by Frost, E J
I draw my Kindle out of my bag and set it next to the cream and gold place setting in front of me.
Logan leans down and kisses my forehead. “At least say hello to the other girls at your table before you bury your nose in your book, baby. If you’re not having fun, you have my permission to rock back and forth in your chair and think of Daddy.” He winks at me. “I’ll see you back at the cabin.”
I smile up at him. “Ta very much.”
“I just want you to have a good time, baby. See you soon.” With another kiss and a gentle pass of his hand over my head, he leaves me at the table. I watch him cross the lounge, his shoulders back, ass tight under his jeans. He attracts attention: several women—and men—watch him go. He turns at the far door, looks back at me and smiles when our eyes meet, warming away my lingering anxiety. I wave at him. He tips his chin and grins before he strides through the sliding doors.
Within five minutes, I wish I’d followed him. No one else sits at my table; maybe I scared them away. The presentation is just a sales pitch for some of the cruise services: the spa, the private dinner cabanas, the bondage marketplace. After a super-perky presentation by Jason-the-Masseur from the Spa, I tune out and start to reach for my tablet.
The appearance of an Indian lady, in the most gorgeous red and gold sari, behind the chair across from me makes me put the tablet back down.
“That’s my name,” she says, pointing at a place card.
“Hello,” I say, remembering Logan’s admonition. “My name’s Emily.”
She shyly offers her hand, covered in a swirling, floral design. I develop instant henna envy, even though I’ve never wanted it before. “Vashi,” she says.
I shake. “I love the design on your hands.”
“Thank you.” She ducks her head as she smiles. Is she as shy with strangers as I am? Jeez, this will be a quiet lunch. I hope the other two at our table are chatty.
But the other two, Amy and Sierra by their place cards, never show up, and Vashi turns out not to be shy at all once we break the ice over breadsticks and lemon-water. Vashi not only doesn’t drink, but she’s a vegetarian, something the cruise doesn’t really cater to all that well, I realize as I read over the printed menu that’s been left at each place setting.
When I lift my eyes to Vashi, she’s not perusing the offerings and I wonder if that’s because it is so limited: just two appetizers and one entrée selection marked with a little pepper for vegetarians. There are eight of each for those of us who eat meat.
“Kind of a limited menu for vegetarians,” I say.
Vashi glances at the menu and nods. “I would not want any of those anyway.”
“What are you going to eat?”
She colors, a delicate rose staining her smooth, coffee-with-cream cheeks. “My partners have arranged a special menu for me while I am aboard. They are very good to me.”
They? She’s part of a multiple? That shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does, but in her traditional dress and with her demure manner, I wouldn’t have guessed she’d be part of a non-traditional grouping. But what do I know? She’s on a kinky cruise. She can’t be all that traditional. Unless kink is traditional in India. I have absolutely no idea, but I have a vague memory of reading about Indian erotic religious carvings. I’ll have to Google that when I get back to my cabin.
“You are here with your partner?” she asks.
I nod. “Logan. He’s my Dom.”
She gives me another of her shy, half-hidden smiles. “I could tell. I saw him standing with you earlier. The way he had his arm around you. He’s very protective.”
Can total strangers see how wonderful Logan is? On a boat full of submissives that might not be a good thing. “He is.”
“Have you been together long?” she asks.
“No, we just met before the cruise. You?”
She blushes again. She blushes almost as easily as I do, only with her coloring, she just looks healthy and glowing, while I look like I’ve fallen into a vat of red paint.
“Sunday is our fifth anniversary. That is why my partners gave me this cruise. To celebrate.”
“That’s so nice of, um, them. And five years together? That’s great.”
She nods. “I am very lucky. My birth chart was very inauspicious. That is why I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in America when I was a little girl, so that my bad luck would not ruin my sisters’ chances for good marriages. My aunt and uncle had only boys.”
She falls silent as a waiter bounces over. He’s wearing a pink bow tie to match his pink thong, with black Nikes–which I’m sure are practical–but are a little silly-looking with the thong. He takes my order, then turns to Vashi. “Your special meal is ready, madam. Would you like it served now?”
