Chapter Twenty-Eight
It’s far enough before I hit the water that I feel that weightlessness in my tummy. Then comes the splash, the disorientation. I feel like I’ve been slapped from head to toe, my skin tingling. I swim upwards, the water burning in my nose. I surface, gasping for air.
I try to right my hair covering my face with one hand while using the other to assist with treading water. Something blocks what’s left of the evening sun. I look up to find Gus diving in after me.
I squeal again, turning my face away to avoid getting splashed.
He resurfaces fast, his body warm as he pulls me to him. “Are you ok?” he asks, breathless.
I laugh, gurgled. It’s ridiculous. “Yes. Oh my God.”
“You essentially did a twenty-foot backflip.”
“I was showing off.”
“Then I’m impressed.”
“You dove in after me.”
He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Of course I did,” he says likes it’s obvious. With one hand around my waist, he’s keeping himself above the water pretty much with the kick of his legs alone. He runs his thumb over my cheeks, lips, chin.
I gasp against him.
I think he’s going to kiss me by the way he’s leaning in. My heart rate rises, my breathing coming short and sharp but then we hear shouting from the deck and the crew are throwing us a lifebuoy to grab hold of.
Gus nudges me to take it first as we’re slowly hauled back onto the ship, climbing a dangling ladder which is surprisingly tough going, especially with a soaked dress clinging to my skin.
Once I’m back on board and being fussed over, I can’t stop laughing.
I’m unsure whether it’s the adrenaline or the fact that I could’ve died.
I mean, this ship is more like a yacht, so the deck we were on was only about twenty feet above the water, but still, the slap of the water as I hit it certainly stung.
Gus takes a towel and apologies to the crew members. I’m still too stunned to stammer anything, holding onto the towel now wrapped around me with one hand at the front of my neck while he grabs my spare one.
“Follow me,” he orders, striding through a storage room full of brooms and strong cleaning products. He’s definitely lost, looking for the staircase but styles it out. We emerge into the main lobby, other guests staring at our drenched hair and clothes, our frantic need to be alone.
We stride up three flights of stairs and by the top of them the adrenaline has worn off and I’m panting again. “Was the lift out of order?”
“I wasn’t waiting for the lift.”
I laugh, exasperated. He turns to find me out of breath. Taking pity on me, he crouches down and throws me over his shoulder and I can’t fight the breathless giggles that escape me.
He takes me to his room. As he lets me in and places me down, I realise I’ve been wasting far too much time worrying about the fact that Gus is a popstar, when I could’ve been sharing the suite of dreams. It must be four times the size of my tiny cabin, with glass sliding doors at the rear plus a massive balcony with gorgeous furniture including a hammock.
What the hell!
I realise we’ve paused. I turn to him. He’s watching me carefully.
“Did I rush this?” he asks.
“What?”
“Racing you up here?” he breathes, his chest rising as heavily as mine.
“Look, Sara, I’ve never met anyone like you.
You’re so sure. So strong. You’ve made me less afraid to step away from everything I know.
You’ve shown me there’s a world beyond the band.
I don’t think you realise what you’re doing to me. ”
I laugh. “It’s only been a week.”
“It’s only been a week,” he agrees, dropping his shoulders and stepping closer. “In only a week you’ve shown me I’m more than a popstar. I’m a brother, a friend and if nothing else I’m absolutely hilarious.”
I fight the smile. “Your sense of humour is average at best.”
“I needed you. I needed this.” He returns to me, frantic mouth on my neck, lips, throat, earlobes. I gasp as he walks me backwards until my body flops down onto a plump, cool leather chair. Gus kneels before me, leaning in closer, tugging me towards him.
I lace my fingers into his hair and pull on his sodden curls.
“Do you want this?” he whispers against my throat as he lets his hands wander lower, over my waist, my soaked dress slick against my skin. Gus runs his tongue over my collarbone.
I probably taste salty.
I don’t care.
Fire is whirling in my veins, setting every part of me alight. I want to be devoured by him. “I want it. I want you.”
“Good girl,” he mutters, sucking a nipple over my dress as he runs one hand up and over my front then back down the middle, splaying fingers to touch as much of me as he can. “Fuck, I’m obsessed with your body, Sara. It’s all I can think about…”
He pauses, pressing a kiss to my belly, moving lower. His long, strong fingers run over my thighs, squeezing and pressing them upwards so I’m forced to bend my knees, leaving myself exposed for him.
I gasp again as his mouth travels, his right hand releasing my thigh, leaving behind little imprints, as he strokes me over my lace-trimmed knickers.
His eyes dart back to mine as he teases me in exactly the right spot. I hum as the heated sensation races up my spine.
I swear I feel it in my ears.
His lips return, nudging the material out of the way as he runs his tongue over my clit. He nudges one finger inside of me, that bitten-off groan escaping him again. “Look at you. You’re so ready,” he breathes. “Is this all for me?”
I feel like I should be embarrassed but I’m not.
His warm tongue runs over me again and I curve my back reflexively.
I usually take a minute to settle into it, but the hazy, brilliant sensations are already rocking through me.
He adds a second finger, finding my biting point, massaging it so that every time his tongue finds my clit, I swear I’m going to come undone.
And then he takes it away, adding to that swell, that pressure.
I roll my head back, lift my thighs. I couldn’t serve myself more freely.
I tug on his hair. Here, I think. Put your head here. Kiss me here.
But he’s too strong, too focused. Instead, he uses his hand around my thigh, to tug me closer to his mouth and I watch him practically feast on me, mouth open, eyes on me, a daring look that has my core coiling.
