Page 127 of Dagger in the Sea

What I didn’t feel was my old friend shame, and that alone was a revelation, a first. I stopped second guessing myself. There was no sense of tomorrow and no time to waste, and we both knew this. It made us greedy, voracious.

But I knew it wasn’t just our chemistry or his technical mastery. Alessio was a very skilled and caring lover, but this, with Turo, was another dimension, another level. He and I had a need to reach each other, to soothe, to instigate, to challenge each other. All of it twisted and shaped with unrelenting desire and delicate trust.

An explosive molotov cocktail of our very own.

This one didn’t destroy or scar, it fed me, energized me. Satisfied me in a new way.

We’d start each day early with a quick, cold swim at the base of the castle, then have a Greek coffee at Hermes, stop off at the bakery for my favorite cinnamon spiced cookies andpastéli, a sesame seed, nut, and honey bar I’d made Turo try and had become his favorite on the go snack. We’d get in the jeep and hit different beaches. Zorgos, Copper, Korthi. Each beach had a different personality. One had strong high waves and wind, another was a sheltered cove with easy rolling waters and caves in the rocks. One was quiet, the other had a crowded beach bar. At Korthi we swam out to the huge rock formation which stood upright in the water, a towering natural sculpture of stone in the middle of the cove.

The island’s artwork.

“This is crazy,” Turo said, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked up at the huge geological formation which resembled a giant figure in motion pushing through the water.

“They called it thePíthima tis Griás,or the ‘Old Lady’s Leap’,” I explained. “Legend has it that an old woman jumped from the cliffs and was preserved in stone by the gods.”

“Greece.” He pulled me in his arms and kissed me as we floated in the water.

In the afternoons, we’d choose atavérnaand eat our main meal of the day—seafood or roast meat depending on our mood, along with boiled greens soaked in lemon juice and olive oil, a salad or roast vegetables with a side of the local cheese Turo loved. And wine. Always wine.

The simplicity of the flavors, yet their richness astonished him over and over again. And through his curiosity and enjoyment and articulation of that appreciation, I found mine again. For food, for my island homeland. For the finer details of my every day. I’d been spending holidays on Greek islands all my life. Yet this time, this trip, here now with Turo, had set me spinning like a child’s top.

I was the spinning top, I was the delighted child laughing and applauding. Wanting more, wanting it to never end.

Insatiable.

* * *

He liked surprising me.A tactic, I think, to keep me off my guard, shock my system.

We got back from lunch at Korthi, and I’d hung our beach towels on the terrace, emptied the beach bag, and took a shower. I wrapped a thick, white towel around me and inhaled the scent of my favorite fig and orange shower gel in the steam. I grabbed my tub of body cream.

And that’s when I saw him.

He stood there naked by the bed, and I stilled. He’d been waiting, and he was hard and ready to fuck, his jaw set in that brittle way that sent a shiver straight through me. His face an unreadable mask of cool, of patience, and that heavy feeling settled in my tummy, pulling on me. As inevitable as gravity, as powerful. I believed that if Turo really wanted something, his patience was relentless and endless, and I loved that. It made me breathless, made my heart gallop in my chest, made me, thankfully, stop thinking.

Like right now.

“Turo?” I breathed.

He ripped the towel from me and pushed me back against the wall, his eyes flaring into mine. Wanting, yet revealing nothing.

A moment. Another. My flesh heated. Deep breaths. I licked my lips.

Kiss me, kiss me.

His hand passed over my collarbone, around my neck, and he bent, his lips touching mine in a wholly unexpected tender kiss, shocking my system. I melted rapidly in his hold, my body plastering itself against his warmth, a hard, hard wall of warmth that pressed me against the cold wall. The kiss was almost delicate, a hot, silky touch brushing, nuzzling. Gentle.

Ha. Gentle for now.

His tongue invaded my mouth and grew demanding, and I gave in. I loved giving in to him. He grabbed a condom packet, ripped it with his teeth, that flash of white ripping at me, and he suited up quickly. I hitched my legs one at a time over his hips with his support and slid a hand between us, taking his hard length in hand, stroking him, guiding him inside me.

He nudged in, and that high octane fuel that was Turo lit every particle of my being on fire.

He slid in slowly.

Dragged his hard length out, slowly.

Rocked in. Slowly.

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