Chapter Twenty-four
Darcy chose a sundress to put over her bathing suit and a floppy hat, deciding that if she was going to spend a day on a boat, she might as well go all out. She finished putting together the picnic, then headed into P-town. She met Emerson at the marina, unloaded her car, then pulled around to the parking lot. Emerson escorted her to a little rowboat and loaded the cooler and picnic basket into it. “A little smaller than I imagined.”
Emerson gave her an exasperated look. “This is just to get us to our boat.”
“Ah.” She’d been kind of kidding and kind of not. She’d always wondered how people got to the boats moored in the harbor.
“You sit here.” Emerson pointed to a short bench seat.
Darcy did as instructed. Emerson took off her shoes and pushed the boat into the water. When she hopped in—far more deftly than Darcy could have managed—Darcy shook her head and smiled. “I can help row.”
Emerson grinned at her. “I got it. We aren’t going far.”
In a few minutes, they pulled up alongside a perfect little sailboat. Well, perfect in Darcy’s mind. Even though she’d never been on one, she thought it looked fine. Polished wood trim and shiny chrome fittings stood out against pristine white paint. “She’s very pretty.”
“I wouldn’t promise you a sailboat and deliver a dinghy.” Emerson attached a rope to the mooring ball, then another to the side of the boat. “Let me get our stuff settled, then I’ll help you board.”
Darcy stayed put, having no desire to fall head first into the water. “You can relax. You’ve officially over-delivered.”
Emerson hefted herself into the sailboat, then leaned over to get their things. Darcy handed her the basket, then the cooler, and finally the small tote bag where she’d tucked sunscreen and a couple of towels. “Okay, when you stand up, keep your feet apart. You want to keep your center of gravity as low and wide as possible.”
Darcy laughed at the instructions, but did as she was told. “Got it.”
“Take my hand. You can try to step in, but it’s easier sometimes to sit and swing your legs around.”
Darcy liked the sound of that. With minimal effort, she managed to switch boats and found herself seated on one of two narrow benches that ran along the inside of the boat. The hull. She’d done some research so she wouldn’t look like a complete idiot. “That was easy. Thank you.”
“You’re very graceful. Now, you just sit there and look pretty while I get us ready to go.”
Even if she wanted to protest, she didn’t know enough to be helpful, so she leaned back and struck a pose. “Happily.”
Emerson leaned in and kissed her. “And you do look exceptionally pretty. My apologies for not saying so earlier.”
Darcy studied Emerson—black board shorts and a tank top over what appeared to be a sports bra-style bikini top, sunglasses, perfectly tousled hair. “You look pretty fine yourself.”
“Thank you.” Emerson kissed her again, then turned her attention to the boat. Darcy watched as she untied the rope that connected the sailboat to the rowboat, as well as the one that held the sailboat to the mooring ball. She powered up a small motor at the back of the boat and slowly guided them through the other boats and around the breakwater. When they were clear of both, she cut the motor and started fidgeting with the sail.
“Can I help?”
Emerson clearly had everything under control, but she walked Darcy through the process of hoisting the sail, securing the battens. It was complicated, but not difficult and Darcy enjoyed the lesson. Whether she would ever use it didn’t matter. With the sail up, they moved through the water at an impressive clip. Emerson showed her how to use the tiller to steer them into open water. “My suggestion would be to skirt the shoreline. That’ll keep us clear of any bigger boats or whales.”
“Right. Whales. Good plan.” They made their way around Long Point and Wood End. “So, we’re in Herring Cove?”
“We are. That’s one of the nice things about the Cape. You have a lot of options that don’t involve open ocean.”
Darcy thought about how choppy the water could be at Race Point, not to mention places like Marconi and Nauset. “Agreed.”
Emerson let Darcy steer for a while. Darcy soaked in the sunshine and the breeze. She could see people beginning to fill in the beach and realized how nice the privacy of a boat could be. A little before noon, Emerson took over and angled the boat out of the wind. “Are you okay to drift while we eat or would you like me to anchor?”
