by Frankie Love
Fuck, I want this girl.
And I have a feeling, as I take her hand and help her aboard my boat, she wants me too.
"This is a pretty nice boat you have," she says, taking it in.
"Yeah," I say. "I got lucky when it comes to money."
She nods slowly. "I heard about that," she says. "Some deals gone right over the years. Some money socked away?”
I lift an eyebrow. “You've been talking to Beam and Bellamy."
"Maybe," she says. She sets down her bag and I stow her suitcase below deck, then I come back up.
"And they didn't scare you away?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No. I grew up in Alaska. I told you that. I'm pretty tough."
"You look like a wildflower."
"My roots are deep," she says stoically.
"I can see that," I tell her. "You don't ever plan on leaving Alaska?" I ask as I take my place at the captain's chair, moving the boat away from the dock.
"I can't imagine living anywhere else. I've traveled a bit. I even considered going to college in the lower 48. But it didn't feel right so I stayed here, stayed home."
"I bet your parents like that," I say as we make our way from the shore, Beam and Bellamy's little oasis in the distance.
"Oh, my parents passed away about five years ago."
"I see, and that's why your brothers take control of your love life," I tease. "They think they're your parents."
"Something like that," she says with a smile. "I don't begrudge them. My brothers love me. And I appreciate that. Just like I appreciate Wavy and Bellamy and Jemma loving me. But I feel like I've been spending my whole life with people who are nervous for me, like they're afraid I'm going to make a bad decision. Nobody trusts me to make decisions all on my own, and good ones at that."
"Not every decision we make has to be a good one," I tell her. "Right? I mean, how else are you supposed to learn unless you're able to make a few mistakes?"
She nods slowly, standing next to me. My hands are on the wheel but I want to wrap them around her body. "I guess I'd like the opportunity to make a few mistakes," she says.
"Being here with me on this boat?" I ask, looking over at her. "Do you think that might be a mistake?"
She shakes her head surely. "No way. This is a good decision. No regrets. One hundred percent."
"Wow. I like your confidence," I tell her with a chuckle.
"Yeah?" she asks. She nuzzles her head against my arm. "Thank you for saying that. I like being around someone who trusts me implicitly."
"Hey, let's not get crazy. I just said I trust you to make a good decision with this."
"Oh, I see. So there are limits to your trust in me," she says playfully.
"No," I say, turning the laughter down. "No. I trust you, Marley."
"Why?" she asks. "Why are you so opposite everyone else in my life?"
"I don't know," I tell her honestly, "but when I look at you, when I talk to you, I feel like you get me and I feel like I get you."
"I feel that way too, Maker," she says.
We're quiet for a moment, watching the water as we slice through it. The sky is bright blue and the sun hangs high. The water is cool and the breeze offsets the heat of the summer sun. I pat her bottom, wanting to squeeze it.
"Why don't you go below deck and find us something to drink?" I say, my cock hard as she smiles and walks away. I wish we weren't so close to Beam's place. I'd drop anchor and go below deck with her. But instead I tell myself to cool my jets, to let the day unravel slowly.
When she comes back up with glasses of lemonade, I smile. "See, we're good. We're not even drinking."
"I thought it might be too early to drink alcohol,” she says, "and considering you're driving a boat and all."
I chuckle. "Weren't you drinking champagne at breakfast?"
She laughs. "Oh, fair point. I could find some vodka and spike this lemonade if you'd like."
I shake my head no. "I think we had enough to drink yesterday. At least you did."
She scoffs playfully. "Are you teasing me for getting drunk at the wedding?"
"Maybe. You like to be teased?"
She licks her lips, her pink tongue darting out. Damn, it looks good. "I kind of like you teasing me," she says, "if I'm being completely honest."
"Oh, I want you to be completely honest with me," I tell her, taking a drink of the lemonade before setting it down.
"Well, if I'm being completely transparent,” she says, "I remember parts of last night. They're coming back to me."
"Oh yeah? What parts?"
