Two Captains, One Chair: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy

by Marlow, Shaye

  Ed leaned in so he could nibble my ear. “She won’t mind,” he said. His hands were on my hips, lifting me, settling me so I was sitting on him comfortably with my legs spread around his. Or as comfortably as could be expected with various knobs and levers for my knees to contend with. I supposed it was as good a seat as any other…

  The tarp descended, and stuck to my head.

  I pushed at it. “Ed,” I said, starting to object.

  “Suzy,” he murmured. His hands were magic, rubbing my thighs, kneading my butt. And his mouth was on my collarbones, his lips nuzzling, his beard tickling.

  My resistance was melting. He had me in another chair, but at least we were out of the rain. And with him pressed up against me, I knew I wouldn’t freeze to death. I dug my fingers into his hair.

  “This time,” he said, tugging the small of my back until my hips rocked forward, pressing me against him, “you’re gonna put out.”

  I gasped, pushing at the tarp again so it wasn’t hanging in our faces. “And you wonder why you’re awkward with women,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t wonder.” His hands were anything but awkward, moving deftly, spreading warmth and decadent pleasure everywhere they went.

  He was kissing me. Under my jaw, down my neck.

  I panted with growing need. If he wanted to take me on a riding lawnmower, under a tarp, in the middle of a river, in the rain, then by god—I’d let him.

  He tugged on my hips again, rubbing me against his erection. I bucked in his lap, shuddering with everything he was making me feel.

  He squeezed one of my nipples, then urged me back so he could get his mouth on the other. I didn’t want to go, but—

  !!! I forgot about the tarp. I just clung to him, my right foot braced on the blade height lever.

  In the increasingly wild surges of my legs, I slipped upward. In a few moments, he pressed dead-center against the slippery heat of my entrance.

  Ed stopped me from descending. His voice was rough against my breast. “Are you on birth control?” he asked. He was still kissing me, licking heat through my veins, tightening my lower belly into a seething ache.

  I cried out, and his hands spasmed on me in response. “Do I need to go get a condom?” he growled.

  “Yes!” I cried.

  He shifted on the seat like he was going to get up.

  I tightened my thighs around him, trying to hold him in place as I strained against his grip. The broad head of his cock was nudging my pussy lips apart, pushing into me. He was barely touching me, yet he already felt ten times better without the condom.

  He stopped me again, when I would have driven myself onto him. “Yes, which?” he asked.

  “Yes, anything. Everything. I don’t care. Yes!” I wiggled against his firm grip.

  His breathing was ragged. “Dammit, Suzy. Do I need to go get a condom?”

  Oh, was that what he wanted to know? “No! Now—Ohhhhh.”

  He felt huge. Which wasn’t far from the truth. But burying himself in me like that, in one sure stroke—huge. The pleasure bordered on agonizing. He shifted, adjusting me in his lap, and I whimpered as I took even more of him. His hands roved, soothing me.

  I was shaking. I didn’t want to move. Ever. I just wanted to stay here, savoring everything I’d denied myself in that kitchen chair.

  I cried out as he bent down and latched onto my nipple again, and the angle forced my legs wide. I clutched at his hair, buried my face in it. I wanted to kiss him. Or bite him.

  My hips started to move, because they couldn’t not. They developed a life of their own, driving me on him. He was so wonderfully hard between my thighs, spearing into me. I moved faster as, with each rock, he stroked something deep inside. I dragged my nails down his back and moved a little higher, wanting to pleasure him like he was doing me.

  He groaned against me, his breath rasping hot against my chest. “Can I cum inside you?” he asked.

  I paused. “What, right now?”

  “Well, maybe,” he said. He looked like he’d just run ten miles, but still managed a lopsided grin. “If you don’t slow down.”

  My lips twitched. I slowed, then tugged on his hair until he was looking at me again. His irises were the barest ring of color, above cheeks flushed dark. I gloried in having done that to him, in having put that look on his face. I wanted to make it worse… but also better.

  “You mean… I shouldn’t do this?” I tilted my hips on a wicked upward stroke.

