Deep Diving (6 page)

Another brush and I turn. It’s not seaweed but the brush of fingertips. Fingers belonging to the dimple-faced man I had momentarily forgotten. I tread water and remove my snorkel before speaking. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, yourself. How did your jog go?’

My jog? The one I call a run?
I smile instead of grimacing. ‘Fine, thanks. Your run?’

‘Good. Hard. Just what I needed. Much to see here?’

I shrug. ‘Nothing like Neds but there are lots of little fish.’

‘Mind if I join you?’

I enjoy being asked even if there’s zero chance of my rejection. ‘Not at all.’

‘Thanks for washing my gear, Sam. I owe you.’

We snorkel for another 40 minutes and even with him beside me, it’s relaxing. He taps my arm and points to his watch. Time to dive. We make our way back to the beach.

Walking out of the water, he shakes himself and my eyes are drawn. How can they not be? He’s magnificent. The nerves in my body, soothed in the salt water, are again frayed. They shoot sparks through synapses at random moments making my whole body tense, jumpy and ready to scream in frustration. I need to be back in the calming sea. Or,
fuck
, plastered across those muscles.

Wordlessly I grab my towel and blot it against my face, hoping to hide the lustful gaze, the blush of need. When I’ve regained a semblance of control, I knot the towel around myself and we make our way to the dive shop.

I like our unspoken communication. We grab dive gear, attach buoyancy control devices to air cylinders, regulators are fitted and tested. We suit up, grab fins and head to the boat. Stowing gear, we work like a long-standing team. Then side-by-side against the railing we listen to the dive brief.

It’s our second dive together but it might as well have been our hundredth. I know how it’s going to go, what we both want to see, and it’s an unusual heady feeling.

The boat starts and we make our way to the site.

I think I know what we’re wanting, but it pays to check. ‘So, our plan for the dive is?’

He turns towards me and his tongue does a quick sweep across his lips. My eyes follow greedily before I consciously pull my gaze away and settle on the horizon.

‘Don’t drown.’

I quickly snap my head back to stare at him, mouth open. He grins and his fingers press against my lower jaw.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.’ He’s not sorry at all. ‘I’m happy to drop down, see what’s there and poke around. How about you?’

‘That suits me fine.’

‘Have you dived this site before?’ I nod and he asks, ‘Do you want to head away from the drop zone and explore new territory?’

‘It’s new every time I dive. I reckon we see where everyone else goes and find somewhere quiet.’ And I hope that doesn’t sound as suggestive as it does to my ears. I hope there’s no blush creeping up my face.

There must be. That little crooked smile appears, the one that presses a pseudo-dimple into the right side of his mouth, before he says, ‘Sounds perfect to me.’

I’m in so much trouble. There’s no way I should have made him wait. It’s killing me. Somehow I need to get this under control.

The water is perfect. The dive, incredible. My buddy, the best I’ve dived with. He’s cautious but fun. He enjoys touching, not just sea life but me too. My arm, my hand, a brush against my leg. I always know where he is and while it’s a libido-nuisance, I’m reassured. He smiles, talks underwater, and uses hand signals so I know he’s enjoying the dive. And it’s sometimes in stereo, each of us making the same noise as we see something spectacular — lion fish, a school of kingfish, an eel, reef sharks, a school of angelfish.

The underwater world cools my heated thoughts. The wetsuit protects me from shivers and quivers, prickles and goosebumps. When he touches me, I turn to see what he’s found, not to see if he’s ready to fuck.

An hour later, we’re packed up and gear’s washed down. ‘Lunch?’ he asks with his head cocked to the side, as if he expects me to reject the offer.

‘Lunch would be great.’ We smile as if we’re talking about more than food. Everything has sexual connotations now. The air between us sizzles with sexual tension.

‘I’ll go grab it. Be back soon.’ Cooper darts off before I can respond. I sit on the beach and wait for him. The lazy lapping of the ocean and the warmth of the sun calms me to an almost doze.

Moments later, the smell of freshly grilled fish and lemon assaults me. A box of food drifts in front of my face and settles before me. Cooper’s bulky shoulder is above mine and near my face as he leans over. I turn and nip at the tense muscle, perfectly positioned at lip height.

After a low rumble response, I ask, ‘Did you pre-order?’

Grinning, he lays out the food. ‘Yeah. I didn’t want to be starving like yesterday.’

