Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by Derrick, Zoey

  I instantly regret my decision.

  “I don’t understand why she’s even here in the first place.”

  “It’s not like she’s been here before.”

  “She doesn’t deserve to be here.”

  I flip it off and close my eyes.

  “Turn it back on,” I hear her.

  “You don’t need to hear that.”

  “They’re right.”

  I flip it back on, and I hear Randy, “You’re aware they can hear you, right?” I notice Randy on deck pointing at the wheelhouse. I watch as a few of their faces fall when they catch a glimpse of Rebel in the window. “We’re all here, though I’m half tempted to throw a few off,” Randy says.

  I grab the handset. “Roger,” I say.

  “Your childish bitchy bullshit has no place on this boat—not today, not now, and not ever. Erron was her father. Whether she’s been up here every year or not is none of your fucking business. If you want to keep this up, you can get off her boat.” Randy is positively pissed.

  “This is Dirk’s boat,” the meaner of the three of them snaps with a hand on her hip like she’s God’s gift to the world.

  “Wrong, Dirk runs this boat, I run this company, and Rebel McKay owns this boat and nine more just like it.”

  Rebel comes over to me. “How do I talk down there?” she asks, and I hand her the handset.

  “Randy?” Rebel says after pressing the button and releasing it.

  We both watch as he lowers his head, shaking it slowly. “Yeah, Rebs.”

  “Get them off my boat,” she snaps and hands me back the handheld.

  “You got it, Rebs. You heard her, ladies,” Randy tells them.

  “She can’t do that; we have as much right to…”

  “Out of respect for your fathers,” I say into the handheld, “I’ll have another boat pick you up. Get off the boat.”

  I grab for the radio, glancing at the radar screen to see who is closest to us. “Roving Rogue, Bearded Bean come back.”

  There’s some dead air for a moment. “Go BB, Roving Rogue here.”

  “Hey, can you stop by our dock and grab three more passengers on your way out?”

  “Absolutely,” he says.

  “Great, thanks.”

  I hang the handset up as she says, “You’re nicer than I would have been.”

  I snort, “Obviously, you kicked them off.”

  “Who are they anyway?” she asks.

  “Two are sisters and the daughters of Edwin. The third is a cousin, Edwin’s niece, and one of the Killer Whale crew descendants.”

  “Oh!” she squeaks. “So, you mean those bitches are my foundation recipients?” she asks for clarification.

  “Yeah, Rebs, they are.”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Ungrateful bitches,” she says deadpan.

  I laugh.

  “We’re ready when you are,” one of my deckhands says.

  I grab the hailer handset. “Throw ‘em over,” I tell them. “Ready, Rebs?”

  A smile spreads across her cheeks. “Absolutely,” she beams.

  “Wanna be my lookout?” I smile sweetly at her.

  She shrugs. “What do I have to do?” Her eyes meet mine, and I’m lost in their beauty for a moment.

  “Go over there.” I point behind her toward the window and the first mate’s chair. “Let me know when you see three thumbs up.” I usually push back from the dock on the port side. There’s a throttle and controls over there, but since she’s staying up here, she can do it for me.

  She goes over, looking down the back of the boat, “one—stern,” I watch her head scan the side of the boat, “two—bow.” She pauses, looking, “three—the shore?” she asks.

  “Yeah, sweetheart.”

  “Then you’re good to go.”

  “Dutch Harbor, Harbor Master, Bearded Bean Two asking for clearance to enter the harbor.”

  “Harbor Master, Bearded Bean, you’re clear. Fair winds and following seas.”

  “Roger, thanks,” I say and put the intercom back up but I turn the volume up a little.

  The next eight boats to follow us begin announcing their imminent departure and requesting permission from the harbor master. “Are they all coming with us?” she asks.

  “Yeah, they are. Those are eight of our fleet. Roving Rogue will go next, once they’ve picked up our discarded passengers.” I look out the door behind me. “Which should be in a moment. Then the rest that follow will be the rest of the fleet that’s coming.” I smile at her. “Not all of the fleet is in for the season. Some of those joining us will be doing so on their way back to the grounds.”

