Epic

by Lark O'Neal

  The air is absolutely freezing, making my eyes sting and my teeth chatter in two seconds. “Oh, my God!” I exclaim. Even through my coat and jeans and hat, the air is like knives, cutting through everything to find my bones.

  “Fresh!” Kaleb says with a laugh, and the whole group of us bolt for the ferry, taking refuge in the enclosed cabin.

  My eyelashes and nostril hairs feel utterly frozen. “I’ve never felt anything that cold in my life!”

  “Wind blows here right from Antarctica,” the same old grizzled man says. His accent is thick, and I have to listen to everything in my mind twice before I catch every word. The next sentence is totally lost, and I blink at Kaleb.

  “Translation?”

  “Never last an hour out there in those clothes,” Kaleb says. “Basically.”

  We settle by the windows, and I decide this is one of the most gorgeous places we’ve been yet—steep mountains topped with snow and the dark blue water of the sound. The boat’s engines start rumbling, and then we’re pulling out with the skeleton crew.

  Ian comes in, looking tired. He was with the Wanaka group, and we’ve all been working every day for ten days in a row now, plus he didn’t get back ‘til’ midnight. “Listen up, boys and girls. We’ve made some changes to the script to streamline the schedule, so let’s just get it done and get back safely to our cabins to sleep, yeah?”

  A murmur of agreement. The script is passed around, and I bend my head to read. Nothing that different, just a condensation.

  “Jess and Kaleb, I’m going to just run film on you for now, so just do what you’re doing. We’ve had the best shots of the trip when we did that, and I’m going with it again. You’re tourists, in love—” He raises an eyebrow, and a couple of the crew snicker, punctuating the statement. “—which shouldn’t prove too hard. Or should I say challenging?”

  Kaleb waves a hand and pulls me close, exaggeratedly. It makes everyone laugh. “We’re good, boss. Roll away.”

  “Sorry to say you’ve got to go out without coats. Do it in short bursts if need be, but we want it to look good.”

  I widen my eyes his way.

  “We’ll live,” Kaleb says.

  So the filming starts, and it’s easy to do the things Ian needs, in part because we’ve been working together every day, and partly because there’s a dizzying buzz between Kaleb and me humming through everything, building as the day goes on. His fingers linger on my neck as we turn away from a shot, and I find myself thinking about his naked chest. When we lean close together over the rail, wind as cold as icicles stabbing through us, he murmurs, “I can’t wait to take you back to that cabin and take off every single thing you’re wearing.”

  I lean into him. “I’m going to lick that whole tattoo, every centimeter.”

  He rubs his shoulder on mine. “Good to hear you speaking metric.”

  “Want more, baby?” I say seductively.

  “Oh, yeah, give it to me.” He leans in, nostrils flaring, lips poised over mine.

  “Great, great, guys,” says Damon. “Just a little more. Keep it up.”

  “Meters,” I whisper over Kaleb’s lips. “Litres, kilometers, kilos.”

  He laughs over my mouth, kisses me. “More.”

  There’s such a light in his eyes that I feel myself transported, and laugh along with him. “That’s all I know.”

  My eyes are watering with the cold, and when the cameraman says “Cut!” we both dash back into the cabin. A smiling girl gives us hot chocolate.

  That’s how it goes for a couple of hours. No one can stand to be outside for more than five minutes, so we shoot, come in and warm up, go back out. By mid-afternoon heavy clouds are moving in again, riding so low on the water that the mountains are gobbled up.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say to Kaleb, looking out through the big windows of the ferry. It’s chugging us back to the cabins. “Like there’s something hiding behind all those forbidding walls.”

  He stands behind me, hands around my waist. I lean into him, pressing my hands over the backs of his, and the world shifts in a strange way, as if I’m aligning my energies, as if this, right now, this minute, is what’s going to shape my future.

  “What do you think it is? What’s hiding?” I can feel his voice through my shoulder blades, deep and resonant.

  “There’s an entrance to a lost land there. A green forest full of magical creatures.”

  “Like hobbits and elves, maybe?” The words are lively with amusement.

  “No. I never loved the Lord of the Rings. Give me a fairy tale every time.”

