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“Mmm…” I lift my arms above me onto the cushions, and close my eyes.
He nuzzles me down there and inhales, then licks me all the way up. “Me te wai korari,” he murmurs, ‘as sweet as honey.’ “Ahhh…” He circles the tip of his tongue around my clit and begins to tease it with slow licks and quick flicks.
I bathe in the warm sunshine, feeling like a part of summer, ascending into the sky with the seagulls and the clouds as he arouses me. He strokes the outside of my thigh with a hand while he teases my entrance with the fingers of the other, and he’s so gentle, it brings tears to my eyes.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long before I feel the approach of an orgasm. “I’m going to come,” I whisper, just in case he wants to stop and slide inside me. But he doesn’t; he murmurs his approval, then sucks my clit carefully, and I relax into my climax and clench around his fingers, feeling pleasure flow over me, sweet and warm as the summer breeze.
When the pulses stop, he lifts up, tears off his tee, and rids himself of his track pants and boxers. Then he stretches out beside me on the daybed and pulls me into his arms.
“You want me to wear a condom?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I got tested after Cam… you know.”
“And I had to be tested at the clinic.”
“And there’s no worry about getting me pregnant.” My lips twist.
He tightens his arms around me so our bodies are flush from chest to thigh. I thought he would be inside me immediately, but he takes his time to arouse me again, skating his fingers over my skin while he kisses me. It’s heavenly, lying there in the shade of the daybed while the summer breeze brushes over us, just taking our time. And there’s no rush. No reason to feel guilty. I’m not cheating. I’m with the man I love. He wants to marry me. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing. The realization hits me, and it’s only then I understand how the weight of guilt and regret has been weighing me down up until now. I’d thought my time with him was wonderful, but this is so, so much better. Finally I understand the power and the beauty of freedom, and everything it entails.
When I’m sighing again, my body feeling as if it’s humming with pleasure, he finally lifts my leg over his hips, positions the tip of his erection at my entrance, and slowly slides inside me. He takes his time, easing in gently, then withdrawing, until he’s coated in my moisture, and I’m relaxed enough to allow him to slide all the way in.
Mmm… I tip back my head, feeling full and stretched, and give a long, satisfied moan of contentment.
“Ko Hine-titama koe matawai ana te whatu i te tirohanga,” he murmurs, kissing me in between the words. Something about being like Hine-titama, the dawn maid, and a vision that makes his eyes glisten.
Oh this man… I kiss him, delving my tongue into his mouth, enjoying his answering deep groan. I want to give him pleasure, to watch that fierce frown on his face, and to feel him come inside me. I begin to thrust my hips to match his, and our bodies move together in a slow, glorious dance, gradually speeding up as our desire grows.
Ahhh… I want to do this every day for the rest of our lives. I’ve already wasted so much time. Sorrow mixes with the pleasure in a kind of painful bliss, and tears prick my eyes as he holds me so tightly, as if he wants us to become one person, so we’ll never be apart.
“E taku komata,” he says, which is the highest point of the sun, and I know he’s saying I’m perfect, I’m everything he wants, and I watch as he can’t hold back any longer and comes, his whole body stiffening as he twitches and spills inside me.
Even before he finishes, he rolls me onto my back and continues to thrust, grinding against me, and it takes less than a minute before I come too, shuddering and squeezing him so hard that he groans.
When we’re sated, he withdraws and lowers down beside me, then gathers me up in his arms. We lie there together, legs tangled, skin glistening, and listen to the cries of the seagulls as our bodies slowly drift back down to earth.
*
We stay there for ages, letting the summer breeze cool our hot skin, talking and laughing, while he strokes my back and gives me occasional kisses. Eventually, though, he asks if I’m hungry, and when I tell him I could probably manage a snack, we dress and go into his kitchen.
We go through the cupboards and fridge, and I cut thick slices of homemade bread spread with butter and put it on a plate with cheddar cheese, pickled onions, and cold chicken while he makes us another cup of fruit tea, and we take it outside again, and curl back up on the daybed.
He puts some music on his phone, and we listen and talk while we eat. Henry asks what I want to do about our living arrangements, and we talk about options. I don’t want to go back to the apartment I shared with Cam, even if he isn’t there. I could go to a hotel temporarily. Then rent a place of my own.
But in the end, I think what’s the point? I want to be with Henry, and he wants to be with me. I know myself well enough to understand there’s a small percentage of fear hidden inside that desire, because I don’t want to be alone, and he’s an easy option. In the end, I tell him that’s what’s bothering me, and he just looks puzzled.
“I don’t care,” he says. “At root, we’re just animals. You’re pregnant, and it’s natural to want a man to look after you and protect you. I don’t find that an insult. It’s a compliment, if anything, that you’ve chosen me.”
That makes me laugh, because it’s a very Henry answer. It’s old-fashioned, and I’m sure it would make some women inhale with indignation. But I know him well enough to understand that he doesn’t mean it like that. I’ve watched him talk to many women over the years, and he’s never anything but respectful and kind. He believes in equality and that women can do and achieve anything that a man can. But at heart he’s a caveman who wants to protect his woman. And why should I be indignant about that when it warms my heart so much?
“I love you,” I tell him. “And if you definitely want me to, I’d be thrilled to come and live with you.”
He’s so speechless at that, it brings tears to my eyes again. It must be the baby hormones; I’ve never cried so much in my life. He holds me and lets me sniffle, then suggests we go back to my apartment and collect as many of my things as we can fit in his Range Rover.
“I might call Cam and suggest he goes out,” I tell him.
“Not a bad idea.”
I hesitate. “I’m worried he’s going to be nasty.”
