Chapter 22 Blackjack
BLACKJACK
The Gulfstream was on the tarmac at Johnstown, with the engines running, when we pulled up.
Katarina climbed the airstairs ahead of me. I carried both bags and set them inside the cabin door. The lights were low, and the pilot had the cockpit sealed.
Once inside, I put my hands on her waist, and she turned to face me.
“This is the same plane we were on before.”
“You’re right,” I said.
“So it has a stateroom.”
I wriggled my eyebrows. “Yes, it does, and as soon as we’re in the air, that’s where we’ll be.”
Once we heard the tones indicating we were at cruising altitude, I stood. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?” I teased.
Katarina slipped around me and was halfway down the aisle before I could catch up.
“Take off your shirt,” I said at the same time I closed and locked the door.
She sat up and worked the hem with her good hand. The cast caught at the neckline, and I came forward and eased the fabric over it.
“You’re staring at me, Bishop.”
“Get used to it. I have wanted you every hour since the first time I put you in that shower.” I leaned down and rested my lips against her ear. “Plan to spend the next few days naked and in my arms.”
“What are you waiting for?” She asked, winking when she said it.
I unclasped her bra with one hand, worked the straps past the cast, and dropped it on the floor.
Her nipples were peaked before my lips got to them. I drew one in and sucked until her spine came off the bed, then moved to the other and did the same.
She wove her fingers in my hair as I kissed down her stomach, and her muscles tensed under my lips. At the waistband of her jeans, I unfastened the button and lowered the zipper, then slid them off, along with her panties. She was naked, and I was fully dressed. I liked it that way.
“Do you remember what I told you the last time we were in this room?” I asked.
“That I couldn’t make a sound or you’d stop.”
“That’s right. This time, the rules have changed. I want to hear you, Katarina. I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you. I want to hear every moan, every gasp, and when you come, I want to hear my name screamed from your lips. Tell me you understand.”
She smirked. “Oh, I understand.”
I spread her knees and settled between them. When I lowered my mouth and licked through her folds, she fisted the sheet and her spine arched. I swirled her clit with my tongue and eased two fingers inside her.
When her thighs shook, I stopped. And when she made a sound of frustration, I went in harder. When she tried to close her legs, I spread them wider.
“Bishop, please, I need you,” she begged.
“Not yet, kitten.”
I brought her to the edge twice more before I told her to come. For the rest of my life, I’d remember how it sounded when my name tore from her lips. I kept my mouth on her and worked her through it until her body went slack.
When I stood and removed my clothes, Katarina propped herself on her elbow and watched.
“Like what you see, kitten?”
“You know I do.”
I rolled a condom on, came over her, and braced one arm beside her head. I ran the tip of my cock through her wetness and gritted my teeth to keep from taking her hard and fast.
“Open your eyes.”
When she did, I entered her in one long stroke and held.
“I love you, Katarina Stepanova,” I said.
“I love you, Bishop Black.”
She raised her head to kiss me, and the idea of her tasting herself on my lips drove me mad with wanting to fuck her hard enough that I’d hear her scream over and over for the rest of the flight.
I kept my thrusts slow at first, with strokes that let her body adjust to mine. She gripped my shoulder, and her nails pressed into my flesh, but I still held back.
“Harder, Bishop.”
“Not yet, kitten.”
“Please—”
I dropped my mouth to hers again and swallowed the sounds she made. Then I fucked her with everything I had, and she matched me, driving her hips up to meet mine.
“Come with me, Katarina.”
She broke first. Her pussy clenched, and I followed with a groan I couldn’t hold back.
I stayed inside her after. My forehead rested against hers. Her fingers were in my hair.
“Bishop.”
“Kitten.”
“That was—”
I kissed the corner of her mouth. “We’re not done.”
“I didn’t think we were.”
I dealt with the condom in the stateroom bathroom. When I came back, she’d rolled to her side. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, and her ring caught the cabin light.
I lay behind her and put my lips on her neck. My hand traced from her hip to her thigh and back. She pressed into me, and I was rigid before my palm reached her stomach.
I slid two fingers into her from behind. She was swollen and sensitive, and when I curled them, she gasped and thrust her pelvis into my hand.
“Tell me what you want, kitten.”
“Nothing between us. Never again.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “Please.”
I withdrew my fingers, rolled her to her stomach, then brought her up to her knees. “How’s the knee?” I asked.
“What knee? Just fuck me, Bishop.”
I entered her from behind, and the heat of her nearly ended me on the first stroke. I held, and she gasped, and her hips tilted to take me deeper.
The rhythm I set was slower and more deliberate than before. She tightened on the upstroke, and her breath hitched when I ground into her. I took my time, and she let me.
When the second orgasm came, she screamed my name even louder. I couldn’t hold back and followed, then rolled us to our sides. Her back was to my front, and I wrapped my body around hers.
“Bishop?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, kitten.”
“It’s a good thing you’re marrying me.”
I raised my head. “I agree, but why?”
“Because you’re mine, and I’m yours, and you’ll make love to me whenever I ask you to.”
My cock hardened, and I pressed between the cheeks of her ass. “And sometimes when you don’t.”
The house was at the end of a gravel drive that curved through palms and sea grape to a low stone wall. I punched the gate code, then drove through.
“Wow,” she murmured when we came around the bend and the house came into view.
The house was longer than it was tall, with bleached stone walls, louvered shutters across the front, and a covered porch on the water side.
The lawn ran to a strip of sand with nothing beyond it but the ocean.
It wasn’t visible from where we were, but there was a lap pool and jetted spa on the opposite side.
