Swallow it Down

by Addison Cain

  ***

  Nelson’s Textbook of Pediatrics, Volume II was in her hands. Aaron was rubbing her feet. A dark, lazy night on the couch, Eugenia reading by candlelight.

  With a thumb digging into her arch, an automatic bow to her spine, she fought the temptation to close her eyes and give over.

  “Eugenia…” Playful, swiping his tongue over the tips of her toes, he called to her.

  A very clear call for something more.

  Plucking the textbook from her fingers, he cocked his lips. Away went valuable knowledge and on came a hungry male, prowling. Slow, efficient, in his conquering of the damsel on the couch.

  The first kiss wasn’t inquisitive. It wasn’t searching. It didn’t ask.

  Not that she let him get away with it. Hand to his chest as if she had a dream of shifting his weight, she bit. And he laughed, biting her back until she yelped.

  Her snarl followed with the captain knocking her book to the floor, working his knees between her thighs, and leaving her gasping when he rocked against her.

  “No more putting it off.” All growls, all husky moans, he worked his clothed hips between her legs. “No more pretending not to look at me then blushing when you get caught. No more teasing. No more pining.”

  “Do I climb on all fours and promise to keep my head forward?” The spite, it came through, Eugenia unsure if it was intentional or not.

  Aaron’s pain followed, though it was buried deep in a searching hazel gaze. “I want to see your face. You know that.” Running the length of his pants-clad erection over her panties, his demeanor hardened. “Not that I won’t make love to you that way when the mood strikes.”

  He always called it making love. Whispered about the things he would do to her in her ear as she woke, detailed exactly which part of her body he couldn’t wait to lick, suck, tease when they showered.

  Two weeks of readjustment and an endless sensual assault.

  Ending now.

  Because she was wet—he had that power. More importantly, he had that skill.

  But so did she. One lingering look before he went to work and she’d leave him adjusting himself and cursing. Licking her lips when they dined on fish, on berries from Joan, overtly sexual and entirely cruel, she made him a simmering monster of need.

  Need she refused to fulfill yet egged on with mean giggles and evil lip-biting.

  That was their game.

  Chase and take.

  “Aaron?”

  Drawl liquid, he said, “Yes, honey?”

  No way was she going to allow him to set the precedent. Kiss-flushed lips to his ear, she whispered, “I never did teach Chloe my deepthroat secrets.”

  “Jesus.”

  “But I won’t swallow you down unless you look me in the eye the whole time. Unless you say my name. Unless you come where I can taste it.”

  Rearing back, he said, “You’re an evil woman.”

  Which left her laughing. Laughing as she pushed him to sit. Laughing as he fought his belt and zipper. As he shimmed out of his jeans and that incredible cock sprang free. Smirk in full effect, she lowered between his thighs and met the hungriest, most vulnerable of male gazes with a wink.

  And then she made him suffer.

  It might have been six years, but committed penetration virgins knew tricks most men could not imagine.

  Drawing out his agony, swallowing around his girth, fondling parts of him that would send most men screaming from the sensation, she brought him to a climax that had him doing far more than calling her name.

  Through it all, he held her eyes—exposed, in love, manipulative, evil, good, lonely, unrelenting man that he was.

  Eugenia drank him down like wine.

  When air became a necessity, she pulled off his cock with a loud pop to her lips and smiled.

  “That was mean.”

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked, “Does Chloe do it better?”

  Narrowed eyes and an agitated groan were his answer. “Every man you’ve done that too… they are very lucky they are not on my ship.”

  Which set her back to laughing. “It’s funny when you get jealous.”

  As the topic of jealousy seemed to be the thorn that always irked him, the captain frowned. “Tell me you love me.”

  Arching a brow, she challenged, “Do the tongue thing.”

  “No.” There was her playful lover. The one who needed so much she might never fill the void.

  He called it making love, but the things he did to her that night—everywhere but the bed—all of it was what Eugenia could only describe as fucking.