“I will wait for Emily,” she says, smiling at me.
I grin back.
Once the waiter leaves, she continues without me prompting. “In my country, it is very important for women of my caste to be educated. My aunt and uncle encouraged me in school so that if my horoscope prevented me from marrying, I could still be useful to my family. Shaan was my teacher in nursing school. He’s an anesthesiologist. I was very lucky he did not mind my horoscope, and his partner Niall accepted me. I am a very lucky woman.”
Wow.
“I had no idea astro—” What’s the right word? Astrology? Horology? Isn’t that watchmaking? “Uh, star charts were so important in India.”
Vashi nods. “In love, the stars control everything. My parents’ charts were an eighty-six percent match. That is considered very auspicious for a good marriage.”
“Do your, um, parents know? I mean, about you and your partners?”
Vashi gives me a sad smile. “No. Shaan and Niall were kind enough to take me back to my village where Shaan and I were married. Niall stood as Shaan’s brother, since Shaan has no family. My parents were very happy because I married a doctor, despite being influenced by Mars. That is a very bad sign. I was happy to see my family happy, and happier when we flew to Sri Lanka for our honeymoon and had a second ceremony with Niall. That was my true wedding.”
Her happiness glows out of her, brighter than her blush. Despite my feelings about marriage, I feel buoyed by it. “That’s amazing. I haven’t been to Sri Lanka. What’s it like?”
Vashi tells me all about Sri Lanka, which moves to the top of my bucket list after her descriptions of golden beaches, lush forests, ancient temples, and nature reserves full of elephants, while we enjoy our appetizers. Hers is a beautifully arranged avocado and papaya salad that they’re crazy not to have on the main menu, while I pursue my goal of eating as much fresh fish as possible while on the West Coast with a mixed shrimp and crab cocktail.
Over our entrees—pan-fried scallops for me and lentils in red curry for Vashi—we get on to the subject of books and discover we’re soul mates. Not only does Vashi adore historical romance, but she also reads widely in other genres. She recommends Indian authors I’ve never heard of and while she has iced fruit and I have tea, I look up all her recommendations and add them to my reader.
I’m on my third cup of tea as we discuss The Light Between Oceans, which I loved and she didn’t, when a Viking strides through the almost empty dining room and stops behind Vashi’s chair. Holy shit. He must be six five. Even taller than Logan. His beard’s brighter than Vashi’s sari and his red and grey streaked hair is combed back from his high forehead, making him seem even taller. Vashi’s my size. He looks like he could snap her in half.
But his hands settle onto her shoulders so lightly, and his expression as he looks down at her is so tender, I can’t imagine him even bending her over, although I’ve put together from what she’s said that he’s her trio’s Dom, while her other partner is a switch.
She tips her head back and beams up at him. “Hello, Niall.”
“Cushlamachree,” he responds. At least that’s what I think he says, but even without knowing what he’s said, which I’m going to Google as soon a
s I get back to my cabin, I can tell it’s an endearment by the way he says it. “Shaan and I were beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost on this big boat.”
To him it must be a tiny boat. A veritable dinghy.
“I’ve been enjoying lunch with my new friend, Emily.” She looks at me. “Emily, this is my partner, Niall.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say, and in my own ears it’s a squeak. I haven’t known many really big men before Logan. And even his palpable physical presence is dwarfed by this Norse god.
Niall lifts one of his huge hands from Vashi’s shoulder and offers it to me across the table. I tuck my tablet away and rise out of my chair so I can shake. He engulfs my hand in a bear paw. God, his skin is so hot. And slightly rough. I don’t remember Vashi saying what he does, but it must be something with his hands, even though he’s currently dressed in an extremely sharp, pin-striped suit that would fit in anywhere from an Ivy League classroom to a boardroom.
“Pleasure’s mine, Emily.” His brogue, which is all single malt whiskey, lightens when he speaks to me. “Forgive me for dragging Vashi away, but the lifeboat drill’s about to start.”