  “Which ones? Like Cinderella?”

  I snort. “Cinderella was a whiner.”

  He laughs. “She didn’t have many options, did she? Evil stepmother, dad missing, stepsisters out to get her.”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Which one, then?” His thumb traces a circle on my belly, just under the edge of my shirt.

  Swinging sideways, I look up at him and draw the fall of my loose hair around my shoulders. “Rapunzel. Duh.”

  “Kaleb, Jess. We’re here,” Ian says. “Get settled, and we’ll have dinner together later.”

  His assistant, following behind with her clipboard, hands us a key. “You’re in four.”

  Everyone hears, but I guess it isn’t really a secret. I look up at Kaleb and our eyes lock. His turn a bright amber shade. The scarred eyebrow quirks very, very slightly, and it’s enough to make me feel faint.

  “Let’s go.” He takes my hand and leads the way.

  * * *

  The cabin is very simple but I don’t see anything but Kaleb. The second we’re in the door, he peels his shirt off over his head and reaches for mine.

  I step back. “I’ll do it.”

  “Let me.” His voice is rough.

  The sweater comes off over my head and his hands slide down the front of my torso on the way back, over top of the t-shirt I have on beneath. That goes, too, and I’m in my bra. He takes one step closer and runs his index fingers along the line of the straps and cups, setting my skin on fire.

  And there in front of me is the whole expanse of his buttery brown chest, smooth and hairless, with very dark nipples and the wings of collarbones so damned sexy that I flutter my fingers over them lightly, then move to his shoulders and lean but rounded biceps.

  He kisses a line from my neck to my upper arm, his fingers skimming my bra strap down, down, down, his eyes watching his hands. The expression on his face, so focused, so carefully intent, gives me a strange, exhilarated feeling. A tiny bit at a time, my breasts are revealed, and then they’re on display and he kisses the upper slope, my collar bone. His hands trace patterns on my back, my sides, my ribs, and I yank my arms free so that I can touch him, our mouths seeking each other’s, opening wide.

  Abruptly, he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms braced on his shoulders so he can carry me to the bed. We fall together, entwined, and kiss and kiss and kiss, hands running over chests and backs. I’m the first one to reach for the button on his jeans, and he slides sideways to let me do it, running his fingers through my loose hair as I yank on the jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time.

  I’ve seen him naked before, but all stretched out, fully revealed on the bed like this, he takes my breath away. His limbs are long and lean and strong, his member leaping out of a nest of black hair looking so aggressive and powerful I do the only thing that makes sense—I bend and take him into my mouth, tasting salt and slight sweat and the silky skin of his cock. He lets go of a low groan of pure pleasure, and I smile up at him, teasing with my tongue and lips, light and playing, but he hauls me up to him.

  “Not this time,” he says, throwing a leg over me as he rolls me onto my back. He kisses me and works the zipper on my jeans, but doesn’t take them off, only slides a hand inside, down and down, below my panties, and it’s my turn to make a soft mewling sound as he strokes all the right places even as he keeps kissing me, gently,
not so gently.

  “Off,” I gasp. “Pants off.”

  He raises his head, the black curls falling around his eyes. “Sure?”

  I laugh, rolling upward to grab his hair. “Yeah, I’m very sure.”

  With a quick gesture he hops up and tugs the jeans off, and this time he’s standing over me, looking at my naked body. I’m staring back at him, at the carved masculinity of his belly and thighs, the pole of his cock, the gold of his eyes beneath their long lashes. I lift an arm to draw him closer, and he lowers himself very gently to press his whole body into mine. Our legs and pelvises and chests press together, and he leans on his elbows to look at me.

  “This,” he whispers, his breath touching my lips before he sups at my lips.

  “This,” he says, brushing his hands through my hair.

  “This,” he says, and rises up to kiss my breasts, and “This,” he says, bending lower to kiss my belly.

  “And this,” as his hands and mouth touch my pussy, his tongue diving hot between the folds. He shifts to his knees, runs his hands over my thighs, up my ribs.

  “This,” he says, and takes my hand to touch his penis, then his belly.

