CHAPTER 19
Katrina
The hose water was cold and perfect against her sun-warm skin. Kat held it over her head and let it run down her back, washing away the salt that had dried in patches along her shoulders and spine. The deck beneath her feet was hot, almost burning, but she didn’t mind.
She watched Marina do the same a few feet away, her sister’s blonde hair dark and slick against her neck, and Ryan beside her, water beading on his chest and shoulders before dripping down to the waistband of his board shorts.
They went below to change. Ryan used one of the guest cabins while Marina and Katrina took turns in the head.
Katrina pulled on a pale yellow T-shirt that slipped off one shoulder and a pair of white underwear. No bra. The fabric felt clean and dry against her skin.
When she stepped into the saloon, Ryan was already waiting. He'd changed into a clean pair of briefs but had left his shirt off.
Warmth spread through her chest before settling lower in her stomach.
Good grief.
He looked ridiculously handsome.
Maybe it was the snorkeling. Maybe it was the sun. Whatever the reason, she suddenly felt restless. She crossed to the galley and poured herself a glass of water, hoping it would settle whatever had come over her.
Marina emerged a moment later in an oversized gray shirt that fell to mid-thigh, her damp hair pushed back from her face.
"We should rest before heading back," she said, leaning against the doorway to the owner's cabin. "The berth in here is bigger."
"Agreed," Katrina said, already heading that way.
The owner's cabin sat at the bow, tucked into the narrowing shape of the hull.
The V-berth filled most of the space, covered by a thick white mattress with a pale blue blanket folded neatly at the foot.
Warm teak cabinetry lined both sides, broken by two oval portholes that looked out onto the blue-green water of the cove.
Afternoon sunlight spilled through the glass, shifting gently across the wood as Wayfinder rocked at anchor. The shelves were almost bare except for a framed chart and a neatly coiled line, leaving the cabin tidy, quiet, and strangely untouched.
Katrina lay down first, on her back, one arm thrown above her head.
The mattress was firm but comfortable. Marina settled beside her, and Ryan on the other side, his shoulder pressing warm against Katrina’s.
They were quiet. The boat rocked gently beneath them, water lapping against the hull in a soft, rhythmic sound.
They hadn’t used this cabin much. When they chartered, they took the smaller one, two narrow bunks pushed against opposite walls. This one had always been meant for their parents. Would have been, if things had gone differently.
Katrina stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about it, but the room itself seemed to hold the absence, the way empty spaces do.
Marina was quiet beside her. Katrina could feel it without looking—the particular stillness her sister got when she was thinking about their parents.
Ryan must have felt it too, because after a minute he shifted, pulling them both closer. His arm went around Katrina’s waist, his hand finding Marina’s shoulder. He kissed Marina’s cheek first, his lips warm and dry, then turned and did the same to Katrina.
“I’m sure they’d be glad,” he said. His voice was low, steady. “That you’re still sailing the boat. Enjoying it.” He paused. “Thanks for letting me be part of it.”
Katrina didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice. Instead, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder and breathed in the smell of him—sea and musk.
“I’m glad we came,” Marina said. She was looking at Katrina. “Thanks for suggesting it.”
“You’re welcome.” Katrina reached over and touched her sister’s hand. “But we should both thank Ryan.” She lifted her head, feeling the mood shift. “He’s the reason, right? We wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t been around.”
Marina smiled. “True.”
So they thanked him, both of them at once, leaning in to kiss his cheeks. His stubble was rough against Katrina’s lips. Then Marina’s mouth found his, and Katrina did the same from the other side, and for a second it was messy, as all three tried to kiss at once.
Ryan laughed against their mouths. Then his hands were on their faces, holding them, and he kissed them back, one after the other. A moment later, all three of them found their rhythm, tongues sliding together, warm and wet and a little desperate.
Katrina felt his hands move—one on her hip, one on Marina’s—and then lower.
She did the same, her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under her fingers.
Marina’s hand was on his stomach, tracing the line of muscle there, and then both of them were reaching for his cock at the same time, Katrina’s hand wrapping around the base, Marina’s on top, and Ryan groaned, his head falling back against the pillow.
