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“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.”
