Bounty (51 page)

I
don’t even remember taking
off our clothes but all of a sudden both of us are naked and Chase’s lips have left a wet trail of goose bumps down the side of my neck right to the tops of my breasts where he is now focusing. His kisses are warm and it seems as if they must be leaving a visible trail for him, because I don’t think he’s missed touching even a centimeter of my breasts with his lips. When they finally find my aching nipples I can’t stop myself from arching my back, pressing them further into his mouth and wrapping an arm around his head to ensure he doesn’t stop until I’m ready.

As his mouth continues to pull me in, one of his hands glides down my thigh, tickling me lightly as it runs across my skin. I know instinctively where he’s headed, but even still I let out a gasp as soon as his fingers make contact with my folds. They’re already wet with anticipation, greedily accepting his fingers as they dip inside. He’s tentative at first, but his boldness increases as he begins to probe deeper. I grind my ass into the bed in response and let out a low moan.

“Fuck you’re so hot and wet,” he says, lifting his head from my nipple to speak. My arm loosens my grip on him now as I realize that holding him at my breast is no longer serving the need I desire most. I say nothing as I push my palm against the top of his head.

He takes my hint, flashing me a smile as he turns his lips back to my skin, beginning to kiss a new trail down my stomach and across my belly button. His fingers only slide out of me when he’s low enough that he has to change positions. Swinging his body up and over me, Chase palms the sides of my hips and squeezes them as he lowers himself to my core.

My body is tense with anticipation as I wait for his tongue to touch my center, but I have no immediate release as he teases me first. He starts by kissing the inside of my thigh, first on the left, then the right. As his head turns from one side to the other, I feel a gust of hot breathe against my pussy, the only stimulation he’s giving me at the moment and I revel in it as I wait for something more.

More kisses frame my damp lips as he makes circles around me. His nose brushes through the sparse patch of hair I have above my sex, and then down again, just along the outside of my labia. I can barely stand it anymore. “Please,” I beg, my voice barely above a tortured whisper. I don’t need to say anything more than that. He knows what I’m asking for.

He pauses, his lips pressed against the flesh just above my swollen clit. He finally completes the kiss and then pulls away. I wait, still tight with tension as I silently pray for him to give me the release I so desperately need.

When his tongue finally touches me, I feel both relief and frustration as he isn’t centered along the insides of my folds, but the outside. He draws a trail of saliva up and down the outside of my lips and along the top, just above my clit. I let out a little whimper, but he already knows what he’s doing to me and I suspect that’s part of his game.

It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch, each flick of his tongue so maddeningly close to where I need it to be that I want to howl in frustration. Just as I’m about to grab a fistful of his blond hair and yank his head into position he stops his tease. His tongue finally touches my sensitive nub, just a flick, but I’m so pent up that it sends a spark through me that causes my whole body to jerk in response.

And then he’s upon me.

His firm hands slide under my ass, pulling me forward as his mouth fastens against my folds, hot tongue diving between them and mixing his moisture with my own. I cry out now, my whimper becoming a roar of pleasure as my knees pull up alongside his head and then clamp down against his ears, holding him in place. Now that he’s finally where I want him to be, he’s not getting away.

Chase’s fingernails dig into the cheeks of my ass as he holds onto me tightly, his tongue a blur of action as it runs up and down my wet lips, pausing at my clit only briefly at each pass to circle it a few times until I answer his attention with a little shudder before he dives back down again to bury himself inside of me.

So much anticipation leading up to this moment means an orgasm is upon me almost before he’s really begun, but I’m not holding anything back. I feel myself contract and pull Chase’s face harder against me with my knees as my body quivers with pent up release. A shrill scream escapes my mouth, and by the time it’s faded I’m gasping with handfuls of bed sheet between my clenched fists.

“Fuck me,” I pant. “Now. Chase.”

I watch in tense anticipation as he fumbles with a condom wrapper before finally sheathing himself, and I don’t wait a second before I open my legs and lean forward to grab him under the arm, practically dragging him along my sweat soaked chest until I feel his cock touch my entrance. “Fuck me,” I repeat. My hands reach down to grab his ass and I pull him forward, urging him to fill me completely and immediately. He doesn’t disappoint.

