by Jaye Peaches
The final conquest of her body came when she lay on her belly and surrendered to him, knowing it would bring him satisfaction. She was compliant, a plasticized body for his delight. His hands caressed her buttocks to aid his penetration, soft fingertips holding her flesh in place. With her head on a pillow, she accepted his occupation of her body even when his hands gripped her arms, dragging them behind her. Her anus stretched about him as she arched her back and he lifted her shoulders up away from the bed. A small act of bondage, another little moment when he chipped away at her emotional barrier and reminded her she was his. Gemma couldn’t resist the sense of control his constraining arms brought to her body—she welcomed it.
“Oh, babe. So gorgeous to behold you beneath me. Good girl.” His words kept her going. She crept closer to the inevitable conclusion.
He maintained a pedantic pace, neither his usual pummelling speed nor a slow, sensual penetration. Having spent the evening seated, he coursed with energy even in the middle of the night. A rich, coarse vocabulary burst out of his mouth; it told her of his passions, his ecstasy and keenness. The fullness of his cock, penetrated up to the hilt, was perfect savagery. Raising her head, she drifted away, only aware of his heat against her skin and the constant movement inside her.
“Gem. Deep breaths. That’s it. Good girl.”
Her muscles relaxed around his cock as he gave his verbal rewards. She didn’t feel patronised by his words or tone. It made her aware of the connection she had with him—his girl, his possession. With one last burst of energy, he pumped himself into her and almost landed on her, panting. At that moment, Gemma’s paused orgasm released itself, and she let out a stream of cries, almost screaming.
She heaved her body away from him, leaving a trail behind her. Neither of them cared. It would be dealt with in the morning. After switching off the lights and putting on his pants, he came to lie next to her.
“Did I please you?” The submissive element of Gemma’s personality had to know.
“Babe. You’re the best. Nobody will have you but me. I love you. Go to sleep.”
She lay quietly. She wiped away a tear—doubts about her behaviour in the club still haunted her, even after his words of love. She suspected she wanted to be punished by him. The contradictory states of emotion—relief and stress—fought for dominance in her mind.
Jason fell asleep and, with tired eyes, Gemma waited to join him.
Chapter 29. Screaming
She had heard footfalls. Initially, she assumed them to be Jason’s, going to the bathroom. But then, she heard the faint snoring, and she knew the sound didn’t come from her husband. Opening her eyes, she saw Modesto leaning over Jason, knife raised above his head. The instinct to curl up and hide filled her. She had done it before, and it might have saved her life back then, but this time had to be different. She wasn’t the intended victim.
“Die, sinner,” hissed Modesto.
She screamed as loud as she could and launched herself at the Filipino, reaching over Jason’s sleeping body while her mouth let vent the loudest noise she could possibly make. The knife came down too quickly.
As if in slow motion, Gemma shoved Modesto hard in the chest. He lost his balance, fell backwards, and tumbled onto the floor. The knife slipped out of his hand. She picked up the water jug on Jason’s bedside table and smashed it over Modesto’s head as the man tried to stand up. He fell to the floor and didn’t move, blood trickling down his face.
Turning to face the bed, she took a deep breath, forcing her eyes to stay open. Is Jason dead?
She had seen the knife come down. What had happened to Jason?
Spreading about the sheet, blood, crimson and flowing. She fought back her demons, her abhorrence of the red liquid, and climbed back onto the bed. His clear blue eyes fixed on her, wide-open with shock. She placed her hand over the wound and squeezed hard. She pressed down, and the blood oozed through her fingers.
“Babe, I’m all right,” a strained, but soft tone.
Her eyes came into focus properly, and she saw him lying on the bed. She remembered. As the knife had descended, Jason had moved, and instead of plunging into his torso, the sharp blade had slipped down past his inner arm. “It’s not serious, Gem.”
