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Her grin reaches her eyes, and then she looks down at where I’m pressed against her body. My cock has hardened against her stomach; her nipples are sharp points beneath her tank top. If I kissed her right now, I don’t think she’d stop me, but then she’d never answer me.
I take a step back, and she exhales sharply.
I walk to the sliding front door of the cabin, throwing it open, disappearing inside. When I step back out, I have two glasses and a fifth of whiskey.
“Sit,” I say at the table near the front of the ship.
She takes a seat hesitantly, as I pour us both half a glass of whiskey, fearing we are both going to need a lot to get through this night.
She takes the glass without a word and sips on the drink. She doesn’t turn up her nose in disgust like most girls her age when they drink anything straight. She doesn’t wince at the burn; she welcomes it.
I breathe in the drink before I taste it and return to the state of numbness I feel when I drink it. But somehow I don’t think there is enough alcohol on this boat to make me numb when I’m around her. Every electrode in my body is firing.
“You go first,” I say.
She nods.
“My first truth or lie is I’ve never given a blow job.”
My eyes darken at her words. This is how she wants to play this. Dirty.
“I’ve never come.”
Damn her, and her dirty distractions.
“I’ve never been kissed,” she breathes.
Somehow her last one feels as dirty as the previous two. Something so innocent, yet so delicious.
She leans back after she finishes and puts her feet up on the table, relaxing. She said each sentence with equal weight; she’s used to lying to protect herself.
“Your turn.”
But I’m good at lying too…
“I’ve never shot a man.
“I’ve never raped a woman.
“I’ve never killed a man.”
My truths and lies are darker, instead of dirty like hers. But it does the job I was hoping.
Shock.
Even if my body betrayed me on some level when I told the truth instead of the lies, she wouldn’t notice, she was too busy being frazzled by my words—hating herself for getting on a boat with such a vicious man.
“Now what?”
“Now we make our choice. We only get to pick once. One chance to pick the truth.”
“And if neither of us chose correctly?” I ask, even though I doubt it will happen. One of us will choose correctly and one of us won’t. I have no doubt I’ll be the victor.
“Then I guess we don’t get any answers.”
I nod, agreeing.
I think back to the three choices:
