Sail (Wake #2) (16 page)

How many times can a girl get off in one night? I wasn’t sure, but I was thinking for me it was at least six. It was like the very first time all over again, along with every other time we’d been together, all rolled into one.

His body reminded mine of the feelings I’d pushed down when I’d had to and of thoughts I’d talked myself out of for so long. Sensations I only thought the lucky people had. Being with him, I
was
one of those lucky people.

I wasn’t sure what time it was; it was still dark. I was terribly thirsty—probably because of how much I’d drunk the night before—and I peeked up over his body to see if there was a bottle of water on his side of the table. There had been one earlier, when we were re-hydrating—as he called it. Boy, did I need it.

When we were outside on the hammock, I thought he was going to stick to his
just take our time
bit, which he’d insisted on the first few days. And having that element of our relationship sort of shelved, had felt a little weird—but also it had felt so good. Just to be
with
him in a time and place that wasn’t hurried or rushed was eye-opening. I wasn’t desperate, thinking it was the last time, like before. It was peaceful and I could finally breathe after months of wanting and denying myself.
Denying us.

It felt like a true vacation. Lazy and cozy. Warm and relaxing. Sex aside, in those few days, I’d been with him in more ways than I’d ever been with anyone.

I had to admit, I wasn’t totally on board with the whole slow down. Of course, we took care of each other in other ways, but after a few days of just kissing and touching, we gained clarity. Our conversations weren’t about the future or the past. They were about us. Things we’d done and places we’d love to revisit—together.

However, upon coming inside, after what I’d thought had been the end of our physical activities—not that I would complain—I was pleasantly surprised he wasn’t finished with me.

Not by a long shot.

I’d never realized how strong he was before that—the way he carried me into the room from the hammock. He had purpose and didn’t stop for anything. The delicate way he took his time. How he moved inside me. And, looking at him sleep, I was reminded of those things as I rolled over to grab the water.

Casey stirred a little, probably from my movement, and mumbled what sounded like, “What are they doing here?”

Who was they? Where was here? And who was he talking to?

I wanted to remember to ask him about it later, but I, too, was delirious. I finished off the room temperature water and accepted I’d probably just forget. I lay back down on my belly and inched my way into the crook of his arm, smelling his scent with huge intakes of air. I fell asleep dreaming of the things we’d done.

It was just as magical the second time.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

“Wake up.”

Two warm lips pressed against my cheek.

I could smell the coffee like it was being waved under my nose. Trying one timid eyelid before both, I found I wasn’t too far off. He was holding my new honeybee mug and I could see the steam rising from it.

On our first morning there, he’d somehow arranged for our coffee to come up with mugs he’d bought for us. Mine said
Honeybee is Trouble
and his said
Lou Loves Trouble.

I would always be his Betty, but I liked honeybee more. It was a name he’d given me and one I’d never shared with anyone else. Just him.

I stretched and felt the repercussions of a night like the one we’d had. I was tender and sore—not only in lady land—but in my sides and abdominals. Sex with him was a workout program I could get used to.

Casey must have seen my wince, because he said, “Are you all right?”

I scooted back on the bed so I could sit up and take the coffee he’d brought just for me. When I was ready, he handed the mug, handle out, for me to take.

“I’m fine. Thank you. I need this,” I told him as I leaned into the mug to sip off the first taste. “Mmmm. It’s so damn good.”

He sat down with his cup and rubbed up and down my leg as we caffeinated ourselves.

“Here’s my idea. We leave tomorrow, so we’ve only got a little over twenty-four hours left.” I pouted my lip at him and he pouted back saying, “I know. It sucks.”

“Totally sucks,” I added.

“Anyway, put that lip up. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to order room service and eat it in the hot tub.” He sympathetically nodded and said, “That should help your vagina.” When he said vagina with a straight face. I giggled and drank my coffee.

“What if there’s nothing wrong with my vagina?” I asked.

“Then I didn’t do my job,” he retorted with a point of his index finger down to the organ in question. “That thing got roughed up last night and we both know it.”

I laughed again, but bobbed for him to keep going.

“Then we’re going to go down to the beach and lay around, after that we’re going to take a shower—
together.
Then we’re going to watch Spanish television—I’ll translate what I can for you.” He was so damn cute.

“And then?”

“Then I’m going to hit that a few more times. Maybe another shower. Maybe not. I haven’t worked it all out yet.” He smiled that full-tilt Casey grin. “Then I’m going to hit it again.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you put me off for so long. It would have been a shame to come all this way and not see anything or have any fun.” I tried to hide my playfulness by looking into my coffee. “I would have never seen the outside of this room if I’d have had my way on our first night.”

“Well, I hope you saw everything you needed to,” he said, “because for the next day, you’re all mine. And I’m fucking you anywhere and everywhere I want.”

