Going Down (Divemasters #1) (17 page)

W
averly held
Archer’s hand as they stepped off the back of the
Divemaster
and took a plunge into the unknown. She wasn’t nervous going down. Not with him by her side.

No matter what they found, or didn’t, they’d handle it together.

The first thing she realized about bikini-only SCUBA was that the giant stride was positively wedgie-inducing. Miguel looked over at her with laughter in his eyes as she plucked the fabric out of her crack. She figured that was payback for the helicopter stunt the other day, so she gave him a quasi-friendly finger.

He wrote something on his slate then turned it so she could see. A giant smiley face with HA HA HA coming out of its mouth. Tosin snagged it out of his hand, added “x 2”, then showed it to her again. She peeked over at Archer only to find him struggling not to laugh. So she shoved his shoulder. He took her hand, brought it toward him, and slipped his regulator out of his mouth long enough to kiss her knuckles before putting it back in.

If she had been out in the atmosphere, she would have sighed.

He presented a thumbs-down and she nodded.

When they’d descended forty-seven feet to the bottom of the shallow shelf not far from the
Divemaster
, Miguel, Tosin, and Archer began flashing each other hand gestures that made absolutely no sense to her. It was fascinating to watch how they communicated, working together seamlessly.

After about thirty seconds, Miguel and Tosin peeled off and headed over a ridge. They swam as fluidly as the fish around them. She started to follow. Archer squeezed her hand and shook his head. He pressed his fingers and the thumb of his right hand together until it formed a flat blade. Then—arm extended—he gestured with it, in the opposite direction.

Oh. They were splitting up into pairs to cover more ground.

Made sense.

Plus, Miguel might have been doing her a favor, granting them some privacy and giving them the easier assignment so they could fool around without undue risk. She was shocked at how close to the surface the reef was here, and how it seemed to slope upward as it got farther out to sea. In some places, it seemed like it might poke through the waves into the air depending on the tide.

If there really was a shipwreck somewhere around here, she wouldn’t be surprised. That would be a bitch to run up on unexpectedly, especially in bad weather like the guys had described.

Ordinarily, or at least on other dives she’d done with Archer lately, they crept along, investigating the reef in a direct path. Today he did something different. Something she recognized after a moment or two. He pointed to an unusually large sea fan.

She thought it was beautiful, too, with its lacey panels.

Until she realized he wasn’t sightseeing. He was using it as a marker. Of where they started. Then they spiraled outward in a standard search pattern, making sure not to overlap or leave gaps in their trail. He used a compass and took a lot of notes on his slate to keep track of where they’d been. When something unusual caught his eye, he aimed a torch at it, though none of the leads turned out to be anything other than the usual rocks covered with algae or coral.

Unlike other times, they didn’t dally. Instead, they swam at a pretty steady clip while they scanned back and forth. They didn’t follow the reef at all, focusing on the sandy patches in between the coral mounds more heavily.

After forty-five minutes, she wondered if Miguel and Tosin were having any better luck. She hadn’t seen anything except the pristine natural beauty one would expect this far from the normal tourist destinations. She eyed her dive watch to check their bottom time, then peeked at her air gauge. Although she had more than nine hundred pounds remaining, she shook the little metal cylinder Archer had hooked to her BCD with a carabiner earlier.

A ball bearing rattled around inside, making a distinct noise—similar to a ringing bell—that got his attention in a hurry.

He whipped his head around to face her.

His eyes locked on hers through their masks as if asking,
What’s wrong?

Even from there, their coffee color distracted her with their richness. He shrugged at her.

Oh. Oops. She pointed to her air gauge and then to the line that led from the ship’s anchor upward. Good thing she’d only planned to attempt a hand job. She’d have to wait until they visited someplace with a shore entry and a shallow, beach-y stretch to execute any more complicated maneuvers.

Hanging on the line during their safety stop would mean she only had one hand available.

Still, she felt comfortable enough to move ahead to stage two of her wicked plan.