  His eyes closed as he sucked in a breath, and his hands slid to my waist. He was holding me, but not trying to control me.

  I leaned in close to his ear. “Tell me again, just how deep in my hot little pussy you want to be,” I said. I afforded him a pause, in which he just panted and held on.

  “Was it… this deep?” I sank down on him. “Or this deep?” I rocked in his lap, pushing him deeper.

  A fine sweat broke out on my skin. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up. The spot between us was a hot, swollen ache, throbbing—and I’m not sure whose heart was thumping harder.

  He looked straight into my eyes. His voice was raw. “Do you have any idea how good that feels?”

  I pulled upward, caressing him again, tightening around him, swirling my hips. He groaned, and his hands curled into fists against my back. His head started to dip.

  I sank my fingers in his beard, and pulled his head back up until he was looking into my eyes again. “Right here,” I whispered.

  I pinned him to the seat back, pressing my breasts against him. I dragged my nipples across his taut flesh as I eased downward once more. At the bottom of my stroke, I kissed him, pulling him just as deeply into my mouth as he was in my body.

  He slid one shaking hand inward, and started to rub my clit with his thumb. My hips bucked on a rush of pleasure.

  Panting, I dragged my mouth from his. “You know what I want?” I asked.

  He shook his head. He looked incapable of speech. His cock throbbed hard and high inside me, impossibly thick. His thumb moved faster.

  It was starting again, that irresistible rhythm. I moved my mouth next to his ear, holding the back of the seat as I rose and fell. “I want you to cum inside me,” I whispered.

  His breath hitched. His thumb pressed. “Suzy.” His voice sounded choked.

  I moved faster, my emotions rising right along with the physical pleasure. What he made me feel seemed crazy. Impossible.

  His urgency, his ragged expression, the hard press of him inside me all did me in. I lurched in his lap, rhythm stuttering. My muscles squeezed him.

  He let out a grateful-sounding groan. His hands tightened on my hips, taking over. He guided me onto him once, twice. Three times.

  I cried out with the fourth. He dragged me down onto him, and I writhed in his lap.

  I felt him tense against me, felt his fingers curl against my skin. His cock pulsed, and his groan was perhaps the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

  I found his mouth with mine. Kissed him with everything I was feeling. And he kissed me back.

  ‘Sex’. It felt like too weak a word. Too clinical. Yet ‘making love’ was too soft, too gentle.

  This, right now, was phenomenal. Crushing pleasure that swept me up in its relentless current, and a connection. It was something I’d never felt before.

  When I finally pulled away, I looked into his eyes, and I realized something.

  This was Ed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two hours later, the barge popped free of the sand.

  I was cuddled in Ed’s lap when it happened, both of us reclining on his camp chair. The boat lurched slightly, and then adopted that free-floating feel.

  I jumped on the controls, getting the engines started and backing us clear of the sandbar. While Ed got dressed, I guided us over to deeper, safer water. He then held the wheel while I pulled on my own clothes.

  As we got underway once more, I felt a sense of loss. In the couple hours we’d been together, it fel
t like Ed had become a part of me. We’d made our own little world, where nothing else mattered…

  Now, we were separated by clothes, and distance, and the noise of the engines. Every mile I drove upstream seemed like a mile I left our private little world behind.

  I couldn’t quite believe we’d done it. I felt giddy as I mentally replayed what we’d done.

  And confused. I wondered how Ed would treat me now. Had it just been a one-off? Would he pull away from me again in the future, say ‘we shouldn’t’?

  What the hell was he still hiding?

  As we unloaded the barge, I flushed hot every time I exchanged glances with him. As Ed rode past me on Dotty’s lawnmower, I ached. I pressed a hand to my belly, watching him drive it up to her cabin.

  He’d cum inside me. I’d let him cum inside me, wanted him to, asked him to. I was on birth control, and I knew it was a silly, girly thought to even have, but… I wondered. There was less than a 1% failure rate on the pills I was taking, not that I’d missed any of them, or planned to. And not that anything created with Ed could ever be termed a failure…

  God, I just couldn’t seem to tear my gaze from him. The sight of him, the memory of what we’d done made me smile so hard, my face ached.