“Fuck,” he said, and Katrina smiled against his neck.
She kissed along his jaw, down to the hollow of his throat, and bit gently at the tendon there. His skin was warm, slightly salty. She could feel his pulse under her lips, and his hand was in her hair now, gripping.
She moved lower, trailing kisses down his chest, over his stomach, to the waistband of his briefs. She hooked her fingers into the elastic and pulled them down, and his cock sprang free, hard and warm against her palm.
She didn’t tease. She took him into her mouth in one smooth motion, down to the base, and felt him jerk beneath her. His hand tightened in her hair. Above her, she could hear him moaning into Marina’s mouth, the sound muffled but desperate.
Marina moved. Katrina felt the mattress shift, and when she glanced up, Marina was sitting on Ryan’s face, her bare ass peaked under her gray t-shirt. Ryan’s hands came up to hold her hips, steadying her. Katrina watched as Marina rocked forward slightly.
Ryan’s tongue was working on Marina’s skin. Katrina couldn’t see it but she heard the sound of lapping and licking. Marina moaned. “Yes, baby. I liked that,” she said.
Ryan’s cock twitched in Katrina’s mouth, and she pressed her lips firming around his shaft. The sound of his licking and lapping was faster now, and then it stopped. He was probably thrusting his tongue inside Marina’s pussy, because Marina’s moans deepened and she rocked faster.
And then Marina made a sound—half moan, half sigh—and went still. Her head dropped back, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders, and she gripped the headboard with both hands.
Knowing Marina was close, Katrina took Ryan deeper, wanting to see them come at the same time. Her throat opened around him, and she felt him buck against her. His hips moved in rhythm with his tongue, fucking Marina’s pussy with his mouth while Katrina sucked him.
The sounds filled the cabin—wet, hungry, overlapping. Suddenly Marina’s jolted, thighs trembling, and Ryan’s knuckles on her hips went white.
Katrina could feel him getting close. His cock was pulsing against her tongue, and his breathing was ragged. She was about to suck him harder when his hand pushed gently at her shoulder, his voice rough.
“Stop,” he said. “I need to be inside you.”
Katrina pulled off, her lips slick, and looked up. Ryan’s face was flushed, his eyes dark. Marina was lying next to him, still panting softly. Katrina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sat back on her heels.
She pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Ryan’s hands were on her hips, guiding her, and she reached down to push her panties to the side and sank onto him in one smooth motion. He was thick and hot inside her, and she let out a breath that was half sigh, half groan.
She rocked forward, finding the angle that made his cock drag against the spot inside her that made her thighs shake.
Ryan’s hands moved to her breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened.
He kneaded the soft swell, his fingers pressing into her flesh, and then he arched his back off the mattress and took one nipple into his mouth.
The wet heat of his tongue made her gasp.
He sucked hard, and the sensation shot straight down between her legs, tightening everything.
Katrina braced her hands on his chest and rode him faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was getting sloppy, desperate.
Ryan’s mouth moved to her other breast, his teeth grazing her nipple, and she felt the coil inside her winding tighter, tighter.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “Right there, don’t stop.”
Her pussy clenched around him, once, twice, and then the orgasm hit her like a wave breaking—a slow build and then a rush that made her head throw back and her body go rigid.
She came with a cry that echoed in the small cabin, her thighs trembling, her fingers digging into Ryan’s shoulders.
For a few seconds, everything was white and hot and perfect.
She collapsed onto his chest, her face pressed against his neck, and felt his heart hammering against her cheek.
His arms came around her, holding her there, and she stayed like that until her breathing evened out.
Then she rolled off him and onto her side, one leg thrown over his, and watched as Marina sat up.
“My turn,” Marina said. She got onto her hands and knees, her ass facing Ryan, and looked back over her shoulder. Her t-shirt had ridden up, exposing the curve of her lower back. “Come on, ass man. This must be your favorite position.”
Ryan cursed and laughed at the same time. He sat up and knelt behind her. He landed a light slap on her ass, and said, “I’m not an ass man. I just like your ass.”
Katrina feigned offense, propping herself up on one elbow. “What about my ass?”