Side-by-side, they ascended. She made sure to dump all the air from her BCD like Miguel had instructed her. She noticed the pull of the extra weights, but it wasn’t difficult to kick lightly toward the surface to counteract them. They’d come in handy if she got distracted in a minute.

It was easier to swim up than it was to slow your ascent if you got out of control.

Waverly had no desire to experience the bends. That would probably ruin Archer’s good time, too. After everything he’d done for her—from saving her life, to giving her a dream job, to providing a place to live on the
Divemaster
, to the grand romantic gesture of their beach date, and all the everyday things he did to show her that he cared—she wanted to do this for him.

Show time.

Archer grabbed hold of the line when they were exactly fifteen feet deep. She hoped they weren’t clearly visible to the people on the
Divemaster
. Because right then she made her move.

Instead of gripping the rope beside his hand, she put her palms on his shoulders and clung to him. His eyes sparkled with joy, even through his mask. When he took his regulator out, she did the same, remembering to blow tiny bubbles the entire time it wasn’t in her mouth as she’d been trained.

Quickly, they came together, sharing a brief but powerful kiss.

Then he was nudging her hand, putting her regulator between her lips and tapping the button on the front to clear the water from it. Smart, since the maneuver had definitely stolen some of her concentration and all of her breath.

He pointed to the rope, indicating she should hang on.

She glanced at her dive computer, steadily ticking off the 170 seconds to go before they could surface safely. So she shook her head no and scooted her hands down his torso, until her face was level with his crotch. Using his hips as her handholds she was steady, only kicking every once in a while as the extra weight Miguel had added to her BCD did its job, keeping her under.

Waverly peeked up at Archer, who had gone stock-still.

He was staring at her.

So she didn’t disappoint. She shoved his suit down to the tops of his thighs, just low enough to expose his cock. It was half-hard by the time she wrapped her fingers around it and began to pump. He made a gurgling noise, so she looked up to make sure he was okay.

Oh, he was fine.

Looking like an ancient god of the sea as he hovered above her, he leveled a commanding glare at her. In her mind, she could imagine him growling, “Don’t stop.”

So she didn’t.

Waverly ran her fingers up and down his length, cupping his balls every once in a while. When his hips began to rock, thrusting his hard-on through the ring of her fingers, she knew he was enjoying himself. Dangling off the anchor line, submerged in the ocean he loved so much, he took the pleasure she gave him.

Both of them knew it wouldn’t last long.

She pumped harder, as fast as she could given the resistance of the water.

His breathing became erratic, sending gushes of bubbles to the surface. Quickly, she peeked at his air gauge. Insanely efficient with his breathing most times, he still had five-hundred pounds more than she did. He’d be fine even if he sucked down some extra puffs.

Waverly began to tease him then, sliding the pad of her thumb across the underside of his shaft and onto the head as she added a twist of her wrist to her jacking. Muscles rippled along the entire length of his body as he gave himself fully to the experience.

A few seconds more and his free hand squeezed her shoulder. She understood what he was trying to tell her. He was about to come. So she took a deep breath, popped her regulator out, then finished him off. With her mouth.

It was an odd sensation. Though she fit her lips around the tip of his shaft before sliding down it, a trickle of salty water got in her mouth along with the release he pumped down her throat immediately upon her first contact. He came so hard, she couldn’t quite get it all before she had to pull off and reclaim her air source.

She cleared her regulator, coughing a few times as she got settled. Archer watched her the whole time, making sure she was safe.

In the meantime, she examined him as he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself through the remainder of his orgasm. Silky strands of his come rippled in the current like ribbons as they floated away.

Waverly double-checked to make sure he was breathing okay when his chest expanded with an enormous breath followed by an equally huge exhalation. His regulator was still in place. Check and check.

Then his entire body sagged, deadweight on the end of his arm. His hand still instinctively clung to the rope.

