Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
HARPER
W hen the guys said the yacht we’d be on was nice, I had assumed it would have a few bedrooms and a shared bath. I didn’t realize it would have multiple levels, a hot tub, a fire pit, indoor and outdoor living and dining rooms. Somehow the staff of twelve manage to make sure our every whim and need is fulfilled while staying discreet.
The breeze off the water is chilly, so I’ve been staying mostly in the hot tub, but today is sunny enough that I can lounge on deck in the sun. The heat from the sun seeps into my exposed skin. For the first time in my life, I’m wearing a bikini. The guys are used to seeing my scars now, it’s not a secret anymore. Plus, it feels like a way of saying screw you to my father. If he saw me in this tiny purple thong, bikini he’d be livid.
“You’re turning pink,” Emerson says from above me. “Have you put sunscreen on?”
“No.” I honestly didn’t even think of it.
His lips flatten into an irritated scowl as he looks around the deck. “Don’t move.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” I lay my head back down and stretch my arms above my head.
The sound of Emerson shuffling back over to me is all the warning I get before cold cream hits my back. A small squeak escapes me while he laughs and starts rubbing the sunscreen in. At least his hands are warm.
“Sorry,” he says with laughter in his voice.
“You don’t sound a bit sorry.”
“You’re right.” He unties the string of my top. “You know you don’t need this right? It’s just us up here.”
“And the staff.” I’m comfortable with my guys seeing me naked but not strangers.
“Declan threatened them all to stay away when you’re up here laying out.”
I give a very unladylike snort. “What if I need something? A drink or snack?”
“You tell one of us, and we’ll get it for you.”
“That seems inefficient.”
“Better than Dec getting sent to a Greek prison for murdering a deckhand with wandering eyes.”
He’s not wrong.
“Do you think he’d actually go that far?” I ask.
Emerson’s hands pause briefly. “For you? We all would.”
That shouldn’t warm my heart, but it does. It’s an overwhelming feeling to go from feeling unsafe with your own family to being so protected and cherished. Half the time I wake up in fear that’s all been a dream and I’m actually on my own.
At some point this sunscreen application turned into a massage. Emerson’s hands run down the sides of my body and to my hips. He works the lotion into the skin of my lower back.
“You’re so soft here,” he whispers as his thumbs caress the flesh just above the waist of my bathing suit bottoms.
He pulls his hands away briefly, and I shift my arms down, so I can prop myself up and look over my shoulder at him. He’s shirtless, his trim muscles out on display. Even with all the time he spends outdoors, somehow his skin is still pale, unmarred by any sun damage. Not that it takes a genius to figure out why that is when he’s currently slathering me in SPF 50.
“Like what you see?” he asks without looking up at me. His hands move to my cheeks, rubbing the lotion into my skin in slow, lazy circles.
“I do.” To prove it I lift my hips, arching back into his touch. “The real question is do you like it?”
His hand slips between my thighs. “What do you think?” He drags his finger over my center and along the material between my cheeks.
“Yes,” I rasp as he strokes his finger back the other way, swirling with deeper pressure over my clit. “Please don’t stop.” I drop my head back down so I can take in all the sensations.
“I’m not going to.”
I shift my legs, opening them further for him. He pushes my thong to the side, leaving me fully exposed. Heat builds in my core as his fingers circle my clit. My body quivers as he slowly teases me. With my eyes shut tight, all that I know are the sparks dancing along my skin at his talented touch.
His fingers glide through my folds and slip into my entrance. I’m already so wet there’s no resistance. In and out go his digits in the most delicious tempo. The sound of my slick arousal mixes with the sound of the water lapping at the sides of the boat.
“Tell me how good I make your pussy feel, gorgeous?”
“Oh god, so good.” My body trembles as he finds my g-spot. “Right there.”
“Put that beautiful ass up in the air for me.” He shifts, and I hear his knees hit the gleaming wooden deck beside the lounge I’m on.
I do as he says not knowing where he’s going to take this. Not that it matters because I trust him implicitly. I’ve given him, them, my body and heart. I’m theirs to do what they please with.
I inhale sharply as his mouth closes over my clit. His tongue circles and flicks my pulsing nub with ruthless intent. My fingers dig into the thick cushion beneath me as he drives me closer and closer to the edge with the expert precision of a man who understands how to give pleasure.
Right as I’m about to explode with a powerful orgasm, he stops completely. I feel the loss of his heat immediately. He chuckles darkly at the whimper that falls from my lips at being left bereft of his touch. The sound of his shorts being pushed down makes my walls tighten in anticipation.
The cushion shifts beneath us, and he kneels between my legs. He runs his crown along my wet slit, gathering the arousal that’s leaking from me to help ease his length inside me. I arch my back, needing him inside me now.
“How much do you trust me?” he asks, still teasing me relentlessly.
“Entirely.”
“Good.” I hear him spit before I feel it land between my cheeks. “Relax for me, baby.”
He pushes inside me so delicately, so slowly, that I ache for more. More of him filling me. More pleasure from his touch. Once he’s fully inside, I feel his finger over my puckered hole. He spreads his spit around the tight ring.
“Take a deep breath,” he instructs. “Exhale.”
As I follow his instructions he slides his finger inside my ass. It doesn’t hurt like I was expecting. I just feel full. So full. Once he starts moving, I really relax into the sensation. I feel everything so clearly, every inch of his length dragging along my walls. The way he just barely presses down against the walls separating his finger from his cock.