“Did you come here as a kid?” she asked as I was carrying our bags inside after I’d pulled into the garage.
“My parents didn’t buy this place until we were out of high school, but we spent our vacations here after they did.”
We walked inside, opening doors and windows to let the breeze off the water move through the house.
Katarina stopped in the doorway facing the ocean. I stood behind her and rested my chin on her shoulder. “Welcome to the Bahamas.”
“Thank you for bringing me.”
“Thank you for letting me.”
The first morning when I woke, the bed was empty.
I went looking and found Katarina sitting on the porch, facing the water, with her legs drawn up. I pulled another chair over and sat in front of her with my legs spread.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She bit her lip.
“Come on. Whatever’s on your mind, you can share with me. Not just today but forever, kitten.”
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then did it again. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Be still?”
She nodded.
“Then, we won’t be. Come on. Let’s go.”
“What are we doing?”
“I’m going to keep you moving so much that you’ll beg me to let you sit and do nothing.”
“It will never happen.”
“Challenge accepted.” I laughed. “Get one of those bikinis we got on our way here. We’re going out on the water.”
“How will I choose? You picked out ten.”
I shook my head. “Twenty. You only let me buy ten.”
“Which was your favorite?”
“The pink one.”
She rolled her eyes. “I should’ve known. It’s the skimpiest.”
“It’s that or naked, baby.”
The keys for the Boston Whaler were on a hook in the shed by the dock. I checked the fuel and the bilge, then started it up. “Are you coming?” I asked when she stood on the dock but didn’t step close enough to get in.
“Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?”
“If you’re scared, we could always just stay here and sit by the pool.”
Katarina put one hand on her hip. “I’m not scared.”
“Then, get that pretty little ass in the boat, kitten.”
I held out my hand, but she climbed in on her own.
We hugged the shore for twenty minutes until I found the reef I’d discovered on my last trip down here. The water was clear to the bottom, and schools of blue tang scattered when we cruised over them.
“Can you swim with the cast?”
She raised her chin. “I can do anything with the cast.”
I killed the engine, dropped anchor, and tossed her a mask and snorkel. She managed it one-handed, refusing my help when I offered it. She did, however, give in and let me help with the fins.
The visibility ran sixty feet, and the water was warm when we went over the side and plunged in together. She was a stronger swimmer than I’d expected, even handicapped by the cast.
“You’ve done this before,” I said when we came up for air.
“Mediterranean. Different water.”
We floated on the surface without talking, letting the current carry us north. We got out, walked the beach back to where the boat was anchored, then swam out to it.
On the ride home, she sat with her face to the sun. Her hair was in knots, salt dried white on her shoulders, and she was smiling.
We went out again the next day and the day after that.
When she said she wanted to fish, I rigged the rods and showed her the basics, and by the second afternoon, she was landing yellowfin off a reef.
What I thought would be the biggest one of the day got away when the rod bent double and the line snapped.
She stared at the broken line for three seconds, then spun around.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, thrusting the rod at me.
I re-rigged it, and she caught a bigger one twenty minutes later.
On the fourth evening, she came into the kitchen while I was breaking down one of the yellowfin.
“Teach me.”
“You sure? It’s a little gruesome.”
She looked down at the fish. “I thought you were a soldier.”
“I was.”
“Ha! I don’t believe you. Not if you think this is gruesome.”
I put the knife in her hand and stood beside her. She picked it up fast. The second fillet was cleaner than the first.
“Not bad for a first-timer.”
“I had a good instructor.”
I cooked the fish on the grill while Katarina made a salad. We ate on the porch, then sat there until long after the sun had gone down.
“Bishop.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not a very good cook.”
“No? Well, it’s a good thing I’m marrying you for your body then.”
“I’m serious. I want you to teach me.”
“Okay. What do you want to start with?”
“What’s your very favorite thing to eat?”
When I raised a brow and trailed my hand all the way up her thigh, she smacked it.
“In the kitchen!”
“Same answer.”
“Argh. If you won’t tell me, I’ll make you my favorite thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Borscht.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. Paella.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“You think it’s easy?” I asked.
Katarina shook her head. “I’m just glad you didn’t go for the Borscht. I actually hate it.”
By the end of the week, I was her sous chef, and that was only when she allowed me in the kitchen with her.
On the seventh morning, I was on the porch before she was. That hadn’t happened all week.
She came out a few minutes later wearing jeans and a tank top.
“You’re dressed,” I said.
She bit her bottom lip.
“Out with it, Stepanova.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“It’s time to go home.”
I nodded. “I was going to say the same thing.”
“You were? No. You love it here.”
“I like it here. I love the mountains more.”
She cocked her head like she didn’t believe me.
“Tell you what. We’ll fly home tomorrow. How’s that?”
“One more day?”
I nodded. “What do you want to do with it?”
“Stay here. With you. No boat. No plans. And especially no clothes.”
I unfastened the button of her jeans, then lowered her zipper. “Ever been skinny-dipping?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hey, you might actually enjoy it.”
“That isn’t what I meant. Of course I’ve skinny-dipped, Bishop. I’m European.”
We made good use of the stateroom on the return trip to the States. On the drive to the camp, I brought up an idea I’d been thinking about all week. “If the weather holds, and it’s supposed to, I want to get started on Orenda.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“You were?”
Katarina nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
“Seriously?” I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips.
“What is that for?”
“Because you are the perfect woman.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
Katarina smirked. “Bishop, I’m only the perfect woman for you.”
Truer words had never been spoken.