I can’t help but chuckle. He has enough here to hold back any hunger — for food, at least.

Once the mountain of food is spread out and he’s given me a bowl, he sits next to me. His arm brushes mine as he reaches for lunch. I want my wetsuit back on. How much longer will I be able to hold out? He’s not exactly playing fair…but I should have expected that.

‘Smells great, doesn’t it?’ Before I can answer, he’s broken off a chunk of fish and slipped it between his lips. I almost groan watching the white fish against his pink lips, the lemon juice shining across the rise of his lower lip before slipping to the corner of his mouth. He swallows, licks his fingers and his tongue flicks against his lips wiping them clean.

‘Eat,’ he commands, and I drag my gaze from his mouth to the food. ‘You’ll need your energy.’ His eyes sparkle, and paired with his wicked grin, my chest tightens as I imagine all manner of mischief I’ll need energy for. My heart speeds and my brain stalls before he nudges me and points at the food.

Grilled fish and salad is perfect. I break up fillets and mix it in my bowl with salad while Cooper watches. ‘Good idea.’ Together we break up the rest, mixing it through the salad. Our white plastic forks rhythmically dip in and out of the bowls. I have my fill and sit back while he continues. I keep my eyes on anything but him. The water is a distraction. The little island further out. The occasional white cloud drifting by. They aren’t great deterrents to watching him eat. For once, I wish seagulls were annoying me, but there are none. I could devour him now. Damn my competitive spirit.

When he finishes eating, he gives a full blast of the crooked, dimple-producing smile. Everything inside me twists and flips. A dramatic twist and roll. Fully blown lust spears.

If only I’d followed through last night, we’d be sated…and he’d be bored. I have to believe in my decision no matter how it hurts.

‘Did you make plans for this arvo?’ he asks as he returns from throwing away the rubbish.

‘No.’

‘Can you handle another hill walk?’

‘Sure. Although I won’t be able to match your pace.’ I hate admitting that.

He laughs. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to. I don’t need another run. I found a great view this morning. I want to take some photos this afternoon while the sun is behind me.’

‘You take photos?’ This surprises me. It’s a very non-physical pastime for such an active man.

‘I’m not a total meathead, you know.’ He grins but there’s a touch of defensiveness behind the words. He’s no fool. His diving showed me that and I wonder why he doesn’t do underwater photography too.

We split up to grab our gear before meeting up to walk to the northern end of the island and climb Mount Eliza. On the flat walk to the north, we jog most of the way. It’s quiet with no one else around. I work hard not to slow him down. Sometimes he’s next to me. When he gets ahead of me, I stretch the jog to a run to keep up. It’s not easy competing with him but it’s a lot of fun. He’s pushing me but he won’t break me. I’ve spent years developing my stamina and mental strength. Besides, the climb is not as steep as this morning’s.

As we come to a small level section before what looks like the last part of the hill, Cooper pulls off the track. ‘The rest of the track’s closed to protect the breeding red-tailed tropicbirds and sooty terns.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘There’s a sign just up ahead. Go, check it out, I’ll grab some photos.’

He’s not going to make up something like that but I jog further up the track and see the sign for myself before coming back. It’s a shame we can’t go on. The view of the lagoon and the southern end of the island must be even more brilliant at the top than it is here. ‘No wonder you wanted these photos. The weather is perfect. Look at the colours in the lagoon.’ The reefs, deep holes and shallow sandy spots are depicted in all shades of blue and green. Turquoise, aqua, bright emerald. With the azure sky and the green-grey mountains as a backdrop, it’s glorious.

Cooper takes a few shots. ‘It was nice this morning but the afternoon sun brings out the colours and makes it spectacular.’

‘Give me your camera and I’ll take one of you with the view.’ It’s the only thing that will make the view any better. I take his photo. A thought strikes me. ‘Did you run right across the island this morning?’

He looks a bit sheepish. ‘Not right across. I just did this end.’

I’m speechless. He’s on holidays and doing that much work? I wonder what he’s like when he’s really focussed on football.

He must know I’m questioning his sanity as he tries justifying himself before admitting the truth. ‘Okay, so I had trouble sleeping.’ There’s no response to that except my laughter.

Cooper swats me. ‘How about a picture of you, Sammy?’

I hand him back his camera. ‘Will I get to see them?’

