by Antonia Paul
He dropped his hands, but didn't pull away.
"No?" His eyes searched her face. "No, stop? Or no, keep going; your body can't believe how good this is getting?" The paua-green gleamed only inches away from her face.
"I'm . . ."
"I'll take you home if you want, right now. But if you want to go only because you are afraid, you should stay."
She swallowed. It seemed like he had crested the last rise and was looking down into her innermost stronghold. She dropped her eyes. She couldn't say she feared him; she didn't. She feared . . . the unknown.
"I was thinking about the girl in the photograph," she said. Briar, right? I know you told me she was ok about it, but she doesn't look ok. Does that make sense?"
Cassie wasn't sure it made sense herself. She breathed deeply, calmed herself.
"Cassandra."
How silkily her name sounded when he spoke it.
"Your hesitancy is your challenge to me, is that it? Then I will overcome it. There is one chance to seize a moment. You must let yourself do so." He lifted both hands and took her face between them, stroking it gently, whispering her name and his care for her.
His voice lulled her; she knew he'd deliberately taken a soft approach. He wanted her full surrender, and she felt herself giving it. The gates were opening, she knew it. She couldn't stop them.
Her pussy clamoured for her to let him have it; the warmth of arousal had become a knee weakening desire and when he picked her up, she didn't struggle.
He laid her on the bed, kneeling next to her and bending low over her; his trace of beard played with her chin.
He undid her sandals, dropping them to the floor; he stroked her feet and her ankles, moving upward inexorably as her heartbeat seemed to magnify in her chest.
His hands left her legs at mid calf, below the lower edge of her dress, just as her thighs had started to tingle, and he brought his face close to hers again.
His scent filled her awareness. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him closer, kissing him passionately.
He pulled away, his hands curling around her unrestrained breasts, feeling through the fabric for the nipples that lurked there.
They hardened under his touch, the electricity arced in her and she tried involuntarily, to roll away.
"Too much!"
"Sensitive kitten," he said, and sucked her peaks through the dress. She relaxed a little, the shock of the sharp jolt fading.
He drew lines on her face with his fingers; traced the edge of her mouth and she tried to lick him. He was too quick and his fingers escaped, only to return and give themselves up to be nibbled.
She licked the ends of his fingers, keeping hold of his eyes with hers and enjoying her body's awakening arousal.
She felt his warm breath on her ear lobe; his tongue touched it, caressed it and, mouth open, she writhed.
A hand snaked to her dress hem; he dragged it up, exposing the sheen of the borrowed black boxers.
"Designer panties, I see."
"Marsden Bay," she replied, huskily.
His fingers found their way up the wide leg openings. He stroked her vee, feeling a stripe of fuzz and engorged folds. He ran a finger up and down the slit, barely touching it, until the juice leaked out to meet it. He pushed more firmly, diving between the hills and feeling the littler folds beneath.
He withdrew his hand and fingered its wetness.
"Someone's excited to see me," he said. I think I'll make another visit."
Back down he went; she felt his finger wriggling in.
She flexed her hips, arching slightly, trying to capture the teasing thing. He pushed in through the folds into her secret inner place and found her clit.
She gulped air.
He stroked her face with his chin, and invited her tongue to dance. It came out joyously, it's narrow tip playing catch and twist and tango around their nearly touching lips.
She reached up; her hand wanted hold of him and she cupped him through the denim. Her fingers grasped his hardness, stroked it, fumbled for the zipper and couldn't get it down. His finger between her folds disturbed her concentration. She moved her thighs wider to make more playing room, and tried again to release his cock.
"Wait, Cassandra," he said. Taking his hand from her nipple, he pulled hers from his crotch and laid it down. He massaged her labia again, rubbing her increasing wetness, and sliding it inside her, he stoked her G-spot a few times. The new layers of juice on his finger felt so good as he returned to her clit and stimulated it further.