Jason used his uninjured arm to push himself up. Her bloody hands dropped away from his side. She could see the red ooze covering the sheet underneath him. There she remained, perched on her knees, on the bed. She had frozen into a rigid figure of shock and disbelief. Flitting across her mind, flashes of images that she didn’t want to see. She fought them back, sucking in air, slowing her breaths.
Jason used the intercom to summon help. Slow minutes passed, and then Lubinsky and Remy came storming into the stateroom in their underwear with guns in their hands. Roused by the call, they found Modesto unconscious on the floor, the knife close by his side. Lubinsky quickly removed the weapon out of reach and wrapped a towel around Jason’s arm, staunching the flow of blood.
Somehow, amongst all the crazed activity, Gemma crawled next to Jason and lay cradled in his uninjured arm, feeling dazed and speechless. Her eyes stayed open and staring at her husband’s face. He bent down to kiss her lips.
“You’re safe.”
Later, recovering from her confused state, she couldn’t decide who had said the words. Him or her. Perhaps they both had.
Chapter 30. Painting
Day Seventeen
Jason returned to Sublime from the hospital shortly before midday. The wound had been sutured and bandaged. The doctor confirmed there was no major tissue damage. The knife had slipped down his skin, slicing into him without going deep. Gemma held his hand as they climbed out of the car. Esteban and McKenzie were there to greet them.
“Mr Lucas, are you all right?” asked McKenzie with a concerned expression.
“Yes. Fine. A flesh wound as they say. Modesto?” asked Jason.
“Conscious. The police will charge him with attempted murder once he is able to answer their questions. So far, he has done nothing but ramble away about the devil. I will need to speak to you once you’re settled. Gaspar has told me something that may explain all of this. But it should be said in private.”
“I see.” Jason’s eyebrows furrowed.
Someone had cleaned the stateroom after the police had taken their forensic photos and blood samples. The detective who had spoken to them in the hospital had found out little from her or Jason. The note-taking policeman had been faced with an injured man who had been minimalist in his explanation of what had transpired. Gemma had taken Jason’s lead and kept to the basic facts.
Jason had told the police he had been stabbed but with no understanding of the reason why. She spoke with brevity, still very shocked and pale. She explained to the investigator she had pushed Modesto away from her husband and hit him over the head in self-defence. Why the deckhand decided to stab his employer was a mystery to everyone. The Filipino appeared to have gone mad.
Upon their return, she and Jason didn’t go to the stateroom—the scene of the crime—instead they went to the sundeck and lay on the lounger. They had said very little to each other all morning. Their hands rarely left each other’s with fingers continuously intertwined and locked together.
“Do you want to go home? A flight can easily be arranged,” Jason asked her.
“I don’t know.”
“The injury is minor. The stateroom thoroughly cleaned. There is no blood left,” he reassured her.
“I’m hoping it’s not going to be a problem any longer. Blood, I mean. Seeing yours on me. Staunching your blood has reminded me we all bleed for different reasons. I shouldn’t be afraid of it. I thought I was saving your life last night....”
“You did, babe. You screamed, and I moved, causing him to miss me. Then you overcame your fear and helped me with the bleeding. I’m very proud of you. You didn’t faint, panic, or anything. We were both in shock. It’s perfectly natural to wonder what might have happened.” He smiled faintly at her.
“The nightclub....” Did she want to bring up her faults again?
“The police have confirmed she was a prostitute. German, not Croat. She recruits homeless or stray foreigners for a trafficking gang sent over here to find new girls.”
“Trafficking?”
“Yes. I gather she is being very cooperative with the police. Caught between them and her pimps can’t be a safe place to be.”
“Last night, I thought you didn’t love me. I don’t know why. Before I bumped into that girl, when I was dancing, I was ridiculously happy. I’d imagined how you would make love to me when we got back. The meal, talking about building an atelier. Your business ideas. I was so content. Then it all went wrong. My stupidity making problems—”
His finger touched her lips. “Babe. Mine, too. I misjudged how to handle you. I should have stayed with you, not Maria. Kept you close to me.”
