Deep Diving (7 page)

Cooper’s laughing with me. We’re like teenagers caught snogging by their mates.

‘Sorry. I didn’t hear them coming.’ Cooper brushes his fingers across my face before reaching down to drag up my shorts and swimmers. I can only hope my naked state wasn’t noticed by the men.

‘Hell, it’s certainly not your fault.’ I pause to give Cooper the evil eye with a grin. ‘Although, you did start it.’

‘If you hadn’t run away last night we wouldn’t be so het up we’d need interrupting.’

I smirk. ‘But if I didn’t run away, I’d be forgettable. Just another notch in your bedpost or goalpost or whatever you use.’

He pulls my arm to his side and stares intently at me. The air thickens. My heart thunders. I dare not pre-empt what he might say and waiting lasts a lifetime.

Ever so slowly a smile lights his eyes. ‘I won’t be able to forget this.’ He pauses a beat. ‘And I doubt I’ll be able to forget you.’ Another pause. ‘A woman who can almost keep up with me.’

Not a romantic declaration but enough to make my heart swell and my ego soar. And just to make sure he remembers me, I tug my hand free and take off at a sprint, shouting behind me, ‘Race you to the bottom of the hill.’ If I can keep him behind me on the trail, I have a hope of winning.

***

Our night dive follows the pattern of our other dives, except we have a fluoro stick attached to our tank and a torch in our hands. And there’s a different feeling on a night dive. It’s more isolating than usual — you can’t see very far so it’s like you’re exploring an aquarium, not the ocean. Sometimes, if I think about how vast and dark it is, I freak myself out. To control this, I think only as far as my torch beam. Who wants to know what lurks beyond the light?

When we reach the bottom and check with each other, we have a third member of our party. A metre long reef shark is beside me, like a stray puppy that won’t leave. I reach out to brush against its side and it bends around my touch rather than swimming away. I look at Cooper who shrugs. I’m okay with a shark if Cooper is. These ones don’t bite. Luckily Cooper’s okay with it too because I have no idea how to lose a shark when it’s taken a liking to you.

Our party of three sets off to explore the lagoon by night. We swim over rocks we’ve seen in daylight but by night they’re eerier, larger, and the inhabitants different.

I have a guard either side of me. Cooper’s body is warmer by night, drawing me closer to him. With his fluoro stick I’d see him even if I moved metres away and I make myself do that. Pathetic that I’m hanging off him like a limpet. He’ll think I’m afraid of the dark, or the shark, when all I need is his warmth.
Okay, I want more than his warmth, but not underwater
.

The longer I’m near him, the more I want from him and that’s a foreign feeling. I’m independent. Happy to live in a disposable society. Men are easy come, easy go. Usually. I doubt I’ll forget Cooper.

The stray-puppy shark keeps just out of easy petting distance but never leaves my side. I reach out and graze my fingertips across the edge of its pectoral fin. The sandpapery feel isn’t as pronounced underwater with my pruney fingers.

Cooper shakes his head and mimes. One hand reaches out and the other snaps over it. I chuckle and shake my head. I’m pretty sure the shark isn’t going to bite me. Reef sharks aren’t aggressive, and I’m not grabbing at it or annoying it.

Tonight’s dive doesn’t relax me like the others have. I’m keyed up with need. I want Cooper. I want to finish what we started this afternoon. I want to touch him, have him inside me, bring him to his knees.

Before ascending at the end of the dive, I tap my fingers over the back of Cooper’s hand to catch his attention. Kneeling on the sand at the bottom of the sea, I suck a deep breath for courage and stick the torch beneath my chin. Two hands are needed. I hope that by saying this underwater, it’s fun. Intimate. Different. Something to remember. Besides, I can’t get into too much immediate trouble with two wetsuits between us.

Cooper kneels in front of me, which is lucky because he’ll probably fall over when he gets my message.

Holding my fingers tight in the torchlight, I make a very direct point at him. Then I point at me. He’s watching. That dark brown gaze not leaving my hands in case he misses the message. I like this about him; he pays attention.

