by Lily Harlem
Olivia slept in Lucas’s arms. Mason was slotted in behind her. She felt safe and protected, not least because she could hear Harry, Raul, and Evan talking quietly in the main living area. It was true what she’d said. They had to stick together; it kept not just her safe, but all of them. Being apart wasn’t an option. How could she care for her men and they for her if they weren’t physically close?
Dew covered the grass when she looked out of the curtains at six a.m., and there was no evidence of the fright or the fight she’d had out on the lawn. Peering at the tree line, she tried to spot Jase’s men lurking near a hole in the fence, but the bushes were too thick and she couldn’t see anything.
Had her husbands not been so quick, or the armed response team so rapid, she could have been waking up to a very different future.
She wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered. A wave of nausea rolled in her stomach, and she beat it down.
“Hey, hen.” Mason came up behind her and pulled her back to his chest. “Time to stop thinking about it, eh. You’re made of tough stuff, you can push past this.”
“I know I can.” She swallowed and rested her hands on his thick forearms. “It will just be easier when we’re out of here. To tell you the truth, I’m longing for a sea breeze and open water.”
“Me, too. We’re not likely to find anything as glamorous as Temptress, but hopefully something not too shabby.”
“Kind of a shame Evan won’t let Harry just buy us a boat, don’t you think?”
Mason chuckled. “Aye, but if that’s the way those two want to play it, we’ll have to leave them to it.”
“I guess.”
“And at least they do seem to be getting on a wee bit better. Fuck knows what was eating them the last few days at Kaskum, you could cut the air with a knife when they were around.”
“Mmm.” She spun in his arms and swept her lips over his. “It is good they’re getting on again.”
He smiled and cupped her face. “I need a shower before we head off.”
“Me, too.” She studied his pale blue eyes. His pupils were wide, and he seemed to be looking into the very core of her. Her nipples tingled, and a tug of desire pulled at her belly.
“It might be quite a long shower,” he said quietly.
“Why’s that?” A small thrill went through her. There was something in his tone that was unmistakeably sexy.
“I’m feeling dirty,” he said, his lips hovering over hers. “Filthy, in fact.”
“Are you now.” She ran her hands over his warm wide shoulders and rested them on his biceps. “And is there anything I can do to help you out with that?”
“Might be.” He slid his hand down her spine, settled it in the hollow of her back, and eased her closer.
Through his boxers, his erection pushed against her abdomen.
“Mason,” she said breathily.
“Do you fancy holding the soap for me?” He twitched his eyebrows.
“I think that could be arranged.”
He smiled and stepped away, linking his fingers with hers.
Tugging her past Lucas’s now empty bed, they went into the en suite. He shut the door and slid the lock into place.
“You don’t want to be disturbed, huh?” she said, biting on her bottom lip.
“Nope, not by anyone.” He shoved at his boxers, and his cock sprung free. It was thick and long and fully erect. “At least not until I’m feeling a whole lot cleaner than I am now.”
She giggled and removed her underwear as he flicked on the shower.
“Come here,” he said, stepping under the fall of water. “Let’s forget about everyone and everything for a few minutes.”
“Good plan.” She picked up a bar of white soap and joined him in the large cubicle. “Why don’t you turn around.”
He appeared a little surprised for a moment, then did as she’d asked.
“Feet apart, and put your hands on the tiles, so I can clean you up properly.” She tapped his ankles with her toes.
Again he did as she’d asked, tipping forward a little and bowing his head.
Rubbing the soap to create a foam, she admired his back view. His legs were long and roped with muscles. His ass was firm and pert, not too big, not too small. His narrow waist was accentuated by the broadness of his shoulders, and the strength that lurked beneath the surface of his skin was evident in his back and in the shape of his neck. The water ran from his head down the gutter of his spine and through the cleft of his butt cheeks.
Desire wound through her. This Scottish hunk was hers, all hers. And right now she wanted to touch him all over. Hear and feel his pleasure. Let him know just how much she loved him.
Setting the soap aside, she placed her foamy hands on his shoulders and began to rub, spreading the white bubbles over his flesh and inked skin.
He moaned softly, and his fingers curled on the tiles as if he were willing himself to stay still.
She took her time, enjoying the warmth of the water spraying down, and exploring every curve and indentation of his body. He was a perfect specimen of a man, pure power, raw sex appeal, and there was a fierceness about him that called to a very primitive part of her femaleness.
Drifting her hands lower, she cupped his ass and squeezed.
“Olivia,” he said, straightening to his full height. “Please.”
“No, stay as you were.” She pressed in close, flattening her breasts to his back. Small shooting sensations shot through her nipples, making her flesh feel alive and super sensitive. “I want you like that, with your back to me.” She slipped her hands around his waist and kissed his right shoulder blade. “Let me touch you.”
Again he hesitated, as though deciding whether or not to do as she’d asked.
“Remember when we were at the farm, picking fruit, and we were alone by the shed?” she said.
“Aye.”
“We had fun, lots of fun.”
“I agree, hen.”
“And I want that again now, Mason. I want to make you come.”