Darcy looked around. There was nothing to run into. “Drifting is fine.”
Emerson pulled drinks from the cooler and Darcy took out sandwiches. She’d pilfered some croissants from the bakery and made what she believed to be Emerson’s favorite—smoked turkey and Swiss. She handed one to Emerson, then opened bags of chips, baby carrots, and cherry tomatoes. “This is perfect. Thank you.” Emerson took a bite. Then, with her mouth full, she added, “More than perfect.”
After finishing lunch, they continued to drift. Darcy took off her dress. Even coated in sunscreen, she loved the feeling of basking in sunshine.
“Would you let me sketch you?”
Darcy turned her head toward Emerson and peered over her sunglasses. “Sketch me?”
“I’ve wanted to since the day we met.”
“Stop.”
“It’s true. I want to photograph you, too.”
Darcy let that sink in. “Okay.”
“Really? Right now?”
Why the hell not? “Yes.”
Emerson reached for the bag she’d brought on board and pulled out a large pad and a couple of charcoal pencils. “You’re actually sitting perfectly right now. Is that okay? You don’t need to be completely still.”
Darcy arched her back slightly and draped an arm on the side of the boat. She tipped her face to the sun. “I am utterly content to sit here as long as you require.”
Without another word, Emerson opened the pad. Darcy could hear the scratching of her pencil against paper. She glanced sideways to sneak a peek at Emerson. The look of intense concentration reminded Darcy of when they made love. Just the thought sent a wave of warmth through her; it gathered in her center. She resisted the urge to move against it, into it, something. No matter how many times they were together, she’d come to live in a state of near constant arousal.
Emerson continued to draw and Darcy tried to shift her attention elsewhere. “I don’t think I could ever grow tired of looking at the sea.”
“I agree. Although, in this moment, I’m more inclined to say I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of looking at you.”
Darcy turned, slid her sunglasses down her nose, and peered over the lenses at Emerson. “You’ve already gotten me into bed. There’s no need to lay it on quite so thick.”
Emerson laughed at being called out so blatantly. “But it’s true. You are infinitely captivating.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Is that so?” Emerson shifted her weight so she could lean toward Darcy. “In that case, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Stunning. I can’t look at you without wanting you.”
Darcy slid her sunglasses the rest of the way off. “Keep talking.”
“I’d like to have my way with you right here.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Emerson glanced around. She’d never been an exhibitionist, but the idea of taking Darcy, in broad daylight, as they floated in the cove, stirred something inside her. And it wasn’t like they had an audience. Even as boats came and went from the marina, none came within a hundred feet of them. “Not one single thing.”
Emerson leaned in the rest of the way, removing her own sunglasses before pressing her lips to Darcy’s. She could feel Darcy smile against her mouth. Emerson took advantage of the opening, sliding her tongue inside. Darcy opened further, her own tongue darting out to glide over Emerson’s. Emerson sucked it lightly, relishing the taste and texture.
Emerson released her hold on the side of the boat so she could pull out the clip holding Darcy’s hair. The wind immediately took it, inviting Emerson to grasp fistfuls with both hands. Darcy kept one hand braced on the narrow bench seat, but Emerson felt the other on the side of her ribs. What had been playful arousal only moments before became something more potent, pressing.
Figuring the shallow hull was both the most spacious and private place in the small skiff, Emerson released Darcy’s hair long enough to guide her hips from the bench to the boat floor. She sat up just enough for Darcy to reposition herself without rapping her head on the wood, then reached for the blanket so Darcy could have a makeshift pillow. The sudden shift in weight caused the boat to lurch. Darcy squealed, then giggled. Emerson braced herself until the rocking slowed. “Sorry.”
Darcy hooked a finger in the waistband of Emerson’s shorts. “Don’t be sorry. Just get down here.”
