Bliss (31 page)

"What are you smiling about?" Hunter let the back door
swing closed behind her as she walked back to Sinclair.

"Stability. Excitement."

"Don't let Della get to you. Ever since we stopped being
lovers she's been playing mummy and trying to find a suitable
girl for me to marry."

Is that what she was doing? "Wasn't Lydia suitable?"

"Apparently not." She moved Sinclair's feet out of the way
and sank down on the bench beside her, draping the long legs
across her lap. "Have dinner with me tonight." Hunter
watched Sinclair with a soft smile curving her mouth. "I
want to give you a sweet reward for taking care of me yester,5
day.

"Sweet, huh?" Her insides just officially turned into mush
for this woman.

"Definitely." Hunter's fingers played over the fine bones of
Sinclair's feet, tracing the veins just under her skin.

"With such promises, how can I refuse?"

At Hunter's insistence, they ate dinner in the backyard,
spread out on a blanket with the food laid out between them.
Watching Hunter cook the meal and being unable to taste it
had built a steady fire under Sinclair's hunger. By the time the
dark woman had set the plates out, she was starving.

"Where do I start?" she asked as Hunter presented the
meal.

"With this."

Hunter took a thick, scarlet-colored fruit from a pile of
three others in a white bowl and broke it in half. A honeycomb of bright red seeds lay in the pale membranes.

"Pomegranate." Hunter took a piece in her hand and used
a finger to detach a sprinkling of seeds. "You can eat the
seeds if you want to. For fiber." She put them near Sinclair's
mouth. "Open."

The flesh-covered seeds were sweet, exploding between her
tongue and palate with only the slightest pressure. Sinclair
tried to suck off the juicy bits and spit the hard seeds into her
hand, but it was messy and she wasn't keeping enough fruit
in her mouth.

"Try eating the seeds. You might find that more satisfying."

She did. They ate until all that remained of the pomegranate was a shell that lay open like a crushed flower on the
white juice-stained dish.

"Are you ready for the rest of the meal?"

Hunter fed Sinclair a steaming plate of run-down, its slowsimmered flavor of coconut milk enhanced by pink curls of
shrimp and the delicious burn of scotch bonnet peppers. She
poured the richly scented stew over boiled green bananas,
ripe plantains, and firm, round dumplings. At the first bite,
Sinclair released a breath of pure astonishment.

"This is even better than my grandmother's." She threw
Hunter a look of mock anger. "You've made me blaspheme."
She took another bite. "But this tastes so good."

"And all I have to do is cook to have you make those
noises? I think you're about to turn me into a chef."

Sinclair laughed and raised her fork to Hunter before returning to the serious business of eating.

"I really, really like the way you cook," she said after the
second helping. Her mouth was still full, this time with the
starchy sweet combination of dumplings and boiled plantains. She chewed with her fingers covering her mouth. No
need to express her thanks by spraying Hunter with food.
Besides, it was too good to waste.

"Well, I like the way you eat," Hunter returned with a
smile, her fork poised over a modest-sized plate.

Sinclair winked. "Save that kind of talk for later, missy.
One oral indulgence at a time is all my poor little heart can
take. "

"Really? I took you for a multitasker."

"Not where you're concerned."

"In that case, I might have to take back your all-access
pass."

"I'd like to see you try." Sinclair let go another orgasmic
moan. "If you cooked this well for Della no wonder she
doesn't want to let you go."

"She was the one who let me go, not the other way around."

"That's surprising."

"Why?'

"She just seems a little ... possessive of you, like she hasn't
completely let your past relationship go."

"That is definitely not the case. She put me aside like a
child, like she'd given me as much of her time as she could
before setting me free, so to speak."

"Were you angry?"

"For a while, yes." She shrugged and sipped her water.
"Then I wasn't."

Sinclair nodded, content with that explanation. They ate
the rest of their meal in companionable silence, each swept
up in the eddies of their own thoughts.

When the meal was over Sinclair stood up to help Hunter
with the dishes. In the kitchen, she ran hot water over the
small pile already in the sink. Thankfully, Hunter was the
kind of chef who washed as she cooked. The kitchen was
nearly spotless, with only their dishes left behind to clean.

