Bliss (28 page)

"You are not nice," Sinclair murmured, rushing to catch
up with the group. But it was too late, she didn't hear a thing
the woman said. All her awareness was focused on Hunter,
on her warmth behind her, the teasing hands that touched
and fondled when no one was looking. They drifted higher
into the stone castle until they stood in the madwoman's bedroom. Time and a cannon blast had opened up most of the
room to the mountain air. Off the main room was a smaller
anteroom with only two and a half of its walls remaining,
one with barred windows looking down at the shifting waves
of jungle greenery and the sea beyond it. In a back room that
was only the size of a walk-in closet, there was more open
space. The sky above radiated a brilliant blue.

"Down there," Hunter pointed to a speck of white in the
distance, "is where I was born. In my Aunt Eunice's house. I
came too soon so they had to make some adjustments."

"And you've been shaking things up ever since then,
right?"

"How did you know?" Hunter chuckled and turned back
to Mavis.

The tour guide pointed out the woman's mad scribblings
that neither time nor war had diminished, scribblings that
were etched deep into thick walls that would have made it
impossible for anyone to hear her screams or her angry recriminations against the husband who had brought her here
away from her genteel society in England. Mavis's matter-offact recounting of the woman's madness sent a collective shudder through the group of tourists. They could well imagine being isolated from their comforts, forced to tolerate
primitive conditions.

"Does that make you shudder too, Ms. American?"
Hunter asked.

"Not especially."

"Then what would?"

The question trickled down Sinclair's spine and settled
firmly in the cradle of her hips.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen." Mavis paused at the top
of the stairs. "Our next destination is the former slave quarters, a place that the mistress, as well as the master of this
house, visited at regular intervals."

The group trooped down the stairs after her. Hunter
grabbed Sinclair's hand when she started to follow.

"There's something she forgot to show you," she said.

Sinclair smiled. "What's that?"

"This." Hunter pulled her into the circle of her arms and
kissed her.

"But I've already seen that."

"Really? How about this?" She pressed her hips against
Sinclair's and the slighter woman pushed back, sighing in the
rising heat from Hunter's body. Then she felt the extra thickness, a hard length where the woman's softness should have
been. Sinclair hissed. "Well? Do you want it?"

Oh. "Yes."

Hunter kissed her again then pulled her away from the
stairs, toward the small back room with its barred windows
and glimpse of paradise. Sinclair's body was wet with anticipation.

"They won't come up here, don't worry."

Sinclair wasn't worried. It didn't matter if the whole group
of tourists came back, as long as Hunter fulfilled the promise
in her trousers.

"Hold on to the bars," the dark woman instructed.
"Please." Her breath tickled the back of Sinclair's neck.

Sinclair shuddered at the sound of Hunter's zipper. She bit
her lip. Fireflies danced through her stomach, slipping down
between her thighs as Hunter's long fingers moved her dress
out of the way.

"I only want you to feel good," her lover whispered behind her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes. God, yes."

Cool mountain air washed over Sinclair's naked ass and
between her parted thighs. Hunter touched her wetness, the
drip of want that already coated her thighs. She sighed her
delight into Sinclair's neck and palmed a soft breast through
the dress. Then slid the dildo deeply, firmly into her. Sinclair
gasped and arched her back to take more of the fullness.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Their breaths shivered together and a deep shudder traveled through their bodies as Hunter began to move. Sinclair
was a mass of tingling, hyperstimulated nerves, slick and hot
as Hunter slipped into her shallows and depths, creating exquisite friction. She moved against Sinclair's tightening ass,
and breathed against her neck while Sinclair stood, legs
braced apart, fingers clenched around the bars of the window. Her sweat-slick palms amplified the metallic smell of
the bars, searing it forever in her sense memory. Sweat and
sex and iron and Hunter.

Sinclair's body was prickling, aching, and wet. Hunter
whispered her name and she breathed quickly, begging her
not to stop. She didn't. Her hips moved faster, rushing to
meet hers with a slap of flesh that made her gasp and push
back into her.

Though buried in sensation, Sinclair thought she heard
footsteps. Her body tensed and, despite her earlier bravado,
fear of being caught ricocheted through her body. She tried to
push Hunter away, but the other woman held her, trapped
between the wall and her body. Her hips moved jackhammer
fast against Sinclair. She felt Hunter groan against her back, then the dark woman overflowed like a river bursting free of
its dam and washed her clean.

Hunter's fingers loosened from Sinclair's thighs and she
slowly withdrew. Limp and still trembling, Sinclair could
only brush her dress down and blink, panting, at the landscape beyond the bars. When she could walk again, she
turned around. Hunter had already gotten herself together
and was staring at the walls as if absorbed in the dead madwoman's fevered writing.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are." Hunter dipped her head to kiss
Sinclair's throat then stepped back to allow her lover to walk
ahead of her. "I'm starving. Let's go find something to satisfy
my other hunger, hm?"

They went to lunch, back to Celestial. This time Hyacinth
wasn't there, but Hunter's cousin was. He looked up from
the cash register, slim and dark with glowing gold eyes and
Hunter's saturnine mouth.

"Hey, Cliff."

"Hunter! Hey, baby." They shared a long hug. "You look
good. And it looks like you're running with a better class of
company too." He winked at Sinclair.

The restaurant was crowded, both inside and out, but Cliff
found them a table on the patio.

"You going to the family barbeque next week?" he asked.

"I think so. I haven't seen a lot of those guys in weeks."

"Good. So if I don't get the chance to come back out I'll
see you there then."

"Later, cuz."

He turned to kiss Sinclair's hand. "I hope to see you again,
fair Sinclair." Cliff disappeared back into the busy restaurant.

"The people in your family are unusually attractive,"
Sinclair said.

