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“I see you,” I murmur, envying the creature of its freedom.
But then I see something foreign, sticking to the creature’s back that definitely shouldn’t be there. It’s small, the size of my hand and is positioned near the widest curve of its back. It’s a tag!
I strain to look, mentally taking a note of the green colour with some red.
Maybe my whale survival theory isn’t as farfetched as I originally thought.
Bedtime comes too slowly after waiting all day for somebody to use a phone. Nobody does and I feel even more frustrated than before which is saying something. I wonder if it’s so they can’t be traced or tracked, or perhaps they prefer a simpler life.
I take position in my corner, glaring at Captain when he walks in, strips off his shirt and moves to his workout equipment. His huffing, puffing, grunting and counting grates on me. Still, I remain quiet, only moving when he finishes forty-five minutes later and whistles his sweaty way into the bathroom.
I move straight to his discarded clothes and search through his pockets. There’s nothing, not his blade, nor his phone.
Shit.
Where the hell would he keep them?
He doesn’t trust me, not yet anyway.
I do find a pair of small binoculars on the table in the other room and decide to commandeer them for myself. If only for a little while.
“What are you doing, I wonder?”
I almost drop them from my eyes because a pair of large, warm hands slide around my hips.
My first instinct is to push him away but then I remember I have to be smart. I have to get him to trust me.
Though if I suddenly start letting him touch me will he be less trusting? This has to be gradual. I must be patient.
“Don’t,” I insist, gripping his hands as they smooth over my belly, dipping under the baggy shirt that belongs to him. “Please.”
“You don’t sound very convincing,” he murmurs into my ear as his hand grasps my bare breast and squeezes. “You enjoyed last night.”
My teeth bite into my lip until it aches. A mixture of arousal and embarrassment flood my veins.
“A lot.”
“The drugs…”
“Played a small part in what I can do to your body with my mouth.” He kisses from my ear to my neck, hooking his fingers around the top of the shirt and yanking it to the side to allow the breeze and his lips to flutter over more skin. “Want me to prove it?”
I do. I really do.
“No.”
“Liar.” His breath warms my skin, heating the cool moisture left behind by his lips.
With a sudden movement, he thrusts his hand into the shorts I’m wearing and cups my mound. A strong finger immediately plunges into my wetness and drags it to my pulsing clit, still tingling from the night before.
I gasp and hold the chairback, the wood digs into my fingers painfully. My entire body is screaming with pleasure, my knees almost buckle but his arm around my waist holds me tight.
“Tell me again that it’s the drugs that made you want me.” He sounds so smug but I don’t care. I need this. I need more. How he works my body and sets me alight is insane. It’s ethereal.
“I don’t want you.”
“Too bad,” he mumbles, smiling against my neck. “Stop me then. Just say the word stop and I’ll stop.”
I’m losing my mind. It’s gone on a raft sailing the ocean miles away, leaving my pitiful body to fend for itself.
“No, please,” I whimper.
“Stop?”
I shake my head. “No. Don’t…” My entire body is quivering and burning. The tingles are spiralling through my body. I can’t cope. “Captain…”
“More?”
I nod, frantic with the need to orgasm regardless of whose hand it is on. “So close.”
He grinds against me, his own body trembling against mine. “I want to fuck you.” He holds me tighter, rubs me harder, grinds quicker, trembles more.
Fuck.
His words unravel me and I reach the edge.
“No,” he demands, feeling me clench down on the fingers buried in my sex. “Not yet.”
I’m turned to face him and lifted. I lock my legs around his hips as he kisses my neck and carries me to the bed.
He drops me onto the mattress and I groan when he pulls down my shorts, baring me to his view like the night before. Shoving down his boxers, he kicks them off and crawls onto the bed, giving me no time to assess the enormity of him, the thickness of him, the slight downwards curve of his amazing cock. This man is perfection.
But he’s not mine.
He’s not mine.
What am I doing?
He’s the enemy.
What the fuck am I doing?
I turn my head when he tries to kiss me and tense when he finds my entrance and poises himself against it.
“No,” I say urgently. “Stop… STOP!”
His swollen lips part as his body stills and his eyes scan my face, flashing with anger and desperation.
