Colour of the Sun, part 5: Only Happy When it Rains
Still muzzy and drifting in a cocoon of warmth, I awaken gradually to the sound of rain. Not the kind of rain I've come to associate with Florida, where the increasingly heavy atmosphere gathers into itself until it opens up and vomits water, only to dissipate into steaming too-bright sunshine a few minutes later. Instead, this is a steady, insistent rain, the sort that will not let up for hours.
Cosima lies quietly, half draped over me. One slim muscular thigh nestles between mine; one arm clasps possessively across my torso with her hand loosely curling to cup my ribcage just beneath my breast. Her head rests in its place on my shoulder, her face tucked into the bend of my neck. Gentle warm breath flows tidally across my upper chest. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
I smile, pressing a kiss to her temple and taking in through my mouth the scents of her skin and hair mingling with the alluring miasma of sex that surrounds us and the ever present smell of faint decay carried by the salt-tasting ocean breezes skimming in through the open windows and French doors. "Good morning, chérie." She coughs lightly and nonproductively; I hold my breath, but relax again when no further hacking ensues. However... I bend my head, sniffing. "How did you manage to smuggle weed onto the plane?"
"Busted," she chuckles. "I didn't, but the dishwasher at Mike's hooked me up with an eighth of mids for cheap. Tastes like an OG hybrid that wasn't cured or trimmed properly. Too many stems and a few seeds and it's way too dry, but it'll do."
Languorously I capture her mouth in a lingering kiss; under the pungent harsh earthiness there is the barest hint of lemon and pine. "You haven't been coughing much in the last few days. Maybe we should stay down here. Your lungs would benefit from the heat and humidity."
"Is there like an echo in this room?" Her lips curve against mine. "'Cause I seem to recall making that same suggestion last night and getting totally cock-blocked."
"You wanted to steal a very expensive boat and go on the run in the Bahamas," I remind her. "Being fugitives wanted by the law and by Dyad is not exactly my idea of a relaxing lifestyle." Idly I trail my fingers in slow lazy brushstrokes over her back, limning the bas-relief of her spinous processes, the butterfly wings of her shoulderblades, the fine demarcations between long planes and columns of muscle.
Cosima purrs in pleasure, ducking her head to kiss a slow path along my jawline and down my throat. Tucking her thigh more firmly between my legs, she snuggles contentedly in the circle of my embrace. "Planning to stay in bed all day, are we?"
I look out at the featureless lint-gray sky, the tenaciously pattering rain. From our vantage point, I can hear but not see the pounding crash-hiss of increasingly choppy waves. Even the seagulls seem to have gone into hiding. Brushing a kiss over her forehead, I smile. "Unless you have any better ideas, yes." I kiss her eyelids in turn, giggling as her long lashes tickle my lips. "Besides, there is no rule that says we have to stay in bed — there's always on, over, beside, beneath…" The somewhat flimsy bed frame quakes with her laughter and she clings more tightly to me. The slight weight of her pressing against my belly reminds me of more immediately urgent matters. "But first I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."
"K," she murmurs, rolling over onto her side and stretching as I get to my feet. Admiring the feline display of sleek muscle gliding under pale olive skin, I kiss the round of her shoulder, then tuck the light covers over her to keep her from getting cold.
Nearly groaning with relief, I pee for what seems to be forever, reflecting that I must have drunk far too much last night. I brush my teeth thoroughly. Out of long habit, I check my skin for any signs of impending breakouts and am irrationally pleased to find none.
A peek into the bedroom verifies that Cosima is asleep, so I take advantage of the interlude for a quick shower. I don't think I will ever get used to the disagreeable sulfurous smell of the tap water here. The Caribbean rather than Florida, I decide as I rinse the lather from my body, letting my thoughts meander into daydreams of an indolent life in the sun and sugar-white sand and endless water the color of impossibly clear turquoise.
Loosing my hair from its hastily fastened bun and rough-combing it with my fingers, I make a detour to the tiny kitchen. Something skitters under a counter when I flip on the light. I grimace reflexively and give the baseboard a kick, hoping — probably futilely — that our uninvited six-legged guest will not make a reappearance. Reaching into the refrigerator for a couple bottles of water, greedily I drink almost half of one on my way back to the bedroom.
The sight of Cosima's small form wrapped around my pillow makes me smile. Carefully I climb in to spoon her, moving gingerly to minimize the squealing protest of the springs. I fit my body around hers exactly, breasts pressed to her back, the bend of my hips snug against her enticingly firm rounded buttocks. With the back of my hand I sweep aside the curtain of her dreads so I can burrow my face into the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, kissing the tender skin and inhaling her intriguing scent. Wrapping my arm securely around her waist, I rub my hand in slow circles over the expanse of her belly, the alluring curves of her hip and flank, delighting in the softness of her taut silky skin. Our bodies are joined so closely that I fancy I can actually sense the sleep draining out of her limbs. "Mmm." She wriggles herself more securely into my embrace. "Feeling me up while I'm unconscious? Didn't think you were that kind of girl, Dr. Cormier."
"Entirely your fault. Wanting you is like breathing for me."
"Silver tongued French minx." She grinds her buttocks against the damp curls covering my already clamoring sex and laughs. "Tickles."
