Debbi Rawlins - Red-Hot Honeymoon - The Honeymoon Arrangement / Marriage in Name Only? / The Honeymoon That Wasn't

‘That’s new.’

‘Shut up …’ Callie growled. They could discuss her beautician’s creative streak later.

‘Go and sit on the edge of the hot tub—feet in the water, legs open.’

Callie turned her back to him, walked up the steps to the tub and stepped over the ledge, dropping her feet into the hot, gorgeous water. She sighed her pleasure and couldn’t help wondering what was coming next.

‘Yeah, keep your eyes closed,’ Finn told her. ‘This is about you—only you.’

God, could she stand it? Callie thought as she obeyed his instruction. Immediately her other senses were heightened: she could taste the approaching storm on her lips, could smell the citronella in the candles that she heard Finn lighting, could feel bubbles popping against her feet and her calves.

The crickets were in full chorus again, and she thought she heard the bark of a zebra.

Callie had no idea where Finn was. She had heard the rustle of his clothing as he undressed, but after that nothing more. He’d gone Ninja on her, but she couldn’t open her eyes—not until he told her to.

‘Open your legs, Cal.’

Callie shivered as his voice caressed her skin, causing goosebumps up and down her arms. ‘Wider, honey. Yeah. So pretty. No, don’t open your eyes. Let me look at you.’

Callie sat on the edge of the tub, her eyes closed, feeling wild and free and as much a part of this savage place as the predators and the prey. Time slowed and the seconds ticked over sluggishly. She was content just to sit there and let her about-to-be lover look at her.

An owl screeched, a candle spluttered, and Callie yelped as hard hands pulled her knees further apart and a dark head appeared between her thighs. Then his mouth, hot, wild and experienced, dropped onto her sex and she bucked against him, her cries blending into the sounds of the night.

Callie gripped the sides of the tub as Finn pleasured her with his lips, his tongue, slid first one finger into her, then two. She arched her back as her orgasm built, desperate for Finn to push her over the edge. But just as she crested he pulled back, and she keened her disappointment. He allowed her to fall, just a little, before building her up again.

He repeated the torture until he lifted his head, looked her straight in the eye and, with his fingers still inside her, issued another order. ‘Come for me. Now .’

And Callie responded, just as he knew she would, instantly gushing over his hand, her inner muscles gripping his fingers and seeking all the pleasure he could give her. Finn kept his eyes locked on hers, thoroughly captivated by her uninhibited response.

When she finally stopped shaking he pulled his hand away and lifted his arm to grab her waist and pull her into the middle of the tub. She wound her legs around his hips and felt the divine friction as her clit rubbed against his penis, revving her up again. She rode him and felt vindicated, powerful, when his eyes crossed.

Taking him in her fist, she positioned him so that his tip was at her entrance. His bicep bulged with the effort of keeping from ramming himself inside her.

‘No condom,’ he muttered, his arms shaking.

‘I’m on the pill,’ she told him. ‘And I’m clean. I haven’t had sex for over six months and I had a medical three months ago. You?’

‘Same. Clean. Trust me?’

Callie didn’t bother to reply. She just slid onto him and smiled at his expression, which combined relief with pure, unadulterated pleasure.

‘God, you feel so good.’

Finn lifted a wet hand and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘You ready to go again?”

‘ So ready.’

He lunged up and into her, his arms a vice around her waist. ‘Then hang on, baby.’

Callie managed to push herself away just enough to look into his eyes. She touched his mouth with the tips of her fingers. ‘Finn?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Come for me. Now .’

And, with a roar that was as wild as the bush around them, Finn did exactly as she commanded.

‘In the nineteenth century the local tribe in the area knew it as Mosi-oa-Tunya. Translated, that means the smoke that thunders.’

Callie stood gripped the railing in front of her and watched, utterly fascinated, as millions and millions of gallons of water thundered over the edge of the falls into a gorge over one hundred metres below them.

‘The Victoria Falls is known as the greatest curtain of falling water in the world,’ Finn told her, his face wet from the droplets of spray. ‘The spray can be seen from miles away at the height of the rainy season. Apparently more than five hundred million cubic metres of water per minute plummet over the edge, over a width of nearly two kilometres.’

‘Thank you, guidebook Finn,’ Callie said dryly.

Finn pushed his wet hair off his forehead. ‘It is an incredible sight, though, isn’t it?

‘It so is,’ Callie agreed.

Finn placed his forearms on the railing and lifted his head to squint up at her. ‘I wish we were here in winter,’ he said, with a pensive look on his face.

‘Why? Apart from the fact that it would be about a hundred degrees cooler than at the height of summer?’

Callie felt as if she was walking around in hot soup and she was melting from the inside out. Africa in late summer, early autumn, was still furnace-hot, she thought. And the towns of Livingstone and Victoria Falls, situated next to the massive river, had killer humidity as well. They were, she’d decided, minutes after landing in Livingstone, Zambia, three hours ago, after a chartered flight from the Baobab and Buffalo, standing above the devil’s boiler house.

‘Well, in winter, when the water levels are low, you can walk along the lip of the falls. There are rock pools there, and one is called the Devil’s Pool.’

That made sense, Callie thought. After stoking the fires of hell, Satan would want to cool down.

Then Finn’s words sank in and her eyes widened. ‘You can walk across….’ she waved at the massive falls behind her ‘… that ?’

‘Well, there’d be a lot less water.’

‘That’s insane! People do this?’ Callie cried, her stomach clenching at the thought.

‘Sure. You walk across the rocks, swim through some pools, and then there’s this other pool, right at the lip of the falls. The rock lip stops you from going over.’

‘And you’d do that?’ Callie asked in a squeaky voice.

Finn shrugged. ‘Sure. It would be a kick.’

Callie closed her eyes. ‘That’s insane. It’s official: I’m sleeping with a mad man.’

Finn straightened and pushed a long wet strand of hair out of her eyes, tucked it behind her ear. ‘Talking of sleeping … This morning was so rushed we haven’t had a moment alone for me to ask—are you okay?’

Callie frowned. ‘Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You said that it had been a while, and we did it a couple of times last night. You’re not sore or tired or—?’

Callie grinned, touched by his concern. She was a little stiff, a little uncomfortable, but she wasn’t about to admit that. ‘Finn, I’m twenty-eight—not a hundred and eight.’

‘Just checkin’.’ Finn rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. ‘I had fun.’

Hoo-boy . So had she. ‘Me too.’

‘Want to do it again?’

Callie made sure that her tone was flippant, carefree. ‘Sure—since you’re marginally good at it.’

She put her tongue in her cheek to make sure that he knew that she was teasing.

In a flash Finn scooped her up into his arms and swung her towards the railing. ‘Can you swim?’ he asked, grinning down at her.

Callie wound her arms around his neck in a chokehold as she squealed hysterically. ‘Put me down, you jerk!’