Page 34 of A Perfect Disaster

Helen moans, completely losing all decorum, grinding her hips against my face without a shred of shame.

I speed up the movement, feeling her inner walls contract around me, hot and slippery. I suck her clitoris hard, and Helen explodes in a violent orgasm. She screams my name as her body convulses; her thighs squeeze my head tightly, and she drenches my fingers. I keep licking her gently, prolonging her spasms until they fade into small tremors.

“I’ve been dying to do this…” I murmur.

I sit up immediately and kiss her deeply, sharing her own taste on our tongues. Her hands run urgently down my back and down to my buttocks, turning me over with a speed that takes me by surprise. Her eyes shine with passion.

She positions herself on top of me. She lowers her head and attacks my neck, leaving several bites and marks on it. Her lips descend down my chest, torturing my nipples with her teeth until I arch my back, clawing at the sheets. She continues down slowly, leaving wet kisses on my belly before spreading my legs possessively.

Her tongue explores me completely. She licks my lips, penetrates my entrance, and moves up to my swollen clitoris. She devours me with absolute devotion, alternating quick licks with sucking that makes me lose my mind, while she slides her fingers inside me. My hips rise on their own, spasmodically seeking her mouth.

“Faster… please,” I beg, my voice breaking, clutching the sheets.

Helen obeys. She picks up the pace, sinking into me and devouring me with her mouth without mercy. Pleasure surges like a storm tide. My whole body tenses into a rigid knot, and I explode with a hoarse cry, soaking her as the contractions shake me to my core. She stays there, licking up the last of the tide, prolonging the orgasm until I’m left sensitive and trembling with relief.

But time is running out, and desire continues to roar. We kiss desperately, rolling across the narrow mattress. Our legs entwine, and we search for each other’s sex with our hands, in a delicious back-and-forth motion.

“More, Helen… harder,” I beg, locking my gaze with hers.

We pick up the pace, driven by a fiery desperation. I feel another wave of pleasure coming, deeper, and from the way she moans and squeezes my thighs, I know she’s on the brink too.

“Come with me,” I command, without taking my eyes off hers.

And we explode almost in unison. A brutal spasm runs through both of us. I scream her name as my body shudders in an electric shock. Helen digs her nails into my thigh, letting out a muffled moan and surrendering completely against me. The waves of pleasure linger for a few eternal seconds, leaving us empty.

Suddenly, a sharp sound jolts us back to reality: the three chimes from the ship’s PA system, followed by the voice announcing preparations for the undocking maneuver. Time has run out.

I wish I could stretch out these minutes.

We collapse, exhausted, onto the rumpled sheets, embracing and gasping for air. We remain entwined for a few moments, my fingers tracing her vertebrae and hers drawing soft circles on my hip, savoring the last tremors of our bodies.

I lift my head to look at her. Her eyes are bright, fixed on me with a mixture of satisfaction and a hint of concern for the clock. I give her a quick kiss on the lips.

“It seems… we still make a good team in bed, my dear officer,” I say with a mischievous smile.

“Come on, don’t tease me,” she replies, trying to regain her serious tone as she looks for her uniform hanging in the closet. “I have to be on the bridge in fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll remember this every time you see me on deck.”

She flashes a restrained smile before getting up in a hurry. I do the same, aware that what just happened in this cabin is as beautiful as it is dangerous. An idyllic spark that, if we don’t handle it carefully, could turn into a bomb capable of sinking us both.

13

Helen

Genoa. Third day of the voyage.

Sunrise in Genoa should have been a routine formality in this contract. But reality has just blown my plans to smithereens.

At 6:30 in the morning, the day dawns with exasperating slowness. Under other circumstances, I would have paused for a moment by the bridge railing to admire the scenery; to watch the sun break through the low clouds floating over the Ligurian Sea, the seagulls squawking brazenly as they claim the pier, or the first early-rising passengers peeking out onto the outer deck with puffy eyes and sleepy expressions. But today I don’t have a single second for nautical romanticism.

“No, no, no…” I mutter under my breath, clutching the phone so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

Late last night, an urgent message came in on the ship’s server. Had I not been so delightfully… distracted in my cabin, I would have read it in time. Now, my pulse is racing so fast I can feel the beats in my throat. The message from the Transmarine regional inspector is a declaration of war:

“The company’s auditors will conduct a surprise inspection to review and evaluate onboard management during the stopover in Civitavecchia. All officers and department heads on the Marine IV are asked to have their logbooks and operating protocols up to date and ready for the audit.”

I read the text over and over, as if some miracle of naval engineering were going to erase the characters from the screen. Tomorrow. They’re coming on board tomorrow, damn it!