  Primal. Passionate. Filthy.

  Against the wall in the corner. Draped over the couch, her legs hooked on his arms. The floor as she tried to crawl to her pillow. In no part of his room did he not violate her.

  In no encounter did she not give what she got.

  Were it a game, were there a scoreboard… he cried out her name three times more than she cried out his.

  She won.

  And took her victory to a soft bed, held by a hard man, smiling as she dreamed of pizza and the medical wonders that once upon a time could be found on the internet.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fingers pumping between tingling labia already smeared in his spend, the captain’s hooded gaze drank her in.

  A hazel focus rested between her spread legs, upon her heaving breasts. At a woman who bit at her lip—but not in the teasing way she so loved to egg him on with. In the desperate way of a virgin out of her depth.

  “Come one more time on my fingers and I’ll stop. If you don’t, I’ll make love to you again.” With a cruel smirk, he added, “From behind.”

  Which she had come to learn did not mean his standard ass-in-the-air Level 15 fuck. It meant he’d keep his hand on her clit, press her belly to the mattress, straddle her clenched thighs, and sexually torture her until she saw stars.

  Legs shaking and impossibly turned on, she snarled, “For the love of God, you pervert. Put that thing away! You’ve already fucked me twice this morning.”

  Chuckling, he circled her clit, dragging the pad of his thumb just so to make her eyes roll back. “Unless you want three loads, I better feel you squeezing these fingers. Try to fake it and I’ll drag you into the dark, dark world of anal.”

  Her hips stopped grinding, a red brow cocked. “Did you just refer to your semen as a load?”

  “Three times it is then.” Roguish, evil, and eating up her sunlight, he ordered, “Up you get!”

  “No! Jesus, Aaron. I’ll come. Just keep… doing what you’re doing. Or, fuck, just let me blow you. You need to stop ejaculating in me.”

  Grin growing all the larger, he purred, “You don’t have a choice, remember? Let’s get a baby in there, shall we?”

  “If I don’t have a choice, why did you end your statement with a question?” Which really was a valid point, not that he’d let her argue further. Not when he might flip her over and manhandle his way back inside.

  Which was precisely what he did.

  Stretching slippery tissue, teasing the parts of her that stole her breath and made her liquid, penetration was extended.

  Slow and thorough, he rode. Holding her hands, wrist to wrist, at the small of her back. Making her feel every last inch of him while he strummed her clit.

  “You were made for this cock.”

  Which he could now fully fit inside her. A medical marvel, one might say.

  Not that she could think straight or even answer when he did this to her.

  “I love you.” He said it so often, with such certainty.

  And it set her off in a spin. Pussy fluttering, bucking back against him for more, she cried out and rode the edge of climax.

  Right there, all she needed was one more piercing thrust.

  As if he could feel her desperation around his glans, he teased at the gate, working her up by moving too slow with his cock and too fast with his fingers.

  Pinned as she wa
s, she could do nothing but arch and squirm.

  No man should have a dick that thick, but her tormentor did. “This is how you tell me you love me, Eugenia. Tell me by coming for me. By taking what I have to give. I know, for now, you can’t say it any other way.”

  Which wasn’t fair, because she was spiraling out of control, wracked by a full-blown climax from little more than husky words and a sure thrust forward. Perfect penetration that hit everything inside her—that she was forced to feel thanks to the world’s most wonderful position squeezing her around a relentless invasion.

  She had no choice.

  Felt his cock kick, heard his throaty groans, aware he unabashedly came undone. That he wanted her to have all of him. Knowing he wanted to be inside every part of her.

  Which twisted her up in beautiful knots, each one unraveling as he said something sweet. Feeling his cock pump semen, the throb, the jump, the way he pinned her in place as he gave.

  As she received, aching for more. Afraid of herself and the things he could entice.

  “And I’ll always love you, Eugenia.” Full weight pressing her down, pinning her as he did each time he got his way, he prevented her from rushing to the bathroom to wash his seed away.

