Chapter 4 — The Rough Public Encounter
The upper aft deck emptied out after midnight, most of the ship having drained itself into the casino or the late-night comedy show, and Mark had gone up there alone after dinner for exactly the reason he told himself he hadn’t — a text from Chloe, sent to a number she shouldn’t have had yet, that just said aft deck, midnight, come see the stars.
Julia had read it over his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. “Go see the stars,” she’d said, entirely delighted, and gone off to find Sienna at the piano bar.
Chloe was already at the railing when he got there, wind pulling her hair loose from its knot, a slip dress the deep red of a dare doing almost nothing against the night air. She turned when she heard him, and whatever she saw in his face made her smile go slow and satisfied.
“You came.”
“You said stars.” Mark came up beside her at the rail, keeping a foot of space between them that he knew wasn’t going to last. “Didn’t realize it was a private invitation.”
“Everything I do is a private invitation. You’re just the first one smart enough to notice.
” She turned fully toward him, back against the rail, wind whipping the dress against her legs, and there was nobody else on the whole deck — just black water below, stars overhead, and a girl who’d been building toward this since a pool deck and a sundress two days ago.
“I’ve been thinking about you since the sail-away. ”
“Should I be worried?”
“You should be excited.” Chloe closed the distance between them without any hesitation at all, one hand flattening against his chest, walking him backward the last step until his own back found the railing instead of hers.
“I know what you are. Married guy, plays it safe, hasn’t had anything wild happen to him in years.
I’ve been watching you not-look at me for two days, and I think you’re about two seconds from cracking. ”
“That so.”
“That’s so.” She hitched the hem of her dress with her free hand and pulled it up slow, deliberate, until there was nothing left to wonder about — bare beneath it, exactly as advertised, the cool night air doing nothing to disguise how ready she already was.
“I want you to take me right here where anyone could walk out and see. I want you to fill me up and not even care whose ship this is. I bet you’d love knowing you bred some twenty-one-year-old on vacation and got to just walk away from it after. ”
Something in Mark’s face changed, slow and total, the mild amusement draining out of it and leaving something underneath that made Chloe’s breath catch even before he moved.
“Careful what you ask for,” he said, low.
He had her spun before she’d finished processing the shift, back now against the rail properly, his chest flush to her spine, one arm coming up firm across her collarbone and throat — not choking, just present, a solid line of pressure that made her suddenly, viscerally aware of exactly how much bigger he was than her, how easily he could hold her exactly where he wanted.
“Oh,” she said, small, all the cockiness draining out of the single syllable.
“You talk a lot for somebody who wanted this.” His free hand found the hem of her dress, dragging it up over bare hips, and he pressed his palm flat against her stomach, holding her back against him. “Tell me again. What did you want me to do?”
“I — you’re supposed to be the one begging, this isn’t—” Her breath had already gone short, chest rising fast under the arm at her throat, hips shifting back into him on pure instinct even as her mouth kept fighting to hold the upper hand it had already lost.
“Wrong plan.” His hand slid lower instead of freeing himself right away, two fingers finding her slick and swollen and already trembling at the first light contact, and he worked her slow and deliberate, feeling exactly how much of her earlier confidence had been real want all along.
“You’re soaked. Been soaked since you texted me, I’d bet. ”
“Don’t — don’t stop that—” Whatever fight she had left drained straight out of her voice, hips grinding down against his fingers, chasing a rhythm he wasn’t in any hurry to give her yet.
“Wasn’t planning to. Not yet.” He curled his fingers deep, once, twice, drawing a broken sound out of her that the wind carried out over the black water, and kept at it until her knees had gone genuinely unsteady beneath her, until every point of contact between them had turned slick and desperate.
Only then did he finally free himself with his other hand, guiding himself to where she was already open and ready for him, and pushed into her from behind in one long, rough stroke that punched every bit of her remaining bravado straight out of her chest.
Chloe’s hands found the railing, knuckles white, and the sound that tore out of her wasn’t for anyone’s benefit this time.
“There it is,” Mark said, voice gone dark, setting a hard, driving pace that had the whole rail shuddering under her grip. “That’s a real sound. Let’s hear a few more of those.”
“Fuck — Mark—” Her thighs had started trembling almost immediately, legs barely holding her upright, and the arm across her throat tightened by a careful, deliberate degree, enough pressure to make her head spin without ever cutting off her air, enough to make every gasp feel like it had to be fought for and won.