  “What about you? You going back out after today?”

  I look at her. She smiles, questions in her eyes.

  “No.” I shake my head. “After a couple of days prep work, I’ll be driving her back to Seattle where she’ll be for a couple months until her summer charters kick up.”

  Rebel comes across the wheelhouse toward me. “How long will that take?” she asks.

  I smirk, “About eight to ten days, with fair seas a little faster.”

  “Why take her back at all?”

  My smirk turns to a smile as I check my shipping lanes. “Because that’s where she’s from. We keep her here between king and opie seasons, but once she’s done, we take her back home. Repair her, get her ready for next season.”

  “You could do all that here, couldn’t you?”

  “We could…but can you hold that thought?”

  “Sure?”

  I turn, looking behind me. I grab the hailer, “Randy, stern.”

  “Yeah,” he says. I see him move to the ladder; he’s followed by several of our guests.

  “What’s going on?” she asks with concern.

  I smile, “Come here,” I offer her my hand and I lead her behind my chair to the door that leads to the stern. “Look,” I point, then open the door for her. “Go on.”

  She looks puzzled but she steps onto the stern’s deck toward the railing. I flip the hailer on for back there.

  “Holy shit,” I hear her.

  Tears fill my eyes, remembering my father and everything today stands for. I check my lanes again, but we’re not quite clear of the harbor so I can’t join them.

  Then I hear someone climbing the steps. I look over and see Dribbler. “Go man, I got this,” he says.

  “You sure?” I ask him.

  “Go, be with your girl.”

  I glare at him. “She’s not my girl.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, man.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head, kill the stern hailer, and get off the captain’s chair. Dribbler slides in, and I follow after Rebel.

  Behind us is a growing line of boats. The first of them about three hundred yards off our stern. “Dribbler, slow it down,” I holler, and I hear the engines back down. I grab Rebel’s hand and pull her to the railing. I put her between me and end of the boat, wrapping my arms around her and grabbing on. She snuggles into me. I see Randy and Kathleen next to us in a similar stance. The rest of our guests, most of which are Bearded Bean survivors and employees, including what’s left of my crew, Jessie and Tommy are up here too. Dribbler is in the house.

  After about 10 minutes, I hear the engines drop down again and notice the wake behind us slows to nothing but bubbles. The boats behind us gain ground until they line up alongside us. It takes more than an hour, but we have all nine of BB’s boats flanking us, behind them the rest of the fleet, some 20 boats in total.

  “That’s…” Rebel pauses, “wow.” I can hear the unshed emotion in her voice as we take up a good mile or so wide and another mile plus back behind us with boats.

  “It’s something,” I say softly.

  I hear the engines kick up, picking up speed, and watch as the Aleutian Islands disappear from view. The Bering Sea and all her glory start to pick up her water and our ride gets a little choppy. “Come on,” I tell Rebel, grabbing her hand,
and I take her back into the wheelhouse. She’s shivering when we step inside. Randy and Kathleen follow after us.

  “We’re going to work on lunch,” Randy says. “Come on, Dribs.”

  “Right,” Dribbler says, climbing off my chair.

  “Need more help?” Rebel asks.

  Please say no.

  “Nah, we got this, enjoy the ride,” Randy says as Kathleen smiles at her, then at me.

  The three of them disappear down the stairs. I hear the door close and Rebel shivers again. “Come here,” I tell her as I climb into my chair. I turn it toward her and motion for her, patting the seat between my legs, for her to hop up.

  She smirks a knowing smirk but grabs something from her bag before she comes around the cabinet and climbs up. I wrap my arm around her as I turn the chair back to the front. I let go of the throttle and put my hands up. “You drive.”

  She looks at me, her smirk turning to petrification. “I have no idea…”

  I laugh, “It’s not hard, at least not out here.” I tap a couple buttons and the map zooms out. I point to us. “We’re here. Then this,” I trail my finger up the screen, “is where BB One is located.”

  “How long?”