With the gentle lull restored, Emerson lowered herself so that she was braced half over Darcy and half to one side. She kissed Darcy again, then ran a line of kisses along her jaw. She continued the trail, zigzagging her way down Darcy’s neck, down her collarbone, and across her breast. Even through the fabric of Darcy’s bathing suit, Emerson could feel her nipple grow hard. Emerson bit at it gently through the material, eliciting a small gasp.
Emerson reached behind Darcy’s neck, working at the knot of her halter top. It took a moment to accomplish with one hand, but when she finally loosened the tie and peeled the fabric back, she was rewarded with the sight of Darcy’s breasts, full and pale against her tanned arms. Her areolae were pink and puckered, topped by perfectly erect nipples.
Emerson sucked one, then the other. They tightened further, becoming hard as pebbles against her tongue. She ran her hand up and down Darcy’s torso and leg, fingers grazing the smooth lycra and soft skin of her thigh. She watched Darcy’s face as her head lolled gently from side to side, her mouth slightly open.
Emerson eased her hand between Darcy’s legs. She slipped the fabric aside and found Darcy hot and slick with arousal. She traced the silky contours, entranced by how easily her fingers slid up and down. Although her intention was to go slow, Darcy moaned and arched against her. Unable to resist, she eased two fingers into Darcy. She was even softer inside, but Darcy clamped around her with surprising strength.
With each stroke, Darcy’s hips rose to meet her. Emerson kept her pace even, wanting to draw out the moment as much as possible. She tried to commit each detail to memory—Darcy’s wind-tossed hair, the sunlight slanting over them, the gentle sway of the boat. More than anything, she tried to imprint Darcy’s face in her mind. Her eyes were closed, but she had a look of fierce concentration. Between each noise she made, she bit her lower lip. It was a look so perfect, Emerson would never try to capture it in a painting.
Darcy’s breaths grew shallow. The small sounds of pleasure became more urgent. Emerson shifted her hand slightly, increasing not her speed, but the force of each thrust. She positioned her thumb over Darcy’s swollen center. Feeling Darcy’s pulse on her clit drove Emerson crazy. She fought to maintain some semblance of control.
It didn’t take long to push Darcy to climax. She felt Darcy clench around her fingers; her entire body stiffened. Emerson counted four breaths before Darcy went lax with a shuddering sigh. She waited another moment before withdrawing her hand.
Emerson was still basking in her own version of an afterglow when she felt Darcy shift beneath her. Without a word, Darcy eased her hand into Emerson’s shorts. Emerson repositioned herself so that she was almost kneeling, straddling Darcy’s thigh. Darcy took advantage of the access, easing into her.
“Fuck.”
Darcy laughed, a low and sexy sound that drove Emerson nuts. “That’s my plan.”
Darcy curved her fingers, causing Emerson to buck involuntarily. Emerson eased herself forward and back. “Fuck, yes.”
Darcy held her hand steady and Emerson rode her. The pressure began to build and Emerson did all she could to hold the orgasm at bay. Just one more minute, one more thrust. If she could hold on a little bit longer, she’d be able to etch this moment—Darcy’s look of concentration, the smell of the ocean, the heat of the sun on her back—into her memory forever.
When the pressure between her legs began to spread, Emerson was powerless to stop it. It moved from her center, through her belly, and up her spine. It made her limbs tremble and stole her breath. When the shudders finally ended, she collapsed to the side of Darcy. “Fuck.”
Darcy moved her fingers. “I can do it again if you want.”
Emerson grasped her wrist. “Only if you’re trying to kill me.”
Darcy gently pulled her hand away. “I wouldn’t want to do that.” She chuckled. “I don’t know how to get this thing back to shore.”
Emerson let out a ragged laugh. “It’s good to know what your priorities are.”
Darcy shrugged, but lifted her head and placed a noisy kiss on Emerson’s mouth. “As impressive as it sounds, I promise I don’t want to fuck you to death. At least not literally.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I am, however, beginning to worry about awkward sunburn.”
Emerson had almost, at least sort of, forgotten they were in a boat. “Right.”
