On The Beach (Modern Vintage)

3. Bottoms Overboard

CHAPTER 3

bottoms overboard

MICK

D r. Isabelle Maria Volnay was quirky, sexy, and a surprise—a good one.

"She's engaged to you ?" Franco asked as Cato, Franco, and I watched Belle leaning over the side of the boat, staring down into the ocean's depths.

The boat ride hadn't been kind to her hangover, and I'd warned her that RiRi would dock my pay if she threw up in the boat. So, Belle had been puking over the aft side.

"That's what she tells me." I grimaced when she moaned and rested her forehead against the edge of the boat.

"But you're not that guy anymore," Franco pointed out. "You're Captain Mick and a complete asshole."

He wasn't wrong. Dr. Nicholas Augustus hadn't been an asshole. I'd been kind, generous, and idealistic, ready to save the world. But nothing smacks you in the face harder than reality. Mine taught me that the world was, well, majorly fucked up, and I wanted out.

"She's pretty," Cato observed as Belle wiped her face with a tissue, still looking a little green .

"Yeah," Franco agreed. "She's got nice tits. You think I have a chance with her?"

"She's engaged to me," I protested.

Cato chuckled. "That doesn't mean much in Reef Harbor, Mick. You know that. You were bopping whatshername while she was married to whatshisname."

I shrugged. He wasn't lying.

"You talking about Myrna or Cora?" Franco asked, trying to remember.

"Myrna is married. Cora was engaged but is now married," Cato reminded him.

"Cora's fiancé fucked you up real good." Franco adjusted his sunglasses.

"The guy used to be a wrestler, and he's a fucking cop," I defended. "What was I supposed to do? And you guys didn't help—just watched as I got my ass kicked."

"As you said, he's a wrestler, and I don't want trouble with the poh-leese .” Franco smirked and then looked at our passenger with concern. "You think we should help her? She looks like—oh, there she goes again."

We all watched as Belle leaned over and threw up some more.

"You know, I used to have a rule—if a girl throws up around me, it's a no-go forever," Franco stated. "But she could be the exception to that rule."

Cato and I raised our eyebrows. We lived on a cheap party island, after all, where throwing up was practically a rite of passage.

Belle wobbled toward us, clutching her stomach. "I think I'm feeling better now," she announced.

I patted the empty folding chair next to me. "Have a seat, Babycakes." I reached into the cooler beside me, pulled out a can of beer, and handed it to her.

"I just finished throwing up." She eyed the beer with skepticism and sighed as she set her ass on the chair. "I don't think I should drink anymore."

"Hair of the Dog," Cato declared. "You fight evil with evil."

Belle hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and cracked open the can. She took a long sip. "Not bad."

We all sat in silence for a while, lines in the water. The fish weren't biting, probably because Belle had been throwing up her fries and Coke.

Cato smoked a cigar, Franco puffed on a cigarette, and I nursed my beer, as did Belle.

"Is this what you do all day?" Belle asked, breaking the quiet.

"Pretty much," Cato remarked.

"I sometimes work," Franco interjected. "You know…my big-time radio gig."

"I'm here or sleeping or at the Coral Cove," I told her.

Belle tilted her head. "I don't mean to be rude, but how do you pay your bills?"

"With money," Cato replied unhelpfully.

"Yeah, money's good," Franco agreed.

"This is my job—RiRi pays me handsomely," I lied. RiRi didn't pay much, but she let me do whatever the fuck I wanted, so it was a fair deal.

"I wish I could do nothing," Belle said wistfully. "I…work… all the time ."

"What do you do?" Franco asked.

"I'm a scientist," she told us. "I work on finding cures for diseases. Not by myself, of course. There's a team, and we all play a part."

"You cure anything we've heard of?" Franco asked with genuine curiosity.

"Ah…well, my team and I developed the cell and gene therapy to mitigate the effects of Epidermolysis Bullosa. "

"Epi-what?" Cato frowned.

"Epidermolysis Bullosa," Belle explained patiently, "is a group of rare genetic skin disorders where the skin and mucous membranes are extremely fragile, causing painful blistering and wounds even with minor friction or trauma."

"And how'd you cure that?" Franco asked, curious.