  “A little over three hours, maybe a little more,” I tell her. Then I put my hand on the throttle. “Push this forward, and we speed up.” I demonstrate and feel the engines hum harder. “Pull it back,” I pull back, “and we’ll slow down.” I take my hand away, then point to the left side of the throttle. “Tap that forward,” I push and release, it comes back to center, “and we go starboard.”

  “Right?”

  “Yeah,” I smile at her remembering the terms. “Tap it back and it will go to port.” I tap it back twice, bringing us back on track. The change was subtle, nothing more than a nudge to the right. “For longer, harder turns, you can hold if forward or backward and it will be sharper, but more often than not, a tiny nudge either direction will straighten out.”

  “Seems simple enough.”

  “Good, you drive.” I let go and lean back, putting my hands behind my head.

  “Hey now.”

  I laugh. “Push it forward just a bit,” I tell her, and she grabs both halves, pushing it forward. I lean forward, pointing to the gauge. “That’s your knots per hour.” It’s digital, no mystery there.

  “Eight?” she asks.

  “About 10 miles an hour.”

  “What’s her top speed?” She pushes it a little harder on the throttle.

  I shake my head. “Twelve knots.” I put my hand on top of hers and pull her back a bit, dropping her back to about six. “In flat calm seas.”

  Just then a good size wave breaks over the bow. “Holy shit.” Rebel jumps.

  “Maybe I should drive,” I tease. She goes to get down, but I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her to me. We won’t talk about how hard my cock is right now pressed against her ass. “Stay, I like you between my legs.” I growl, nipping her ear lightly.

  “Keep that up, and you’ll be doing more than driving.” Her voice is husky, breathy.

  I flick my tongue against her ear. Her breathing hitches and her hips flick subtly, but she’s no doubt noticed my hardness against her. “Keep that up and we’ll make the boat rock some more.”

  She flicks again. I growl in her ear and let my hand around her midsection slide up, cupping her breast under her peacoat and over her sweatshirt. “Too many clothes,” I growl.

  She sets down a pack of smokes and a lighter, and I smirk. She no doubt noticed my ashtray sitting on the console. Then, she’s working on unzipping her hoodie.

  I slide my hand back in and find a low-cut top. I groan as I slip my fingers under the fabric and into her bra. I find her nipple—it’s hard, easy enough to find—and I tug on the ring in it. She leans back into me, her head on my shoulder as I play with her nipple.

  I release her hand on the throttle. “Let go, she’ll go on her own,” I tell her and she releases it.

  She grabs for her jacket. “It’s warm in here,” she breathes.

  You can say that again. She leans forward, but I don’t release her nipple from my grasp. I roll it. She shivers, awkwardly pulling her jacket off. She leaves the sweatshirt on and tosses her jacket to the floor. Then she leans back against me, and I get a clear shot down the front of her shirt. Her breathing quickens and grows raspy at my touch. I reach in with the other hand, crossing over the one already in her shirt, and seek out her other nipple.

  Her hands brace against my thighs, and she grinds into me.

  It takes a moment as I realize she’s not only torturing me but looking for purchase against the chair. I pull my right hand out and slide it down her body. “Need help?” I ask.

  “Uh huh,” she breathes, nodding her head. She lifts her legs up, putting her feet against the console and giving me perfect access to the one place my dick wants to be right this moment.

  I find the band of her pants and lift her top, then slide my hand along her stomach, finding her perfectly shaved mound. She’s soaked. I groan. My cock jumps. She moans softly as my finger flicks her clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” I growl.

  “You, all you,” she breathes.

  I slip my hand deeper, finding her entrance, and I slide a finger inside her. She grinds against my hand, her ass against my cock, and it takes a hell of a lot of restraint to not put her in my chair, slide her pants down and slide inside her.

  I feel her jerk and her breathing catches. She’s holding her breath, holding back on her orgasm. I smile and kiss along her neck to her ear. “Come,” I command her. She quivers. Her whole-body trembles as her release hits her hard. I move my hand to her clit, drawing her out, and her legs twitch as I slowly flick against the oversensitive bundle.

  “I don’t have any condoms,” I tell her quietly.