  “This,” he says, and moves my hand to his heart as he splays his palm and fingers over the center of my chest. “This.”

  Every cell in my body is roaring, awash in wonder and love and intense hunger. Desire burns in the back of my throat and the bend of my elbows and the tip of my nose. “Kaleb,” I say. “Come to me.”

  He lies down over me and nestles between my legs, but not in me, his arms cradling me, his hands on my face. “Soon,” he whispers. “Soon.” We kiss again, deeply, our bodies locked close, and I can feel the heat building.

  “Please, Kaleb, I want you inside me.” I kiss him, arching upward. “Please.”

  Instead of complying, he turns his attention to my breasts, barely touching any other part of my body. His hands caress the rounded flesh and the stiff tips, and then his lips and tongue follow, lapping, then grazing me with his teeth. Against my thigh, I can feel his cock, and I reach for it. He sucks in a gasp and sucks the tip of my breast into his hot mouth as his fingers slide into me and I cry his name. “Kaleb!”

  Finally the condom is out and rolling down the thick shaft of his cock, and then he’s poised between my legs, both of us breathing hard, and finally, finally, he’s filling me up, hard and hot and so much of him. I fling my head back, clutching his back as he fills me and fills me and fills me, halting when he’s fully sheathed.

  His breath is coming hard, and he says, “Jess,” before he kisses me. We lock together hard and deep, and then we’re moving in the ancient rhythm. It starts easy, but we’re slamming into each other by the end, and he hauls me up into his lap, impaling me in a way I’ve never experienced, and grips me, tilting me slightly backward so that he can put his mouth on my breasts, his fierce grip holding me in place. I’m lost in the pleasure of it, and then he’s moving us both somehow, as the wave starts to build, glimmering in my thighs and low in my belly.

  He pauses for one second to move his thumb to my clit and then I’m tumbling over into something that takes over my entire body, rippling out from deep inside and radiating outward until I’m alive with it, scalp to toes and everything in between pulsing and shivering.

  Then he pulls me tighter into him. I start to move against him. His hands are on my back, and he’s panting, his body so powerful and exhilarating, and I can feel him coming, too, his hands grabbing my ass, hauling me closer, kneading me so hard it almost hurts. He’s kissing me, his hands in my hair, then around my back, and he tumbles me backward, still moving inside me, and I’m coming again, his tongue in my mouth, his dick coaxing more pleasure out of me, and then at last we collapse together in a sweaty, trembling, panting heap.

  “Oh, my God,” I whisper, my arms around him. I’m shaking all over. “Holy shit.”

  “This” he says, and rises up to kiss me again. “This.”

  “This,” I say over his mouth, and kiss him back.

  I look into his eyes. “You.”

  Chapter TWENTY

  We lie together, limbs tangled, covers over us. Weather is slamming the little cabin, howling wind and the battering of sleet or maybe ice. It’s cold in the room, but not under the covers. “I’m wishing we had a big picnic supper,” I say. “And hot chocolate.”

  “Mmm.” His hand is splayed over my tummy, covering it almost side to side. “A burger and egg.”

  “Oh, I know—bacon.” My brain tosses out a picture, and my stomach growls in reaction.

  Kaleb laughs. “Let’s go find the lodge, hungry girl. Can’t have you starving to death.”

  “No, I’m okay for now.” I curl up closer to him, not wanting the time to be over with yet. Under my palms his skin is as silky smooth as it looks, and I slide my hand up his chest, then back down.

  He takes my hand and presses his own against it, palm to palm. “This,” he says.

  My heart flips, tight and swirling as I look up into his face. “I think you might have been practicing for a while.”

  His grin is slow and knowing. “Practicing what?”

  “Sex.”

  “That sounds like a satisfied woman speaking.”

  “Maybe.” I curl my fingers into his. “Have you had a lot of lovers?”

  “Why do girls always ask that question?” He doesn’t seem mad, just perplexed. “I don’t want to know, so don’t tell me.”

  I shrug, slightly embarrassed. “It’s…well, it’s you. Part of you. I want to know you.”

  For a moment his coppery eyes are still on my face, peering past my defenses, into the heart of me. “I never thought of it like that.”

