way-am-I-doing-that way.

‘What’s the problem, Sam? There’s nothing I haven’t seen. Aren’t you up for some aerial bike riding?’

He’s right. He has seen all I’ve got. So why am I balking at exposing myself? Why am I worried about this?

I’ve got no answers.

No answers at all.

No matter how hard I try to find an answer, nothing’s coming.

I shrug. ‘I was just trying to anticipate what awful transition you have in store for me next time.’ I grin and wander out of the water to the wet sand, hoping I can get high enough not to get a crotch full of sandy water from a big wave, but low enough not to have dry sand up my crack. It’s a delicate decision.

When I find a position I hope is perfect, I plonk myself down, slide my hands beside my hips, then lift my hips up onto my hands and I’m in a shoulder stand. ‘Is this the pose you’re after?’

Cooper stands to the side, a smirk on his lips but cock still hard. ‘Perfect.’

If his cock goes flaccid, this bike leg will be short.

I move my legs as if riding a bike, and try not to erupt into giggles. This is surely not romantic or arousing or even attractive.

‘How long do I have to do this for?’ I ask as my legs hurl around in circles. I’m not looking at him because I feel like a fool and I can’t bear to see him laughing at me.

A cool breeze whips across my heated cunt and little shudders tremble through me. I let out a tiny moan I hope he doesn’t hear. I dart my gaze to the side to look. The sight makes my head whip around so I can see better.

His hand is fisted tightly around a purple-headed cock, and he’s pumping hard. His face is contorted like he’s aroused and holding back. And when he catches my gaze, his eyes are dark pools I could drown in. Suddenly cycling isn’t so crazy.

I spread my thighs and pedal harder. The breeze teases, a wave scoots too far up the beach and brushes against my buttocks. I jump but keep pedalling. The water isn’t too bad.

Every so often a wave brushes against me, teasing gently and I’m almost waiting to feel them. To have the wetness slide against my butt crack. The coolness of the breeze and the air above the water washes over my heated core. The damp of the sand softens beneath my hips. I seep further into a state like euphoria, as if I am doing a race. Nothing will drag me out of the zone.

Until a deep guttural sound comes from Cooper.

‘No,’ I say. ‘No coming yet.’

‘Then run.’ The intensity of those two words has me roll over and scramble to my feet. I take two steps and feel the blood pounding but my head’s light. I shake my head to get the blood flowing upwards and run. The air pushes against me, cooling, tantalising, skimming. My feet beat against the wet sand, splashing as the larger waves hit the beach. There’s such freedom in running naked.

I hear Cooper behind me. Loud splashes as he races to catch me. But I’m light as a bird and flying down the beach. I step up the pace so I’m running as hard as I can.

But why am I running from him? Why make such an effort when I ultimately want him to catch me? Only my deeply competitive spirit keeps me racing. I do want him to catch me, but damn it, he can work hard first and earn me.

When I’m out of beach, I slow. I thought of running onto the dry sand but dry sand and sex doesn’t do it for me. So I stay where the sand’s wet, slowing so he can catch me and wrap me against his hard pounding muscles.

And that’s just what he does. He opens his arms and swoops down on me, wrapping me against his chest, my legs between his, and his lips claim mine. The kiss holds nothing back. Both of us are panting hard, so the kiss is deep but broken into pieces to allow breathing.

A bits-and-pieces kiss shouldn’t have the ability to sear your soul but this one burns mine. As our tongues duel and our lips meld, my innards churn — tensing, releasing, tumbling. I’m a mess of emotional madness. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.

Our bodies rub against each other. Hands touching, grabbing, holding, sliding. I can’t get enough of him and it seems it’s mutual.

I open my legs so his cock can probe, seeking my core. But that’s not enough. I lift a leg to wrap around his hip and draw him closer but instead he eases me onto the wet sand and follows me.

Cooper straddles me, holding himself up on his hands and knees, and the kiss deepens. No more breaks, gasps or pauses. This is a full-blown moment of kissing. The deep pashing of two bodies in sync.

My hands roam his chest, arms, shoulders and neck. I can’t keep still. Sensation floods me. His silken skin. Rough stubble. Solid muscle. Fine dusting of chest hair. Cording of veins. Swell of pecs. Tight beads of nipples. The decadent taste of his tongue. The pressure of his lips. The moist heat of his mouth. I writhe, lifting my hips to nudge at his cock. I rub and push my hips to his. I need him joined to me, filling me.

He pulls away as I’m wrapping my legs around his hips to attempt to pull him into me.

‘We can’t, Sam.’

I grip his shoulders and try to pull him back into the kiss, ignoring the words.

‘Sam, the fucking condoms are in the kayak.’

His words penetrate my haze and I stop fighting.

For a few long seconds we just stare at each other, like we’re both catching our breath, or sorting our mind.

He recovers first. ‘I’ll race you back there.’

I shake my head. If we race back it won’t be like this. I won’t feel like this.

I know I should get up and swim to cool off. I know I should do something sensible, instead I reach up and kiss him, slowly, lingering a lot.

‘Do you think we have a chance at long term?’ I ask, my lips brushing his as I speak.

‘I’ll do anything I can to fit you into my life. But I thought you only wanted a fling?’

I glance away from him, scrunch my eyes tight and bite my lips together. I didn’t realise he knew. I look back at him, right into his eyes. Time slows.

‘I’ve changed. Is that okay?’

‘You mean you want more than a holiday fling?’ His question is quietly spoken as if he’s holding his breath.

I nod slowly, not breaking eye contact. My breath is caught in the emotional cauldron inside me. I know I should breathe but everything seems to be waiting for his answer, even my lungs.

‘I can work with that.’ He gives his usual grin, which for once does nothing to my knees. Instead it puts a delirious grin to my face, and makes me hook my legs around his hips, my arms around his neck and the kiss I begin is, incredibly, more heated than before. I could combust.

It takes only a few moments for me to be writhing beneath him, eagerly seeking his cock. But then I realise I haven’t quite spelled it all out to him, and knowing him, he won’t take advantage of my passion to do what he thinks I may not want.

I pull my mouth from the kiss. ‘If we’re talking some kind of exclusive relationship, where we work out the details later, can we skip protection?’

I watch as his expression vanishes, his face jerks back slightly and his eyes widen. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘You won’t regret this in the aftermath?’

I shake my head. ‘No. Not now.’

He smirks, so I know he’s going to say something cheeky, but I probably deserve it.

‘Is it because I play for Australia?’

When I arch my brow at him and scrunch my forehead, he explains. ‘You know, I wasn’t good enough unless I’d worn the green and gold.’

I laugh because his smirking grin tells me he’s not serious. I know he doesn’t believe that. I know he’s lightening an intense moment and giving me time to change my mind in case I’ve made a hasty decision in a lust-fuelled state. It only makes me like him even more. And
like
is becoming too ridiculously weak a word for these feelings. It’s love. But I can’t admit that out loud.

‘Yep, I’m like that. Only the best will do for me.’ I press a gentle kiss against the edge of his lips. ‘And you Cooper, are the best.’ Our lips lock. Talking is over for now. From here on, it’s all passion, clean-skin sex, and sensation. I haven’t had skin sex since I was a gawky, fumbling teenager.