A tug on my line pulled me forward and I gripped the fishing line, calling out, “I got something.” I shrieked like a little girl who was both excited and repulsed. Coming up behind me, he grabbed my forearms, sliding his strong hands over my sensitive skin. My breasts betrayed my heart when my nipples hardened, and heat rushed all over my body. I relished his warm arms over mine, but simultaneously wanted to recoil from his nearness. I pulled away slightly, not wanting his breath near the erogenous zone on my neck. He pulled me close, backing me into him as the creature on the line pulled us both.
Our bodies moved as one, pressing tighter against each other. Both of us concentrated on reeling in. For many minutes we warred with the catch, waiting for the fish to stop fighting. Once it tired, we could pull it in slowly. I got nervous, but remained steadfast, helping him work it in. By the amount of time and energy we spent on trying to catch the fish, Shay thought we had a marlin. Once it tired, Brady had me release the fishing pole to his capable hands. I slinked out from underneath him, and watched as he continued to pull and reel.
I saw a tug on his line, and I went over to retrieve the pole, which was set down on a stand. My hands ached from trying to reel in my fish, but this one was lighter and I could manage pulling, waiting, reeling, and repeating the process over and over. I saw the head of the fish crest. After some time, I managed to pull it closer to the boat, pulling it out of the water. I dropped the large fish on the boat’s floor, retreating as it flopped aggressively. Shay made a celebratory sound, looking over at the gasping fish.
“Do we keep it?” I asked.
“Yeah, you got a Wahoo. I can’t believe you brought that sucker in all by yourself. It’s big.” He complimented. I beamed, feeling every second of my struggle with the large fish. I wanted to sit, but he exclaimed, “You’re going to have to help me out, okay? Whatever you caught is strong and still fighting,” he said.
The boat rocked. I nodded as he reeled and tugged us backwards, slackening and then reeling again. “My arms are burning,” he said.
Shay lifted his arm up for me to slip back within his body, feeling each rippling muscle of his torso against my back. He tensed and relaxed with each attempt to reel and slacken the fish. My body was pulled into him, restricting my brain from feeling his cock on my ass. I bit my lip at feeling how hard he was, and I quantified he was in the moment of the capture. His adrenalin was racing, lactic acid was building in his body, and the machismo of capturing a big beast of the sea was the cause for his intense physical reaction.
When we finally saw the head of the fish exposed, it was “a Mahi Mahi”, Shay exclaimed.
Not giving up without a fight, the Mahi Mahi continued its attempts to free itself. Feeling Shay hard and needy behind me, his breath jagged and labored, and his body keeping me in his grip in front of him, I said, “Why don’t we just give up? Cut it loose.”
I heard him grunt primitively, sucking in air, “You don’t give up. A good fisherman knows to wait out the fish . . . until it tires and submits.”
I couldn’t help but catch his double meaning.
We held on a long while until sure enough the fish tired and we both pulled it close to the boat. Shay held onto the rod with one hand while I kept both mine on. He pulled us sideways, stooping down, until he grasped a net with his free hand. As we pulled the large, long heavy fish onto the boat, Shay put the net underneath the fish, holding the pole under his arm. My arms and hands felt relief when I released the hard grip on the rod. I couldn’t believe how exhilarating deep sea fishing could be.
“We’ll have a couple of great meals with this catch,” he said, beaming a boyish grin.
‘How could I not remember his grin?’ I thought. I soon remembered Brady never smiled at me. Shay smiled broadly and delightedly over our quick acquisition. It was the same smile as the sixteen-year-old boy I knew.
After removing the hook, he opened a door on the side of the boat and slipped the large fish in. I heard the rattle as it was lain inside. He walked over to my fish. “This is a big one too. You pulled this one all on your own, amazing,” he complimented.
I grinned like a bright eyed child. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I lay down on the bench seat, watching him set my fish in the other ice chest.
“What? Are you tired?” Shay teased.
“Hell, yes. I can’t feel my arms,” I whined.