He hitched in a breath. “Well, I’m not gonna argue with that.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Quickly, she reached for the soap and lathered up her hands again. She then squeezed in close once more, so her chest was against his back and her arms around his waist.
She found his navel, dipped in her finger, then spread the bubbles over his hard, defined abdomen. Taking her time, and knowing she’d be driving him crazy with impatience, she gradually headed lower, allowing her knuckles to brush his shaft, and rubbed soap into his pubic hair.
His body was tense, and when she finally took hold of his erection he let out a long, low, rumbling moan.
She smiled, her cheek bunching on his skin. He was so ready for it. Hot and hard and battling to stay still and not grab her and fuck her.
Adding her other hand, she set up a steady stroking motion, working him root to tip and smoothing her thumb over his glans and slit.
His breaths quickened. He curled his hands into fists.
Soon she was lost to everything but the effect she was having on Mason. The sound of the water faded, as did the feel of it on her skin. The night before was a distant memory, and so was their uncertain future. Now all that existed was Mason’s pleasure, working him to climax, and feeling his release.
“Olivia, I’m gonna…”
“Come,” she said, “Come for me.”
His cock swelled further, and she sped up her actions.
Excitement spurred her on. She had this big, tough guy at her mercy, she owned his pleasure. Mason McCadam was hers, all hers.
“Ahh, yeah…” A tremble went through him, and he thrust his hips forward into her touch. “It’s here…”
She cupped his balls with her left hand; with the other she fisted his shaft and brought him to orgasm.
His wail of release echoed around the cubicle. Slippery cum coated her fingers and she worked him harder and faster.
His knees see
med to give way, and he locked them as his cock pulsated and another spurt of warm semen filled her palm. She used it as lube and continued to masturbate him with an intensity that made her arm ache.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, wrapping his hand over hers. He urged her on, and a final shot of pleasure tore from him.
“Mason,” she said against his flesh. She was breathing fast, her heart thudding.
“Olivia.” He turned, forcing her to release him.
She clasped her hands over his cheeks and stared up into his face. Water poured over his features, sluicing over the healing cut on his brow, clinging to his eyelashes and dripping from his chin. His cheeks were flushed.
“That was…” he said, circling her waist. “Intense.”
She smiled. “That was hot.”
He grinned. “And now I’m gonna make you hot.” He dipped his head and kissed her.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hey, you guys,” Harry’s voice boomed through the bathroom door. “You coming or not.”
“I just have,” Mason said quietly against Olivia’s lips as he cupped her ass. “And now you’re going to.”
“Mmm.” She clung to him and pressed her chest to his.
“I mean it,” Harry said. “A cab’s on the way. We need to get to the port.”
“Fuck.” Mason pulled back and frowned in the direction of the bathroom door.
“He’s right. We do need to head off.” She touched his lips then ran her finger down his neck to his chest. “But maybe once we’re on a boat, in a little cabin, you can…”
“Make you cry out my name, yes, I think I will.” He reached for the shampoo. “But for now I’ll have to be content with washing your hair and enjoying your naked body close to mine.”
She turned and allowed him to fill her hair with suds and gently massage her scalp. Having him care for her was sexy and seductive, and she knew she’d look forward to some alone time with him again as soon as they’d figured out how to get to Spain.
The Port of Cape Town was a hive of activity as the morning lit up Table Mountain. After alighting a cab, Olivia and her men made their way past a wire fence beyond which huge containers were stacked. They were all different colors—red, yellow, orange, green—and giant cranes sat by the water waiting to pick them up and deposit them onto docked boats.
“We should go that way,” Raul said, shifting his rucksack on his back.
“You think?” Harry linked hands with Olivia.
“Si, we can ask at the port office if any ships need a crew.”
“Which is a long shot.” Harry gestured to a large boat to their right, which appeared to be swarming with staff.
“We won’t know if we don’t ask,” Evan said, tugging his t-shirt down to hide his knife.
“I agree. And perhaps the officials know of someone who is short on man-power,” Olivia said.
They approached a single-story gray building that had two small white vans parked outside. Each had Port of Cape Town written on the side along with an image of Table Mountain.
“Who’s going to ask?” Lucas said.
“I will,” Raul said. “Leave it to me.”
“Go for it.” Harry released Olivia’s hand. “But take Liv, a pretty face might help.”
“Hey.” Olivia jabbed him in the ribs. “That’s not all I’m good for.”
He grinned and cupped her chin. “We know that, but where’s the harm in using your assets?” He swept his lips over hers, instantly brushing away her irritation.
“Come on, mi niña hermosa.” Raul took her hand and tugged her toward the building. “Let us find a solution to Evan’s flying problem.”
“Aw, don’t blame him.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I, too, would rather go by sea; the ocean calls to me, the sky does not.”
“I know what you mean.”
They stopped at a sliding window, which looked into a messy office. A man in a gray uniform, with the same logo as the vans embroidered on the chest pocket, turned to them.
“Hola,” Raul said with a smile.
The man didn’t smile back, but he did open the window. “What do you want?”
“We are looking for work,” Raul said. “We are all seamen, all fit and strong.”
“This is a port, and I have enough staff.” He went to shut the window.