Darcy glanced at the sun, which remained high in the mid-afternoon sky. “We should probably head in.”
“The thought of a cool shower with you is awfully appealing.”
“I’ve got grilled chicken and veggies at my place. And clean sheets on the bed.”
“Say no more.” By the time they got to Darcy’s, the heat and exertion—not to mention the orgasm—were starting to catch up with her. She peeled Darcy’s clothes off for the second time that day, adding them to the pile Darcy had already made of Emerson’s tank top and shorts.
“Shower with me?” Instead of answering, Darcy took her hand and pulled her to the bathroom. She fiddled with the knob for a moment, adjusting the temperature, then pulled back the curtain. Emerson stepped in behind her, enjoying the cool spray on her skin. Darcy tipped her head under the water, then began lathering shampoo into it. “Let me.”
Darcy dropped her hands to her sides and Emerson took over, massaging her scalp. Darcy’s moan of pleasure made Emerson smile. It made her hot, too, and she wondered whether Darcy would balk at being wanted again so quickly. She slid her hands down to Darcy’s breasts to test the waters. When Darcy moaned again and leaned into her, Emerson took it as all the invitation she needed.
She squirted body wash into her hands, then slicked them over Darcy’s skin. The scent, floral and fruity, was so quintessentially Darcy. Emerson breathed it in as she ran her hands up and down. When Darcy started to squirm, she rinsed her hand and slid her fingers into Darcy. It was like being surrounded by her in every possible way. As Darcy moved against her, opened herself even further for Emerson’s touch, Emerson fought to keep her concentration, to remain in control of the situation.
Darcy came with a noise that was high pitched, but quiet. Surrender. It was unlike any sound Emerson had ever heard and she wanted nothing more than to capture it, hold onto it. But before she could sort out the mix of emotions it stirred up, Darcy was turning around, sliding her arms around Emerson and kissing her. Emerson sank into the kiss, feeling at once weak and incredibly strong. When Darcy eased away, Emerson groaned in protest. But then Darcy’s hands went to Emerson’s hips and she bent down, dropping to a kneeling position. Just the sight of Darcy—naked, wet, looking up at her—sent a flood of liquid heat to Emerson’s core.
Darcy smiled a knowing smiled and dipped her head. Without warning or any of the teasing Emerson might have expected, Darcy plunged her tongue into her. Emerson gasped; her knees almost buckled. Darcy held on, her arms around Emerson’s thighs while her mouth did exquisite and excruciating things to her. Emerson had been wrong. This was the feeling she wanted to capture, fix in her mind somehow so that she could revisit it over and over again.
The orgasm hit her, not with the punch of force she expected, but like a waterfall. It poured over her, sending pleasure into every curve and crease of her body. Emerson shuddered with it, struggled to keep her footing.
Darcy stood and held her. Emerson let herself be wrapped up in the embrace and the unspoken assurances it seemed to offer. After a long moment, Darcy moved one hand and turned off the water. She slowly let go and eased away. Emerson looked into her eyes, searching but unable to decipher what Darcy was thinking.
Before Emerson could study her further, or ask questions, Darcy pushed open the shower curtain. And the spell was broken. Darcy smiled, leaving Emerson to think the feeling had been hers alone. Darcy reached for the towel hung on the back of the door. “Stay there. I’ll grab you a fresh towel.”
She disappeared, giving Emerson a moment to collect herself. When she came back a few seconds later, Emerson accepted the towel and returned the smile. “Thanks.”
“You have some T-shirts and boxers in the laundry basket in my room. I threw them in with my wash.”
Emerson nodded. “Thanks for that, too.”
“Ready for dinner?”
“Starved.”
Darcy disappeared again and Emerson dried off. She went to Darcy’s room and put on the clothes that now smelled like Darcy’s place. She found Darcy in the kitchen making plates of cold chicken and vegetables. Darcy flashed her a smile and Emerson returned it. They’d just had an incredible day. There was nothing in the world to be disappointed about.