I make a circle with the fingers and thumb of my left hand. Not the okay signal; all my fingers are tucked into a cylinder. With my right hand, I make a gun-shape with my index and middle fingers pointed as the gun. Tucking in my thumb, I take the gun shape, and keeping my gaze on his face, insert my fingers into the circle of my left hand. Insert and remove, insert and remove. I pump my hand faster until I see his eyes widen. I stop, my hands drop to my side. When there’s no response from Cooper, my heart stalls in my chest. Surely he understands? How completely embarrassing. I give an okay signal hoping he’s worked it out. If I could hold my breath I’d be doing that but you aren’t supposed to hold your breath while scuba diving. I don’t suppose those rules apply when you’ve made a total twat of yourself.

Finally, a burst of bubbles explode around Cooper’s face. Thank goodness. I thought for a moment I had an epic crash and burn. He’s lost in fizz. The shark swims above Cooper’s head and luxuriates in the mass of bubbles. I imagine them popping and tickling its stomach. Maybe that’s why it’s followed us, looking for a mini spa bath.

Cooper picks up my hand and nods his head. He gives an okay, then taking the regulator from his mouth, he presses his lips to the back of my hand and my insides become a mushy mess. I’ve found a knight underwater where his armour will rust.

He gives a pulse of air to his reg as he returns it to his mouth. The shark dances in more fizz. I chuckle, torn between watching the shark relishing the bubbles and drowning in Cooper’s dark chocolate gaze.

We’ve used up a lot of air, so we make our way back to the boat, leaving our pet shark in bubble bliss.

The packing up is a blur. I work by rote, glad that I’ve done this so many times I can do it without thought. Gear’s washed and stowed. Goodnights are finally said and we’re walking back to town.

‘Your place or mine?’ Cooper’s words sound like they’re gritted between his teeth. We’ve hardly spoken since surfacing but these tell me all I need to know.

I hesitate and he sweeps my hand into his, leading me away from the dive shack. ‘Mine’s closer.’ It’s a growl.

His pace picks up to a fast walk. My lips twitch as I fight back a grin. I shake my hand free and he glares. I smirk. ‘Race you.’ I take off running, as fast as I can with a mask and snorkel flapping at my side and a wet towel catching against my legs. I need to stop racing him. It’s taking all I have to beat him and I’m not sure he’s putting in one hundred per cent. It’s fun, though, the challenge he poses.

We pull up in front of his abode, me lightly panting and he hardly puffing. Droplets run down my back, between my breasts, and down my arms. A tiny pool lingers behind each knee, not yet running down my calf. I doubt Cooper’s broken a sweat.
Lord he’s fit
.

The key’s in the door and we’re inside. The door closes with a snap behind me.
Holy hell
.
Luxury living
. I’d like to drop my gear here but the wood floors are beautifully polished and a wet towel lying there all night would ruin them, surely.
Idiot. Who cares?
But I do. With this much luxury, how can you not?

My hands beg to splay against Cooper’s back but I can’t. If I touch him, I won’t give a hoot about the wood floors. Cooper heads straight to the bathroom. He drops his mask and snorkel into the sink and mine follow. I drop my towel to the tiled floor and reach for the strap on my swimmers.

‘No.’ The growl stops me. His hand snags the strap of my swimmers. Heat bursts through me, inciting a riot of action inside and outside. Everything inside tingles, churns, screams and writhes. Outside I’m faking calm, making deliberate sweeps across his flesh. Fingertips against his nipples. Thumb into navel. Flat hands following the band of muscle over his hips. My fingers hook into the waistband of his swimmers and shimmy them down, feeling his cock rise against me. I shudder. A groan escapes my lips before I close my hands on the naked globes of his butt.

And all this time, he’s kept his hands on my shoulders. His head thrown back and eyes closed.

This mass of glorious muscle is mine to explore, to taste, to tease. I take a small step backwards and drag my hands from his arse to his hips and inch them towards his cock. It bobs, semi-erect, as if waiting for my touch. I kneel on the bathroom floor and trace my fingertip along the length. It twitches continuously, silently begging for a firmer touch. It’s different to those I’ve seen before. A swathe of skin surrounds it. The men I’ve partnered have been circumcised and I don’t know if I have to treat this differently.

He must feel the hesitation of my touch because he looks down, eyes almost hidden by heavy lids. ‘Yes?’

‘You’re…’ I stop, struggling to justify my lack of knowledge. ‘It’s not that I’m inexperienced. I’ve just not been with men, men who, you know, are intact.’
Seriously classy, Sam
.

‘Most men are skinned, I know, but it’s changing.’ There’s an almost defensive air to his voice but he doesn’t look like he’s embarrassed, for himself or for me. He looks like he’s challenging me.