I glance around the dining room and realize it’s just Vashi and me and the waiters who are clearing tables. What am I supposed to be doing now? Was I supposed to meet Logan back at the cabin?
Before I have time to panic, Logan walks through the sliding doors. His dark eyes meet mine and he smiles. He’s not angry. I haven’t broken his schedule. I sink back in my chair with relief.
Logan passes Niall with a nod, circles the table and stops beside me. His hand brushes over my hair before settling at the nape of my neck. Very possessive. Very domly. Just like Niall. Even if I’d never heard of kink, I’d know what these two men are just by being in the room with them. The energy sparking off them is unmistakeable.
I expect Logan to go alpha male in the presence of the Viking Dom who was just holding my hand. Instead, he just nods to Niall.
“Sir, this is Vashi and her partner Niall,” I tell him.
“Niall and I met in the gym a little while ago,” he responds, smiling down at me. “Only two bastards on the boat crazy enough to hit the gym before we even sailed.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow by eleven if yeh want a spotter on the bench,” Niall says.
“That’s a date, mate,” Logan says. “Vashi, nice to meet you. I’m sure Niall’s here for the same reason I am. Lifeboat drill begins in five minutes, and trust an old sailor on this, there’s nothing more important on a boat than knowing how to get off it.”
That gets a chuckle out of Niall and a shy smile out of Vashi, just as the PA system announces the drill and requests that all passengers proceed to their boats.
“Come, a mhuirnín,” Niall says to Vashi. With a smile of farewell to me, she nods and rises into Niall’s embrace as he wraps one of his arms around her shoulders. He tucks a strand of black silk hair behind her ear as he leads her away, his big bear paw impossibly gentle. I understand the source of her incandescent happiness.
Nothing lasts. Forever’s a lie. That’s a lesson I learned from my mother, watching her pine all those years for the father and husband who abandoned us. When I started dating, those bitter lessons got drowned in a flood of hormones. The heady excitement of being desired deceived me into thinking fairy tales can happen. The last eighteen months of my marriage brought me back to reality. I haven’t tried for Happy Ever After with any of my Doms, because it doesn’t exist.
But watching Niall and Vashi makes me wonder.
Logan strokes my neck, reminding me of where I am and what I should be doing. I smile up at him as he holds my chair for me and helps me up. He’s not Prince Charming. I don’t want him to be. My Prince Charming turned out to be a cheating asshole. But I wouldn’t mind Logan being my Dark Knight.
“Good lunch, little girl?” he asks, as he guides me out of the lounge to the central stairs.
“Yes, Sir. Vashi’s really nice. Thank you for encouraging me to go. Ta very much.”
“You’re welcome.” He grunts. “Her Dom’s a monster on the bench. I think he bent the bar doing presses.”
I check to make sure they’re not in earshot, but I don’t see them anywhere and the stairwell’s filling up with people moving towards their boats anyway. “I think he looks like a Viking.”
Logan chuckles. “Character inspiration, sweetheart?”
“Always.”
Logan leads me down the stairs, out on the deck and to our lifeboat, B-11, which, to my surprise, is a real boat, suspended a few feet above the deck on ropes. I’d assumed it would be a rubber raft. Logan and I join the ten other people in our boat and form a loose semicircle around it. Logan pulls me toward the back of the group and leans against a red container bolted to the deck labeled “life preservers.” He tucks me against him, my back to his chest, and crosses his arms over me.
“Pay attention,” he whispers into my hair.
“Yes, Sir.”
While I listen to the lifeboat drill, he tortures me. First by rubbing his erection over and between my ass cheeks, then by reaching under my skirt from behind and fingering me while tugging on the string of the Ben Wa balls.
“Keep them in,” he growls when the balls nearly slide out. I squeeze to pull them back in and desperately swallow my moans.
