Where Sea Meets Sky (3 page)

When I’m able to pry myself off of her again, we find a door that’s locked. I’m not one to try and bust doors open, not even for the sake of hot monkey sex, so I take out my credit card and slide it up between the door and the frame. I breath out a sigh of relief as it clicks open and we stumble into a small billiards room that has been stuffed to the walls with furniture and breakables, all put away for the party.

I close the door behind us and lock it.

Chapter Two

GEMMA

I love his accent.

It sounds softer than the stereotypical Canadian one, but it’s still foreign to my ears. Though Josh could speak with a Klingon accent and he’d still be every woman’s fantasy because he’s dressed as a big, beefy warrior. Who knew guys with eyeliner could be such a turn-on?

While he locks the door behind us, I lean back against the pool table and stealthily admire him. This billiards room turned storage facility is the most light I’ve seen him in all night and I take advantage. He’s tall, probably six foot two, which is perfect because I’m fairly tall for a girl. He’s nowhere near as thick and muscly as the meatheads I work with at the gym, but his body is toned and sculpted. It looks good—real good. If he’s anything like most people in this city, he’s earned it swimming, stand-up paddle boarding, mountain biking, whatever. But he’s definitely earned it.

And under all the bronzer and the eyeliner and the tribal facial hair, I can tell he’s absolutely gorgeous. Full lips that bear the mark of a lip piercing he’s taken out, soulful blue eyes the color of pale winter skies, and strong cheekbones that have a Nordic or Eastern European quality to them. He manages to look both manly and pretty in his getup—not an easy feat. His tattoos help. They’re mainly black and white but wonderfully artistic and intricate, covering his arms and shoulders. I wonder where else they are.

I wonder if I’m brave enough to ask.

I’m not normally this forward with men I’ve just met, but Josh is pretty forward himself. He has this ease and sexual confidence that I rarely see in guys my age, like he knows more than he leads on, and I’m falling for it hook, line, and sinker. He’s a bit sexually aggressive, too, but in the way that I feel comfortable with. There’s an air of respect coming off him, and I know that if I were to decide I don’t want to do this, he’d totally understand.

But of course, I do want to do this. I wanted to the moment I set eyes on him. His lopsided smile, touched with a bit of arrogance, his eyes that were cheeky and playful—it all drew me in like a lion to the kill. I wanted to play with him. I wanted to have fun.

I
need
to have fun. What a way to say goodbye to North America.

“Do you play pool?” he asks, gesturing to the table.

I shake my head and as he walks over to me it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies that are swirling in my stomach. It feels like they’re escaping, fluttering along my arms, making my nerves dance. I can’t help but smirk to myself. After all this time traveling, it’s my last day that finally makes me feel the most alive.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice lower now. It’s deep and rich and has this way of washing over you. I’m reminded of how incredibly turned-on I am and I momentarily squeeze my thighs together to quell the throbbing there.

“Nothing,” I say. I don’t dare admit anything. He’s still a stranger.

He places his hand on my cheek, cupping my face. I want to close my eyes and lean into his touch but at the same time I’m too afraid to look away. His lips are so perfect, his mouth so inviting. Those beautiful blues are hooded with desire, all for me.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers, inches away. Underneath the somewhat flowery scent of the bronzer he’s got all over him, he smells fresh and masculine, like he uses some kind of woodsy cologne or shower gel. It’s not Lynx like my ex used to spray all over himself, thank god.

I don’t have time to come up with a witty remark. He kisses me and the world around us slips away. His tongue is smooth but urgent, the tongue ring stimulating, and our kiss builds with desire until my whole body feels like it’s being licked by the sweetest flames. I’m sucked under, in a riptide, into the undertow, and it’s dark and I’m tumbling and I don’t know which way is up but oh god, how I don’t want it to stop. I could drown in his mouth. I could sink into him forever.

I barely know this guy. I’m leaving tomorrow and I’ll never see him again.

But I want to drown in every moment we have.

I want him to fuck me with all he’s got, until I’m left breathless, washed up on shore and deliriously spent.

It’s at least a promising start.

