Deep Diving (23 page)

With Cooper there’s no gawkiness, no fumbling. We move together with ease even in our desperation. He sits on his heels before he lifts my legs up and wiggles my hips up onto his thighs. ‘I don’t want you ripped to shreds by sand.’ His hands lift my shoulders so I’m sitting on his lap.

How can I help but smile? What man thinks of sand abrading your back while he fucks you?

He holds me on his lap and our lips meet in a kiss that’s both gentle and rough. Holding all the need, but somehow keeping it controlled. And that’s the power of us, the expertise of him. He’s strong and powerful but somehow restrained.

He breaks the kiss and laps against my lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting me like a rich dessert. I curl my hand around his cock. Hand closed tightly, I direct his cock along my slick folds. Starting with a silken brush over my throbbing clit, sliding between my wet lips, and finishing with a probe of my tight hole. Just the silken head pushing against my tightness. I want to tease first, please later.

The warmth of his cock is what I notice first. No gasp from cool latex or lube. Only the silken touch of skin as warm as my own, sliding through moisture. I wonder if he perceives the difference. Does he enjoy the silken-wet warmth of my cunt instead of the tight confinement of latex?

Looking up into his face makes my blood heat and fizz. His eyes are closed, head tipped back, lips parted and jaw clenched tight. His teeth are just visible and I’m tempted to push my tongue between his lips and slide it against his pearly whites. A hiss escapes him as I press myself onto his cock probing my core. I didn’t mean to take his cock-head inside but now it is, I can’t hold back. Clinging to his shoulders, I lower myself onto him, ensuring I take him slowly so I feel every centimetre of solid silken warmth.

Both our heads are thrown back as I settle on the full, glorious length of him. The sunlight warms my face and shoulders. Dancing spots dart across my closed eyelids. My whole body is warmed from the outside and in.

‘God, you’re wet.’ His voice is strained but also holds something like awe or wonder or shock. Maybe it does feel incredible for him too. I stare at him for a few seconds, my pupils adjusting to the blazing sun, before we both move and our lips meet in a kiss that’s as wet and needy as I am.

His hands tighten on my hips, directing my movements through pressure and the slightest forward motion. I don’t need a lot of encouragement. The swollen heat of him inside me demands action.

I rise and fall, slowly at first, but the tension is too much and as our kisses turn fast, tongues duelling and teeth clashing, my thighs pump me up and down his length, faster and faster.

My breasts jiggle in the warm air, creating a little cool draught. My nipples have tightened, silently begging for his touch but his hands still grasp my hips.

I arch so my nipples rub against the solid spheres of his pecs, and we thrust together. Then he pulls from the kiss, his mouth open in a soundless word. His head tips back just enough so his chest pushes harder against my throbbing breasts.

His fingers almost mash my hip bones, his grip becomes uncomfortable, but before I can do anything about it, his cock thrusts upwards once, twice, three, four times, before his body tenses and a growl erupts from deep inside him. I’m flooded. Flooded by heat, warmth and moisture. His cock thrusts freely and deeply.

My clit is crushed each time he strains into me. Exquisite heat fills me. A throbbing deep inside sets up and then I burst, as if every cell within me has swollen and popped. I’m drowning, flooded by sensation. Sitting in a pool of hot sticky seed and molten lust. My hands grasp his biceps, holding on for life, while I’m speared by his cock, over and over. Wave after wave of sensation hits me.

It’s a release like none I’ve ever had. My whole self has been torn asunder and mended. However, I must have acquired new bits or am missing bits or have not been put together right because I feel wrong. Not like me at all. The world looks different. The sunlight is more intense. The sky a brighter blue. The sand brilliant white. I can hear the sweep of wings when a tern flies past. Cooper’s heart thumps beside me. I can almost hear the whoosh of blood as it pumps through arteries. My body is lighter, either defying gravity or I’ve lost a lot of kilos through good sex.

I’m still joined to Cooper, resting on his knees, my arms holding his, my head against his shoulder, his arms around me holding me close. Tears drip down my cheeks. I don’t think I can ever move again. I don’t think I’m capable of rising free of his cock. And I don’t think I can ever let him go.

Yet tomorrow I go home.