Once the drill is over and the insanely perky cruise director stops perking over the PA, he compounds the torture by holding me tight, his arm across my chest, while the other guests file away. He whispers to me, “I think every guy’s got a little Viking in him, don’t you, baby? You know what my inner Viking wants?”
I shake my head. I have no idea what his inner Viking wants, but I know what the Viking’s victim wants pretty desperately, as his fingers continue to tease. What she’s going to start screaming for in another second.
He works the Ben Wa balls, pulling them against my clenched muscles, pushing them back in when they slip too far, while he rubs his fingers all over, now teasing my clitoris, now tickling my sphincter. I have to clutch at the arm he’s got across me to hold myself still and bite my cheeks to keep silent.
“My inner Viking wants to raid a coastal village,” he growls to me. “Once the raiders finish plundering, you know where my Viking’s thoughts turn?”
I shake my head again, trying desperately not to whimper as he works the balls. My pussy, already well-fucked today, is burning and raw. The Ben Wa balls have kept me primed for hours and now he’s igniting all that simmering need. I’m not sure if it hurts or feels explosively amazing, only that I don’t want him to stop.
“There’s a nunnery on the hill above the village,” Logan continues in that deep rumble. “Run by a sweet little abbess with dark hair and hazel eyes. She resists the invaders. Bars the abbey doors. Fights back with fire. My Viking sacks the nunnery and drags her into the middle of the village and ties her to the whipping post. What does he do to her, do you think? Can you imagine, Emmy?”
My mind shoots in fifty directions, all of which crank me higher.
“My Viking flogs her modest habit right off her sweet little tits and saucy ass and then fucks her virgin holes, right against the post, in front of the whole village while she comes, again and again, screaming his name. That’s what my inner Viking wants. I think that’s a scene we might act out, don’t you? But first, you’re going come for me. Right here. Now, Emily.”
With a gasped “please,” clinging to his arm, arching up onto my toes and biting the insides of my cheeks until I taste copper, I come, spasming around the slipping, shifting balls.
He holds me tightly through the shaking aftermath, cupping his fingers over my pussy, whispering hot and sweet in my ear. “Such a good girl. Love seeing you come apart. Love feeling you shake. And you barely made a sound. Daddy’s so proud of his little girl.”
“Tuh-ta very much, Sir,” I manage to gasp.
“Give yourself a minute to settle and then I’ll walk you back to the cabin. It’s y
our free time from now until five, but if you’d give me an hour now, I’ll make it up to you tonight. I want you on my cock.”
“You don’t—” My voice comes out a squeak. I clear my throat and try again. “You don’t have to make it up to me. You can have whatever time you want, Sir.”
He nuzzles my temple. “Thank you, baby. We’ll do better with the schedule tomorrow. I’ll be respectful of your time. I know you have things to do.”
I couldn’t care less about the things I have to do. Despite coming a minute ago, the thing I most want to do right now is him.
* * *
At five o’clock, dressed again, grinning like the Cheshire Cat from the six—count them, six!—orgasms Logan’s given me today, we join what must be every other passenger on the ship in the embarkation lounge for the orientation session. The perky cruise director is even more bubbly in person, bouncing up and down a spiral staircase leading from the lounge to the casino mezzanine above. Boing, boing, boing. She’s like a blonde Energizer Bunny.
Watching her exhausts me and I lean into Logan. He takes my hand and draws it across his waist. I slide both arms around him, enjoying the muscled firmness of his body under the tweedy waistcoat he’s put over a blue button-down shirt. He’s rolled up the sleeves to show his corded forearms, and the open collar of the shirt frames the strong column of his neck. It’s his headmaster look, a very butch headmaster, and I want nothing more to be the naughty schoolgirl he bends over his desk.
I lean into him while we listen to the cruise director’s presentation. She explains the difference between public and private scenes, punctuating each point with a shake of the pom-poms that accessorize her pink cheerleader costume.
Her excessive enthusiasm sucks all remaining energy out of me. Between the time change and the tension of last night and the many orgasms, I could really use a nap. I yawn and turn my face into Logan’s waistcoat to cover it.