Belle smiled. "EB is caused by genetic mutations. We used gene editing—specifically, CRISPR-Cas9—to correct the faulty gene responsible for the skin's fragility."

Cato and Franco looked at her like she'd just performed magic. I actually knew she had. Gene therapy wasn't easy.

"Wow. I know you spoke in English and all, but I got no idea what you just said," Franco admitted. "Sounds super cool, though."

I took another swig of my beer to keep my mouth shut. I had questions. Why didn't they use stem-cell-based therapies? What were the long-term results? What about off-target effects?

Goddamn it!

Stop it, Mick. You're not a scientist anymore. You're now a beach bum. A damn good one.

But I couldn't deny I was intrigued. It had been a long time since I thought about my old life, and I wasn't about to start now. I needed to get Belle off this island before she dug up things I'd buried for a reason.

"Wanna go for a swim?" I asked her so she'd stop talking about my erstwhile purpose.

She burped, covering her mouth. "Excuse me?"

"Wanna go overboard, Babycakes?"

"I…don't have a swimsuit," she said, clearly unsure.

"No swimsuit, no problem." I stood up and began to undress. When I was completely naked, I winked at her. She stared at my dick, and I couldn't help but nod smugly. "I know. It's a good size. "

"Christ!" She averted her eyes. "Put some clothes on."

"I prefer to keep my clothes dry when I swim," I teased.

When she looked at me, rolling her eyes, I turned around to show her my finely toned ass before jumping off the boat. I floated on my back, watching her from the water.

It was freeing, just drifting under the sun.

"You coming in or what?" I challenged.

She took a deep breath and then stripped down to her bra and panties, hesitated for a moment, then joined me in the bluest of blue waters.

"Nice ass," Franco called appreciatively.

"Very nice legs," Cato added.

Belle swam over to me, and when she got close, I turned to face her. "Glad you could join me."

A small wave shifted her, and I grabbed her waist as if to steady us both, but I just wanted my hands on her.

"Thanks," she murmured, her voice soft. "I…." She was about to say something, but her words faltered when she saw I was gawking at her tits, her areolas clearly visible through the beige bra, turned transparent by the water.

She blushed, and I couldn't help but grin. "A bit too late for modesty, Babycakes." I slid a hand down to cup her ass, pulling her close.

"Ah…this is a bit too intimate," she choked out, her voice shaky.

"Yeah," I agreed, thrusting my hips gently against hers, letting her feel my erection. It had been a while since a woman had gotten me so hot so quickly.

A small moan escaped her lips, and the tension between us intensified.

I brushed some wet hair off her face, my thumb grazing her cheek. "Belle, you wanna get laid?"

"What?" She squirmed in my arms, flustered.

I laughed, letting her go. She was out of her element, no doubt about that. This was a woman who lived in a lab and probably had all her thrills in a petri dish. Unless, of course, she'd had a few drinks—then, maybe, she loosened up a little before she threw up.

"I'm a straightforward kinda guy, and I think you're sexy." My tone was cool in contrast to the heat between us and the warm water surrounding us.

She placed a hand on my shoulder for balance, clearly not as comfortable in the water as I was. "I…I don't have sex with guys like you," she admitted, her legs tangling with mine.

I groaned as her thighs brushed against my cock. Fuck, but that felt good.

"Why? What's wrong with guys like me?"

Belle cleared her throat, her tone hesitant. "Well…the thing is, I have a type. Nerds. You know, scientists. You're way out of my league, Captain Mick."

"I'm not askin' you to marry me, darlin'. I'm just sayin' it'd be a hot fuck."

Her cheeks flushed again, her eyes widening in surprise. She was cute as hell when she got all shy. Usually, I'd run the other way from the nervous, inexperienced type. But there was something about Dr. Isabelle "Belle" Volnay that pulled me in—something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"How about we start with a kiss?" I suggested.

Belle swallowed hard. "No."

I blinked, surprised. Maybe I'd read her wrong after all. "No?"

"Not until I brush my teeth," she blurted out.

"What?"

"I just threw up and had a beer. I smell…well, I'd love to kiss you, but not until I brush my teeth." She spoke so primly like she was accepting an invitation to tea, not turning down a kiss.

"You've got to be kidding me," I growled .