He gently slides my purple wig off of my head and tosses it behind me onto the pool table. He smiles—no, grins, like he won the lottery—and tousles my long dark hair loose and over my shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he says softly, running his fingers through the strands. It feels amazing.

“So I should rethink the purple hair?”

He only smiles and pulls my singlet over my head. I’m glad I’m wearing matching underwear today: intricate peach lace. It’s a bit too flimsy for my breasts—the girls need a lot of support—but that doesn’t matter the minute I can feel the heat of his fingers through them. I lean my head back and close my eyes as he peels down the lace, revealing my nipples, which sharpen, exposed to the air, to his touch.

Josh brushes them lightly with his thumbs, causing me to shiver. I let out a loud moan that sounds deafening in this haphazardly-arranged room. But before I even have a chance to be embarrassed, he places his mouth on my nipples, teasing them with his teeth, running the cool steel of his tongue ring over them. I moan again and I can feel his smile against my skin.

“I’m going to make you come so hard,” he murmurs, cocky as all out.

“Just so you know, I don’t come on command,” I tell him. My voice is husky with desire, it doesn’t even sound like me. “I don’t care what books you read.”

“I won’t be saying a word,” he says before he starts flicking me with his tongue. Jolts of sweet agony shoot through me. Oh, sweet Jesus, this boy is good.

Just when I think I’m going to have an orgasm from him biting and sucking on my breasts alone, he slides a hand down my pants. I know I’m soaked when he finds me and he groans at the discovery. He quickly pulls my pants down toward my boots, the underwear next.

I have a fit body but I work hard for it. I have to. I’m a personal trainer and a bit of a fitness buff. But even so, there’s always been a part of me that blushes and feels insecure when a guy sees me naked. All my insecurities run through my head—my thighs are too muscular, my shoulders too wide, my butt needs its own hemisphere. I could go on.

But tonight, I don’t hear anything in my head. No doubt, no cringing, no bashfulness. I feel like I don’t need to apologize to Josh for being me. He’s too busy making me feel like I am all he’s ever wanted. His desire not only fuels my own but gives me confidence. Halloween is all about pretending to be someone else, yet for once I feel completely comfortable, naked and exposed; there’s nothing to hide.

Not really.

Josh brings me back around by trailing his fingers up the insides of my thighs. My skin shivers in anticipation and I lean back on the pool table, my cheek resting against the soft green surface. I’d had a couple of one-night stands before; one drunken night on the beach in Napier, the other after a night out at a sweaty club in Auckland’s Viaduct. Neither guy went down on me. Hell, neither guy even really knew I was there. They came, I didn’t—end of story. Sometimes it had been that way with my ex, too.

But Josh is different. He lowers his head and kisses down along the ridge of my hip bones. I can’t help but arch them up toward him. There’s a moment of anxiety as I feel his breath over my landing strip, tickling what hair is left there. I wonder if he’s going to like the way I taste, the way I feel.

The moment his steel-laced tongue grazes over my clit though, the worry is gone. He’s good, very good, and soon I’m coming, moaning louder than before. The room fills with the sound but I’m adrift on a bobbing raft, face to the sun, cool water beneath me. The orgasm takes me away somewhere beautiful until his chuckle slowly reels me back in.

I open my eyes and raise my head to look at him. He’s grinning and undoing his pants but keeping the leather corset around his waist. I kind of like that. He’s staying in character, the opposite of me.

“I told you I’d make you come,” he says. He slides his pants off and I’m caught between wanting to look him in the eye and at his large erection. It’s hard to focus on one thing. I think I manage to do both without going cross-eyed but in the end the dick wins. He was right about that, too.

“I never doubted it,” I say. I go to sit up, more than ready to lay my lips on him and give him that blow job I promised, but he’s bringing a condom out of his bag and tearing it open. He throws the wrapper and the bag to the ground and then slowly rolls the condom onto himself. For some reason, there’s nothing sexier than watching a guy put on a condom; the sight of a man’s hands on his dick is a pure lust-inducer.

And despite just coming, the lust is pouring back into me again, like a dam unleashed.

The side of his mouth quirks up into that crooked smile. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I’m dying to be inside you.”

I have a feeling that “presumptuous” is his middle name.

