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cted that we would at least get out on the open water before exploring the cabin area, but Liz breaks faster than I expected.
One second I’m showing her where the throttle is, and the next her lips are pressed again mine, her hands reaching up and taking hold of my upper arms. And like a switch is flipped in my brain, I forget all about the ship and the water. My whole focus is on her. On lifting her out of the captain’s chair and crushing her against my body. On my hands running up and down her back. I allow my reach to go further south, to squeeze her ass, and I’m rewarded with a moan.
Her hands go up under my shirt. After exploring up to my chest and then back down my abs, I’m half expecting her to reach into my pants and take hold of my cock. Instead, her hands retreat, and a sigh of frustration escapes my mouth. I don’t think she notices it though; she’s too busy fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. Meanwhile, my job is infinitely simpler. Her t-shirt comes off in one swift motion. After briefly admiring her chest (and vowing to get that bra off her as soon as possible), I get to work on her impossibly tight jeans.
Between wild kisses, exploring hands, and heady breaths, we finally manage to strip each other. By the time I pull her bra off, we’ve ended up on the floor. Liz is straddling me, the top of my head pressed up against the giant window. If I turn my head left, I can just make out the boundless horizon of the sea. To my right is the harbor. If the windows weren’t tinted, people on the piers might be able to see us. Not that anything could stop me right now.
We haven’t spoken any words, because they just haven’t been necessary. Like now, with her topless and sitting on top of me, I can’t think of anything to say except, “Damn, you’re more gorgeous than I expected.”
Her arms instinctively go to cover her chest up, but I peel them away, pulling her down and sucking on her nipples. At the same time, I slide a hand down between our groins. She’s still wearing panties, but they offer little resistance to my fingers. Liz gasps—either at my tongue on her nipple or at my finger finding her pussy—and she raises her hips an inch to give me easier access. I slide my fingers up her slit, which is soaking wet. Then I find her clit and tease her by not going straight to it, but circling it like a shark would its prey.
Liz moans when I slide over her clit once, and then she scoots down my body and pulls my boxers off. I’m half expecting her to take my length in her mouth, but she seems to be done with the foreplay, because she says, “I’m on birth control,” as a matter of fact before taking hold of my cock and lining it up with her pussy.
Then she slides down on top of me.
Her vagina wraps around my dick, pulling it deeper and deeper. My hands go to her hips, while one of hers goes to fill the void mine has left behind. She’s riding me while simultaneously rubbing herself. It’s without a doubt the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I experience that wonderful shift in my brain, where all thoughts of anything except the present moment fade away. Gone are the worries about what I’m going to do about my father’s contract awaiting my signature and complete obedience. Also not present is that niggling concern that I should have just deleted the app. That following it would only lead to complications. That this girl on the other side of my phone would never live up to my expectations.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Fuck me,” she breathes out. Whether it’s a command or an exclamation of disbelief, I obey. No longer content to be on the bottom, passively receiving her ministrations, I sit up so that we’re face-to-face. After a few seconds of our tongues wrestling each other, I wrap my arms around her and lift her up. Once I’m standing, I turn around and lower her on the front side of the control desk. Whereas the other side is loaded with buttons and knobs, this one is smooth and perfectly capable of holding her ass up as I pump in and out of her.
Liz arches her back, pressing her breasts up so that I can’t help but lower myself down for a quick flick of my tongue over her nipple. She gasps at the touch, but doesn’t retract, instead pressing her chest up towards my mouth more. My fingers squeeze at her hips. I’m getting close, but I’m determined to control my pace, because unless I’m mistaken, Liz is on the verge of exploding. I can hear it in the way her breathing has changed. It’s faster, shallower, and punctuated with little murmurs of pleasure each time I thrust inside her. Her hands reach out to find mine, squeezing them before falling back over her head where she searches for something—anything—to hold onto.
Just as I forget to keep breathing, I hear the blissful silence from the beautiful creature underneath me as her legs quiver. Then she’s groaning, her legs wrapped around my waist pulling me deeper inside of her as we both cum.
All the tension falls out of my body. I lean over her, resting my body weight on shaking arms. My head falls down to rest just beside Liz’s. She turns so that her lips tickle against my ear.
“God, I hope that’s not the last time we do that,” she says in a breathy voice.
Her pussy contracts around my cock still buried deep inside her.
I rub the backs of my fingers up her bare sides. She shakes at the tender touch. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Chapter 9
Liz
After such a mind-blowing orgasm, all the stress built up in my brain releases. Even fifteen minutes later, sitting in the captain’s chair once more, Michael leaning over me and guiding my fingers, I don’t feel the same worries I did before. I should probably still be petrified about the possibility of wrecking his friend’s yacht, but that’s the thing. I’m beginning to think that this friend doesn’t exist.
There’s nothing specific to point me towards the conclusion, but the hunch is definitely there. Michael drives a car that costs more than I could probably make in ten years, so making the leap to owning an even more extravagant ship isn’t too far a jump. What doesn’t make sense is why he would lie about it in the first place.
“Then just push that right there,” he says, breaking through my thoughts.
I snap back to the present and put my hand on the shifter he pointed to. “Ok, now what?”
“Now just keep pressing that forward. Slowly.”
With the steering wheel in my left hand and this lever in my right, I might be driving my old Honda. But the feeling of gaining speed as we rocket out of the marina is nothing like my old beater ever provided. We leave behind the other boats rocking against the pier, and soon we’re bouncing over waves.
It’s unbelievably exhilarating.
My heart is racing, but I don’t pull back. I keep ratcheting the accelerator forward, reveling in the feeling of us bouncing across the waters like a skipping stone. Michael is standing over me, and I can actually hear his hand tighten on the top of the leather chair I’m sitting in. But before he has to ask me to take it easy, I pull us back to a more reasonable speed. That’s when I remember to breathe.
“This girl can really scoot,” I breathe out. I lick at my lips, because all this excitement has got me ready for round two. It’s not just the speed; it’s everything. The fact that I’ve finally broken out of the hold that life seemed to have on me. Whereas I should be at work, building up that little savings account of mine so that I can hopefully one day buy a ticket away from here, I’m on a yacht with a guy I’ve just met, propelling forward with absolutely no destination in mind.
For the first time in years, I feel free.