Ryan glanced at her, grinning. “Okay, I like your ass too.”
“Better,” Katrina said.
Marina was already pushing back against him, eager. “I like this position because it feels good,” she said. “Deep.”
“I know you do,” Ryan said.
“I don’t,” Katrina said. “It hurts.”
Marina shrugged, her shoulder blades shifting under her t-shirt. “Hurts a little. No pain, no gain. You should try it.”
“Maybe next time,” Katrina said. She moved behind Ryan, kneeling close, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her breasts pressed against his back, and she rocked her hips forward, grinding against the base of his spine.
The friction against her clit made her gasp.
Ryan was hot and sweaty against her, his muscles tense under her hands.
He reached around Marina first, his hand sliding between her legs from the front. Katrina could see his fingers moving, teasing her open, and Marina moaned, her head dropping between her shoulders.
“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Ryan said to Marina. The words made Katrina moan, too.
He started to thrust slowly. Marina’s pushed back, her moan turning deeper and hungrier. And then they both went still for a second, adjusting. Then Ryan pulled back and thrust forward again, and Marina met him, their hips finding the same rhythm. Slow, deliberate, savoring.
Katrina kept grinding against Ryan’s back, her pussy wet against his skin, her clit rubbing with each movement. The pleasure was building again, a low burn that spread through her lower belly. She bit Ryan’s shoulder gently and felt him shudder.
“Right there,” Marina said, her voice tight. “God, right there.”
Ryan shifted his angle, and Marina’s moan got louder. Katrina could see what he was doing—hitting that spot inside her sister that made her eyes roll back. He did it again, and again, each thrust deliberate, and Marina was begging now, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”
Ryan slowed down. Pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in with agonizing slowness.
Marina made a frustrated sound. “Why did you stop?”
“Don’t want it to finish yet,” Ryan said. His voice was rough, strained.
Katrina could feel the effort it was costing him to hold back—the tension in every muscle under her hands. She laughed against his shoulder. “He’s edging you. So you’ll come hard.”
“I didn’t know he could be so naughty,” Marina said between gasps.
Ryan chuckled. The sound vibrated through Katrina’s chest where she pressed against him. “Can’t help it. Hard to act like a saint with two women as sexy as you.” He thrust again, slow. “It’s hard for me to hold back too. If you want to come, I’ll make it happen.”
“Yes,” Marina said. “Please. I want to come.”
Ryan’s pace changed. Faster, harder, each thrust driving into Marina with a force that made the mattress creak. Katrina held on tighter, her own hips moving in rhythm with his, grinding against his back, and she could feel him getting close—his breathing ragged, his skin hot under her palms.
Marina tensed first. Her whole body went rigid, her back arching, and then she jolted forward with a scream that Katrina felt in her own chest. Ryan came a second later, his hips slamming into Marina one final time, and Katrina felt him pulse inside her sister, heard the groan ripped from his throat.
The sensation pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her in waves, her pussy clenching around nothing, her thighs shaking, and she buried her face against Ryan’s shoulder and moaned into his skin.
For a long moment, none of them moved. The only sounds were their breathing, ragged and overlapping, and the soft creak of the boat beneath them.
They collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Ryan ended up in the middle, one arm around each of them, and Katrina pressed her face into his chest and laughed, breathless.
“Best sex I’ve ever had,” Marina said, to no one in particular.
“See, the edging worked,” Ryan said smugly.
Marina laughed. “Somebody is getting a big head.”
“Big head on top of a big cock,” Katrina added.
Ryan laughed. “You two will be the death of me.”
They keep on bantering for a moment longer. And then Marina checks her phone, “It’s almost three. We need to head back,” she said. She didn’t move.
“Don’t want to,” Katrina said. The thought of getting up, putting clothes on, steering the boat back to harbor—it all seemed impossible. Her body felt boneless, satisfied in a way that went deeper than tired.
“Ten more minutes,” Ryan said. His hand was tracing lazy circles on Katrina’s back. “Then we’ll go.”
They agreed. The boat rocked beneath them, gentle and steady, and Katrina closed her eyes and let herself drift.