  Our last stop was about five miles farther upstream than I usually went. There, we unloaded a pallet of dog food onto a waiting four-wheeler trailer. The dog mushers happened to live right next door to Clint Lascomb—the guy that had saddled me with $15,000 in credit card debt, after refusing to pay for my services.

  As I worked, I glanced upward toward his lodge. I could see the guests inside, still sitting around the dining room tables chatting.

  Clint hadn’t been answering my calls. He’d been avoiding me. He wouldn’t be expecting me now, which would probably work to my advantage.

  We finished transferring the dog food. “Just wait for me a minute, will you please?” I asked Ed. He nodded, and watched as I climbed up the bank toward the lodge.

  I let myself in the front door, and caught the attention of Clint’s teenage daughter, who was serving drinks. “I need to talk to your dad,” I told her, being quite pleasant because I saw a lot of myself in her. It wasn’t her fault her dad was a scumbag. He probably wasn’t paying her to illegally serve drinks, let alone to deal with irate customers.

  My heart beat faster as the man himself came down the stairs. He was tall and urbane-looking; his slacks and shirt ironed, his short grey hair recently trimmed. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Suzy,” he said.

  I nodded in greeting, and then cut to the chase. “You owe me money.”

  “Let’s not talk about this here,” he said, somehow making me feel like I was being inappropriate. He smoothly wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me out the front door, and out of earshot of his guests.

  The action irritated me, as I knew he had an office. If he planned on doing business with me, on treating me with respect, he would have taken me there. His move also felt controlling, like he was managing me.

  I shook him off.

  “Now, what was it that you needed?” he asked, that fake-ass benevolent smile in place.

  “You owe me money,” I repeated. “Fifteen thousand dollars. I’d like you to pay your bill.”

  “Fifteen thousand? Wow, are you sure—”

  “I can show you receipts,” I told him, “adding up to over fifteen thousand, yes.”

  “Hm,” he said. “Well, I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. I just made some investments, and I haven’t got a lump sum like that on me at the moment.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, even though it really wasn’t, and I knew he was weaseling out of it again. I could see a dozen guests through the window right now. At over $300 apiece per night, that was at least $3600 sitting at his dining room tables, right now. And that wasn’t all of his guests, and it wasn’t counting the fortune in alcohol his daughter was currently illegally serving. Or her tips, which this piece of work was probably confiscating. So, this man would probably make enough to pay me in just a couple days. Moreover, he probably had several times what he owed me in a bank account right now, despite what he said.

  “I’ll take payments. A couple thousand a month would get you paid off in just a few months.”

  Clint was starting to turn back toward the door. “Definitely something to think about,” he mused, while his attitude said he couldn’t be bothered.

  Unwilling for him to escape so easily, I reached out and caught his arm.

  He paused, looking down at my hand on him. He didn’t react like Ed had. No, his gaze, when it lifted, was cool and vaguely threatening.

  I removed my hand.

  “There a problem here?” Ed asked from behind me.

  I hesitated, some part of me wanting to keep business matters private. But looking up at the jackass that owed me a lot of money, seeing the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes, decided me. If he wasn’t going to pay his bills, and conduct business in an honest fashion, fuck it. I’d ruin his reputation; I’d tell everyone. Starting with Ed.

  “Clint owes me $15,000 for services rendered,” I said. “Which he’s refusing to pay.”

  “Now Suzy, you know I just haven’t gotten around to it,” Clint said. His manner had become strangely defensive with Ed here.

  “It’s been five months,” I said. “Five months since your last outstanding bill. Two years since your first.” Obviously it’d been stupid of me to continue doing business with him, but he’d promised and cajoled, and kept stringing me along. And I just kept wanting to think the best of him.

  Ed looked at Clint. “Can I talk to you a sec?” In a move very similar to Clint’s, he guided him several feet away.