Joining in her laughter, I dust tiny kisses down the back of her neck. Snaking my arm beneath her neck to support it, I move my other hand up to fondle one of her breasts, cradling its firm-soft warm weight in my palm and with my thumb and forefinger teasing its nipple to pebbled hardness. Little wordless noises of encouragement dribble from her throat, their specifics muffled by the pillow she is still clutching. Feeling her try to twist around, I tighten my arm about her gently but firmly to hold her in place, my mouth hot on her neck; she gives in easily to the silent persuasion. Unhurriedly I move to pay homage to her other breast, again working with my fingers and thumb until she is arching into my caress and whimpering.
"Bend your leg up, chérie," I whisper into her ear, encouraging her with gentle pressure of my hand to the back of her thigh. Eagerly she complies, opening herself to me with a small mewling sound. Sliding my hand down her belly, I tease the neatly trimmed wiry hairs of her mound until the not-so-subtle rocking of her hips tells me she is acutely aware of each follicle moving over sensitive flesh. I swirl my fingertips just outside the entrance to her whickering cunt, then paint her swelling lips with the tantalizingly fragrant pour of her come. Her hips undulate, silently begging, but I keep the dance of my fingers light and fleeting, wanting her to be so sensitized that even my barest touch sets visible tremors jolting through her.
The sounds of the rain and surf are getting louder but the roar of our growing desire is far more compelling. All of my senses are tuned to the responses of the soft and strong and supple woman in my arms and the ravenous need that urges us on. Cosima's movements are becoming increasingly animated and jerky. Her arousal floods my fingers even as the wind lashing through the open windows dapples us with cool fat raindrops that wetly stripe our skin and join the rivulets of sweat beginning to stream from our joined, writhing bodies.
She reaches out a hand behind her to clasp my thigh, using her grip to anchor her undulations. The hitching of her breath grows even more erratic, becoming lost altogether when I plunge two fingers deep inside her sopping cunt. Almost before she can react, I pull them out just as swiftly, then bring them to her mouth to let her lick away the shining traces of her desire. Freeing my hand, I slide it again between her legs, this time from behind, soaking it in her wetness and then sliding three fingers into her churning, clasping cunt. Ever so softly, I circle her asshole with my come-slick thumb, instantly making her whimper with pleasure.
I can feel her asshole throb with every tiniest shift, hear the hitching in her breath as the sensations slither up her spine. Pressing the pad of my thumb against her tight little pucker, it unfolds easily to let me in. Her breath quickens, her moans thickening as I slide inside her just past the first knuckle, enough to gain purchase on the squirming rim of her muscular ring.
Cosima's hips rock with more intent, seeking release but finding no obliging friction for her clit. Deliberately I slow my movements to a barely perceptible pulse, rubbing together my thumb and fingers through the thin wall that separates them. "Shhh, mon amour," I murmur, kissing along the delicate shell-like edge of her ear until she shivers. "Doucement. Let it come to you."
The drawn out moan that spills from her lips is the most arousing sound I have ever heard. Every fiber of my being is alive with little sparking twitches. With some difficulty I refrain from crushing my own weeping sex against her buttocks, instead doing my best to focus on her and absorbing the strain of the tension building within her core as the torment of my fingers spirals her higher. Kissing every millimeter of her skin within reach, nuzzling at the tiny wispy curling hairs at the nape of her neck, I lose track of how long I keep her cunt suckling hungrily at my fingers, her ass clutching in syncopated beats around my thumb. It is only when her hips are helplessly quivering and grinding that I relent and slide my little finger through her turgid folds to rest next to the bursting ripe swell of her clit. Swiping the flat of my finger back and forth across the rigidly engorged little shaft, I flick it with hard jolting pulses that rapidly make her shake with tautening desire. Hoarse panting gives way to a keening wail as she twists and shakes and convulses against me like a madwoman. Stilling my little finger, I concentrate on working her with the rest of my hand, intent on stroking and wringing every iota of pleasure from her body.
Gasping, she goes limp, still wracked with random shudders. "Holy fucking shit, Dr. Cormier."
Small electric currents of want thread through me. Holding her close, I cup her protectively, the silky folds of her cunt swallowing my fingers, her ass fluttering and clenching around my thumb. I brush a soft kiss against her temple, tasting salt and breathing in the indefinable but unmistakable essence that is Cosima's. "How do you feel, chérie?"
She shivers. "Good. No, more than good. Like, so far beyond good." Turning her head, she captures my lips in an awkward but wholehearted kiss, breaking away before the strain in her neck becomes too much and letting her head fall back against my shoulder. Sweat and come magnify every contact of our skin so that I can feel each roiling thrum echoing through her.
"I'm very glad to hear it." Slowly, I kiss my way over the curve of her cheek.
"And as soon as I get some oxygen back into my brain, I'm gonna eat you out and chase down every drop of your come I can find. 'Cause I can smell how turned on you are right now, babe." Softly heavy in my arms, I can feel her starting to slip into a light doze. "Give me a minute, though. Like, none of my limbs seems to be working."
I chuckle, burying my mouth in the varied textures of her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Fucking better not," she mumbles.