She presses a hand over her forehead, blocking the sun, and I can see her eyes clearly. "I feel like maybe I was a little aggressive in my dreams," she says, her voice hitching.
"Aggressive?" I ask. "How so?"
"I remember dreaming of you, of being with you, and I remember touching myself. Oh my God. I cannot believe I'm telling you this."
"No, go on, baby."
Her eyebrows raise. "Baby, now, is it?"
"What do you want me to call you, Marley?"
She swallows hard. "You can call me anything you like, actually," she says, "but baby sounds a little soft."
"You want me to call you something dirty?"
She nods. "Maybe. Is that bad?"
"There's no right or wrong when it comes to this," I tell her.
I lower the boat speed and I turn to her, cupping her cheek with my hand. "I see you're a torn girl, aren't you?" I run my thumb over her lips. "One part of you is so sweet, you're like honey. The other part is longing to be dirty."
She licks her lips. "Filthy even."
"Is that so?" I ask. She nods.
"I want to be undone," she tells me. "And I want you to be the one who undoes me."
"You won't be able to take this back," I tell her. "You give yourself to me and it's over."
"What do you mean over?" she asks.
"Once I have you, once you have me, you won't ever be able to forget it."
"Is that what all the girls say?" she asks, the heat between us so much hotter than the sun.
"I don't care about other girls. I just care about you, how you feel, how I make you feel."
She closes her eyes and lets out a whimper as I press my mouth to hers, kissing her softly, then hard. Her teeth bite my lower lip and I growl, hungry for more. She doesn't kiss me like a princess. She kisses me like she wants to be ravished. She said so last night and she's saying it again now with her mouth instead of her voice. She wants me and, fuck, I want her.
"Do you think you can kill the engine?" she asks, pulling away.
"And why would I do that?" I ask her.
"Because I feel like what we're starting here needs to be finished."
"And you think we can do that in the space of an afternoon?" I ask.
"Do you not?" she asks.
"Oh, dirty girl, what I want to do to you is going to take all damn night."
Marley
That first kiss gave me those butterfly feelings all over again. The same feelings I had the first time I saw him. The first time he spoke to me. The first time our hands touched, fingers brushed. And now his lips are on mine, and it's melting me and waking me up at the exact same time.
He pulls back. We're still driving a boat in the middle of the ocean, the open sea. And I know it's important that we look where we're going, pay attention. Anything can happen out on the great sea of Alaska. And I don't want to accidentally run into a barge because we're too busy making out.
He pulls back and looks at me. I smile and so does he. A kind of smile I wasn't expecting in a man like him; light and full, as if he saw possibilities he hadn't seen before. Possibilities with me.
"You need to focus on driving this boat to safety." And then I bite back my smile, dropping my eyes. He doesn't miss a beat.
"And then what, Marley?"
"And then we can drop anchor." I tell him. "Then we can see where the night takes us."
"The ni
ght?" he echoes.
I nod. "You're probably right. We need more than a day together. Why don't we drop anchor somewhere and give ourselves a chance to find out what we could be?"
"Will your brothers be worried?"
I shake my head. "For once, I'm just choosing what I want. No one else. Can you give me that? An opportunity to just have my own kind of fun?"
Maker growls. "Oh, Marley. I can certainly do that."
A rush of heat rolls over me, and I have to look away because the sensation within me is so intense, I'm not prepared to deal with it. Emotions are rising up that I've never experienced before — longing, lust, want, desire. So much desire. All twisted up inside of me, ready to pour out. I've waited 24 years to have a night like this. And now I'm having it with a man like him. Maker: dangerous, dark, and delicious.
God, that kiss was good.
His hands are back on the wheel and he's focused on driving the boat somewhere safe, a harbor. And I sit beside him, watching his strong arms, the line of his cheekbones, his thick beard, his dark hair, the tattoos on his biceps.
I remember him this morning without a shirt, jumping out of my bed, looking at me nearly naked. I saw his ladder of abs, his firm chest. I remember lying against him all night long, breathing him in. Saltwater and sandalwood, and so much more.