She couldn't stop him now; she squeezed the nipple he wasn't playing with and moaned as the signs of impending orgasm grew in her groin. The vibrations spread out everywhere; she lost focus on his eyes and just breathed him in.
"Don't stop, Rangi, Don't stop. Make me cum!"
He did, with a final kiss and thumbing of her nipple, her pussy clenched him, squeezed him, and pulsed around his finger as she came.
It engulfed her entire being, like a storm cloud that bursts and drenches everything. Soaked by it, overwhelmed, she gradually surfaced as it subsided, and opened her eyes. The sensuous warmth faded and her smile grew.
"Wow."
"Pleased you stayed, after all?"
He was a beast, asking a question like that, but she couldn't retort because his lips had found hers and her tongue had other work.
He pulled away, and wriggled off the bed, running a hand lightly down her face as her did. He smiled. He held out his hands and she reached up to take them.
Warm relaxing sensations rippled through her. She wanted to pull him down again and feel him close; she wanted to drag some clothes off him.
But he slid his fingers across her hands and let them go. He bent, and retrieved her sandals, strapping them on.
She lifted her head. She didn't know what he was doing. When he beckoned, stepping back a pace, she sat up, and swung her legs to the floor.
He pulled her up. Surprised, she didn't resist, and looked up into his eyes.
"Mmmmm. What now, Rangatira the chief?"
"Home time," he said.
She frowned, wanting more nuzzling.
"What do you mean?"
He dropped her hands and turned for the door. "I've really enjoyed your company. Grab your bag."
Cassie's eyes focused on the wall, on that picture. After psyching herself up, knowing what he was likely to do, he hadn't produced a single rope. She was certain it wouldn't be her thing, but she'd been willing to try, at least. And didn't he want to be played with? No guy turned that down.
She stood, confused. But she came up to the door and went out as he held it for her, giving her backside a slap as she went past.
"Ow!" Now she was annoyed.
"What was that for?
"A little something for next time, Cassandra." Suddenly he held her face and kissed her, slowly and deeply. She tried to mold into him, to arouse him, to change his mind about pushing her out. And he semed to like her advance, growling softly as he cupped her ass.
He stood upright again, grinning.
"Hungry little beastie," he said.
Yes, she was and his voice turned her on. Surely his stick was throbbing for her? But he pulled the door closed behind her and headed off towards the path that led up to the road.
She slumped against the seat of his truck, as the poorly silenced pick-up bore away from his bed.
Her pussy wanted him in it; she couldn't believe she wasn't still lying under him, sans his shorts, or on top of him, where she'd imagined being, riding the cock he hadn't even shown her yet.
Her mouth formed itself into a pout, which he couldn't see in the dark, though he had his hand on her knee and was stroking it slowly. It was hard to hold a pout when he did that.
A graunch from the truck's gearbox grated in her ears as her changed down for the winding corners that led down to the waterfront. The smell of petrol or old oil filled the cab. The big catamaran she'd ridden on, to see the dolphins, had been
much smoother.
She'd ask him in; she'd pull him close and smooch him until he got hot, and tell him he needed to carry her to the door. If she didn't let go, he wouldn't drop her, surely? A hand around his package should convince him he should spend some more time in her company.
She wondered if she could do it.
But . . . her studio was the last place she had. He had already taken over her mind.
He stopped the truck outside her studio, and turned to her. Cassie was ready, putting a knee up on the bench seat as she turned to him, almost crawling onto him and finding his lips with her mouth.
He absorbed her advance, and kiss, but when he broke for air, his hands were between them. A finger crossed her mouth.
"Shhh. Goodnight, Cassandra."
"You can come in," she said, hopefully, but her voice faltered.
"I know."
"I challenge you." She should have thought of that one earlier. Cassie touched her fingertips to his face, triumphant.
Got him!
Lost and found
Rangi responded to her challenge immediately. She heard the grin in his voice, and his teeth gleamed in the near-dark.