I release his head to run my fingers over his toned, rigid back and he returns his focus to my clit. It’s unfair. If we’re doing this, and it appears we most certainly – ahh – are! Then I want time to explore him too.
He ups the pressure with his fingers, and I curse at the ceiling, unbothered that there could be prying ears on the yacht. I hope they enjoy the performance. Gus’s lips venture away from my centre, pressing damply on my inner thighs, nibbling there so I can’t help but squirm.
“Sara, you’re too close. I’m not done with you yet. You’re doing so well.”
“Please,” I whimper.
“Beg again and you’re going to finish me.”
This girl loves a challenge. “Please, Gus. Please. I want you to make me come.”
He groans, dropping his head onto my stomach, kissing me there, breathing me in. He uses his tongue like a brush, licking all the sea water from my body.
“Please.”
He huffs a groan, kisses lower, slower, teasing. When he finally reaches my clit again, he doesn’t hold back, his fingers work me until I’m swollen and gasping for it. He sucks, kisses, licks and bites until I’m tugging his hair like it’s the only thing stopping me from floating off into the sky.
“You’re delicious,” he says as he works his body between my legs. We kiss there for a moment until he laughs, fidgeting uncomfortably. It occurs to me that he’s still wearing his wet chinos.
“I need to change,” he says, kissing my nose. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”
Well, ok.
I’m nothing if not a whore for a bossy, sexy man. I do as I’m told, as he slides his arms underneath me and scoops me up. He places me down on the bed, still soaked through and kisses me softly.
“I’m going to get dressed. Be good and stay here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Barely two minutes pass and he’s back, topless, dry sweat shorts and a pleased glint in his eye to find me still lying exactly where he left me.
I’m aware the sheets will be damp from lying in them but I’m also riding the steadying waves of endorphins, my limbs heavy and lazy.
He offers me his hand to help me stand. I take his lead as he pulls me into the ensuite and slowly helps me out of my dress.
It lands beside me in a damp thud. He carefully unhooks my bra, eyeing me like I’m about to stop him.
I’m not. Then he hooks his finger under my knickers, dragging them down my legs, supporting my balance to step out of them.
There’s something beautifully intimate about the way he wraps an arm around my bare waist now, pressing my body into his as he turns the shower on behind me. He steps out of his shorts too and I fight a smile when I realise he didn’t put any boxers on.
Prepared.
He moves me under the water, shampooing my hair, turning me to face away, careful not to let the water into my eyes. He runs his hands over my body, feeling me, positioning me. My heart races. I think he’s going to take it further.
He’s hard and hot against my back. I want that part of him.
I’m almost rocking forward, ready. But he doesn’t take anything from me.
It’s all given as he kisses along my shoulder, nipping at my earlobes, massaging my scalp.
His spare hand slowly works my clit, thumb circling, until I’m coming undone again, whimpering at the tiles.
“Turn around,” he says afterwards. I do as I’m told. He’s beautiful naked, all strong lines of muscle under freshly tanned skin. “Do you want to touch me?”
Adrenaline has me in its clutches as I step closer to him, running my hands over his chest, taking my time feeling over the ridges on his stomach.
He’s so firm and smooth except for the hair there that provides a delightful texture under my palm.
Once I have his warm cock in my hand, he curses, pinching his eyes tight.
He presses his hands flat against the tiles behind me to balance himself as I increase the pressure. He runs his lips along my collarbone, humming low and crackled. “You’re so good.” And moments later. “I’m going to paint your hand.”
I run my mouth over his chest in return, kissing and gasping against him as his body tenses around me. And just as promised, he finishes, pressing his forehead on my shoulder, coating my fingers.
He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me after; my body squished between him and the damp wall. We remain like that until the hot water runs cold. It’s the perfect way to shake us out of the moment. We clean ourselves again, dry, then collapse onto the bed, sated and calm.
It doesn’t take me long to doze off, but as soon as I do, the dream starts. I don’t know how long I’ve been going around this roundabout, alone in this cold car, but my tears are coming hard, and I can’t stop repeating Mum’s name. I’m so tired of doing this. I want off this ride.
“Please just stop!” I yell at the steering wheel, closing my eyes and letting go. Maybe crashing will release me. Maybe that’s been the answer all along. What if I just keep steering around and around and it never lets me off?
I hear the wheels spin. A screech from the tyres.
But I don’t crash.
“You’re ok, Sara,” I hear. “You’re not alone.”
My conscious mind knows it’s not part of the dream and yet I’m not ready to step out yet.
A warm arm encircles my waist, pulling me backwards, lips press against my shoulder.
Moments before I wake, I see the car hurtling off the side of the road, slamming into a tree but I’m not in it. My body is on the outside, looking in.
I gasp, half-choking awake.
“It’s ok,” he whispers, sitting up with me as I pant out breaths, trying to ground myself again. One of his hands smooths circles on my lower back as he kisses my shoulder. Normally I’d be embarrassed but with Gus, I know I’m safe. He understands.
As the dream drifts away and I come back to myself, I press my face into my palms. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice muffled.
“Hey,” he scolds gently. “You’re not allowed to apologise.”
“I just… It felt worse than usual.” I turn to read his face, but he only looks concerned. “I think… I think something changed.”
A notch forms between his brows. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. I never want to talk about it again, in fact, I don’t even want to talk. Instead, I lean across and kiss him like it hurts not to. Because right now it does. He runs his thumb over my cheek, soothing me, like he knows this kiss is feral but he’s happy to help, happy to be of use.
Once I’m calmer, he presses me back into the pillows, turns me away from him before bringing my body flush with his. I finally fall back to sleep knowing that even if I find myself in that damn car again, he’ll wake me, and I’ll be ok.
Because I’m not alone.