“That feels so good.” Sparks dance deep in my belly as my impending orgasm builds.
“My finger or my cock?”
“Both.” I moan as he hits a spot deep inside me. “I didn’t know it’d be this good.”
“Fuck,” he groans as I tremble around him. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous. Drench me with your cum.”
“Only if you promise to fill me with yours first.”
“Fuck,” he moans. His cock surges inside me, the first hot ropes filling me while I fall over the edge. My walls continue to milk his orgasm as we both pant and try to catch our breath. “Fuck,” he mutters again as he pulls out.
“Have I reduced your vocabulary to four letter words?” I tease as I collapse onto the cushion.
“Your pussy has.” He slaps my ass just hard enough to sting but shy of being painful. “Scoot over, so I can lay with you.”
He stands and tucks himself back into his shorts before sliding under me. His hands run up and down the length of my back, lulling me into a deep relaxation. I fall asleep to the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear and the breeze blowing through my hair.
“I can’t believe you arranged to have this place shut down for us,” I say as I look around the olive farm we’ve come to.
Declan and Cyrus paid to have the entire day as a private experience. The sky is bright blue above us, a stark contrast to the reddish colored dirt and sparse green grass dotting the grove of olive trees. We each have a basket to fill with olives we pick.
“I wanted you to have a small taste of Greece.” Cy looks around with a melancholic expression on his face. “I spent so much time picking olives from my parents’ small grove as a kid.”
My eyes meet Emerson’s gaze. A look of sadness fills his blue eyes as he watches the wistful and sad memories filter across Cy’s face. I know his childhood was hard, every bit as traumatizing as mine, but I know Emerson knows far more. He feels Cy’s sadness much more deeply than I do.
“And I didn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of random people,” Declan grumbles. His grumpy attitude lightens the mood as Cy pulls an olive off the tree and throws it at him.
“Don’t be such an ass.”
Truthfully, I am glad that Declan paid to have the farm closed for us. It’ll be a fun way to bond, first with the picking and harvesting of olives and then seeing them milled and pressed into oil in the afternoon.
Our guide shows us to the trees that are ready to be harvested and then leaves us to work on our own. Once it’s just the four of us, we fall into a steady rhythm. Declan and Emerson reach for the highest olives, Cy for the middle, and I go for the lowest.
“I’m going to need to go to a family thing tomorrow night,” Cy says when we start talking about plans for the rest of the trip.
“Should one of us go with you?” Emerson asks.
“No. If everything goes well, I’ll be back after a couple hours. It’ll be best if I go alone.”
The three guys stop what they’re doing and stare each other down. It’s almost as if they’re having some silent conversation I’m not privy to. Their years of friendship before I entered the picture makes me feel, at times, isolated and like an outsider.
Instead of saying anything I just go back to picking olives. I can’t begrudge them the connection they formed long ago. I just have to let it go and realize there are some things that I’ll be left out of. Even if it hurts.
After a prolonged minute, they each go back to picking in peace and quiet. We move from tree to tree, filling our baskets and enjoying the nice weather. It’s warm enough to not need a jacket but not hot enough to sweat. Which is actually a shame now that I think about it. I wouldn’t mind watching the guys pick olives shirtless.
Cyrus carries my basket along with his when it’s time to take them back to the main building where they are processed. We watch as they wash, crush, blend, and then strain the olives into oil. While we watched that process, a picnic was set up in the grove for us.
A blue and white blanket is spread over the ground with bottles of wine, olives, hummus, pita, cheese, and grapes on a beautiful charcuterie board. I sit down beside Declan, earning a soft smile that makes my insides flip. He really is irritatingly handsome when he smiles.
Emerson pours a glass of wine for Cy who kisses him in thanks. I sneak a glance at Declan to see if he has any kind of reaction to their casual display of affection, but he’s impassive. He raises an eyebrow at me when he notices me looking at him.
“What?”
“Does that bother you?” I gesture toward the other two with my head.
“Them kissing?”
“Yeah.”
“Not even a little bit.” He looks down at me. “Does it bother you?”
I shake my head. “I actually love that they have each other.”
“Me, too. It took them long enough to figure it out,” he says quietly while watching them talk softly.
“What do you mean?”
“The first few times they hooked up, they’d act so weird afterward. They wouldn’t want to hang out with each other alone. Or sit beside each other on the couch if we were gaming. I’m not sure if they just didn’t want me to know or not to raise suspicion. Regardless, I could hear everything they were doing, so it wasn’t a shock to me.” He grabs a few grapes and pops them in his mouth.
“I’ve never gotten the vibe they were ashamed of it.”
“I don’t think they ever have been.” He looks at me again. “I am surprised at how open minded you’ve been about everything, though.”
“Me too.” I smile up at him. “I think when you’ve gone through the kind of stuff I have, it either breeds hate or fosters empathy and open-mindedness. I’d like to think I have more of the latter.”
“You’re the least hateful person I know. I don’t even think you’re capable of hate.”
“I am.” I take a sip of my wine, steadying myself before making the biggest confession. “My dad, I hate him. I hate him for what he did to Mom. I hate him for what he did to me. I hate that he hurt so many people and I’m still paying the price for it.”
He’s silent for a moment. I feel the heaviness of his deep green gaze on the side of my face. “You mean that, don’t you?”
My eyes meet his when I nod.
“That makes what needs to be done so much easier,” he says quietly to himself.