Someone Else's Ocean

I laughed as the screen cut off and then spoke to the sun-kissed beauty behind me.

“Ella says you were staring at me during our whole conversation.” I glanced back at the island where Koti stood peeling potatoes, her cheeks reddening.

“I love to watch you two sign, it’s fascinating.”

I drew my brows and stood. “That’s the only reason?”

“Yep. Love it,” she said, toying with me. Everything about her from her chin-length, gold-spun hair to the tip of her polished blue toes made my veins ache. I wanted to possess her. Her silver-blue eyes bled me and often. It was damn near physically painful to be so attracted to her. The warmth I felt when I was with her was something else entirely.

“If you really want to learn, I’ll teach you.”

“Really?” My heart began to race

at the appearance of her smile. Nothing affected me quite as much as the sight of it.

“We can start tonight after dinner. I’m going to teach you exactly as I was taught. There are strict rules.”

“I’m up for it. I learned the alphabet for sign language in grade school. I still remember it.”

“That will help,” I made my way toward her and saw her falter slightly when she read my posture. “You’ll have to do your part, study on your own, and use the workbooks.”

“I will, I swear. We have a few deaf renters come in once in a while…” she subtly smiled in an effort to hide her anticipation as I drew closer. “I can’t wait to be able to talk to them. Oh, and I can sign to Ella next week!”

“It takes time to master this language like any other and there’s slang to learn too.”

“Okay.”

I could feel the rattle in her posture as I slipped in behind her and leaned in a whisper. “It could take you months to be conversational.”

“Bring it on,” she said as her skin heated beneath my fingertips.

“After.” I pulled the peeler from her hands and set it on the counter.

“After.” She repeated, leaning against me and slipping her hand between us to brush it over my ready cock.

“After.” Turning her in my arms, I covered her mouth with my own.

After turned into a couple of hours of rough exploration by my nutty professor. The man was a God in the sack and though some days were filled with the painful effects of his aftermath, I couldn’t stop myself from my new addiction. He was a thorough lover with endless imagination. I smiled as I waited outside my front door playing with Disco. Ian demanded that we conduct class just as he would anywhere else and had been adamant about treating me as he would any other student. Restless with anticipation, I waited the five minutes he asked for to ready himself for our first class.

When I walked into the house, I saw he had rearranged the furniture putting his dry erase board where my coffee table usually sat.

“It’s getting hot out—”

My sentence was cut short by Ian’s stomping on the hardwood floor and the shake of his head.

I took his cue and zipped it. He pointed to the couch as he stood next to the board that read “My name is Ian.”

Once seated, he waved at me in greeting and I waved back. I could see a repressed grin lay idle on his lips before he wiped it away and replaced it with what I assumed was his teacher mask. He lifted his hands and signed.

Confused, I shrugged. He looked at me expectantly and signed again.

I gave him wide eyes.

Ten minutes later, we were in a lock of wills. He kept placing his hand to his chest, then crossing closed pointer and middle fingers on each hand before rapidly spelling out a word. I’d been working on that word the whole time because it was all of the language I knew but his fingers were moving so fast from letter to letter I couldn’t read it. The last letter was an N. I was sure of it. A light bulb went off and I jumped in my seat excitedly with an “Oh, damn, how did I not get that!?”

Ian stomped his foot again and shook his head, eyes narrowed.

He signed the same phrase, this time slower so I could follow.