He approached and crouched down to look at my hands. He saw the red, tender swelling which rose from my palms, caressing them lightly. Checking my forearm, he saw where the reel collided with my flesh. He pulled my arm, bending to kiss the reddish spot. As soon as his lips touched me, I flinched at the betrayal of letting another man tenderly nurture me. I pulled out of his grip and sat up.
“I’m fine,” I assured, feeling like I’d betrayed Matt.
He nodded, staring at me with his greenish, hazel eyes devoid of gentility, filled with yearning. He turned away and went to the helm. I thought he was planning to raise anchor, turn the boat, and return to the Yacht. However, soft music started playing. It was a Bolero; slow Latin ballads my mother played often. I remember once sneaking into the living room and watching my mother dance with my father when he arrived late from work. He held her so affectionately, which delighted and disturbed me to see passion emanating from my parents.
“Dance with me,” I shook my head ‘no’, needing space to let the emotions subside. The exhilaration of catching fish was diminishing.
The song was about a lover who was leaving the man, and he implored her to stay, claiming he never wanted anyone else.
“Please,” he whispered.
My mother taught me never to deny a man a chaste dance. I placed my hands at the appropriate points for dancing, thinking of Matt and how he and I danced at Lumiere the night I went home with him. Our dance was full of lust and yearning. Shay held me at a respectable distance, like a gentleman at a cotillion, who didn’t want to wrinkle the dress. I smiled as I danced with Shay in the middle of the ocean; the sun spotlighting us; heartbreaking music filling the air; and the waves lulling me into peacefulness.
“What?” He asked. Shamefaced, I shook my head. “What?” he shook me closer.
“You’re dancing like I’m the old lady dance instructor no one wants to get close to,” I joked. He laughed, pulling me close. I stood on tip toes.
“What are you doing?” He smirked.
“Getting taller. You’re too tall.”
“I’m only 6’1”,” he confirmed.
“Well, to dance to these songs, I would wear heels, and I don’t have any. Tiptoe dancing is easier. Don’t question me. I’m a professional,” I finished.
He smiled, pulling me close. I pulled away, twirling slowly. Leading him in the dance was obviously not permissible because he frowned and pulled me back toward his body. I collided with his hard physique, and I gasped. I felt lightheaded as I dared capture his gaze. The look in his eyes was so heated and expectant. Leaning in to kiss me, I pulled away again.
“Shay, you promised ‘no touching’,” I reminded. He closed his eyes and nodded. “Let’s just dance, like the friends we are,” I suggested.
“You know it’s not possible,” he gritted gently, pulling away from my body and releasing my hands. “This was a mistake,” he concluded. My heart palpitated.
“What do you mean? I’m having fun,” I admitted.
“I should never have kept you here. I’m only making it worse for myself. It hurts so bad to have you so close, but still so far away. I’ve imagined . . . all of this … all of these years, having you with me. I want you to be mine, but I’m fooling myself,” he choked out the sensitive words, shaking his head while rubbing his chin. He walked to the helm again, turning on the motor.
“Wait,” I said, returning to his side. “Let’s finish our dance.” I pulled him to the middle of the boat, swaying in each other’s arms as the boat rocked in the swell of sea.
*****
The serving crew had our lunch prepare
d and waiting to serve when we returned. After freshening up, we sat and watched the other boats sailing around the region. It was so serene. My fears of being seasick were unfounded, and I found I loved the ocean. We talked about all his international travel for fishing. His favorite was being in this precise location. He loved being able to fish and swim under a blazing sun. With a tinge of jealousy, I wondered if he took any women to his other adventures, already knowing he wasn’t bringing women to the Dominican Republic.
“Want to swim?” Shay asked with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Um, no,” I said. I hadn’t realized the enormity of open waters. When he told me to dress for swimming, I couldn’t imagine the depths of this spot.
“Why?”
“I can’t swim.”
“You what?”
“I can’t swim. Never learned. Don’t care to. I’ll just be the girl who dips her toe in the ocean, but never goes above waist.