  Panting, irritated, and thoroughly fucked, she snarled, “Don’t think I don’t realize what you’re doing.”

  Draped over her back, sweaty and breathless, he asked, “Are you sore?”

  A little. “Just say it. Get it over with…”

  “You haven’t tried to escape in a week.”

  “Raiding the kitchen is not an escape attempt. Besides, if you leave the door unlocked and then can’t find me. Perhaps think it through before you come charging like a bull and rip of my panties.”

  Low warning was growled at her ear. “You’re not allowed on Level 15 and you know it. Which is why I fucked you on the table when I found you.”

  Which had been seen by more people than Eugenia was ever going to think about. Hell, he had drawn a crowd. His palm over her mouth, her arguments trapped. And even with all the wide-eyed scampering women fleeing the room, she came… so fast she hadn’t been prepared. And then he’d made her a sandwich.

  Which she was forced to eat at that same table, while his cum leaked through her skirt and left a wet mark on the chair.

  The sandwich had been good.

  His angry glares had been better, though he was clearly baiting her.

  Like he baited her with normal clothing. With Joan’s offerings of strawberries that were not farmed in winter from hidden fields in the dead wood.

  All of it leading to the one place he wanted her to accept.

  A place that sent a shiver up her spine when it passed her lips on an unsettled whisper. “You’re taking me to Level 9.”

  Though he was spent, he thrust again. As if she felt like bliss and he’d never get enough. “And locking you in for the day.”

  Enough compliments already. Heart sinking, she frowned. “Playing pretend for the last few weeks has been fun. What a shame real life always ruins things.”

  “Oh, honey.” Turning her in his arms, Aaron pressed a kiss to her pouting mouth. “I know you’re scared, and I’m swearing to you it’s going to be okay.”

  He hadn’t lied to her yet, but the gauge of what was and wasn’t okay was a largely gray area. “Don’t think you can keep me there if I don’t want to stay.”

  Stern, he kissed her hard. “And you don’t think I won’t come after you no matter where you might wander off to. You belong here with me.”

  ***

  He’d walked her to the entrance of Level 9, kissed her on the mouth as if dropping the little woman off at slavery camp was the normal way to start a day. Whistling to himself, he left her there. Where she could have turned tail and ran.

  She was tempted to.

  Very tempted.

  Instead, Eugenia mustered up the courage to enter, ready to face what he’d built with her own eyes.

  Joan was waiting on the other side. “You’re late.”

  In more ways than one. Which, if the captain was keeping his calendar, he knew. “Let’s get this over with.”

  That earned her a smirk. Like mother like son. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this afternoon.”

  That was her—nauseous ray of sunshine, Eugenia ready for her tour.

  “As you can see, the promenade’s interior balconies have been converted into hanging edible gardens, of a sort. All refuse is mulched on ship. Level 6, same place chickens are kept to turn the mulch and fertilize it. Solar panels on the roof, though when spring storms come, they will be removed and stored.” Joan continued, clearly proud of all she displayed. “That’s always a fun month of cold showers and dark.”

  Which deserved an epic eye roll. “You really have no idea what it’s like out there, do you, Joan?”

  Halting so fast her bob swung, Joan turned, raising a finger. “Listen, young lady, you’re Mrs. Kingston now. How many times do I have to tell you it’s appropriate to call me Mother?”

  “My last name is York.”

  “Oh God.” As if the idea were truly appalling, Joan groaned. “Of course you’d be one of those women who insists on keeping their last name.”

  Chuckling, because she had missed the banter, the petty squabbles, the normalcy, Eugenia said, “Just because he forces me to wear a ring and tells everyone we’re married doesn’t make it so.”

  “I already told you the same thing I told him. There are no pastors on board!” Irritated and a bit flappish, Joan added, “Just… adapt… and pay attention.”

  It really was too much fun to wind Joan up. “You know I’m an atheist, right?”

  Closing her eyes and drawing in a deep, shoulder-rising breath, Joan bit her tongue.