"Accepted. But not tonight, girl."
She listened as the truck's engine note died away in the night, and he shoulders slumped. She felt used, yet it had been her who'd had the orgasm. She flopped on her bed, out of ideas. Maybe things would be clearer once she'd slept. If she could, her mind troubled as it was.
She did, of course, but it didn't help clear things.
As her room lightened, she decided to swim. The day had opened with a grey sky, and an early nip chilled her as she left the studio. She wasn't going to look for him, and it was hopefully too early to be surprised down by the boats. She didn't think she wanted to see him anyway.
A large motor yacht stood anchored off the beach. There and back was a good target. She started for it, but the yacht was further away than she'd estimated. Her workout took a while and she didn't stay in once reaching the beach again.
She glanced at the cats, still snuggled against the sea wall. He wasn't there. Disappointed, but pleased at not having to fight with herself about surrendering to him, she walked back to get some breakfast. Part of her desired him; part of her didn't.
Cassie wasn't going to think about it.
She stayed inside and finished Two hours after sunset, a most unsatisfactory romance, but downloaded another that promised to be much raunchier: Bound to please, a story about binding and submission. She started it. The girl had some feisty in her, Cassie was pleased to see.
Movement at the window caught her eye, and she laid aside the Kindle. She went to the door.
A piwakawaka was flitting around busily under the overhanging roof. It didn't settle so she could get a good look at it, but swooped into the garden and around the flax. She walked out to the edge of the terrace to watch. The fantail wouldn't take fright like the tui might have if it had sensed her. It came back, and flew close to her, perhaps in the hope she'd disturbed a little something that might provide a snack.
Cassie stayed on the terrace after it had disappeared in search of better pastures. She relived the moment. She loved the way a fantail would circle around you in the bush, almost close enough to touch. She had made several paintings and sketches of piwakawaka in the past. The cheeky Marsden Bay visitor was a good subject for another.
She moved herself to the table and sketched a composition.
Her thoughts turned to Rangi. He'd been keen to admit he'd come looking for her at the hotel while she was out on the water. She expected he'd call in after finishing work; if she didn't go down to see him on the beach. And she wasn't. He could come to her.
Cassie got the paints and continued her fantail as the afternoon wore on. She'd drawn a tree branch extending under the veranda roof, and had located the bird on it, head cocked, watching the viewer.
As dusk forced her to finish painting, due to lack of light, anticipation took the place of disinterest.
He'd be finished soon. She'd decided she'd tell him she was happy he saw her, but only if he stopped playing her. She didn't like being on the back foot continually, although being surprised and taken to dinner and dragged home like a trophy had been exciting.
But if there was going to be a physical relationship - and there was, obviously - she wanted more of a say about when and what.
The evening dragged. She'd tidied up until there was nothing else to do. Cassie walked to the road and stood in the darkness, staring toward the lights reflecting off the bay. It had got too damn late to go anywhere, and she felt pissed. He hadn't said he wasn't coming. He hadn't said he was, either, but he would have known she expected him to.
Another day, another bus, another girl off it to take skinny-dipping? She wasn't going to let it affect her.
She closed her door to the world, grabbed the Kindle and laid down. Bound to please had pricked her interest. She tapped the ads away and embraced Eartha's awakening in BDSM.
***
Stephen wasn't there when she arrived, late morning, at Marsden Bay Art's gallery. He was expected very soon. Cassie thanked Rachel, his assistant, and investigated some of the other things they had on show. She'd seen most of the paintings, but there was plenty of amusing local kitsch.
"Hello, Cassandra." A now-familiar voice in her ear brought an excuse to stop examining corrugated steel sheep, and she went with Stephen to the counter so she could give him a look at her work.
Stephen's pale green eyes twinkled at her."You're very talented," he said quietly. He held up the watercolour paper at arm's length to get another look at her tui, and moved so more light fell on it.
"I hope you'll let me frame it for you and put it up. Even if just to show. You don't have to mark it for sale if you'd prefer not."