He grins. ‘Sure. I’ll email them to you. Just give me your addy.’

He snaps a photo of me and then comes beside me, slides one arm around my waist, the other outstretched holding the camera. He’s taking a photo of us both?

Laughing, I turn to face him and our lips touch then lock tight. The kiss sucks the breath from me. I wrap my body against his, drawing closer. He holds my head and hours of sexual frustration pour into the kiss. Mouths open as we feast on each other. Tongues touch tentatively before slipping, sliding over each other and tangling around.

He cradles my head while his fingers stroke and massage my scalp. My hands roam his back, his sides, his butt. Muscles move tantalisingly beneath my fingertips. He grinds his hips against mine as the kiss heats further.

Silently cursing my stupidity at pulling away from him last night, I’m ready to fuck him now. Wet and willing. Before I can reach between us to pull his cock free, a cool draught flutters over me and warm palms capture my buttocks. My naked buttocks. Cooper’s slid my shorts and bikini bottoms down to my knees.

‘
You
might want me to wait but I need to make you come.’

Shit
. His words almost have me doing that even before he’s touched me. Pressing my back against the rocks behind us, he drops to his knees.

‘Oh, Sam. You’re bare.’ From the rawness of his voice I know he’s pleased. Before I can respond, he pushes his head between my thighs.

I grab fistfuls of his thick brown hair. ‘Fuck. Cooper.’

I can’t quite hear what he says before his tongue obliterates my sanity but it sounds like, ‘That’s it exactly.’

I’m half-clothed, exposed, outdoors, in public, and I couldn’t give a damn. Excitement thrums. Cooper’s hot breath is on me. His tongue licks against my thighs, my labia and into my soaking slit. Arching in complete ecstasy, I rock my hips against his face. I’ve been on the point of burning, aching arousal, one-touch-before orgasm since seeing him and now I’m going to burn into oblivion.

His tongue slides towards my clit. Every cell tenses. As soon as he touches it, I’ll be gone. Fireworks in space. And he’s close. So close. The wet heat is right there, just beside where I need it, and not getting any closer.

‘Cooper.’ My cry is one of torment, agony, desperation. He laughs and heated air is expelled across my clit.

Oh, oh, oh
.

No
. It’s not enough. I’m going to die. My back rasps against the jagged edges of the rocks. My eyes scrunch tight, my face screws up holding in my anguish.

And then his tongue flicks. Once. Softly.

My body vibrates with need.
Please. Oh please. Oh please
. Then a harder slick rolls across my clit, deep and strong.

‘Yes.’ My cry is loud enough to be heard all over the island and I don’t care. He laps across my clit faster and faster as he elicits the first orgasm from me and keeps me soaring.

His tongue plunges into my cunt and I imagine his mouth covered in my come. And I want to taste him. I want to taste me on him. He tongue-fucks me until every part of me collapses. I slide down the rock wall as Cooper catches me. I can focus on only one thing — kissing Cooper and tasting. I cling to him and devour his lips, while his fingers slide inside me.

Heady flavours fill me. The rich earthy taste of sex. Part musk, part salt, part Cooper. His lips are as hungry as mine. It’s a kiss like last night’s; demanding and asking, pushing and retreating, dominating and questioning. Neither of us giving control, but neither of us taking it from the other, making it an erotic compromise.

His fingers move inside me. Pushing, stretching, keeping me balanced on the orgasm precipice again.

While I’m caught in Cooper’s spell, nothing infiltrates. Not the silence, not the scents, nor the people coming up the track and trying to get past.

Cooper pulls back, breaking the kiss. He holds me upright with hands digging into my hips. I pant against his chest and try to focus on reality. The reality of a broken kiss, an empty cunt, an orgasm lost and a world that is no longer silent. Cooper moves in front, smothering me.

‘Sorry, mate.’ The stranger’s voice hits like a freak wave. I freeze. Cooper holds me close, protecting me while three older men pass. I try to wriggle free when they’ve gone but Cooper keeps hold, hissing at me to be still.

Within moments, the men return, passing us again. ‘Closed for mating season,’ one of them mutters as they head back down the track.

The guy’s words and our predicament are too funny. I try to hold in my chuckles but they burst from me as inelegant snorts, made worse as I try to keep quiet. ‘We should’ve been on the other side of the sign.’ My eyes water and my nose runs as I propel gusts of giggles.