"Go ahead and make us some tea while I take care of
these," Sinclair said, glancing over her shoulder at the other
woman.

After she finished the dishes, she escaped to the backyard
to lie on the blanket that had been cleared of all remnants of
their dinner. Sinclair looked up at the sky. Daylight was just
beginning to fade. Other stars were still pale shadows hidden
by the brightness of the sun, but that brilliant star was
preparing to make its exit. She released her breath in a long
sigh of appreciation. The sound mingled with those of the
swaying leaves and the wind ruffling the grass near her. The
back door creaked open.

"You are not going to fall asleep on me," Hunter murmured near her ear. "I have other plans for you." She set the
tray of tea in the grass beside the blanket.

Sinclair opened her eyes, smiling. "I wouldn't dream of
ending our day so soon."

"Good. Have some tea with me."

The brew was simple yet fragrant, a mixture of fresh orange leaves and honey. Sinclair took a few sips before leaning
into the shelter of Hunter's arms, replete.

"You are a wonderful cook. A beautiful, ravishing
woman," Sinclair murmured, well on her way toward a nap.
"And sweet. Like a pomegranate."

Hunter chuckled and gathered her closer. When Sinclair
opened her eyes again, the sky was wreathed in stars.

"You're awake then?" Hunter asked, nipping gently on her ear. At Sinclair's sleepy smile, she grinned. "Good. Let's
move this party indoors then, shall we?"

Hunter locked the night out and left the blanket and tea
cups in the kitchen to be dealt with later. She took Sinclair's
hand and walked toward the bedroom. Once in the room
Sinclair excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she
came back Hunter was turning down the sheets on the bed. A
trio of candles glowed from the windowsill.

"Very nice."

She came up behind Hunter and dragged the T-shirt from
her body, taking time to touch the warm skin with its shifting
muscles and irresistible womanliness. Sinclair was careful not
to aggravate her bruises.

"I finished the painting," Hunter murmured.

Sinclair's hands paused their exploration. "Really? When
can I see it?"

"When you turn around."

The painting hung suspended on the wall between the two
large bedroom windows, a study of greens, copper, and reds.
The woman in the painting-because this untamed creature
couldn't really be Sinclair-lay on a bed of ferns with her
head tossed back and her hair spread in a cottony cloud over
upraised arms. The top two buttons of her white blouse were
undone, giving a teasing glimpse of her breasts. The long
legs, accentuated in tight blue jeans, were strewn in a pose of
postcoital relaxation. Only her cheek, the graceful slope of
her neck, and the corner of a moist-lipped Mona Lisa smile
could be seen. The rest of her face was lost to her coyly
turned-away head. It could have been a photograph, the
image was so real.

"You like?" Hunter asked.

"Very much." Sinclair looked at the large painting again.
Was that how Hunter saw her? "I'm never going to see that
painting again, am I?" she asked.

"Of course you will. Whenever you come into my bed room, it'll be hanging right there." Hunter kissed the back of
her neck and anchored her hands on Sinclair's hips. "Now,
where were we?"

Sinclair chuckled and turned around. "Right here, love."

Her fingers loosened the drawstring pants and pulled them
down Hunter's legs. The dark woman was wearing panties,
of a soft, white Victorian lace, the kind that sat low on
Hunter's hips to show off the flat expanse of belly and the
inviting slope that led to her pussy. Sinclair took a peek at the
back. The lace lay high across Hunter's ass like butterfly
wings, leaving the sleek bottom half of her cheeks bare.
Sinclair wet her lips.

"Were you expecting to get lucky today, Miss Willoughby?"

A shrug sent delightful ripples across her cleavage. "It didn't
hurt to be prepared."

Hunter's eyes challenged Sinclair to continue her exploration, to hook her fingers in the waistband of the panties
and fling them to some corner of the room. But she wasn't
ready to get rid of the gorgeous wrapping quite yet. Instead,
Sinclair's hands touched dark hips and pulled them close to
her nose. With a low trembling sigh she inhaled the smell of
Hunter, the delicate musk of her that was like the earth after
rain.

"May I?"

"Please do." Hunter's voice was rough.

Sinclair laid her cheek against the pale lace, feeling the
heat with her face, indulging herself in the powerful, primal
scent of her lover. Patient, Hunter breathed slowly above her
even though her body obviously begged for satisfaction.