With one mighty thrust, Chase slams his hips against mine as his body invades me. The scream touches my lips again, but it’s cut off this time by an urgent kiss. I can feel the stubble of a travel day’s worth of beard rub against my chin, distracting me only slightly from the pleasure between my legs.

“Fuck me,” I repeat unnecessarily. I’m almost in a trance now, lost to all reason as Chase’s hips slide back and forth at an ever increasing pace. The pleasure between my legs has gone past the point of a simple orgasm now. Each thrust and draw of his cock just sparks a new level of bliss that rolls through my body like a tidal wave of pure pleasure.

I can barely hear the roar that Chase lets loose as his own pleasure overtakes him, so lost am I to my own.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, barely aware that he’s done and now resting heavily on my chest. His body rises and falls as both of us continue to breathe heavily. Our bodies are stuck together by a film of sweat and heat that may as well be glue, but I don’t want him to move anyway. He’s exactly where I want him to be.

Within a few moments his breathing becomes more regular, and I know he’s fallen asleep. Sleep is tugging at my consciousness as well, but there’s one more thought on my lips. One more thing I need to whisper to this man who I have known for barely two weeks, but who has already become so entwined in my life that the mere thought of his leaving makes my chest hurt.

It has taken me days to say it, and I know I’m a coward for waiting until he’s asleep, but it’s taken me this long to realize the truth of it.

“I love you, too.”

T
he ride
into town takes over an hour, with many of the roads bumpy enough that I’m happy I hadn’t spent all morning drinking mojitos like we’d been doing for the past couple of days. Chase has been promising since we got here to show me the real Cuba. Spending time on the resort is great, of course, and I have enjoyed the relaxation, but I know how insulated a five star hotel is from real life in a country like this, and I’m curious to see how Cuban people really live.

After paying and tipping the driver enough for him to want to stick around town for the day to take us back again, Chase leads me through the brightly painted center of the little town.

“Welcome to Viñales,” he says.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.” It really is. Many houses are painted the bright colors common in the Caribbean, pinks, greens, yellows, but mixed in with those are bigger, more historical looking buildings which have their own character. The architecture of many of them seems almost colonial.

“Careful,” Chase’s hand eases me out of the way of a cart being drawn by a couple of animals. In the back are a few weathered men who look to be in their 40’s.

“What are those? Horses?”

“Oxen,” he replies. “They’re likely on the way to the fields. Farmers here grow some of the best tobacco in the world.”

The men smile at me as they pass and I wave back. Everyone seems very happy.

We continue to walk through the town and each time we pass a local, Chase greets them in Spanish and they say something back. I wish I could understand what they are saying, but the extent of my Spanish knowledge is from my trip to Mexico years ago with Evelyn.
Dos cervezas, por favor.
I don’t think asking politely for a couple of beers is going to get me very far. Especially since most of the locals he is stopping to talk to are children. Each time he meets one, Chase reaches into his backpack and pulls out something he picked up back in Canada, handing it to them along with a few dollars. The smiles on their faces almost bring a tear to my eye.

“Do you come to this town often when you’re here?”

Chase shrugs. “Believe it or not, this is actually one of the touristy towns.” As small as it is, I have actually noticed a number of faces in the town which clearly don’t belong. “I usually go to different places, smaller ones, but still in this general area of the country. But there’s a good mix of things to see here so I thought it would work for us today.”

Chase leads me past the town now and soon we’re at the edge of the farms. Workers and animals dot the landscape amid broad leafed plants that are about waist high.

“Tobacco,” he says when I ask about them.

We continue to walk, the hot Cuban sun layering us in sweat as we pass small little houses sprinkled here and there amongst the farms. I have a feeling this is even more indicative of daily Cuban life than Viñales, so I’m glad to see it. Chase had packed water and had warned me this morning to wear my walking shoes, so I’m not about to complain.

Eventually we come across a small house at the edge of a farm and stop.

“It’s lunch time,” Chase says. “Hungry?”

