Chapter 5 — The Count #5
I pulled her up, off the bed, backing her against the cabin wall, my mouth never leaving hers, my hand still working her breast under her shirt.
She was panting against my lips, her hips grinding against mine, her thighs squeezing my waist, and the heat between her legs pressed against my cock through our clothes with a wetness I could feel even through the fabric.
Her hand found my belt buckle, working it open with frantic fingers, and then my zipper was down and her warm palm was wrapping around my bare cock, stroking me from base to tip in one smooth motion that pulled a sound out of me so raw I barely recognized it as my own voice.
“I’m going to fuck you right here,” she whispered against my mouth, her hand working my shaft, her thumb circling the head where I was already leaking for her.
“Right now. Daddy is on the phone, the families are eating breakfast, and I’m going to ride your cock on my daddy’s boat until neither of us can walk straight. How’s that for a chaperoning preview?”
My hips bucked into her hand, my cock pulsing against her palm, and I was seconds away from lifting her, stripping her, fucking her against the cabin wall with everything I had.
A cabin door slammed outside. Heavy footsteps on the deck. Vince’s voice, calling my name, closer than it had any right to be.
“Luke? You down there? Marina’s on the line about the winter storage, need your opinion on shrink-wrap versus covered—”
Shay’s hand froze on my cock. Her eyes found mine, wide with something between frustration and wicked amusement, and she bit her lower lip hard enough to leave a mark.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
I zipped my pants with hands that shook, buckled my belt, and tried to look like a man who hadn’t just been thirty seconds from fucking Vince Hollis’s daughter against the bulkhead of his boat while he was thirty feet away taking a phone call that one of his daughter’s friends had probably engineered.
Shay smoothed her tank top, ran a hand through her dark hair, and flashed me a smile that contained absolutely zero regret and one hundred percent promise.
“The bonfire,” she said, her voice low and certain.
“Saturday night. After the families go home. I’m going to fuck your brains out, Luke Whitaker.
I’m going to ride that cock until you forget your own name, and then I’m going to do it again, and Kiki isn't the end of this. She’s the beginning.
” She reached up, adjusted my collar where her hands had wrinkled it, and her touch was proprietary and warm.
“I’ve waited too long to be patient now.
So get ready. Because I’m not asking next time. I’m taking.”
Vince’s footsteps reached the companionway. “Luke? You in the cabin?”
“Coming,” I called, and my voice sounded steady. Miraculously, impossibly steady.
Shay’s smile widened. She looked delighted, flushed, entirely unrepentant, and as she moved past me toward the door, her hand brushed my cock one last time through my zipper, a touch so light it could have been accidental if I didn’t know better.
I knew better.
***
I took three deep breaths, adjusted myself carefully, and ran a hand through my hair in what I hoped was a convincing approximation of a man who’d been admiring boat cabins and not getting hand jobs against bulkheads.
My cock was still hard, my zipper was a tactical nightmare, and the scent of Shay’s citrus-sharp perfume was all over my clothes.
Shay emerged from the primary suite like nothing had happened. Her dark hair was slightly mussed, her cheeks flushed pink, but her smile was bright and innocent, the perfect Hollis daughter reporting back to her father with cheerful efficiency.
“We were checking out the primary suite, Daddy. Luke says the storage is better than his Chris-Craft, but the headroom’s worse.” She hooked her arm through Vince’s, leaning against him with easy affection. “I told him about the mood lighting. He was impressed. Weren’t you, Luke?”
I stepped into the main cabin, my face carefully neutral, my pulse still hammering in my wrists. “Very impressed. The shower’s bigger than I expected.”
It was, technically, true. The shower was bigger than I’d expected. Everything else about the last five minutes had been bigger than I’d expected, too, and none of it involved marine plumbing.
Vince nodded, pleased. “That’s what sold Trina.
Woman’s been wanting a proper boat shower for years.
Our last one, you had to turn around to sneeze.
” He clapped my shoulder. “Thanks for the second opinion on the storage. Marina says covered is the way to go if I’m keeping her in the water through October, but the shrink-wrap guys swear their method’s drier.
Whole industry built on convincing people their way is the only way. ”
“Covered,” I said, because covered was what I'd have chosen for my own boat, and right now choosing anything that required more than two brain cells was beyond me. “More airflow. Less condensation.”
“See? That’s why I ask you.” Vince beamed. “Practical. No bullshit. Come on, let’s get back to breakfast before Cooper eats all the bacon. Boy’s got a hollow leg, I swear to God.”