“You’re wearing your suit, right?”
“Yeah”
“Then I’ll teach you.”
“Um, you can teach me in the ginormous pool where I can plant my feet on a solid bottom.”
“Please,” he pulled my hands to standing.
“If I drown, then I will haunt you.”
“If you drown, then I will go with you.”
“Morbid, Romeo,” I answered.
He held my hand as we went to the main deck. The deck hand placed a ladder on the back of the yacht so we could climb back up. Brady dove into the water. The warm water splashed in tiny droplets as I watched him quickly resurface. He looked so damned sexy all wet and glistening in the sun. His eyes gleamed brightly as he waited for me to jump in. I took off my dress, and saw him absorb my image from top to bottom. His bottom lip quivered as he looked back up to my face.
“Just jump,” he ordered after what seemed like hours of waiting.
“Okay, but you’ve been warned,” I said before leaping into the water, sinking deeper than I expected. ‘Heavy should float’, I thought as I tried to resurface. I felt his arm embrace me and pull me to him. When the rush of water stopped cascading over my head, I pulled my curls away from my face.
“Just as I thought,” he started.
“What?”
“You look like a mermaid,” he finalized with a grin. I blanched, looking away.
“What’s wrong?”
“You said I look like a mermaid. My mom used to call me that. When she’d wash my hair, I would float in the bath water. My curls would spread wildly around me, and she’d call me ‘sirena’,” I recounted as we bobbed in the water.
He held me tight, pressing his forehead to mine as I felt his legs scissor in the water to hold us up. Our moment was wrong. It was too intimate, cutting deeply into me. This was only the second day with Shay and he made me feel so nostalgic and nurtured. I tried to pull away, but the need to feel love from someone who knew her, my mother, and memories of long ago kept me locked in his arms.
“Chella had a way with words,” he called her by her nickname. He was breaking and mending my heart at the same time. I got a hold of my bearings, pushing him away to keep a physical distance. I needed to rebuild the fort around my heart, which would keep Shay at a lengthy distance.
“Teach me to swim,” I said, smiling gently.
*****
“When are we going back to shore?” I asked during a break from swimming. I was wrapped in a towel, drying off and drinking copious amounts of water while Shay had a snack. I couldn’t stomach anything to eat. Spending time on the water made me seasick and I needed to relax.
“Why? This is great,” he emphasized by spreading his arms to encompass the atmosphere.
“I thought we were planning to talk to the police today. Don’t they want my report?”
“There’s no rush,” he stated emphasizing his lack of urgency. “I thought we could spend the night on the water since it’s so calm. The weather will be clear. Don’t you want to be on the water at night with the stars shining down on us?” He asked.
‘Us? No!’ I thought. I want to be under the starry night with my husband Matt on his yacht, which I’d recently learned about.
“I can’t stay here. I have no clothes. I have to shower and remove the salt water from my hair and skin. This hair does not do well without hair product,” I informed. The serenity I felt was leaving me, and annoyance was leaching in.
He chuckled and added, “There are things for you in your room.”
“My room?” I asked, furrowing my brow. He nodded. “So you had this planned for us?” I asked.
His austere business man face indicated he had made a decision and nothing would move him to change his mind. I had no choice. I was at his mercy, considering he owned everything and was in charge of the direction of this trip.
“Well, if there are things in my room, I’ll just go see.” I said.
He smiled as he pressed a call button on his captain’s chair. Within seconds, as I walked toward the stairs to lower deck, a crew member smiled and turned to escort me to my room.
I was given one of the spacious Master suites with a large bathroom. Sure enough, the bathroom contained toiletries and hair products for my curls. They looked expensive. How he managed to acquire them on such quick notice, I would never know, but I was happy to see them at the ready. I opened one of the small closet doors beside the built in flat-screen TV and found a couple of dresses within. The clothes weren’t from the main house. I pulled drawers and found several pieces of undergarments with tags and hygiene strips and another swimsuit folded neatly in rows on the velvet lined drawer bottom. Everything was in my size. The price tags were equally as astronomical as the clothes back at the main house. I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling the items weren’t a spur-of-the-moment acquisition.
