Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (35 page)

He turned back to the control panel.  "Xavion."

Receiving
.

"Keep watch over the Wendee.  If she wakes again, comfort her in any way she requires."  The tension in his chest was less this time and he felt relief at that.  "Belle and I will be off-island for the evening.  Mr Black will accompany us.  I'll expect your report when we return."

Understood
.

"Further to that, Belle will come for the Wendee tomorrow before noon, to escort her to the Mermaids.  You will facilitate that transfer as Belle directs."

There was no reply. 

"Xavion?"

Yes
.  He sounded faint.  
Understood
.

Pietre cut the transmission and leant back in his chair, reassured by his course of action.  There was nothing else to be done at this stage.  The destiny that had brought her to him would take its own course.  He need simply wait and be sensible.

                                        
Chapter Nineteen

Dee lay on the board-walk, one hand trailing in the lagoon, the other resting over her eyes.  The early-morning sun, still tender in its caress, warmed her body.  A body, which, in the past two weeks had taken on a honey glow and become entirely comfortable with its enforced nudity. 

Her heart, like her body, was also 'light' - mostly unburdened by thoughts of past or future.  She was living solely in the present and accepting each moment
as
a present - a precious gift from her unseen benefactor, Peter. 

She thought about her Lost Boys sometimes.  Missed them a little.  But inside the spacious pavilion a couple of metres from where she lay, slept someone who had helped her to forget.  Someone who had playfully wrested her inhibitions from her and shown her a facet of herself she had not known existed. 

"Grrr."  The growl came from beside her.  A moment later a mouth as warm as the sun descended on her nipple, sucking, chewing, tugging gently.

"Skye, you're awake."

"And hungry."

"It's too early.  We haven't had breakfast," Dee complained, but the first stirrings of excitement were already tightening her stomach.

"You are breakfast," the voice growled and the body pounced.  Dee kept her eyes closed, laughing at first, then quieting as the mouth feasted on her breasts.  The legs that slid over hers were smooth and long and the breasts that pressed against her belly were very full.  She could no longer think of the Lost Boys. 

"I love your breasts," Skye murmured, rubbing her hair against them, "They're so perfect.  So... proportionate."

Dee smiled, her eyes still closed.  "How kind.  Proportionate."

"I mean it."  Dee could imagine Skye's pout.  "Their perfect."

"For an athlete.  Your breasts are much more the ideal," she assured Skye.

"Ideal for who?  A man who likes big
tits
?" the girl scorned.  "I don't care what men want.  I wish mine were smaller.  Like yours."  She cupped Dee's breasts with her strong, gentle fingers and breathed against the moistened nipples one at a time.  The heated air was like light fingers crawling over the tightening skin and Dee had to concentrate to distract her.

"Isn't Belle coming this morning to check on her mermaids?  I really think we should have some breakfast before - "  But her young companion was feasting again.

"I am."  The hungry mouth moved off her breasts and slid down to her side, lick-kissing its way to the curve of her waist. 

Dee felt herself slip past the point of caring about anything other than the coming pleasure.  Skye was truly voracious and would spend all day on Dee's body if she was allowed.  It was a terrible temptation for Dee, and in her first week there, she'd given in to the girl's appetite completely.

Those seven days were a dizzy memory, like the blur of first-love where you're always in each others arms.  She would wake with Skye's eager young tongue lapping her to orgasm and fall asleep exhausted the same way.  And all through their waking hours Skye would be touching her - swimming with her, feeding her, combing her hair, bathing her, dressing her in whatever shell-necklace or seaweed skirt she'd made, behaving like a teenager caught in the grip of her first infatuation. 

Dee, following Peter's directive to act from her nature, graciously accepted all the tender caresses and enthusiastic lovemaking Skye had to offer.  And in overcoming her own taboos, she’d experienced the exhilaration of having another woman to touch, taste and explore.

Skye's scent, especially, would remain with Dee as long as she lived.  Oceanic blonde with the faintest undertone of red - the breath of her lively temper.

As usual Skye was determined to please 'her Wendee' and once she'd started, a blissful languor seemed to rob Dee of the willpower to stop her.  Her hand still trailed in the lagoon, fingers drifting in the cool, silky water, but above, her body trembled with the heat her lover had awoken.

Skye had kissed her way around the outside of Dee's thigh and down one leg.  Then after giving each toe the attention of an enraptured gourmet, had started back up the inside, spreading her 'breakfast's' legs in the process.

Dee had never had her toes sucked, never had the spaces between them tongued until she could feel the her own mouth tingling with the heat of her response, never had the arches of her feet kissed or her ankles nibbled - never realised feet were so erogenous. 

Skye had revealed all these things to her, and many, many more.

Dee felt the lips touch her inner thigh and heard herself panting - explosive.  One touch...

"I'm so hungry," Skye growled.  "I'm going to eat you alive."

Dee tensed, preparing for the pounce.  Her thighs trembled, poised on the brink and she felt movement, but it was only Skye's hair sliding over her waiting sex-flesh, heightening the anticipation until Dee thought she would faint from it.

Her head was light and she was panting so hard she'd hyperventilate soon if...

"Maybe a snack first."

Dee felt the lightest touch - a tongue? - against the sensitive flesh and she shuddered, but it was tenuous and erratic, lapping here, sliding there, all the time avoiding the part of her that throbbed to be touched, the part that would only need the slightest -          

"Pretty little stamen," Skye breathed against it, and warm air on moist flesh surprised Dee again with its effect.  She felt closer, dizzier.  "How it trembles to be tasted," Skye said, and touched it then with the lightest pressure imaginable.  Dee's thighs shook and she almost...  "But the petals are so delicious, I think I'll devour them first," and tormentingly, Skye went back to randomly flicking and teasing the surrounding flesh.

Under, and above the water, Dee's fingers clenched into fists.  "Skye, don't do this to me.  Please..."  She ached for a man then, for the hard thrusting of a penis to slam into her and drive her over the edge.  She wanted to feel his weight against her body, pressing on her breasts, his tongue driving into her mouth until... 

"Xavion," she breathed and felt Skye's mouth close over her 'stamen', devouring it at last in a series of strong rhythmic sucks. 

Dee felt only the first. 

After that her muscles went into spasm and she was lost.  Air and water were indistinguishable, hot and cold, dry and wet, touch and no touch - all smashing together and then flying apart, repelling each other like magnetic opposites - positive and negative, matter and anti-matter, woman and man. 

Man and woman
...

Her mind stuck on that last thought as the shower of sparks that accompanied her orgasm tingled her from scalp to toenails.

Woman and man.  Man and woman.  She was still dizzy, warm and disorientated when Skye crept up and laid her head between her breasts, toying with one. 

"What does it feel like?" she asked a minute later.  "With a man?"

"A man?"  Dee echoed, giving herself time to gather her splintered thoughts.  Was Skye jealous of her previous lovers or merely curious?  She raised her dry hand to smooth the girl's hair.  "It's different," she hedged.

"Better?"

Dee thought about that.  She couldn't remember an orgasm as explosive as the one she'd just experienced, and with Skye it only got better.  But there was more to lovemaking than muscle spasm. 

She shrugged.  "Just... different."

"How?" 

Dee sighed.  Skye was relentless when she wanted to know something.  "Well, they smell different for a start.  Solid somehow.  Earthy."  She frowned.  "Like a hot canvas scent.  Women smell more of air and water.  More... floral."