  “Aaron is too.” Smirk in full effect, Eugenia asked, “Has he ever told you that?”

  Visibly grinding her teeth, Joan said, “It’s a phase.”

  “Mother, he’s forty-one. It’s not a phase.”

  “The Kingstons are Baptists. Period.”

  Tossing red curls behind her shoulder, Eugenia countered, “I’m a York.”

  “You are a Kingston! Now, shut up and focus. Gretchen is in the early stages of labor, and I don’t have all day to pamper your whims like he does. You’re one of many on this ship, and all of them are counting on you to do your part.” Annoyance went to full-blown motherly threat. “And don’t you dare ruin her birth by being difficult. You’ll smile with the rest of the women and deliver the baby.”

  Was that why she’d been manipulated into conceding today? “I don’t know how to deliver babies! My interest was in pediatrics. I don’t give a fuck about adults. I’m not a doctor.”

  “Men are not allowed in here, making you the only doctor they can count on. Unless you want to tell Gretchen she has to waddle down to the medical bay and deliver away from her family and friends. Considering how much she’s been looking forward to a female doctor, it would be extremely selfish of you to let her down.”

  But Eugenia wasn’t a doctor, not by a longshot. “It would be safer. I have no practical experience. And at no point in academia did I study obstetrics.”

  Softening, Joan put a hand on her daughter-in-law’s shoulder. “I’ve delivered dozens of babies, found my calling after the war. And I’ll teach you. The rest, Dr. Herbert will pass down while you intern with him from nine to five, Monday to Friday.”

  The perfect bribe to buy her attention and even keep her tied to the boat. “Was it your idea or his?”

  Muttering under her breath, Joan lost her patience. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. I’m only supporting this, because it’s practical and unlikely to cause a stir.”

  “You pimp women on Level 15. Don’t get all self-righteous with me, Madame.”

  “Your anger issues are incredibly unrefined. Do you think I snapped at the First Lady when she threatened to have my family killed should my dear, departed George vote against the presid
ent’s agenda? No. I smiled, and I carried my weight.”

  “Senator Kingston would have voted for the potato’s war anyway.”

  “Just like you will catch Gretchen’s baby anyway… and also why I found the First Lady’s behavior to be ridiculous in the extreme.” As if Miss America herself, Joan added, “Did you know that dead bitch claimed I had her horrible dog hit by a car? It was all over the tabloids.”

  It was Eugenia’s turn to grind her teeth. “I like dogs.”

  “You wouldn’t have liked that dog… snappy, biting rat that it was. Real dogs don’t fit in purses.”

  The older woman’s logic was always interesting. “Which justifies what you did?”

  Bickering evaporated, Joan utterly compelling. “Just wait until someone threatens your children. There is no length you won’t go to keep them safe. And I mean that. There is nothing you won’t do for your baby.”

  And Eugenia was two weeks late…

  The honeymoon was over, the likelihood of implantation high. Especially considering how many times she’d let him fuck her.

  How many times they’d made love.

  Even worse, Eugenia was in love.

  Lord, she was going to be sick.

  As if the older woman could read the terror in Eugenia’s eyes, she softened. “It’s too early to know for certain, but if it doesn’t happen this month, it will happen soon. Everyone is nervous with their first. What you feel right now is normal.”

  “The circumstances are not normal.” Had her lip just shaken? She was never going to live it down.

  Hooking Eugenia’s arm, Joan passed down wisdom the way a mother had to a daughter since the dawn of humankind. “The new normal then. A healthy baby, born here. A child who will thrive in all this.”

  And all this was grand indeed, now that Eugenia was standing in the midst of it. A palace hidden at the center of the ship. The entirety carved into homes for families bursting with wide-eyed and happy children. Where women chatted, laughed, and breastfed their babies. Where orphans found mothers eager to hold them.

  Where those who refused to submit to their duty had been moved somewhere on ship no soul would confess to the captain’s wife.