  “I don’t care,” she moans. “I need to feel you.”

  I pull my hand from inside her pants, and I pull my fingers to my nose, smelling her before I put them into my mouth, sucking them clean. “Go down the stairs, the door on the right.”

  She shivers, no doubt remembering the Captain’s Quarters sign on the door when we came up. I turn the chair, and she climbs down and goes toward the stairs while I check our heading. Then I pick up a phone and hit one-one. The galley phone rings. “What’s up, Cap?” I know it’s Dribbler.

  “Come up here, take over for a bit, will ya?”

  “Yup, be right there.” The line goes dead, and a heartbeat later, the door opens. I climb down out of my chair. I adjust myself quickly, trying to hide the raging erection I have going on. “Hey,” Dribbler says as he reaches the top. He looks around, looking for Rebel.

  “Head,” I say as way of an explanation. He narrows his eyes in question at me but doesn’t say anything as he climbs in the chair.

  I don’t need to explain anything to him, nor do I care to. My disappearing into my room isn’t exactly news. I have my own head in there.

  I push open the door.

  Chapter 13

  Rebel

  My face is split in two with a smile as I step into his room. It’s spacious when you consider we’re on a boat, with a full-size bunk in the middle of the room, a little closet on one side of the door and shelves on the other. Plus, a door to a private bathroom.

  It looks very…manly. I chuckle to myself and ditch my sweatshirt, then pull my top over my head and drop my pants and panties before removing my bra. I unzip the knee-high boots I’m wearing and toss them aside before crawling onto the unmade bed that smells exactly like Dirk. The smell brings back the memories of climbing into his bed as a kid. Once he brought that up, I started to remember, but I couldn’t quite understand why I’d done it. Was it for me or for him?

  Either way, Xavier ‘Dirk’ Tyler was my first real crush.

  And I’m about to sleep with him, again. Rebel McKay does not do seconds. But yet, here I am.

  The door opens, and I fight the urge to cover myself, but I have no doubt
it’s him.

  Sure enough, he’s ditched the beanie and is pulling the tie from his hair. I shiver. My nipples pebble. He closes the door with a wicked little smirk on his face. “Skylar Rebel McKay, this is going to become addicting,” he says with so much sex and need in his voice that I shiver.

  I smirk at him and playfully bite my finger, trying to be sexy in a very absentminded way. I let my legs fall open, exposing my sex. He’s losing more articles of clothing with no preamble whatsoever. When he climbs on the bed, he still has his pants on. I frown. “Take ‘em off,” I plead.

  He lowers his eyes, debating. He gets back up and shoves them off the rest of the way. I smile then I beckon him to me. He climbs on the bed between my legs. I lift mine, wrapping them around him as his lips slam into mine. I’m hidden by a curtain of beautiful brown locks and his mouth is on me. His cock lays against me. I flick my hips, and I catch it just a little, but not enough to make it fall.

  Dirk Tyler is huge.

  Easily eight inches, maybe longer and thick. Thicker than I’ve ever had before. I shiver remembering that night and how he growled when he felt how tight I was.

  “I don’t have…” he breaks our kiss again. If I was self-conscious, I’d be worried he was trying to get out of this, but I’m not, so I ignore it.

  “Shut up and get inside me,” I groan. I lift my hips higher; he steadies himself and grabs his beautiful cock and slams inside me.

  I bite my lip between my teeth to stop my cries of pleasure from taking over.

  He groans, his lips back on mine. He slides his tongue in with ease, and I’m lost in sensation when he grabs my left breast, finding and rolling my nipple between his fingers.

  The lips, his cock inside me, the fingers on my nipple tip me over the edge in record time. He swallows my whimpers as his hips thrust harder, faster, deeper inside me. My eyes roll up. I break the kiss, sucking in air hard and fast as my pussy grabs at him, begging for more like the wanton hussy she is, pulling him in deeper, harder, faster. My hips buck, grind and counter his thrusts.

  “Rebel, oh god,” he moans softly, his lips slamming back onto mine and his cock slams into me, hard as he explodes inside me.