Blackstone's pursuits

In which the boat sails and our ship comes in

We almost melted the wee Peugeot, but we made it to St Malo just in time to catch the night crossing. And this time there was a cabin available; a tiny cabin, but one of our very own, with a shower and two berths.

A Grand Prix circuit: small, but very definitely Formula One.

‘Primavera, Primavera …’ I moaned her name in the dim glow of the emergency light. She leaned her head towards me, kissing my chest, biting my nipples gently, responding to my touch and moving her self against my hands.

‘Where have you come from?’ I asked, wallowing at last in the perfection of her body, in her firm, full, big-nippled breasts, in the amazing narrowness of her waist, in the rounded curve of her hips, in the flatness of her belly, in the thick nest of wiry blonde hair at her centre, shining and sparkling as she moved.

‘I’ve always been here,’ she said, and she kissed me with her lips of velvet, as she had never kissed me before. ‘I believe in destiny. You’re part of mine, I’m part of yours. We were set on a course towards each other.’

‘And will we go on together, we two, Springtime and Oz?’

‘Who knows? Right now we’re together, and that’s what counts.’

I crouched above her, burying my face in her belly. As I flicked my tongue in and out of her navel, she gasped and arched her back. ‘I want you now. I need you now. Come into me now.’

I placed a finger across her lips. ‘Time enough,’ I said, although she could feel that I was more than ready. I bent and kissed the inside of her thighs as she spread them wide, licking my way towards her. She moaned again. ‘Now, Oz, now.’

‘Yes, Primavera, yes!’ I covered her and she took me into herself with a supple movement, into the sweetest embrace I had ever known. We lay entwined, barely moving. Her tongue was in my mouth again, her fingers wound through my crinkly hair. She pulled my head back and looked at me with smouldering eyes. ‘You pass the audition. The job’s yours!’ she hissed.

Then her eyelids flickered and she began to shudder, gripping me tight, inside, tighter than I had ever imagined. Her fingers dug into my back, and she cried out, once, twice, again, again, again, again. And then I realised that two voices were calling out and that one of them was mine. I was lost. As I thrust into her and as she grasped me with her thighs and held me there, we were washed, on the high seas, by wave upon wave of sensation, by a feeling that every nerve-ending in our bodies was being bathed in soothing oil.

At last, we lay still. Her eyes were closed, and there was a sheen of sweat on her face. I licked it off; she tasted salty and sublime on my tongue. I felt myself start to subside, but she held me inside her. ‘No, don’t go,’ she sighed. ‘I want to keep you there for ever.’

‘That’s all right with me,’ I said. ‘I can’t think of a better place to be. Primavera Phillips, you are the most beautiful, wonderful woman I have ever met, and I love you.’

She smiled up at me in the darkness, and smoothed damp hair away from my forehead. ‘And I love you too, Oz Blackstone,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been a crazy week, but this … this is like a dream.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘like a dream I’ve had before.’