"You can take them off if you want."

Sinclair smiled. "Thank you." She caressed the dark skin
through the white lace, excited by the increased pungency of
the other woman's scent.

Hunter groaned. "Do you just get off on torturing me?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Sinclair laughed softly.

"Very funny." Hunter pulled her to her feet and with spare quick movements undressed her. "Come, let me show you
something."

"I remember hearing that line before."

"Then you know this won't hurt." She pressed Sinclair
down into the bed. "Not even the tiniest bit."

Hunter kissed Sinclair. She was gentle, her exploration curious rather than passionate. But Sinclair invited her to do
more, opening her mouth under Hunter's and sliding her fingers into the other woman's hair. Her legs captured Hunter's,
curling around her like twin snakes so she wouldn't take the
pleasure away, so she would keep pouring heat and wetness
into her body until Sinclair forgot everything. The smooth
curves of her lace-clad ass undulated under Sinclair's hands.

"Hunter ..." Her voice trembled with need.

Hunter's body truly came alive then, rising up over Sinclair
like a dark tide. She pressed her thigh between Sinclair's and
shoved her hands above her head. She moaned and pushed
into her, desperate to have Hunter's body against her sensitive nipples.

"I loved feeling your pussy on my face," Hunter whispered. "You taste like ackee and saltfish. I could eat you all
night." She licked her throat and followed the arched line to
her breasts. Sinclair could feel her hovering, could feel her
breath, waiting. Hunter's mouth covered her nipple. She
sighed, drowning in the liquid delight. Hunter sucked her
nipples into the warm wet of her mouth, sucking, milking
until Sinclair gasped and writhed against the bed. She took
Sinclair's breasts into her hands, pressing one into her mouth
then the other. Sinclair trembled under her.

"What do you want?" Hunter bit her nipples and stained
them again with her tongue.

"I want your fingers, your mouth, anything." Sinclair
thrust her hips against Hunter, beyond pride, begging.

Her hands slid between Sinclair's legs, searching for the
ache. "Here?"

"Yes."

The fullness was a surprise. It was only one finger, but it
felt so good. Sinclair's body arched off the bed, stung by the
sweet pressure Hunter finally offered. "More."

With the second finger she would have promised Hunter
anything. Sinclair's hands clawed her back, sinking into the
solid muscles that moved as Hunter nipped at her sensitized
nipples and fucked her with agonizing slowness. Hunter lifted
her head, sending her hair dancing over Sinclair's heated skin.

"You've ruined me for other women." Her fingers moved
steadily inside her. "I hope you know that." She bit a bloodflushed nipple.

The pain sparked a higher flame inside Sinclair. She panted
and arched into Hunter, sliding on the long fingers until she
was crying from the sensation, her hips rocking against
Hunter's palms, moving to the tempo she set. "I-oh!" The
stroke of her fingers stole Sinclair's breath, until she was
whimpering with need, her belly tight and trembling. The
bed shook as she exploded in Hunter's hand, shaking and
arching her breasts against her lover's mouth.

Hunter released her slowly, licking her breasts in lazy, circular strokes and holding her body still as shudders of satisfaction rippled through it.

"Not fair," Sinclair gasped. "This was supposed to be my
show."

"You weren't fighting me off." She kissed Sinclair's chin
then buried her face in the damp neck. "But don't worry.
You'll get your turn soon."

Hunter lay back on the bed and her body relaxed into the
rumpled sheets, soothed by Sinclair's wandering hands and
soft, warming kisses. She hummed her approval when Sinclair touched her skin, still clothed in its Victorian lace
panties that made it look like dark silk. The contrast of white
lace against bitter chocolate skin made Sinclair's body heat
again. So beautiful. Hunter waited patiently while her lover
lay quietly against her thighs.

Her hand touched Sinclair's hair. "Teasing at this stage of
the game isn't very nice."

"No. That's not it." A weak laugh trickled from Sinclair's
lips. "Give me a second."

The dark woman quieted. Sinclair kissed the smooth line
of Hunter's stomach and watched, amazed, as the muscles
rippled under her touch. Her body was wet again. Had it
ever been dry in Hunter's presence?