  I watched them closely, straining my ears to hear their conversation. But Ed was talking very quietly—and it was Ed doing the talking. Clint started out shaking his head, but then he quit. As he listened, he began to look more and more perturbed. I could practically feel the tension rolling off him.

  Clint glanced at me, nodded, and then strode off into the building.

  Bastard. Denied once more, I turned to leave.

  Ed caught my hand. “Wait for him,” he said. “He’s coming back.”

  I was very aware of Ed’s hand on mine. “What did you say to him?”

  Ed shrugged. “I encouraged him to pay you,” he said. “Explained what happens to people who displease you,” he added, his eyes laughing down at me.

  I snorted. “I kinda like the idea of tying him to a chair, but I wouldn’t be near as gentle with him as I was with you.”

  “Gentle? Is that what you call it?”

  Ed was suddenly very close, overwhelming my senses. His thumb rubbed softly along my lifeline, making me shiver. I now knew exactly what he felt like inside me, his hands rubbing over me, gripping my hips in the heat of passion. He brought the memories we’d made just that afternoon straight back to the forefront.

  I stepped closer, gazing up into his eyes, thinking I might just love this man.

  Clint banged back out through the door. He handed me a check. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked. The question was directed at Ed.

  I looked down at the check. It was written for $20,000. “But, this is—”

  “It’s interest, and for your troubles,” Clint said.

  I stared at him, open-mouthed.

  “Was there anything else you needed?” Ed asked, giving me a little nudge. When Clint asked it, he made it sound like I was bothering him. In Ed’s mouth, the words were considerate.

  I shook my head.

  Clint nodded to me, nodded to Ed, and ducked back inside.

  I turned around to find Ed already walking back toward the barge. I hurried after him. “How did you…?”

  He shot a me a look which morphed into a slow, wicked smile. “I’m the boss, remember?”

  We didn’t get me back to my place until nine o’clock that night. I’d thought about inviting Ed in, but he was all bus
iness as he helped me wrap things up on the barge. Then, with a murmured ‘good night’, he was gone.

  I was a little sad that he didn’t stay—hadn’t even tried to stay—but I decided not to think about it too hard. We were moving fast as it was; I’d only really known him for a week. And Ed was kinda unpredictable, so for now, I’d give him his space and try not to push matters.

  It was as I was getting ready for bed that I heard an engine approaching. I cocked my head, and determined by the sound of it—a deep, fluctuating grumble—that it was not a boat. Four-wheeler, then? There was a whole network of four-wheeler trails through the woods, though the ones out back of my cabin were overgrown with grasses, so seldom were they used.

  The four-wheeler was getting closer. I stepped outside, and peered into the trees.

  I saw it approaching, a blue machine with two riders, and… two walking behind? But the two behind were moving funny, almost as if… Oh.

  The four-wheeler emerged from the trees, and suddenly the picture became clear. Two adolescent girls were in the saddle, driving slowly enough that the two men being dragged behind, at the ends of a pair of ropes, could follow—but not so slowly that they could do it comfortably. The two on foot stumbled along with their bound wrists out ahead of them. They were tall, well-built, and blond.

  The brothers. I recognized them… barely. They were wearing nothing but woven grass loincloths, and had mud smeared here, there, and everywhere in between the reddened splotches of bug bites. Zack had several long claws hanging from a leather thong around his neck.

  They looked feral.

  The girls on the four-wheeler had long, braided hair, no makeup, and, improbably, skirts. Thick tights concealed their legs. They guided the machine to within a few feet of me and swung to the left, and I saw the Kuskana River Bible Camp sticker on the front fender.

  I immediately began to jump to conclusions. Fearing the worst, I stepped forward. “What did you do?” I asked the boys. Ed’s story hadn’t been too terrible because they were all in the same age group. But Zack and Rory? In their upper twenties, at least!

  “We found ‘em livin’ in the shed,” the girl in back said with a soft southern accent. “Thought we’d go ahead and bring ‘em back for ya.”