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The bedrooms had the same color scheme as the rest of the place. Everything looked brand new and smelled of fresh linen and cleaning products. You could tell they did a thorough cleaning before we got here.
"Usually, we get to spend the time in between charters scrubbing this place down. We hired a crew to do it this time so we didn't have to," Colt explained.
"Mainly to spend more time with you," Isaac said, giving me a grin.
"You mean you'd rather clean toilets than hang out with me?" I joked.
Sawyer let out a snort. "There are so many things I'd rather do than clean. Actually... there are more than a few fantasies I have about fucking our omega on this boat."
"In the master bedroom?" I questioned innocently. We all knew damn well they were not talking about any form of vanilla sex.
"Oh no," Sawyer said. "Right on the deck, under the open stars, the dining room table, having you for a meal... although," he turned his heated gaze towards Jackson. "I'd have him for dessert."
"The captain's chair," Isaac added to the list.
"My galley," Oaks chimed in.
They continue to name different parts of the boat they wanted to fuck me on and I was game for every single one. The list was rapidly growing and I knew it would take several trips to fit it in.
If not, my poor vagina would never recover.
"Weren't you showing us to the bedrooms?" Silas asked in a desperate tone. "These jeans are getting really fucking uncomfortable."
My eyes dropped down to the zipper of his jeans, his cock pushing hard against the material.
"There's time for that later, sunshine," he promised. "And it's not in this claustrophobic hallway."
"You get used to tight spaces on the ship," Colt said without thinking before they all burst out laughing at the innuendo in his statement.
"Oh, I definitely claim this one," I said as they opened the door to the master.
It was huge, the bed made with perfect lines, the blankets and pillows soft and fluffy. Panoramic windows had the perfect view of the ocean and the shower and fancy tub were calling my name.
"I could get used to this."
"I told you, wecoulddo all of this," Vince reminded me. "You can travel the seas with us."
"Yeah, except I would have to learn to fish and tolerate the smell. That and take care of people. I'm way too sarcastic for that."
"Don't you already do that as a barista?" Jackson pointed out.
"I work for Walter," I reminded him. "We don't tolerate rude customers."
"Oh no, this is way different," Vince agreed. "The amount of times I had to kiss ass when they were being entitled twats is insane. We do it for the tips, but it's fucking awful sometimes."
"Why do it, then?" Jackson asked, confused now by the annoyance in Vince's tone.
"We get to wake up to the sunrise over the ocean and travel to incredible places," he countered. "It's a love and hate thing."
"Do you ever get any real fishermen?" Amos asked. "You can't tell me that people that book this kind of luxury know their way around fishing and gutting fish."
"Rarely," Isaac laughed. "Most do it for sport. They're not here to clean up afterwards. They sometimes insist Oaks cook it for them, otherwise they just toss them back."
"We sometimes get a few who do it themselves," Sawyer countered. "They're rare, though."
"Most of the time it's a couple guys who want to fish all day while the women sunbathe and enjoy the hot tub," Colt added.
"Whoa, there's a hot tub?" I demanded.