That’s when she noticed the look in his eyes. It was nearly enough to make her spontaneously combust, if by combust you meant come on the spot. He reached for her then, with the hand not still clutching the line for dear life.

So she swam up to him.

Again, they shared a brief underwater kiss. She thought they’d have to practice this skill a lot more often. It made her feel like he was the center of her universe. Because in that moment, he was.

When he motioned for her to put her regulator back in one last time, his bonelessness evaporated with a jerk. Then his eyes got
humongous.

What? Was Jaws about to make a meal out of her?

She whipped around, but there was nothing behind her.

When she looked back she realized it wasn’t her he’d been gawking at. He must have felt something slipping. Because now, as they dangled there on the rope together, she followed his stare far below their flippers to where his bathing suit was sinking into oblivion.

Now
that
was funny!

Waverly laughed so hard she choked a little. He was right there, making sure she was okay. She pointed at her dive computer, which said their safety stop was complete. Time to get out.

He shook his head no vigorously, then gestured to his junk.

She shrugged. It wasn’t like he had anything to be embarrassed about. He was hung.

Archer rubbed his forehead, looked down again wistfully in the direction of his long-gone trunks, then released a huge cloud of bubbles she could only assume was an exasperated sigh.

He gave her a thumbs-up.

They slowly ascended the rest of the way to the surface.

Waverly was surprised to see Miguel and Tosin on the dive platform. How had they made it out so quickly? Sure, they’d gone deeper than her and Archer, which meant they couldn’t stay under as long, but they were practically marine mammals and could make their air last forever. Whereas she’d called their dive early so she could fool around.

Of course, Archer did not take this as good news. She heard him mutter, “Fuck.”

A laugh escaped her.

Miguel must have heard. He looked down at them. “Getting out?”

“Could someone toss me a towel?” Archer asked.

“It’s traditional to use those once you’ve left the ocean. They’re not very effective for drying off if you get them soaked,” the other guy teased, but he looked to Waverly as if asking how things had gone. She winked then headed for the ladder.

“Waverly!” Archer begged.

“Remember when you laughed at my unfortunate wedgie incident? Toodle-oo.” She gave him a finger wave over her shoulder then hauled herself and her bazillion pounds of equipment onto the ship.

Tosin joined them, peering overboard. “What’s taking so long? Hustle, would you? We have something to show you.”

Waverly couldn’t help but turn around and stare when the two divemasters began to crack up. Whistles and catcalls cut through the afternoon, drawing the attention of the guests. Even Captain Alex, who must have been making rounds.

The captain surprised everyone when he called Archer out on the tan lines left by the tiny triangle his suit usually covered. From a few decks above them it was easy to hear him shout, “Put some pants on, kid. You’re blinding us up here.”

Archer shuffled across the dive deck, his fins held in front of him to preserve some of his modesty. A shame, really.

By the time she made her way to her slot at the bench, dropped her tank in the holder, and got her gear off, Archer was back. He wore a pair of cotton shorts that he usually pulled on over his swim trunks. They rode low on his hips, showing off his washboard abs and the V that pointed straight to her favorite new toy. He flipped off Miguel and Tosin as he came to help her break down her set-up.

“Not pissed?” she asked as she chuckled.

“After what you did down there, it would take a hell of a lot more than that to put me in a bad mood.” He leaned in and kissed her solidly, making her hope they were headed back to their cabin for a mid-afternoon quickie. “That was fucking incredible. Thank you.”

“Maybe next time we can swap places.” She thought of the possibilities and hummed.

“Archie!” Miguel called from the table in the center of the dive deck. “You two can bask in the afterglow later. Get over here already.”

He held his hand out to her and she took it. Together they approached the other two divemasters.

“What the hell is so important?” Archer glared at them. “I was thinking I might need to be kind of busy for the next hour or two or ten.”

“Well, my friend.” Tosin positively beamed. “I may not have joined the Going Down club today, but I think this makes a nice consolation prize.”

He lifted the edge of the towel on the table to give them a peek at what was beneath.