That delicious desire doesn't fade as we drop anchor a few hours later, ready to stay put for the night, finding an inlet where we can be safe. I've been here plenty of times before. I grew up only an hour away. But we're nestled in where no big ships will see us. The night is ours.
But it's still day, the sun's still out. And Maker asks if I'm hungry.
"I'm not looking for food to satiate my appetite, if that's what you're wondering,” I say to him with a coy smile.
"Damn girl, do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
"I have an inkling."
"Good," he says, "I don't want you to be caught unaware when I come after you."
We're on his deck, and he takes my hand. "Come up here to the hull,” he says, and I follow him. There's a plush spot with vinyl cushions overlooking the sea and we sit down together, watching the waves like we've done for the last two hours.
"When you asked me to dance last night, I didn't expect to end up here with you, now,” I admit.
As we sit side by side, our shoulders brush, my heart pounds, I want to take this to the next level and I want to do it soon.
I want to go below deck with Maker, but he hasn't invited me there with him. When I went to get drinks earlier, I saw a large cabin, a queen-sized bed, plenty of space for us to play. But it's as if he's hesitating.
"I want to be here with you, I'm just nervous,” he admits.
"You're nervous with me?" I laugh. "Maker, you're a really confident man, and I know you've been in charge of lots of people, and lots of business deals. In command of large places and spaces. Why would you be nervous with a girl like me?"
"Oh, Marley. You don't see it, do you?" he asks, cupping my cheek again, drawing me close. My body bubbles up with pleasure, excited. "I get nervous with you because, like I told you before, you're not like anyone else."
"In a good way?" I ask.
"In a damn good way,” he says. "When I look at you, I see somebody's wife. Somebody's mother. I see a whole fucking future."
"Just anybody's wife, just anybody's mother?" I ask him.
He swallows hard. "If I told you what I really thought, I might scare you away."
"I'm not scared now," I tell him, meaning it.
He may be an ex-con, a criminal, but when he looks at me, I feel safe in a way my brothers never have. They're over-protective, sure. But with Maker, I feel a different kind of safe. Not just my physical being, my whole heart and soul, all of it.
"Kiss me again," I say, "but this time, don't stop."
"I didn't expect for you to be the aggressor in this situation,” he says.
I smile. "The roles are reversed for the first time in my life. I have never once pursued anyone, anything."
He chuckles sadly. "And somehow, for some reason, you choose me?"
"Oh, Maker. You make me feel alive."
"Do you think it might just be the fact that I'm the forbidden? I'm the bad guy? Is it the thrill of the danger that gets you going?" he asks me, his voice gruff, but quiet.
"No, it's not that. I just… you really turn me on. And you see me as my own person. Like I'm a woman. Like I could be somebody's woman."
"Tonight you're mine,” he says, and his lips press against mine. And I whimper as he rolls me on my back. Out in broad daylight, he pushes up my skirt. He spreads my knees.
I’ve never done this before, but God, how I want to. Need to. He doesn’t hesitate. Kneeling before me, he spreads my pussy, groaning as he touches me.
"Oh, Maker." I moan as his fingers press against me, against my pussy, inside me. Fluttering fast, slow, his mouth on mine, his tongue too. Down my neck, he tugs the front of my dress and I'm glad I don't have on a bra. My breasts spill out.
He sucks my nipple hard and my core tightens, his fingers moving against me, fast.
"You told me to take you, and goddammit, Marley Grove, I will. I want you so fucking bad. You have no idea. Your pussy, fuck, it's tight."
I nod. "I'm glad I saved myself for the right person. The right moment."
He looks at me, his eyes dark. "No one's touched you before?" He asks, his finger stilling. "Never once?"
I shake my head. "Never once. You're my only."
He groans, not in anger or disappointment, but the kind of groan that comes when you feel like you don't deserve what you just got, and tears fill my eyes as I realize that's me, it's me he thinks he doesn't deserve. I wrap my arms around him, and I pull his mouth to mine, closer, deeper, rolling on top of him. His finger at my core, his cock hard, bulging at my belly.