He puts his hands around my waist and pulls me to him. My legs wrap around him while he starts to guide himself inside. It’s intimate, perhaps more so than I’d like. The lights are on and he stares right into my eyes, and for a moment I want to look away, to break the tension, the intrusion. I’m already exposed and he peers into me like he’s uncovering every last rock. The things I keep hidden deep down. It’s mildly terrifying.

But I don’t look away. Instead, I tighten my hold around him, my calves flexing.

He grips the small of my back while he thrusts in, finding purchase. I haven’t had sex for months, and despite how turned on I am, it hurts for that first moment. I close my eyes and he slows.

“Are you all right?” he asks breathlessly. He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair off my face. His tenderness is jarring.

I quickly nod and smile. I am all right. I’m more than that; I’m flying. He kisses me and I relax into him, allowing him in further until I’m so beautifully full. The pain is gone and the pleasure builds with each controlled movement he makes. There is symmetry in our actions, as if we move as one, as if I’m not precariously perched on the edge of a pool table at some party. We don’t move like strangers.

I hold him tight, he holds me tighter, I pull him in deeper, he pushes in further. He thrusts, I rush to meet him. We give and take until I should be close to coming. I move my hand between us, running my finger over the tip of his shaft before helping myself out.

He grins down at my hand and slowly raises his hooded eyes to meet mine. “I’m not sure if I want to watch or if I want to help.” But after a few sweaty moments of near bliss, he moves my hand out of the way and places his thumb on my clit. His lips go to my neck where he bites and sucks his way to the smooth spot behind my ears. He picks up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, and I can barely hang on.

He whispers, grunts, moans things in my ear. He tells me how good I feel, how bad he wants to come inside me, how much he wants me. He wants more. I want more.

Just when I feel like he’s about to come, his breath hitches, he frowns in deep concentration and control, and I let go. His thumb is magic and we come at the same time. His nails dig into my back, the heels of my feet dig into his. My body rides the wave again, rides him over and over until I’m drowning. I’m sweaty and sated and he steals my breath for a few moments before I come back down.

When I do, I realize we’re embracing each other, our foreheads pressed together as we breathe in unison. A drop of sweat rolls off his face and onto mine and he opens his eyes to look at me. They look soft. Delicate. There’s a wound there, something deep and dark and lost inside of him.

Does he even know it’s there?

Then he wipes at his face and laughs. He’s a mess of running eyeliner and smudged bronzer. Somehow it makes him look even more handsome. It makes me forget that I ever saw him vulnerable.

I wish I had more time with him. I wish I could get to know the real Josh.

But New Zealand is waiting for me. Home.

Eventually we pull apart—hot and sticky. I am absolutely covered in his bronzer, and my hair and makeup are a mess. Halloween is officially over now.

“Where are you staying?” he asks me as he carefully pulls the condom off.

“The Hostelling International on Thurlow,” I say as I jump off the pool table. I quickly get dressed, turning my back to him. Now that the haze of sex has worn off, I’m feeling like a wild animal without cover. Exposed.

When I turn around, he’s watching me, smiling. His pants are on and his wig is crooked, and with half his body bronzer wiped off he looks like a tawny zebra.

“What?” I ask, trying not to feel self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’re done with each other.”

I raise my brow. “Okay . . .”

“What time is your flight?”

“Three in the afternoon.”

“How about I get you a cab home?”

I frown. “I can get my own cab.”

He rubs at the braided goatee on his chin. “How about I take you home. I shave this thing off. We do that,” he gestures to the pool table, “again, in a bed. You stay the night. In the morning, we’ll take it from there.”

I admit, it’s tempting. But slightly irresponsible. “It sounds a bit too risky when I have a thirteen hour flight tomorrow.” I’m thinking it over though and he’s studying me, waiting for me to say yes.

And I do, because I want to. It feels right. He’s right. We aren’t done with each other.

“How about I stay for a while,” I tell him, “then cab home before the sun rises. I’ll feel better. I have a knack for missing planes, trains, and automobiles.”

He bites his lip and nods. “Excellent film, by the way.” He comes over to me and kisses me softly on the lips. “Let’s go.”