Deadshifted
Page 4“I hate it when you do that,” I whispered to him.
“No you don’t,” he whispered back.
Slowly, he lowered himself so that the smooth underside of his cock ran against me. I shuddered as he began to kiss my breasts and throat. He rubbed himself against me, soft, then hard, but never entering like I wanted him to, instead teasing me, making me wait. I knew if I asked for it I’d get it, he just liked to hear me beg—or make me so hot I couldn’t control myself anymore.
Suddenly I needed to be in charge. I pushed him back, off me, to one side, rolling him onto his back. He fought me only for a second then went with it, watching me rise up to straddle him, all of us touching, but still separate. Now it was my turn to grind, chastely, against him. He laughed, pleased to be beneath me, his hands tickling up the insides of my thighs.
“My turn,” I announced, reaching down to set the tip of him inside me. His hips arched and I rose to deny him what he’d been denying me. “Tell me that you’ll always be mine,” I said from above him.
He stopped playing around, sensing the solemnity of my request. “Of course.”
“Say it.”
His hands slid down my back to rest against my buttocks. “I’ll always be yours. Assuming you’ll have me.”
I grinned down at him, showing teeth. “Oh, I’ll have you all right.” I shifted my hips as I rocked back down, his cock sliding home. He hissed with the sensation, and I let out a low moan.
After that, there were no more words; we moved as one. I leaned over him, my breasts against his chest, and his hands on my ass to trap me there, as his cock pulsed up and into me and my hips rocked downward to meet him. We found a rhythm together, one that matched the rocking of the boat and the sound of the waves, sweat soon drenching both of us like the sea spray outside. I took his cock deep inside me, arching my whole body forward until it found that secret place deep within that only this position hit. His hands clenched at my ass, pulling me closer, forcing him in deeper, the skin above his cock grinding into my clit—I knew we were both on the edge of coming, that any second now one of us would be thrown overboard and we’d take the other with us when we went. I fought it, I didn’t want release yet, I wanted us to stay here forever, the head of his cock rubbing that spot inside, making me feel electrified.
Asher’s breathing was ragged now and I realized I’d been moaning with each of his strokes, trying to hold on and not let the moment go. His eyes met mine, dark, wild.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice thick.
If any other man had ever said that in the entire history of my sexual career I probably would have laughed him out of bed. But right then I wanted to be Asher’s, I wanted him to be right, I wanted it to be true. His motions became exaggerated, sliding all of himself into and out of me. The third time he buried himself inside me, his thick cock rubbing that spot and him grinding against my clit. I screamed, arcing forward against him, as I finally let myself go.
I didn’t want to be the one to break the bond between us, so I lay down on top of him, with him still inside. My hair spilled over his chest, and he raised one hand to absently stroke down my back.
“I love fucking you,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
I grinned into his neck, where he couldn’t see me. “I can tell.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sex had swept our room free of the past, for now. I heaved myself off Asher, and he complained. He liked snuggling even more than I did. Plus, he was almost asleep. Truth be told, after a day of travel, jet lag, and vigorous sex, I could be almost asleep too.
“Hang on. I have to do girl things.”
I went into the bathroom and cleaned up. No blood.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I couldn’t help but examine my belly. Despite not having any proof, I was 80 percent sure I was pregnant. Crap. Yay? Crap … yay? I poked at my stomach, which looked exactly the same. “I hope we didn’t shake things up in there too much for you. Also, sorry about the sperm. Just kick them out of the way or something,” I said. Maybe the fetus had hung an OCCUPADO sign up outside my uterus already, and the sperm were milling uselessly around outside. I laughed aloud at the idea. “Sorry, boys.”
Asher knocked on the door. “Did you say something?”
I gave him an innocent smile as I emerged. “No.”
* * *As tired as we both were, we made a pact to stay up later. If we went to sleep now we’d only wind up awake at 3 A.M. We reluctantly hauled ourselves out of bed and unpacked. Just as I reached the end of my bags and began thinking maybe we could revisit the staying-up-until-a-decent-hour plan, another set of bells chimed overhead and Asher got one more of those looks on his face.
“Or, we could just stay here?” I said with hope and exhaustion.
