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“Your boyfriend know you’re out here with me?”
“No one knows where I am.” That’s true. “And he’s not my boyfriend.” That hurts.
“You two. Two of the prettiest people together?” Smoke slurred with envy escapes his lips. “You never belonged with him. You belonged with us.”
He offers me a toke. I have to take it, to make him believe. His spit on the paper touching my lips twists my gut. With my generous exhale, I clench my teeth, saying, “I belong with no one.”
He laughs. “You’re always feisty and hot as hell. That’s why we can’t resist you.”
The bow of my boat, I snake it to my spot, pulling back to neutral feet from the shore. It’s the perfect depth here.
“Grab the anchor.” I ignore his comment… for now.
TJ blindly follows my command. I open the cooler while the anchor splashes down, and he secures its rope. With his back to me, I pull the cork on some cheap muscadine and fill a glass.
I offer it to him with a smile. “I’m a red girl.”
Who’s drinking a safe bottle of Merlot.
We clink full glasses. Taking his first sip, I watch his eyes plan his crime after he gets me drunk.
My plan? Keep him standing right here, between the two chairs, under the hardtop of my boat, where there’s more privacy.
And surprises waiting.
“Why do you always say ‘we’?” I bite my lip. “When you talk about Gentry? Why is it always ‘we,’ the two of you?”
“We’re close.” The sips he’s taking delight me. “No one comes between us.”
“What about me?”
“You bond us.” He steps toward me. “He’ll hear about tonight.” His stench fills my nostrils. “He loves the graphic details.”
Everything I am holds back as my stomach turns and my throat gags, but I let him do it, and it’s so foul. His kiss. His thin lips soil mine, his teeth clashing into mine while his tongue trashes my mouth. My fists clench when his hands grab my ass, groping his moist fingers under the denim to get his first attempt at my body.
It’ll be his last.
I shift my weight, letting his touch mangle my flesh and heart; I don’t want this.
But I want revenge.
And it starts. The move I’ve practiced, the way I know how. I moan into his ashtray mouth. Seizing his hand on my ass cheek, I lift it to my breast for his grope… all while my other hand finds the zip tie handcuff I tucked in the seat of my captain’s chair.
He pants, grabbing both my breasts, and I moan back, driving his body into a frenzy. While I grind against his cock, over and over, he’s slobbering over my lips while I loop the cuff around his wrist, grabbing his other one and binding them so fast, he’s too horny to know what just happened.
“What the hell?” He stumbles, staring at his bind. The drug is kicking in, making him sweat. He slurs, “Is this a game?”
“Yes.” I squat before him, my mouth inches from his hard-on under madras shorts. “I like it kinky.”
He gazes down at me like his dream is coming true. Mine is. My hand skims up his skinny thigh under his shorts while my other reaches for the metal cuff tucked under my chair. It’s attached to a nylon rope attached to a cinder block on the other end, hiding the whole time.
My lips near his zipper, and he reeks. His words are as repulsive.
“Yes, bitch. Do it. Suck my ice cream cone now.” I smile. Click, click, click, click. The cuff locks on his ankle before he can resist.
“Bitch.” He kicks his foot, not able to budge it. “What is this?”
I surge up. The yellow bandana I tucked in my back pocket? It’s shoved in his mouth before he can ask more. The piece of duct tape I stuck to the side of my chair? I rip it off and smack it over his mouth before I spit in his face.