His word choice makes me shudder. ‘That’s awful. Skinned?’

‘Well, that’s what happens, isn’t it?’

I shrug, not wanting to have a philosophical discussion on circumcision, but eager to touch his unskinned cock correctly. ‘So, um, do I do anything different?’ Geez, I sound like a bloody virgin. But I don’t know how to handle the extra skin and surely it’s better to ask and learn.

Cooper laughs and closes his fist on his cock. ‘It the same as all the others, but you get to unwrap the present.’ He slides his hand towards his body, skin moving to expose the head of his cock. My mouth waters. ‘Just push the skin back. It moves freely. It’s no different, really, just an extra flap of skin.’ His hands move to his hips, white knuckles appear.

‘It is different. It’s beautiful.’ I touch my fingers to the flesh-covered head of his cock and squeeze slightly. His cock is hard beneath and peeks through the foreskin. It is like peeking into a present. I adjust so my eyes are level with the gift. I curl my fingers around the head of his cock and slide them towards his body. The head juts out of the flesh.

‘Oh, Lord.’ My voice holds reverence and awe. There’s something god-like about this man. And to be untouched, unmarked, how Nature honed him, does incredible things to my brain. In a rush of purely animal instinct, I lean down and brush the flat of my tongue across the tip of his penis. The salty taste of the ocean and Cooper fills my mouth. My tongue lingers a few moments before lifting away.

‘Fuck, that’s good.’ His hands grasp the doorway and the sink. Legs apart, open and granting me access to his body. That’s one thing sportsmen have over other men — the ability to be confident naked, to display their body proudly and to accept admiration.

I close my lips around his cock head and suck him inside, not too deep, teasing. His cock fills my senses — the velvet flesh, the steely strength, the salty tang. Nothing has felt so good. Nothing has tasted so good. And nothing tempts me as much as Cooper.

I swirl my tongue across the tip, skirting around the edge before flicking at the slit.

‘Suck it, Sam. Take me inside your mouth.’

Cooper’s words make me grin. I press my lips to the top of his cock before sitting back on my heels. Catching his gaze has me smirking even more.

The frown marring his forehead is deeply etched, his eyes have narrowed and his lips thinned. ‘You are totally unbelievable, incredibly cruel — ’

‘And you love every second of it.’ I grin, hoping that I’m not pushing too far.

He holds his cock in his huge hand and strokes it slowly, slipping the skin back and forth until my gaze drops from his face down his chest to his groin. I’m watching nothing but his fist, waiting for the head of his cock to show.

With no conscious thought I lean forward, my hand closing over his fist, and lap at his cock as it peeks through. His other hand slips behind my head, moulding to the back of my skull as his fingertips massage. My mouth drops open and he feeds his cock slowly inside, my tongue lapping at each newly introduced millimetre of flesh. His fist uncurls and I move my hand to the base of his cock, holding it tight as he had been.

‘Fuck, Sam. That’s good.’ It’s nice of him to give encouragement but it isn’t true. I haven’t got to the good part yet.

Mouth open, head back, I take his cock deep, lips closing tight near the base. I pull my head backwards, inching slowly off him until the head is the only portion inside. With a swirl of my tongue, I push back down, speeding up the movements until his cock is fucking my mouth decadently. Saliva fills my mouth, lubricating each thrust.

Big firm hands close on my shoulders, pulling me away from his cock and up from the bathroom floor.

‘What?’ My question is more a harsh accusation.

‘The bathroom tiles are cold. I don’t want you hurting your knees.’

Laughing, I pinch his chin. ‘You’re a control freak who doesn’t want to come too quickly.’

The noise he makes is more a scoff than a chuckle. He picks me up and carts me to the bed; a huge expanse of mattress smothered with pillows.

While carting me to the bed, he unties my bikini top and as he throws me onto the doona, the bottoms slip off and the top drops away. ‘Nifty nakedness trick,’ I say with a chuckle.

He stares, his gaze without waver. My laughter vanishes. Lust unfurls through my body and flames. He prowls on hands and knees until he’s beside me, and then his teeth nip my earlobe. My head rolls back, supported by clouds of pillows and he feasts on my neck, ear and shoulder. The softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the wet flick of his tongue makes me languid. The sharp nip of teeth on the soft flesh beneath my ear sends sparks through me, each nerve waiting, wanting.