The thought is like an icicle to my heart, stabbing and chilling in one action.

This isn’t me.

I don’t get emotional after sex. I don’t get attached to partners. I don’t lose my focus. But right now I’ve no idea what to do with my life. No idea what to focus on.

‘Jesus, Sam.’ I hear the words but the voice doesn’t sound like Cooper’s. ‘Are you okay?’ His hand scoots along my spine, calming and soothing. His touch soaks in, easing me.

‘I don’t know.’ My voice doesn’t sound like mine either. ‘Are you?’

We’re still connected, wrapped around each other, when a large wave dances against my feet. Cooper jerks, sharply pulling us apart. My head clears a little.

Cooper curses. ‘Bloody wave.’ It must have run right underneath him. I’m lucky he didn’t drop me off his lap.

I kiss his neck, working my way around to his face. He brushes my cheekbones with his thumbs before our lips meet in a gentle kiss. A soft joining. Our lips move over each other, tongues just touch and retreat. My fingers spear through his hair, holding his head lightly, the short threads tickle. His fingers massage my scalp, holding me gently in place.

I’ve never felt this in tune with anyone. Never been so caught up in the web of another. As much as the thought scares me, I also have hope. Not only hope, but joy. A feeling like finishing a race, running up that last stretch, alone with the pain and hurt, but also with hope and joy at the thought you’ve earned it. Earned the success. Earned the personal best time. Or even earned the win.

The kiss ends and we sit together. Silent. Still, except for ragged breaths.

‘I’m falling in love with you.’ The words that pour from my mouth stun me. I stare at Cooper. My gaze locked to his. My breaths timed to his. My words hanging heavy in the cool air.

‘I know, Sam. I feel the same.’

‘I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I can — ’

His thumb brushes my lips, halting my words.

‘We’ll work it out together. Our way.’

I nod. It’s all I’m capable of.

It takes a long time before we move, each unfolding from our cramped position slowly before stretching tight muscles.

‘Need a swim?’ I ask as the knots loosen.

‘Sounds good.’ He captures my hand and together we take a dip. A quiet swim basking in our togetherness. Touching like we’re discovering each other for the first time. Kissing softly, reverently. Brushing bodies briefly. A gentle, quiet time like we haven’t shared before.

After the swim, we head back to the kayak, have a quick bite to eat and then continue on the journey.

Once we’re paddling, Cooper says, ‘Let’s see if we can work a few things out before we get back, okay?’

Genuinely confused, I ask, ‘What things?’

‘I don’t do relationships, Sam, and neither do you.’ My heart clenches. The ocean slips past, my arms keep moving, hips rocking in time between strokes but I’ve no idea where they’re getting the oxygen and blood supply from. My heart and lungs have shut down.

He continues. ‘But rules can be broken, especially for someone like you.’

A whoosh of air escapes my lips and I can’t mask it with the dip of the paddle or the surge of the sea. He has to know it’s me and relief, hand in hand.

The silence lasts for so long — I figure he’s waiting for me to speak. He hasn’t asked a question so I’m not sure what I’m meant to say. I go with the relationship thing because I can’t think of anything else. ‘I don’t have rules. I just suck at relationships. I am willing to try though.’

‘Why do you suck at relationships?’

Good question and I wish I knew the answer. I shrug. ‘I don’t know what to say most of the time. I don’t know how people take me. I don’t understand the game playing. I don’t have time, or at least I didn’t, to stuff around working things out.’ I dip the paddle in for another stroke while I think about what I said. I’ve left out the important bit. ‘I don’t get that with you. Oh, well, some of it. I never know what to say.’

‘With me?’

I nod.

‘When?’

‘Even now. I don’t know if this is what you want me to say, if this is what you want to talk about. I don’t know where we’re going.’

Cooper barks in a kind of laugh and a scoff. ‘I don’t have an agenda. I just want to know what you’re thinking. I didn’t know you found it hard. I thought you were straight, honest, telling me what you thought?’

‘I am. With you, that’s what I do. That’s why you’re different.’

‘Okay, so that’s a good thing, right? It means we’re ready to give a relationship a try?’