“We could … or we could go upstairs where people will be dancing and drinking. And make a lap around the boat. So that we know where things are tomorrow.”
I crossed my arms in an accusatory fashion. “You seem to know where everything is already.”
He made a face at me. “I will admit to having touched more than one cruise employee in my past.”
“Touched?” I said, feigning indignant surprise. “Or touched-touched? Like, with your penis?” My voice rose in horror, teasing, as I crawled back out of tickling range on the bed.
“Hey now!” he protested, coming after me. “I can’t help it that I was a man-whore!” He paused and looked off into space dramatically, owning the moment. “Wait. That sounds wrong.”
I started giggling as he caught up to me on the bed and held himself over me on one arm. “You know I have a troubled past, Edie,” he said solemnly, like a movie-trailer announcer. “But from here on out, I swear, my penis only has eyes for you.”
I lost it and laughed so hard I snorted. Which made him laugh in turn, falling down to land beside me. I regathered myself first, gulping in several large breaths of air. “Okay, okay. If I say we can go on a tour, will you never tell me about your penis having eyeballs again?”
Still naked, Asher got a silly look on his face. “But, Edie, he’s nearsighted. What if he needs to see you close up?”
“Oh. My. God.” I rolled out of bed and threw the sheets at him with a laugh. “You’ve won. I’m going. I’m gone. Get up, or you’ll have to meet me in the hallway.” I reached down to haul on the clothes I’d been wearing before as he sprang out of bed and bowed, using the sheets like a cape.
“We, fair lady, are at your service.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, and then I shook my head and clasped my bra. “I don’t even want to begin to encourage your use of the royal we.”
* * *
I finished pulling on the clothes I’d been wearing earlier so as not to get anything clean funky. I could shower when we got back to the room. We held hands in the elevator on the way up to the top deck, and I could see my bed head from several unflattering angles on the elevator’s mirrored walls. I’d blame it on the sea air or something, if anyone asked. It didn’t matter really—I was with Asher. He smiled at my reflection, and I smiled back.
An expanded version of the Maraschino in map form covered one wall. There was a tiny red cross indicating the medical center on the bottom-most floor. I’d look there for a pregnancy test tomorrow, first thing. I’d figure out some way to ditch Asher to do it—and I’d put off worrying about anything baby-related till morning time. I deserved one night of vacation at least.
The elevator doors dinged and opened into a small landing on the ninth floor. The entrance to Le Poisson Affamé—which Asher had informed me meant “the famished fish”—was off to one side. It was a fancy restaurant where we had reservations later on in the trip—no way we could get in there, looking like this, tonight. Saloon doors on the other side led out to the deck. We walked through them, still holding hands.
The deck outside wound around smokestacks, interrupted only by herds of deck chairs and an assortment of shallow pools. There were bars at frequent intervals, with people already partying nearby, drinks in hand, as hidden speakers pumped out music with a salsa beat.
Asher and I wove through the people and walked the perimeter of the deck. Railings were reinforced with clear plastic walls to cut down on wind and potential lawsuits. The night breeze smelled like good ocean, clean and salty, not the stale scent of decay that Port Cavell had down by the docks.
Asher wound his arms around me as we looked back at the receding land. It was as if it were ebbing away from us, a reversal of the tide. And as much as I didn’t trust the ocean, it was hard not to feel safe. The Maraschino was immense, and Asher was at my back. What more could a girl need? Assuming we didn’t meet any stray icebergs between LA and Hawaii, we might actually have a fabulous time.
He squeezed me closer. “Want a drink?”
“Nah. If I do, I’ll fall asleep where I stand.” It was as good an excuse as any for not drinking and not far off from the truth. I turned around inside his arms. “You should if you want, though.” The sooner he felt like falling asleep, the sooner I could too, guilt-free.
He thought about it. “Maybe. It is our first night here, after all.” I nodded in an encouraging way, and he unlooped his arms around me, gave me a winning smile. “Wait here for me. It’s a big boat.”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” I teased, and held on to the railing as he took a step back. The land had entirely disappeared, and the volume of the music turned up as if in triumph. It was as if it were just us—the four thousand or so of us on board—and no one else. No neighbors to complain, no police department to call. We were on a floating city, and out here it felt entirely possible there was no one else left in the world. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">