I want all of this and more. I want Maker to make me his for at least one night. More, maybe. Forever?
"Make love to me," I ask him. "Please, my body's on fire for you. Make me a woman."
"Fuck Marley, sleeping with me isn't going to make you a woman. You already are. You're fucking gorgeous, and sweet and kind and good. So damn good."
"I don't want to be good tonight, though." I tell him, "I want to be bad."
He lifts me up from the cushions and he carries me below deck, my legs wrapped around his. I breathe him in, running my fingers through his thick hair. His beard scratching my neck, my whole body on fire, tingling, ready.
He lays me on his bed and he pulls down my panties. I tug off my dress as he unbuckles his belt, his jeans on the floor.
"I don't want to wait.” I tell him, “I don't need you to be gentle with me."
He gets on the bed, kneeling before me, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing my ass. His eyes meet mine.
"You may think you want a dangerous man to fuck you like you're a dirty girl. But Marley, I know you. I know how precious you are, whether you like it or not. Maybe everyone's treated you gently all your life, but maybe it's for good reason. Maybe you're that fucking sweet. That goddamn precious. I know you want me to fuck you dirty, but I can't give you that. I'm going to take this slow. I'm going to make love to you, head to toe.
“You may want to be treated like my filthy plaything, but that would be impossible. Because, Marley Grove, you're not. You're more of a gift than I deserve, and I'm going to treat you as such, whether you like it or not."
I close my eyes, letting his words sink in. He's not letting me act braver than I am. And I may be a girl who says I want to play dirty for just one night… But it's as if Maker understands that my virginity is a gift I've saved a long time, and he won't let me lose it in a less than honorable way.
"Now, get on your back, baby," he tells me, "and let me kiss your cunt the way you deserve. Let me lick you up and down until your come coats my beard, until your juice is all I breathe."
I do as he says, lying on my back. He pushes my kne
es apart again. I let them fall open. I'm bare for him. There's no fabric of my panties in the way. My breasts are exposed. Everything I am is on display, and he looks at me as if I'm the treasure he believes I am.
And I spent my whole life internally pushing against those kinds of words, descriptors. I wanted people to think I was tougher, rougher than I really was, really am. Maker saw right through it. I can't be a bad girl. Because deep down, I'm just not.
Maker's mouth finds my center, and he runs his tongue up and down me. So soft. So, so soft. My knees buckle. He pushes them back.
"Relax. Come on, baby girl. Let me take care of you."
I close my eyes, covering them with my hands, smiling as he makes love to my pussy.
"God, you're tight," he says, "and so damn sweet."
And I moan as he licks me, takes me, fingers me. Finds me.
With him, it's like I find my way home.
Maker
Her knees buckle as the pleasure rolls through her, taking her past the edge, into oblivion. I look up, watching as her eyelashes flutter, as her heart pounds, her tits bouncing ever so slightly as she gasps for breath. As the orgasm takes her deeper inside herself than she's ever been before. My cock is hard and I stroke my shaft, aching for the sweet release of her cunt.
"Come here," she says, settling down from her high. I move, leaning over her. My body over her arms, pinning her in. I kiss her mouth hard, deep. She whimpers against me. Her arms run up and down my back, squeezing my ass. Her legs wrap around me as if we've done this a hundred times.
But this is her first, and God, I want to be her last.
"I want you inside of me," she says. She strokes my cock gently, timidly.
"Don't be nervous," I tell her. "There's no reason to be shy now.”
She smiles. The tops of her cheeks pink, rosy. Her hair spilling around the pillow. The gentle sway of the ocean rocking us exactly where we need to go. Lost in the sea of one another.
"You make me feel incredible," she tells me.
"Well I’m glad, baby, because you make me feel pretty damn good too."
She smiles widely. "I've never… I mean, I've heard people talk about getting off, but that was next level."
