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I watch Abby in wonder. That this girl can make me feel so good is like some sort of goddamn miracle. She opens as wide as she can and chokes a little, tears trickling down her cheeks. I want to pump her mouth harder but the last shred of self-control I have keeps me from choking her senseless.
“Such a naughty girl,malishka, sucking my cock like that,” I say, roughing up her already-wild hair.
My legs can barely support my weight, so I grip her hair like a lifeline, and she responds by holding my ass tighter. We hang on each other, tossing in a storm of passion. Then, without warning, she spits me out of her mouth and pushes me back onto the carpeted floor of her room, straddles me, and sinks on top of my cock.
Fuck yeah.
I’m already close to coming, and now inside her pussy, my explosion is so near that my groin hurts, actually, everything hurts, but I want to get her off. With my hands on her hips, I push to meet her thrusts. Suddenly, her shoulders slump and she convulses lightly, and I am in wonder that any woman can make me feel like she does. She’s so wet and grips my cock so snugly that I push up and into her one more time and she explodes, followed immediately by my ejaculation, which I leaves me vibrating from head to toe.
It's too bad she won’t be with us indefinitely. I mean, wecouldkeep her if we wanted to, no problem, but that gets into trafficking and that’s not our thing—that’s for immoral weaklings who have no other way of making money.
But maybe when she learns her father is just a low-life scum dressed up in designer rags, she’ll realize the three of us are not so bad.
* * *
11
ABBY
Why Bogdan,Fedor, and Ilya thought it was a good idea to bring a little puppy on a boat is beyond me. We’re in the tender heading for shore, which I would normally be ecstatic about for obvious reasons, but the dog is a squirming little beast in my arms as I try to keep her from going overboard.
“Let me take her,” Karol says, extending his wrinkled arms. She settles into him, because of course, and she starts to relax, her little nose wiggling in the breeze at all the new smells around her.
I love my furbaby, I really do, and I think the guys are smitten with her as well, but worrying about her falling into the ocean has been stressful at the very least. Thank goodness for the crew taking turns with her, and for Karol, whom I’ve started calling ‘the puppy whisperer.’
Now that my hands are free, I turn to look back at the yacht, getting smaller in the distance, and then toward the island, which is obviously getting closer. It’s been so long—a little more than a month, according to the calendar I made—since I’ve been on land. I wonder if it will feel funny to walk. Such a thing never would have crossed my mind, not having spent much time on boats, but Karol told me I should expect to feel like I’m still on the yacht, and that there may be a funny swaying sensation in my legs.
I don’t mind. I’m just happy at the chance to be on land again, even if it’s just for dinner in a restaurant. It will be a nice break, and if all goes according to plan, there may be an opportunity to get myself out of the clutches of the guys. They have no idea I’m thinking this, though, and are under the impression I’m pleased as punch to go out for a spontaneous meal. At least that’s what I hope.
Not that it’s been horrible to be with them. They’ve treated me well, dare I say even tried to spoil me. They’ve given me nice things, treated me respectfully, and well, the sex is freaking off the charts.
It’s probably no accident that the guys are taking me ashore after all this time. I’ve been a good little prisoner, made no trouble for them except for when I tried to take off that one time, and I even pitch in around the yacht to keep myself busy. They seem to like and trust me, as do the crew.
Which is exactly my plan.
The more they trust me, the less they’ll be watching over me.
I know they think I have nowhere to go on the island—no money, no passport, no Spanish language skills. And all that is correct. But it’s not enough to scare me into submission. There are people on the island who will help me. I have to believe that.
Like the police.
I consider, if I can indeed sneak away, returning to the Airbnb I was supposed to stay in with the French sisters. Will they have my passport and things?
Or will the girls have gotten rid of it all?
I have to try.
My father will be so impressed by my resourcefulness. He’ll be proud I got myself out of a difficult, if not impossible, situation. He was hesitant about my going to Europe to begin with, and now that the worst has happened, he’ll probably never let me out of his sight again. But if I do get out of this mess, he’ll see I can take care of myself. Maybe I’ll even get home in time for my actual birthday. Twenty-one is a big deal.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I really, really want to know what Dad did to catch the ire of these guys, and why it’s taking so long to rectify it. I’m thinking it must be pretty bad, because I have no doubt he’d move heaven and earth to get me home safely. He’s a good man at heart, and while he’s an aggressive businessman, I know there’s nothing more important to him thanme, his only daughter. His only remaining family.
When I am freed, Dad will want to punish these men. I know he will. He puts up with no one’s shit. The last person who crossed him, Dad bought his business, fired everyone, sold off the assets, and shut it down. He even made money from it in the end. I’m not saying being vengeful like that is how I’d operate, but that’s my dad.
After the tender is secured to the dock, we walk a few blocks from the marina to a charming little restaurant, one I vaguely remember seeing on the way in from the airport all those weeks ago when I arrived. At the time, I thought how nice it would be to dine there, and I would have if not for the stupid nightclub. So here I am, finally.
The four of us and the puppy settle in and have a lovely dinner with lots of seafood and wine. The guys are adventurous eaters and have flawless manners. And the fact that the restaurant let me bring the dog is mind-blowing. Europeans are so much more permissive about small pets—they let me keep the puppy on my lap, where she snoozed after I gave her a couple bites of my dinner. Who knew she’d like octopus. But then the guys tell me dogs aren’t too picky and eat just about anything you put in front of them.
After dinner, we stroll along the busy Ibiza sidewalks, window shopping and enjoying the scenery. For the first time, I realize I fit in with this beautiful-people crowd, what with my suntan and expensive clothes. It’s strange. I never fit in anywhere, and for this to be the place where I finally do is… unexpected. And bizarre. I’m not sure I like it, but it is what it is. I guess spending a month on a yacht will do that for you.