"What does that mean?" Hunter looked up from her
menu. "You think we sold our collective soul to the devil for
these looks?"

Sinclair laughed. "The thought hadn't occurred to me, but
now that you mention it, I do smell the stink of brimstone on
you.

"Is that what you call it?" Hunter leaned closer. "I could
have sworn it was Sinclair's cum."

"Stop it." She blushed and slapped at her lover's knee.

The waitress arrived at their table. "Can I get you ladies
anything to drink today?"

"Some manners for her." Sinclair pointed to her unrepentant lunch companion who gave her a lazy smile for her trouble.

"I'm a waitress, miss, not a miracle worker." The woman
grinned at Hunter. She obviously knew her well.

"What's going on, Dee?"

"Hey, bad woman." She smiled at Hunter, flirtatious and
familiar. "You see Cliff yet?"

"I was just telling him how nice and crowded the place
looks."

"Yeah, and most of them are good tippers too."

"I'll remember that."

Dee slipped back inside the restaurant after taking their
order for drinks.

"She wants you," Sinclair giggled.

"Already had me. I'm sure she's over it by now."

Sinclair hid her surprise at that bit of information. "I bet
she's not."

"Unfortunately not everyone is as enthusiastic and delighted about my attentions as you." Hunter grinned. "Then
again, maybe it's not so unfortunate. I could only handle this
kind of chemistry only once per lifetime."

When the waitress reappeared Sinclair looked at her more
carefully, noting her high, generous ass as she leaned over the
table with their drinks, the full bosom, and the coltish wild ness of her movements. Dee was young. Younger than Lydia,
but she was definitely all woman.

"Are you trying to make Dee nervous or something?"
Hunter asked.

"No. Why?"

"You look like you're evaluating her as a prospect for an
afternoon of hot sex."

"Oh, please. I was just trying to see what your type of
woman is."

Hunter snorted with laughter. "That should be fairly obvious to you by now."

"Yes, it is. You're an ass woman."

"That's true. Any other key observations?"

"Nothing remarkable, but I'll let you know."

"Do that." Hunter sipped her water. "What about you,
Miss Cool and Collected. What kind of woman do you like?
What's your type?"

"I'm not sure if I have a type. You're only the second
woman I've been with."

Hunter leaned back in surprise. "What about the first one,
then? The bitch from the city?"

"Regina is . . . " Sinclair's voice trailed off as she tried to recall images of Regina that she could tie descriptions to.
"She's thin. With a take-charge kind of attitude."

Hunter rolled her eyes. "Does she wear pants or dresses?"

"Both," Sinclair grinned. "But mostly skirts."

"And she came after you?"

"Yes."

Hunter leaned across the table and lowered her voice.
"That cool exterior of yours is very seductive. It's a wonder
that some intrepid dyke hadn't tried to climb onto your face
before then."

Sinclair snorted.

"That sound, however, was not seductive."

Sinclair blew a raspberry at her lover then, noticing Dee's
return, leaned back in her chair so that the waitress had enough space to maneuver their food onto the table. Sinclair
blew Hunter a kiss over the waitress's ass.

That evening Sinclair beat everyone home and surprised
them all with dinner. Steamed fish, stewed chicken, buttersimmered corn, and an iced pitcher of Grace's Calypso Punch
fresh from the can.

"Did you make all this?" Nikki asked after her first
mouthful.

"Of course not. It's restaurant takeout."

Victor laughed. "Even I knew better than to ask that question, Nik." He reached for his glass of punch. "Good job,
daughter. No matter how the food got here, thank you. I
don't think anybody in this house wanted to cook tonight."

"I did," Xavier said from his chair, raising his hand high as
if he was still in class.

"I stand corrected," Victor said.

"What's the occasion?" Nikki's smile was pure mischief.

Sinclair ignored it. "None at all. I just thought how nice it
would be for someone besides the two ... uh, three of you
cooked for once. And since I wasn't about to set anything on
fire, then a restaurant meal seemed the perfect thing."

"You're a brilliant and perceptive woman," Victor said,
raising his glass.

"So I've been told."

After dinner, Victor and Xavier stayed in the kitchen to
wash the dishes, then do homework while Nikki and Sinclair
went for a walk around the neighborhood.

"You look happy," Nikki said as soon as they left the
house.

"I am. It's a little scary."

"Since when is happiness a scary thing?"

"Since I know it's going to end when I leave here. And,
even more important, because I've found it with my sister's
ex-girlfriend."

"Agh!" Nikki made a dismissive motion. "No one cheated
on anybody so it should all be fine. As for the long-distance
thing, I know people who've made it work."

"But I'm not that naive. I know that there are plenty of
women on the island. A lot of them much more appealing
than I am, and very willing to satisfy Hunter's desires. I
would never want her to deny herself because of me. That
was something that Lydia did and despite our similar looks
we're definitely not the same woman."

"No one ever said you were the same person. Calm
down." They walked in silence. "What if Hunter wanted to
make a long-distance thing work?"

"She wouldn't. Trust me." Sinclair stopped. "Listen, can
we talk about something else for a while? This whole subject
of my sex life is a little boring right now."

"Fine, fine." Silence. "So when are you going to tell Lydia
about you and Hunter?"

inclair looked up from her book as she heard rhythmic
)footsteps against the Breckenridges' expensive Spanish tile
floor.

She smiled as Hunter stepped through the door. "Hey, gorgeous."

Her lover was breathtaking in her university clothesbelted black slacks and a white button-down shirt neatly
tucked and pressed. A thick onyx circlet trapped her hair at
her nape, preventing it from falling into her face. Sinclair put
her book facedown on the window seat next to her when
Hunter drew closer. She practically glowed.