“No, no, you do not understand. We need work on ship, to make passage to Spain.”
“I have no idea if any ships here need staff, but if they do it won’t be many.” He looked past Olivia at the twins, Harry and Evan. “Container ships work on skeleton crew.”
“That is okay, we can ask, that is all we want.”
“There are official procedures for this.”
“Si, si, I understand, but this is an emergency, I need to get back to my restaurant.” He wrapped his arm around Olivia. “And I need to introduce my new wife to my mother—this is very important to me, you must know that.”
He frowned and bit on his bottom lip. “There is one ship, Joan D’Arc, it’s French. The captain, Victor, is a cantankerous old sod, always losing staff. You can see if he’s in need of anyone, but I’ll warn you, he’s a pain in the ass.”
“As long as his ship has no holes, we can take pains in the ass.”
“Mmm, well, go and ask, he’s on dock three, row five. You’ll see it, it’s the biggest boat in that section. Due to sail in an hour, and from past experience his staff don’t turn up for a second trip once they’ve spent ten days on the waves with him.”
“Gracias, gracias. You are so kind.” Raul grinned.
“You won’t be saying that when you’re out at sea with Victor.” He slammed the window shut.
Raul turned and held up his hands. “Come on, guys, this way.”
“What did he say?” Evan asked, striding forward, with Harry and the twins close behind.
“There’s a ship over there that struggles to keep staff,” Olivia said. “Pain in the ass captain, apparently.”
“Ha, we can cope with that, it’s what we’re used to.” Evan shoved Harry on the shoulder and laughed.
“Hey,” Harry said, grinning as he staggered to the right. “I’m not that bad.”
“You’re not that good, either.” Evan chuckled.
“Aren’t I?” Harry raised his eyebrows at Evan.
Evan opened his mouth and stared at Harry, but no words came out.
Harry’s grin dropped, and he glanced away, a small rise of color growing on his cheeks.
A little fizz of excitement bloomed inside Olivia as she looked between them. Harry didn’t know Evan had decided he did want to relax the rules with Harry, and that he was interested in more between them when they were all in bed together.
Having that knowledge thrilled Olivia. It made her long for alone time with them both. She wanted to see where it would go. She wanted to watch them kiss, see the new side to their relationship blossom and be the one to nurture it.
“Hey, is that it?” Mason said, pointing forward.
A huge green ship, fully loaded with containers, was attached to the concrete dock before them. It was huge in comparison to Temptress, though not quite the biggest in the port. The bridge was high and painted navy blue, and along the starboard side Joan D’Arc was written in block letters. There was nothing fancy about it, it was a functional vessel, able to stand rough seas and carry great weights.
“And don’t fucking come back!” a French-accented voice boomed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Olivia came to a standstill, surrounded by her men.
Down a thin gangplank lined with rope marched a dark-skinned man wearing an orange t-shirt and black jeans. He carried a battered brown bag.
He stormed toward them, his expression one of fury.
“Hola,” Raul said. “You come from Joan D’Arc.”
“Yeah, I do, mate. And I’m not going back on board. God-awful boat with a madman for a captain.”
“Wh
at you do there?” Raul asked.
“I was the cook.”
“Ah, so now he needs chef?” Raul looked at the ship. “This is good.”
The man snorted. “Yeah, he does, but it’s not good, it’s a fucking nightmare. If he’s not out cold from drink, he’s shouting and swearing. Nothing is ever right for him.” He swirled his finger near his temple. “That man’s got a few screws loose.”
“Ah, but it is only ten days to Barcelona from here if we do good knots. A few loose screws we can handle.”
“Barcelona? He’s going to St. Tropez, mate.”
“No problem.” Raul rubbed his hands together. “It is on the way.”
The man rolled his eyes then nodded at Olivia. “And you’d best watch yourself, love. If you step on there, you’re just his type, and the guy has no respect for women.”
“He’ll have to change that.” Lucas frowned and tipped his chin.
“Mmm.” The man took in Lucas and then Mason. “Perhaps you’d be the guys to make him. Good luck.” He turned and walked toward the office.
“What are we waiting for?” Raul said. “Let us go and get work, get ticket to Barcelona so we can go to my restaurant.”
“Do you think we should?” Olivia looked up at the huge ship. “If he’s that bad?”
“Aw hen.” Mason wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We’ve coped with sharks and snakes, leopards and mad witch doctors. We can handle a drunk, foul-mouthed captain for a few days, don’t you think?”
“Mmm, I guess so.”
“Of course we can, babe.” Evan rubbed his hands together. “Come on, let’s see if we can secure six jobs.” He stepped up to the gangplank, but as he did so a huge man with a long gray beard appeared at the top of it.
“Who the fuck are you?” he directed at Evan.
“Er, g’day, mate. I’m Evan Tate, Melbourne.”
“And why are you boarding my ship without permission?”
“Permission to board, Captain.”
“No, fuck off.” He slammed his hands on his wide hips and glared at Evan.
“Ah, sir, it is so good to meet you.” Raul moved up beside Evan. “We have learned of your great ship and your fine seaworthiness from the port office.” He pointed over his shoulder. “And we have come here to offer you our services.”