  “So?”

  “Lovers is the wrong word,” he says, and runs his finger over my fingernails, one at a time. “I’ve had sex with a lot of girls, I guess. Don’t know how many. Right after the first earthquake, we were fuckin’ like rabbits, everybody doing everybody else, like frantic, you know?”

  I nod. “Lovers, then. Important ones.”

  “Four, I guess.” He sucks his lower lip into his mouth. “When I was fourteen, an older girl showed me how, and it was pretty great.” He grins, so knowing, and my skin ripples again. “Then there was my girlfriend before the earthquakes, Mona.” He breaks eye contact and traces a ring around my finger, like a wedding ring. I wonder if he realizes it. “We were pretty tight, but it was over when we moved to the winery. Just couldn’t keep it going.”

  I can tell he loved her, and it gives me a strange, hollow feeling. “Who else?”

  “A girl in Blenheim when I first got there. Jamie. She was way in love, and I had to break up, easy as I could.” His mouth goes sideways. “Not an easy one.”

  I rise up on my elbow, bringing our faces closer together. “And?”

  “And you.”

  I put my hands on his face and kiss him. My breasts graze his shoulder, and his hand curls around my ass. “And me.”

  “You’re not like anyone else, Jess. I feel—” He halts.

  “Feel?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  My breath is half hushed. “Tell me.”

  His hand rises to my face, trails over my lips. “It’s rare and wild, this.”

  “It is,” I whisper, and bend in to kiss him again. I taste the sea and laughter and possibility. “You are so beautiful, Kaleb. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  And then we’re making out again, but my stomach growls, very very loud. He lifts his head. “Food first.”

  “Okay,” I agree. “Food.”

  * * *

  We eat with the others—feast, really—on roast beef and potatoes and roasted kumara, with big mugs of tea and cocoa. A blizzard is howling around us, but it doesn’t matter. We’re safe and warm and have each other. I ask for a care package to take to our room, and the cook sets us up with packets of hot chocolate, tea, a tin of milk, and a basket of bread, cheese, crackers, and fruit. “That’ll h
old you,” she says, winking at me.

  I blush, but I’m glad.

  We hurry back to the cabin and set ourselves up. There’s a kettle and a fireplace, so we build a fire, and find some cards and board games. Spreading a blanket on the floor in front of the fire, we settle in for the duration. Cards and cups of tea, then nakedness and more experimentation and learning each other’s bodies, and then more food. At last, late in the night, we’re sated and tired and sleepy. The fire is low and warm, and we crawl into bed to watch it.

  Lying in the hollow of his shoulder, I say, “It’s almost over.”

  “The filming?”

  “Yeah. It feels like camp or something, doesn’t it? Like, I don’t want to go back to the real world.”

  “What’s the real world?”

  “I don’t know. Back to my dad’s.”

  “You’re not glad to do that?”

  “No, I am. I want to know him, and he says some of my family are coming for a party so I can meet everyone.”

  “But?”

  I feel a sense of things ending, changing. “We won’t be like this anymore, by ourselves in our own little world.”

  His hand slides up and down my arm. “No.”

  My body is humming with our union, with the knowledge that we are never going to be the same again, either one of us. He’s quiet, and I find myself slipping away into sleep, cradled and safe and protected.

  “We will take our world with us,” he says, and I can tell he’s sleepy, too.

  Before I can answer, I’m gone.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night I’m startled awake by the silence. After all the howling, blowing, blustering, it’s completely silent. Kaleb has his arm flung over my waist, and I gently move it and slip out of bed to peek out the window. The moon is out, shining on the water and the snow scattered over the ground. It’s hauntingly beautiful. I disengage the top blanket and wrap myself up in it, then go to sit by the window.

  It’s the kind of beautiful that makes everything else seem small, but also more precious. Because I can look at this, I appreciate my eyes, along with the fire still glowing in the hearth and Kaleb fast asleep in the bed. Looking over my shoulder at the shape of him under the covers, I smile, feeling sore muscles in all kinds of places and the rawness of so much kissing on my lips. His smell is all over me, and it makes me feel marked with belonging.