Who could argue with that?

Casey made good on his promise.

We ate breakfast in the monstrous Jacuzzi and then we fucked on the side of it. He was right about it making me feel better. Even though my vagina wasn’t in as rough a condition as he’d like to have thought, it was tender. By the time we got out of the whirlpool, it was better.

We had sex and laughed and laughed while we had sex, which I didn’t know was possible. But when you’re getting a lesson in dirty talking, midway through having sex on the floor of your hotel room, and your lover keeps saying, “You take that cock,” like a cheesy porn star? Sometimes the only thing you can do is laugh.

It was my favorite twenty-four hours in Costa Rica. It replenished me and was just the fuel I needed to make sure I got back to him as fast as I possibly could.

Not just for the great sex, but because he was such a good friend. My best friend.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

I FLEW TO COSTA Rica with my lover and left with my best friend, who happened to be the best damn lover I’d ever known.

“I think I’ll get a hotel room for the night when we get to San Francisco,” she said. Her voice didn’t sound as if she’d had a preference one way or the other about it. And I wasn’t sure either.

Before responding, I mulled it over. What was the right thing to say? We’d had a fantastic vacation, but here we were flying back to reality—whatever that was—and we weren’t sure how to go about it. I hadn’t said anything for longer than was cool and it was my fault she had an overnight layover. I’d booked the damn flights.

It really sucked to think about, but maybe it wasn’t the worst thing if she stayed in a hotel. Then, I thought maybe I should stay there with her.

Neutral territory.

Somewhere she hadn’t left me.

Somewhere I didn’t dream nearly every night about having sex with her, while everyone we knew watched. Including her soon-to-be ex-husband.

But I didn’t want her to be alone, either. I’d miss her and that was the truth. Having her back in my bed—in my house—then having to sleep there without her, wasn’t an option and I knew it would hurt her to hear it.

She sat by the window on our flight back to the States and I watched as she looked at the clouds and the water below us. I searched her expression for nerves. For apprehension. I looked for her many tells.

She wasn’t chewing on her lip.

She was quiet, but appeared comfortable with the silence.

Her brow was relaxed and her breaths were long and easy.

The sun had kissed her skin everywhere—thanks to our tiny private beach—and the color made her look refreshed and well. Her cheeks were a little pink, as was her nose, which really fucked me up. Being in the sun so much over the past few days, I couldn’t tell whether she was turned on or just getting a burn.

I leaned closer to her so I could look out the window, too. Her hair still held that clean smell of the ocean and since she hadn’t blow-dried it in days, it was wavy and natural. Just like the rest of her.

My eyes went to her lap looking at her hand, and when she noticed, she took mine and laced our fingers together. I gazed down at them. I couldn’t believe that, until then, I hadn’t noticed. Her fingers looked like normal fingers, pretty little unpainted fingernails on every one of her short digits.

“Did you get a hand transplant I didn’t know about?” I said, teasing her as I rubbed my free hand over her fingers. Testing to see if what I saw and what I felt were actually the same thing. But it was true. I’d never seen her nails look anything but mauled, sore, and torn to shit. There were no bites taken from the skin around them and the nails had grown out a little with pretty white tips.

“No, why?” She laughed at me and then we studied them together.

“Because, Blake, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen them where they don’t look painful.” I brought each one to my mouth and kissed them. “They still smell the same, no pungent smell to repel a hungry mouth.” I playfully bit at one and talked, with it between my teeth. “They still taste the same.”

“Hey, give me those. No biting,” she scolded, an easy smile on her tanned face.

“So what gives? Were you hypnotized? Have you been listening to those better yourself while you sleep tapes? Wait…” I pulled away from her. “Did you see a witch doctor?”

“Fuck you and no. I just stopped biting them. I don’t know why.” She splayed her other hand out in front so she could show me all ten. “I just stopped.”

“How do you just stop something like that?”

“I guess I’m not that nervous anymore. I think that’s why I was doing it. When I’m stressed or freaking out, I bite them. I just haven’t felt the need, I guess.”

Her eyes were chocolate brown and she looked content.

“Can I have a kiss?” she requested. She could have whatever she wanted. She looked so loveable and pretty leaning toward me. Eyes closed. Lips puckered.

My mouth went of its own accord; I was just along for the ride. Her lips were salty from the pretzels we’d shared earlier and, as I tasted them, she parted her lips for more. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and fooled around with mine. Soft and friendly. Everything in the moment felt right.

We were thirty-five thousand feet above the Earth and at home all at once.

My hand found her cheek. She moaned when I snuck my hand under the hair around the back of her neck to pull her closer. We were seconds from being a little too friendly for company. But as luck had it, we were in the back seat of first class and a barrier separated us from the rest of the passengers.