“You came to me, though, in the end, took me. I know submission isn’t always easy. However, I consented to being your slave and accepted your control unconditionally. I shouldn’t let strangers buy me drinks because not everyone is as honourable as you. You’re not evil like Modesto thinks. He called you a sinner. Did you hear him? You’re a good man. Kinky sexual preferences don’t make you evil, because that would make me evil, too, and I know I’m not.”
Gemma smiled. Her face relaxed as they talked, and it began the process of putting her negative emotions back in their proper place. “I wanted a romantic husband to restore my confidence in me as a person not the potential prostitute singled out in a bar. It reminded me I wanted you to make love to me. The right activity, sex, but a different sentiment. Sometimes that is how it feels with you.”
Jason sighed. He leant towards her, speaking gently. “Do you really think I feel differently towards you according to how I fuck you? As if a love switch inside me is flicked off because I’m tying you up or being sadistic. It’s because you let me fuck you however I like that I feel love towards you. It electrifies me, Gemma. Sends me to paradise, having you do whatever I please and not because you are simply submissive but because you give it all back to me with your love. Vanilla or kinky, the effect on me is exactly the same. Don’t you want me to dominate you any longer?”
“Oh, God, yes. I go all goose bumpy every time. I did last night, the moment you touched my hair, stroked it. Your control over me intoxicating and additive. I just.... I’d a different end of the evening mapped out in my head. I wasn’t expecting to be put in my place. I’m that girl who reads smutty romances and Cosmopolitan. Now and again, only romance will make me feel good about myself. Giving you pleasure can’t be the be-all and end-all of my sexual destiny—the romantic spouse loses out to my submissiveness. Also, I‘d probably drunk more than I realised. I couldn’t sleep. The more I drink, the more of an insomniac I become. Saved your life that. Me being drunk!”
He laughed then winced.
“Are you in pain?” she asked tentatively.
“Barely. Stitches sting. Why?”
“Jason, would you take me to the stateroom. Make love to me—”
“Babe—”
“Two reasons. Firstly, I don’t want to have another excuse to have traumatic flashbacks or nightmares in that lovely room. Let me conquer the fear as quickly as possible. Secondly, I really, really need you to make love to me before I fall asleep.”
They were about to descend the stairs when McKenzie buzzed on the intercom. He wanted to tell them what Gaspar had told him. Jason allowed him to join them under the mast arch.
“Sorry.” McKenzie took the offered chair. “You both must be very tired, but this needs to be said. You may want to change your mind about what to do with Modesto.”
“Go on,” said Jason.
“Gaspar is too afraid to speak with you. He feels responsible in some way, although he’s not. He and Modesto have been gossiping, their time not well spent, and they’d been hearing noises. Unexplained noises from the sundeck. To be blunt, you, Mrs Lucas. Apologies, I don’t wish to embarrass you.”
“I understand. We have been rather noisy as you put it.”
She leant towards him. “You didn’t gag me yesterday.”
McKenzie shifted on his seat, his hands gripping his thighs tightly. “Yes. Well, Modesto was concerned. Gaspar refused to join him. So, Modesto, of his own volition, climbed up from the main deck to the bow outside your stateroom. He saw through the windows what he interpreted as abusive behaviour. This is what he told Gaspar. Modesto was upset. For the rest of the day, he ranted about sinners and devils. Modesto is a devout Catholic.”
Jason scowled. “Religion!”
“Jason, please,” remonstrated Gemma. Her views on religion didn’t always match her husband’s.
McKenzie shuffled his feet. “Look, I’m not going to judge what you two do, but from an outsider’s point of view, it appears strange and violent.”
“Twice in one bloody week,” sighed Jason.
“I’m sorry, twice?” queried McKenzie.
Jason turned to her. She gave a quick nod before addressing the captain. “My brother and his fiancée also observed us by accident. Another unwanted intrusion. It caused some issues for a while. My brother is not religious, fortunately for Jason.”
