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Why am I tormenting myself?
The reality of it hits me harder than the cold ocean. I wipe away tears and pray for strength to get me through this too.
“Captain?” I call when the door opens and closes.
“I’m not doing this,” Captain states, appearing in the doorway without a shirt.
I shuffle nervously. “Doing what?”
“Playing this game anymore.”
“Game?”
He crosses the distance and I don’t move an inch. His heated eyes, the strength of his body, everything consumes me.
Fingers grip the back of my neck and then his lips are on mine, angry, firm, soft, sweet, salty from the sea. Everything vanishes.
The memories of my other life, the capture, the cell, all of the bad stuff disappears.
His tongue tastes mine and I hum in appreciation. This is a man who knows how to kiss.
He sets my body on fire with his calloused touches. It’s when his fingers scrape across the bare flesh of my ribs that I realise he has dropped my towel onto the floor and I’m nude.
We hasten our pace, our kisses becoming enraged and more frantic as I reach for his trousers and push them over his hips. The aggression and desperation we feel towards each other, not just because of what we are, captive and captor, but because of how we’ve denied ourselves.
This has gone on too long yet it hasn’t even been a month and this man consumes me.
He walks me backwards, our lips never parting as he steps out of his trousers and lowers me onto the bed.
I fight against him though not because I want him to stop but because I need him to hurry.
A groan rumbles through his chest when I rip a hand through his hair for grip, and fist his cock with my other. I should be terrified right now. I should be thinking of other things but I can’t.
He grabs my hands and pins them above my head right at the exact moment that he thrusts inside, sinking into my wetness. It stretches, burns, and aches but it feels incredible. I squeeze him, milking him as he starts to thrust while still keeping my arms pinned.
Teeth bite and nip at the inside of my arm as his hand hitches my thigh higher up his hip. It’s an explosion of sensations, the fullness, the tingling of his bites, the pinch of his fingers as they slide down to beneath my arse and hold me tighter so he can force himself deeper.
“Captain,” I breathe as his pace quickens. My moans and mewls become louder and more uncontrollable. His do too. Hearing his grunts, hearing his whispers of my name unravel me.
I push my hips up, fucking him from beneath.
“I’m going to…” I warn but I lose it before I can finish the sentence.
Pleasure spirals and crashes through my body, an angry ocean of denied pleasure consuming me. I’m the ship and I’ve been capsized and it feels incredible.
“Harder,” I beg as the tingles burn worse and worse, still building in anticipation of my next orgasm.
He sits back on his knees, gripping my hips and lifting them. His eyes watch my breasts bounce with each thrust and slap of hips.
“You don’t know how sexy you are to me,” he bites out through gritted teeth. “I’m never going to stop. The ship could fucking sink and I still wouldn’t be able to stop.” His thumb moves to my clit as my eyes find is. “Your body is… your pussy… so tight… fucking warm.” With eyes now clenched shut and gritted teeth he growls through his release, I feel him swell and pulse inside of me as his thumb rubs the right spot and I lose it again, following him as he finishes.
But no, he’s not finished.
He stops for all of a second before he flips me over despite my protests and takes me from behind, his chest against my back, his hand cupping and rubbing my mound.
I never want this to end either. Never.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my neck, biting me there too. I love that. Love the flash of pain before the blood rushes to that area. “I need it harder, Rain. Can you take it?”
I push back against him, humming my approval and he starts hammering into me, going back again and pulling my hips up until my face and arms are shamelessly splayed across the mattress and my arse is up against him.
He drives into my throbbing sex, growling his approval, moaning and breathing loudly and heavily.
“FUUUUCK!” he cries as his hand furiously works my clit. The second he feels me clench down with another earth-shattering orgasm, he follows with his second. I didn’t even know guys could do that twice in one session.
I release my own moans into the pillow, pressing my face deep into it, ignoring the perspiration that dampens the soft fabric.