I shuffle in my seat, miss a couple of strokes and then give up trying to paddle. I rest the oar across my lap. ‘I’d love that, except I don’t know that I can handle the fame, the publicity thing you have. I flounder and you take it in your stride. I imagine it’s even worse in Melbourne and I don’t know if I can manage that.’

Cooper makes a few strokes to correct our course and the quiet dip and swoosh of the oar calms me. His paddle stops and the kayak wobbles as he shifts. His fingers grasp my right shoulder. A squeeze and a brush across my skin centres me. It’s like I’ve said the right thing again, even when it scares me.

‘It is more than what we’ve seen here. It’s not much worse than Jim on the walk though. It’s not like the paparazzi stalk me.’

I turn around and flash him a grin before picking up the paddle again. We make our way along the island in silent contemplation. As we pass Neds Beach, we wave to the people.

‘You’d be able to handle it, like you have here. And it gets easier the more it happens. Most people are a repeat of the person before, so you have lots of practice at the same questions, same answers. It’s just patience, making a choice about how much to say, and dealing with people. I know you’ll cope.’

‘What if I run?’ I know I do that too easily and I don’t want to embarrass him.

‘So long as you make up an excuse that has me running with you, I’m in.’ Cooper laughs and I know he’s making light of the truth. If I protect him, he’ll look after me. He’s honourable like that.

The Admiralty Islands are off to the right as we turn the corner and the northern part of the island with its rugged cliffs drifts past.

‘Does our age difference bother you? I’ll be pushing to fit kids in before it’s too late, yet you’re in no rush.’

He chuckles. ‘It would bother me if I was 15, but I don’t think about it.’

‘Other people might.’

‘I don’t care what other people think. It’s my life, my choice and my business.’

‘What would you have done…what were you planning for your life before we met?’

The northern cliffs go by and still there’s no response. I wonder if I should rephrase the question, or if I’ve intruded, or if it’s too difficult. I can’t see his expression when I twist around because of the sunglasses, cap, and the shadow from its brim.

‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.’

‘It’s not that. Ask me anything you want. I’m yours, Sam.’ He rests his paddle but I keep stroking, slow and measured. I hope the rhythmic dip and pull will calm him as it did me. Sometimes finding an answer is a struggle.

‘I don’t have a plan. I can’t think beyond football. I know I should. I know I need to think out plan B in case of injury or something but I never have. Football’s been everything. Other people have partners, relationships, kids, the happy family but I’ve never found anyone to fit in, not easily, and so it’s just been footy. One hundred per cent. I don’t have a clue what else to do. Football’s my life. I haven’t thought beyond it.’ He takes a breath after all the words have run out almost on top of each other.

I feel his desperation. He told me he lived for football and I half expected this answer but the pain of him saying it is difficult to hear. I know what it’s like to leave the sport you love. To leave the safety of training. I don’t know if I should say anything yet or if he has more. So I paddle quietly. A few more moments of waiting won’t hurt.

‘How did you decide to retire, Sam?’

I’m glad I’m not looking at him when I have to answer this one. ‘I trained with a kid who was desperate to move along her career. She was good. Really good. But I kept beating her. She was 20 and still being beaten by me but it was getting difficult. Niggling injuries bothered me. Recovery time was getting longer. I got selected and she missed out, again. She was gutted. I didn’t feel good about beating her this time. She was on the rise, and I was on the decline. She deserved her chance before she lost the competitive edge.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know why but I retired my spot, then retired from competition. It was a gut feeling that I don’t truly understand. I wanted to go out on top. I didn’t want to ruin a kid’s career. I had the offer of coaching. Things seemed to fall into place.’

We paddle on in silence.

‘Did you know what you wanted from life after?’ He asks the question as we make our way past Mount Eliza and around the tip.

I laugh. ‘You ask that after being with me this week and seeing how messed up I am about partners, kids?’

‘I don’t know what I want from life after football. I can’t honestly imagine my life without it. And then I came here and met you, and you mentioned kids, and I can see a hazy image.’

My heart’s in my throat and the butterflies in my stomach are more like stampeding buffalo. ‘What’s the image?’

‘I can see us with a tribe of kids here, at the beach, racing along the sand, teaching them to snorkel, laughing together at their excitement, hiking up the hills, exploring.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘And it’s not a bad picture.’