“Anyone could — someone could walk out here—”
“You wanted that ten minutes ago.” He drove deeper, harder, punctuating every word with a thrust that had her crying out into the wind. “Where’d all that big talk go, Chloe? You had a whole speech ready. Finish it.”
She couldn’t. Every attempt at a sentence broke apart into a moan halfway through, her whole body strung tight between the railing in front of her and the man at her back, caught, held, thoroughly undone in exactly the public risk she’d talked herself into wanting.
“Please,” she finally managed, the word cracking apart in the middle. “Please, don’t stop, I need—”
“That’s better.” His grip on her stomach tightened, holding her hips exactly where he wanted them, driving into her with a rhythm that had gone brutal and precise all at once.
“You wanted me to breed you, sweetheart. Funny how fast that talk turns to please the second somebody actually gives you what you asked for.”
The word did something to her that nothing else had — her whole body clenched around him, a strangled cry breaking loose that she didn’t even try to muffle, hips grinding back to meet every thrust like she couldn’t get close enough, fast enough, deep enough.
“Gonna come like this,” she gasped, “in public, with your arm on my throat, God, I’ve never—”
“Then do it.” His voice had gone rough at the edges now too, his own control fraying under the grip of her around him. “Come on my cock right here where anybody could see you falling apart.”
“I want it,” she managed, voice breaking apart around every thrust. “I want you to actually breed me, I don’t even care anymore, I don’t care whose husband you are or what it does to your marriage, I just need to feel you finish inside me—”
Something rough and satisfied tore out of him at that, hips driving harder like the confession had lit something new in him. “That mouth,” he said, low, “begging to wreck a marriage you’ve got no idea you’re never touching. Keep talking. I want to hear exactly how bad you want it.”
“So bad, God, so bad—”
He pulled out of her just long enough to turn her around, wanting to watch her face for the rest of it, and lifted her bodily onto the flat rail behind her, one arm banded tight around her waist to keep her steady above the drop while he settled between her spread thighs and drove back into her in one deep, unbroken stroke.
From here he could see everything — her wrecked expression, the way her mouth fell open around every thrust, the wild, glassy focus of her eyes fixed on his like he was the only solid thing left in her whole field of vision.
“Look at you,” he said, low, hips working steady and deep. “Wanted to wreck a marriage. Ended up like this instead. On my cock, in public, begging.”
“I don’t care, I don’t care, just don’t stop—” Her legs locked around his hips, ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him deeper with every roll of her own hips now, chasing her own finish with a hunger that had abandoned every last shred of the performance she’d walked up here with.
She broke apart with a cry that tore up into the night sky, thighs shaking so hard he had to take more of her weight against his chest to keep her upright, her whole body wrung out and shuddering through wave after wave of it while he kept driving into her, chasing his own release now with short, hard snaps of his hips.
He followed her a dozen strokes later, groaning low against her hair, hips stuttering to a halt buried deep, both of them breathing hard into the wind and the dark and the very real possibility that someone, somewhere on this ship, might have heard exactly what had just happened on the aft deck.
For a long moment neither of them moved, his arm still loose across her collarbone, her legs still not entirely convinced they could hold her.
“You’re going to have to help me walk back to my room,” Chloe said finally, voice wrecked, laughing a little in disbelief at her own state. “I don’t think my legs work anymore.”
“That was the idea.” Mark eased his arm away from her throat, gentle now, smoothing her dress back down with more care than the last five minutes might have suggested he had in him. “You good?”
“I’m—” She turned to face him, hair a mess, eyes still glassy, and something in her expression had shifted permanently, some layer of performance stripped clean away that wasn’t coming back easily. “I don’t know what I am right now. I think you broke something.”
“Nothing that won’t put itself back together by tomorrow.
” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an oddly gentle gesture for a man who’d just had her shaking against a railing, and stepped back to give her room to find her feet.
“Go find Sienna. Tell her whatever you want. I’ve got somewhere to be. ”
He left her at the rail, legs still unsteady, staring after him with an expression that had traded every bit of its earlier confidence for something far more uncertain — and, underneath the uncertainty, something that looked a great deal like she was already counting the hours until it happened again.
Alone in the dark, she checked the deck was still empty before lifting the hem of her dress, fingers finding herself slick and swollen and still leaking warmth down the inside of one thigh.
She pushed two fingers in slow, working what she could of him back inside her rather than let it go to waste on the night air, a small, helpless sound escaping her at the sensitivity of it.
Then she brought her fingers up and sucked them clean, one after the other, tasting the both of them mixed together, and stood there at the rail a moment longer than she needed to, savoring it, before she finally found her legs and went looking for Sienna.