Frowning, Jason thrummed his fingers on the armrest. He cleared his throat. “Modesto is in police custody, burbling away about me being the devil’s spawn. This can’t come to court, Gemma. The reason for his attack can’t be public knowledge. Here or anywhere.”
“Jason, he nearly killed you. You wouldn’t let anyone get away with attempts on my life. Why should Modesto?”
McKenzie pursed his lips. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Please.” Jason raised his hands invitingly.
“Drop the charges. You don’t have to give a reason, or you could say he needs medical help not prison. The police may still want to press charges, but they will have no witnesses. Sack Modesto now, here in Dubrovnik. Disown him. He is an illegal immigrant here and will be deported back to the Philippines. The police think he is crazy. A ranting nutter. They don’t want him in their cells. In the Philippines, he may get psychiatric help.”
Jason’s forefinger tracked back and forth along his lower lip. A brief silence ensued as he assessed McKenzie’s suggestion. She thought the solution plausible. It would enable him to deny anything the man might say concerning what he had witnessed.
He gave a brief nod of agreement. “We should find out about his background. Make sure he is not some kind of serial killer with a history. I can have Lubinsky’s company source this information. Modesto has a maritime employment history. Gemma?” She welcomed the involvement. It reminded her in certain situations, his control over her made no difference. He treated her as an equal. An easy decision.
“I accept whatever you decide, Jason,” she yawned. “I don’t think he is going to track us across Europe.”
Jason nodded in agreement. “Fire him. We’ll politely refuse to cooperate. I’m sorry, darling, we will depart as soon as possible. You will have to enjoy Dubrovnik another day.”
Gemma, increasingly sleepy, didn’t care about sightseeing. Her priorities had shifted. “Captain McKenzie, you should steer clear of me when you navigate. I attract murderers, stalkers, and other unsavoury people,” She attempted a smile but, deep down, the idea her private life would never be truly her own depressed her.
Jason took her hand, squeezing it. “Gemma, us. This is about us.”
Captain McKenzie sensed his dismissal. “I will ask Lubinsky to do some research and inform the police of your intentions. In a couple of hours, we can depart. You two should rest.”
***
Gemma woke, and her heart, for a few seconds, pounded hard up into her throat.
Where am I?
The bed. Naked on the bed. She tracked her eyes around the room, trying to put out of her mind recently created memories. There was no blood on the sheets or anywhere in sight. Nothing untoward had hap
pened as they slept. However, she couldn’t see Jason. His side of the bed showed where he had laid after they made love, but he had gone.
“He’s with Lubinksy, below.” Maria spoke from the shadows. “Are you all right, señora?”
“We’re moving.” Gemma went to the bow window and saw the open expanse of water. Blue sky with a few wisps of clouds drifting aimlessly. A smooth blue sea and virtually no wind. She reckoned outside the heat would be intense.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Two hours. You must be hungry. Do you want to eat up here or below?” Maria asked.
“I’ll get dressed and join Jason. Food, yes! Anything. I could eat a horse.”
Gemma stretched her arms high above her head as if to touch the ceiling. She felt reasonably invigorated even though the last twenty-four hours had confused her body clock. Three o’clock in the afternoon and she was about to eat lunch. Sleep and nourishment had become irregular during the cruise. She preferred to eat at sensible times.
She found Jason in the main salon, talking to Lubinsky, Remy, and the captain. He beamed a warm greeting as she approached, and she bent to kiss his lips. His hand looped around her neck, pulling her down, his mouth moist and flavoured by food. He dined on her lips for a few seconds. A surprising display of affection in the company of others.
“How are you?” she asked, wondering if he had slept at all.
“Fine, darling. I slept for an hour or so, and then I heard the sounds of the crew getting ready to depart.”
“Modesto?”
Lubinsky informed her Modesto remained in police custody, awaiting a medical assessment. The police had expressed surprise the victim showed no interested in pursuing a criminal case. Gemma listened carefully as Lubinsky explained the authorities would probably send Modesto back to the Philippines.