Her expression hardened, and something inside me stirred. I'd had plenty of women since leaving Boston, but none were quite like Belle. Adorable, stubborn, and, for some reason, utterly irresistible.

What the hell was happening to me? More pertinently, what the hell was this woman doing to me?

"Let me help you," I smirked.

"What? You've got toothpaste?—"

Before she could finish, I dunked her underwater, holding her there for a good five seconds before pulling her back up. She spluttered, eyes blazing with anger.

"What the fuck was that?" she gasped for air.

"Mouthwash, Reef Harbor style." I yanked her close so her tits were smashed against my chest. I slammed my mouth over hers before she could protest.

She tasted like the ocean—and of something far more dangerous. She tasted sweet . It was how her tongue timidly touched mine like she was a curious kitten. I had a flash of her licking my cock just like that.

I molded her softness against me, aware that she wanted this as much as I did. The shallowness of her breath, her hardened nipples, and the way she curved against me all told me that I wasn't alone in feeling this heady passion.

"Mick," she protested. "People can see us."

I nuzzled my lips against hers. "No people, just Franco and Cato, and they don't give a shit."

She put a hand to my chest and licked her lips. Fuck, but she was hot. "I care."

I cupped her face and stroked her swollen lips with my thumb, making them wetter. Her tongue peeked out, and she tasted me, and just like that, her green cat eyes went stormy. I'd never fucking seen that happen with a lover before. She was utterly responsive.

She looked toward the boat and saw that my friends, smart assholes, had their back to us. This wouldn't be the first time I had my hands on a woman while they were around—but it was the first time I cared that they didn't see her as I did, aroused and wanting.

What the fuck?

Before I could process that thought, her hands linked around my neck, and that was all the encouragement I needed. I lowered my head and captured the moistness of her lips, groaning low in my throat as she let me in.

Both our breathing was ragged, sounding loud in the silence of desire as we sucked, kissed, bit each other hungrily.

My hands went into her damp, auburn hair, and I pulled her head so I had access to her throat; as I did that, I pushed my erection between her thighs. All that separated us were her sexy panties.

She tasted like fucking honey. Yeah, I was losing my mind. No woman tasted like honey, no matter how poetic Byron waxed. But it was more than that, she tasted like a woman who I wanted underneath me, desperately. Usually, I could take or leave it—and had no problem walking away, dealing with rejection, or finding out that I wasn't into a woman. But not this time. The idea of her turning me down wasn't an option.

I cupped her ass, pulled her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist.

"Good fucking girl," I growled and thrust against her, loving the heat, the warmth, the intimacy.

The what? Intimacy?

I almost dropped her then, but she kissed me again, and I was lost.

She was aroused, drowning in pleasure, and I felt like a king for making her look the way she did. I freed my hands and cupped her breasts. She pulled away and looked into my eyes.

"Mick," she whimpered .

"Yeah, Babycakes. I know."

I squeezed her breasts. They were a gorgeous handful. Her nipples were puckered, and I pinched them until her hips began to thrum against mine. I wanted to slide her panties aside and sink into her, but I wasn't wearing a condom, and the one I had was in my shorts on the boat. Too fucking far away.

I pushed her bra down and lowered my head to taste her nipples. Yes. God damn, she felt good in my mouth; the moans she released were like the best fucking music ever.

I continued to grind my arousal against her, and her legs tightened against me. I slid my mouth over hers at the same time; I cupped her pussy.

"More," she breathed.

"I'll give you more," I vowed and drove two fingers into her. She was tight, warm, wet, and…I felt her pulse around me. Now, I was good with my hands but not that good. Usually, I had to work a little to make a woman come. But this woman exploded around me, her mewls low as she rested her forehead on mine and just kept going.

"I want inside you," I muttered. "Protection?"

Her eyes were blurry now, and I was losing control. I never did that, but I didn't fucking care. I wanted inside her. I wanted to feel her come all over my cock. I wanted….

"Condom," she said firmly.

I sighed, amused with myself for wanting to fuck her ungloved. I was losing my mind.

I kissed her softly and felt her legs float away from me. I held her by her waist. "Come home with me," I demanded.

"Okay," she said, a big smile on her face. "But then you have to make me come once more."

"Once more? Babycakes, I'm going to destroy your pussy."

She licked her lips. "Show me what you can do, Captain Mick."