The impressive details of the room would have made for a lovely honeymoon suite for me and Matt. I admonished myself for not letting him take me to a honeymoon destination. We could have been in his yacht, which I didn’t even know he owned, making love on our large bed. We never had the chance to experience all of the things he brought to our marriage. I brought no property, contributing only the large salary I earned from his company. My feelings of inadequacy made me feel angry at myself and at him for retaining the truth about his wealth. For a split second, I felt ineffective as a career woman, grieving the delay in finding myself and inability to contribute properly to my newly created family.
Finally having a solitary moment, I thought of my handsome husband. As I made my way to the shower, I suppressed the negative and angry thoughts because they didn’t matter anymore. He and I weren’t together by circumstance. We would be together in a couple of days. I was only with Shay to appease him and ensure my future with Matt. The thought helped me deal with my predicament.
As the water pelted my body, I traced around the places where Matt touched me. Whether rough or gentle, his hands elicited the same response—need. I ached for him to never stop touching me. When he’d grip my full breasts in his large hands, he’d groan primitively, sparking my arousal and craving more of him. His fingers would twist my nipples until they felt impossibly hard. I once thought I would orgasm by his pinches alone. I could still feel the sensation long after his hands moved onto another spot.
Matt’s hands would glide down to clutch my ass, pulling me against his groin. I’d rise onto my toes, making myself taller to match up our torsos for the delicious union I desperately wanted. My heart would jump with each squeeze and tug of my ass. My clit would collide with his hardened cock before it would slip into the triangle between my thighs, slightly stroking against my clit. As I felt him try to enter my pussy, he’d bite my lips, pulling them gently apart until I looked up to catch his gaze. His brown eyes would darken with hunger for me. I wouldn’t be able to sustain the stare, the connection was too deep. The intensity of my feelings for him made me think I wouldn’t survive losing him, so I thought I would be better off without him.
When I’d stop our connection, Matt would back me against the tiled shower for stability, knowing he would taste me. He didn’t have to claim oral as his favorite activity because he gave it often and freely. I would lean back against the cool shower wall, spreading my legs to let him open me up to receive his eager tongue. After lowering down to access my clit, I’d watch him lose himself inside my pussy: licking, tasting, fingering, and nipping. My hands would run softly through his wet hair, lovingly keeping him at the right spot. He always knew what I needed most.
The combination of water, steam, heat and our bodies would make it unbearable to take any more attention on my pussy. I needed him in my mouth, encouraging him to stand by pulling him up his skull. I’d press him against the wall, and slide down his body as I touched every inch of his skin. Matt’s body: a work of art—tan, tall and muscular. His cock, long and thick, would pulsate under my touch, inviting my mouth. As I knelt before him, I’d grip him hard like he liked. As I licked and sucked him, he would groan and gasp. Our eyes would lock and linger on each other as he panted and bit his bottom lip.
With my eyes, I’d plead for him to continue to love me and want me, wanting the link between us to never end. I’d get into a rhythm of taking him in and out of my mouth deeply until I thought I couldn’t take any more. Matt would set a pace with his thrusts, taking care not to go too fast or too deep. I loved when he held me in place, snaking his fingers within my hair and gently holding my scalp. When his hands would tighten around my head, I would know he was ready to come. He’d warn me of his impending explosion, knowing full well I would finish him off by consuming every bit of his release.
Once the thoughts of Matt started, I couldn’t finish revisiting the memories. As I scrubbed my body, I thought of the many times we made love in the shower or the bathtub. The last time was so erotic. My hand drifted down to touch my pussy. I hadn’t had an orgasm since we reunited on Saturday. My hands could never replace his long, thick fingers, which brought me infinite pleasure. I would melt into his touch. His touch felt like shock waves, which pulsated throughout my body, pooled at my heart, and surged to my clit.
Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 Page 13