Cassie felt a warm glow of satisfaction. "You can sell it," she said. "I can paint another. I love painting birds. They're so alive."
She hadn't brought the fantail. It wasn't finished, and she wasn't sure it was coming out right. But the little bird had inspired her to capture him, and if she had to begin again, she would.
Back at the studio, she opened her laptop. While on the all-day cruise, she'd heard a promotion for half a day of swimming with dolphins. No island visiting, just dolphins, and lots more time swimming. It sounded just what she needed.
Cassie phoned them. She couldn't get in until the following Thursday, in the afternoon. So she'd have to decide if she wanted to stay longer. She'd think about it.
She wondered if she'd find him on the wharf again. She shrugged. Unpredictability was the man's modus.
Vicky had emailed. Her flatmate was curious. How many men had she dated since going on holiday? The girl was a riot. Cassie decided to call her.
"Hey, how's Marsden Bay?" said Vicky.
Yes, the weather was wonderful. How many clear blue skies did one need? OK, there had been strong wind, and two of her four days had been too chilly for swimming, but Cassie wasn't going to mention the negatives.
She listened as Vicky mentioned work, and then hit her with it.
"So spill: who have you invited back to the apartment?"
"No-one!" Well, that wasn't exactly true. She'd crawled over his lap, but he hadn't come in.
"Actually," she told Vicky, "There hasn't been anyone in my apartment since I got here."
Cassie frowned. She knew it wasn't for want of trying.
"Girlfriend," said Vicky breezily, "you should get out more. I bet there are guys on the beach just waiting for you."
She burbled on for a while, telling Cassie she needed to move on from Pete, and let her hair down.
"Be adventurous," she said. "You never know what might happen."
Cassie wandered outside, carrying the phone, and let her friend's voice patter on. She did have to move on. She'd come to Marsden Bay to get over the past, and now she was worrying about someone else, who seemed to be simply amusing himself at her expense.
&
nbsp; A dull roar in the street drew her eye. Rangi's truck! The door squealed and banged shut. His smile grew larger as he came through the gateway and walked up the path through the garden.
He'd seen her. Cassie dragged a panicked hand through her hair.
"Um, I have to go, Vicky," she interrupted. "Someone's just come to see me. I'll tell you later."
Her legs felt weak. She sank down onto a chair at the table. She didn't have her sunglasses; she couldn't hide her eyes. She wondered what he'd say by way of apology for leaving her hanging.
Up the terrace steps he came in a bound, then under the magnolia, and over to the table. The width of it lay between them.
"Hi, Rangi, how come you're not working?" His presence awed her. His work tee draped over the top of his shorts, the bulge in them just visible above the table.
She dragged her eyes up to his face as he spoke.
I told Uncle I needed time to come see you, so he's minding the boats. He doesn't have much to do at the gallery, or at the restaurant, really. He's got plenty of staff, eh?
She didn't do roller-coaster stuff well. "And how come you didn't come to see me yesterday? I was here painting. I'm just up the road, after all."
She wanted her voice to sound neutral, but petulance had crept in. Too bad if he noticed.
"I wasn't down in Marsden Bay yesterday," he said.
Cassie looked down. He didn't know she hadn't looked for him. More than that, she'd left the beach early, avoiding any possibility they'd connect.
"I had a day off, and stayed home, Cassandra. I'm not going to chase after you every moment.
"I'd agreed to do some painting in the restaurant," he told her. "It turned into an all-day job, and by opening time, I was beat. So I just had some drinks with Uncle. He has a big TV in the bar.
He shrugged. "I figured you could use some space, anyway. You had your angry puss face on when I dropped you off here a couple nights ago."
Egotistical prick.
Rangi slid his glasses up. "I came to tell you I'll be away a couple of days. So you'd know and wouldn't worry if I wasn't around."
"Worry?" She swallowed. "Why would I do that?"