Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Sure, Julian and I tried to stay busy “curating content for my socials,” but we were forced to share meals with my father and Stephen. Long meals, unfortunately.
And if it weren’t for the little fantasies I played in my mind about going back to my room and feeling Julian spank me, edge me, and go down on me, I wasn’t sure I’d have gotten through those damn meals.
We were only two days into the trip when I heard my father’s footsteps making their way toward where I was cuddled up in a thick robe on a chaise after taking freezing cold bikini pictures on the deck.
Gorgeous photos.
But fake.
All fake.
It looked like it was the middle of the summer in the warm Mediterranean waters. Instead of still really cold while crossing the Atlantic.
“Everything alright?” Julian asked from where he was perched—because he’d quickly moved off the foot of my chaise—across from me.
To that, my father sighed hard.
To be good at business, you had to be good at hiding your emotions. But I knew him well enough to see the tension in his shoulders and jaw.
“I just spoke to the captain. We are taking it up to thirty knots.”
“Why?” I asked, brows furrowing. The whole point of a yacht was for a leisurely travel pace.
“There are… issues with the deal we are working on. Stephen and I need to get to Madrid sooner than anticipated. As it is, we will be doing an important video call in the cigar room in twenty minutes.”
“So you want us to stay scarce and quiet,” I guessed.
“I wouldn’t have put it in those words.”
“But the sentiment is the same. We will stay at this end of the ship,” I said, waving toward the deck we were currently on, the one toward the back of the ship, situated just above our rooms.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to cut the cruise short, but there is nothing to be done.”
“I understand,” I said, nodding.
Work came first.
Always did.
Always would.
I learned a long time ago not to be upset about it.
My father gave us a nod then turned and walked away just as purposefully as he’d approached. Whatever was wrong, it was big to have him so rattled.
He’d figure it out.
He always did.
“I didn’t realize a megayacht could go that fast,” Julian said as we listened to my father’s footsteps retreating.
“There are a few that can go sixty to seventy knots. Which I personally feel defeats the purpose of a yacht,” I said. “But it’s convenient in situations like this to be able to go faster than we have been. And I won’t pretend to be upset about not having to be on the ship with Stephen for longer. We can just spend more time in Portugal. Maybe head somewhere other than Porto Covo for a few days.”
We’d have more privacy off of the ship.
“What are you doing?” I asked a few minutes later when I caught him checking his phone over and over.
“Keeping an eye on the time,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, suddenly reaching out, grabbing each of my ankles, and yanking me lower on my chaise.
Once I was flat, he was moving off of his own, going down on his knees, then burying his face between my thighs, yanking my panties to the side to work my clit with his tongue.
“Oh,” I gasped, my hand shooting out to grab the back of his head.
He’d been the one who had insisted on being nothing but chaste when we were outside of my room.
Staff could be anywhere.
But that wasn’t stopping Julian as his tongue traced, as his hand went up, working the tuck of my robe free, then exposing my breast, then closing over it with his big hand as he continued to work me with his mouth.
“No!” I cried when the orgasm had been about to crest and he pulled away.
He said nothing, though, just shot me a dark smile as he reached for me, pulling me up until I moved to straddle him, feeling his hardness against the juncture of my thighs.
I didn’t ask for permission.
I just ground down against him, trying to get relief from the ache deep inside.
What’s more, he let me, as he pushed the robe off of my shoulders, then reached behind me to untie my bikini top, before pulling that off of me as well.
The cool air nipped at my skin as the yacht charged ahead faster than before.
But the heat that was unfurling inside chased the chill away as Julian’s hands covered my breasts, squeezing, then moving away to roll my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, before, finally, leaning me back to suck a peak into his mouth. Then the other.
A grumble escaped me at the need for more, at the aching emptiness inside.
Julian’s hands slid down my sides, teasing over my ribs, then going to my hips, working the knots free on each side, then reaching between us to yank the material away.