I nod vigorously. I’m starving. If it is actually lunch time, that means we’ve been walking for close to three hours. My feet are exhausted and I’m overheated from the sun. Still, I don’t recall Chase packing a lunch for us so I’m not sure what he has in mind.

“Follow me.” Before I know what he’s doing, Chase is knocking at the door of the farmhouse. An older Cuban woman answers and as soon as she sees Chase, she pulls him into a hug as if she’s known him for years. The two of them begin speaking very quickly in Spanish. I have no idea what they’re saying, beyond being sure that he hasn’t asked her for a couple of beers. Before I know it, though, we’re being ushered into the little house. I try to catch Chase’s eye to ask him what is going on, but he is too busy talking to the woman. She looks old enough to be his mother.

The two of them speak for a few more moments before Chase introduces me. The woman’s name is Elena Cruz. As soon as Chase introduces us, she says something and then exits the front door, leaving us alone in her house.

“Chase, what’s going on? Who is this woman?”

“I’ve known Elena and her husband Victor for years. Every time I come by this way I stop in and they always feed me a great meal. You can’t visit Cuba without getting at least one home cooked meal.” He winks at me and gives me a little hug. I accept it stiffly, still unsure what to think about standing in a stranger’s home in Cuba, waiting for her to feed me lunch.

While we wait for our host to return, I look around. This is the first Cuban house I’ve been inside of, and despite how small it is, I’m amazed at how much character is packed into it. There are pictures of Elena and who I assume to be Victor alone, but also with others who I assume are their children. From what I can tell, they have at least three of them. In the photos they are various ages and I can almost track their growth progression through each picture. All of them seem to be taken in this very house until the kids became adults, at which point the pictures stop.

“Hola!”

I turn to see Elena return with a darker skinned man wearing a wide brimmed hat and a light shirt. Chase introduces me to Victor who matches the images of the man in the pictures with Elena. He smiles and shakes Chase’s hand as Elena disappears into the kitchen. The three of us sit down in the small room with all of the pictures.

“Victor owns this farm and has for a few generations. They grow tobacco.” As if he understands what Chase is saying, Victor pulls out a few cigars from a box next to his chair and offers them to us with a smile. I politely shake my head, but Chase takes one and the two men light them up. Victor doesn’t speak as much as his wife, and we sit mostly in silence until Elena returns to tell us that lunch is ready. We follow her to the kitchen and sit at a little table laden with food.

After Victor motions at me, I help myself from a pot of what seems to be beans and some type of meat covered in a light sauce, as well as a tomato salad. Although I haven’t a clue what the dish is that I’m eating, it’s delicious and I say so. Chase translates and Elena smiles happily. The three of them talk a bit during lunch with Chase occasionally translating. Mostly they are talking about the changes to the US embargo and what it might mean to their country. They’re cautiously optimistic. I don’t know a lot about it though, since Canada has never had any such restrictions. From what I know, though, the 50 years long embargo has been very hard on the country, so I can imagine why they’re excited at the prospect of it possibly being lifted.

After the meal, Chase brings his backpack out and empties it onto the coffee table in the first room. There is still a lot of stuff left. He speaks to Elena and Victor, and they smile and hug him again. “They can take what they need, and then give the rest to their friends and neighbors,” he explains. I also see him hand some money to Victor. I couldn’t see how much it was, but it seemed like a lot. I’m touched at how generous he is. I know that kind of money isn’t a lot to him, but it must mean the world to people like Elena and Victor.

“Ready to head back to town?” he asks.

My belly is full, but my feet are hurting. Still, they’re not going to get better by waiting around for a few more hours. We’ve already been here long enough to miss the hottest part of the day. “I guess so. Hopefully my feet will last all the way back.” I say it with a smile, trying not to come off like I’m complaining. Not too much, anyway.

“Oh, we’re not walking,” Chase says, flashing me his trademark half grin. “Victor has offered us a special ride.”

Curious, I follow him out of the little house. I hadn’t noticed any car when we arrived but it could be parked behind the house.

Waiting outside is a cart, very similar to the one that almost ran me over earlier, with two light gray oxen grazing on the sparse lawn as they wait patiently for us to climb aboard.