Heart of a Prick

by Ella Miles

  I rub the back of my neck, completely bewildered by this woman.

  “This isn’t a date. Take a seat, Romeo,” she says, pointing at the chair that I just pulled out for her.

  I take a seat. “I thought that was exactly what this was. A date.”

  “What do you want to drink?” she asks me.

  “Wine.”

  “No, not wine. What else do you want?”

  “Bourbon.”

  She looks at the waiters. “Bring us a bottle of bourbon and tequila and two glasses. Then, leave us alone until we call for you.”

  The waiters nod and then leave to I assume follow her instructions.

  “Why can’t we have wine?” I ask.

  “Because wine is for people on a date.”

  “And we aren’t on a date?” I ask, still not understanding what we are doing then.

  “Exactly. We aren’t on a date.” She reaches into the middle of the table, grabbing the red roses sitting on the table. “Get the petals,” she commands.

  I quickly sweep the flower petals into my hand, not sure what we are doing with them. Two waiters return with the bottles and glasses.

  “Set them on the table in the center,” Skye commands.

  They do without hesitation or blink of the eye.

  “Now, take these, and leave us alone. We will come inside to grab food later.” Skye holds out the flowers, and I do the same. The waiters take the flowers and petals and leave us alone.

  Skye grabs the tequila bottle and glass and pours herself a glass almost completely full with way more tequila than what she should be drinking. She takes a swig as she leans back in the chair until the front legs are off the ground. “Better. Now, it’s not a date.”

  I nod as I look around at the yacht. She might have taken away the flowers and the wine, but we are still on a boat with gold-colored edging and dark wood floors, which costs more than quadruple the price of most people’s houses. We are still alone on a yacht in the middle of the ocean with the sun setting before us. Getting rid of a few flowers doesn’t get rid of the fact that this is definitely a date.

  “Now, you just need to get rid of the sunset and start burping or something so that I stop thinking of you as this beautiful woman I want to fuck.”

  She burps.

  I laugh.

  “I can’t do anything about the sunset. And I want you to want to fuck me, just not date me.”

  I grab the bottle of bourbon and pour myself a reasonable glass.

  “So, what are we doing if we aren’t on a date?”

  “We are negotiating.”

  I take a drink of my bourbon. “And what are we negotiating?”

  “What I want from you.”

  She takes another drink of her tequila, emptying almost half of the glass, before she leans forward, the front legs of her chair touching back down on the ground. She harshly places the glass back on the table, and she folds her arms in front of her.

  “Here are my terms. I want one week of filthy, dirty, tie me up, spank me till I come, dangerous sex. I want the kind of sex that makes me forget about everything. I want the kind that makes me feel alive again. The kind you only read about in naughty romance books or when watching porn. That’s what I want. Can you give me that, Brody?”

  Her eyes are dark and serious when she talks. Her voice is stern and unwavering. Something happened to her to make her need this or at least think that this is what she wants. And I don’t care to know what it is. I don’t want to get involved in her clearly messy life.

  I lean forward on the table so that I’m eye-to-eye with her. “I can make your darkest fantasies come true.”

  She grins. “Good. I chose my man well then.”

  I nod.

  “Now, the terms. You are mine for the week. You don’t get to go around, fucking other women and then fuck me. I’ll have sex with you as much as you want this week, but I’m not willing to share.”

  I smirk. “I don’t share either.”

  “Good. I also don’t do attachment. We aren’t dating. We aren’t a couple. This goes nowhere after this week.”

  “I don’t date, so it won’t be a problem—as long as you can keep your emotions out of this.” I eye her with suspicion.

  She growls. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have emotions that need more controlling than you do. When I look at you, I feel nothing but the need to rip your clothes off.”

  I narrow my eyes, searching hers for a bit of untruth. I find none.

  “Satisfied?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Lastly, we don’t discuss anything personal. We don’t talk about what our jobs are or where we live. We don’t do last names. You don’t introduce me to your friends. I don’t hear about your past girlfriends, and you don’t ask about my past lovers. We learn nothing about each other, except how you like to fuck me and what each other sounds like when we come. That’s it.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Do you have any terms or requests?”

  “Just one. That you remember the word red. It’s your safe word when you can’t handle the pain or the sex anymore, and you are going to need to use it.”

  Her eyes deepen, and her lips curl up just a little at that thought.

  “I don’t think there is anything you can do to make me use that word. But I’ll remember.”

  My eyes scan hers. She’s been hurt. Really, really hurt. She wants me to take away her pain with more pain and sex. She’s right that it will help her for the week. I’m just glad I won’t be there when she goes back to her normal life and has to deal with whatever crap she is hiding from me.

  “Food or sex first?” she asks.

  I smirk. “I forgot one final rule. You want BDSM, right? You want me to tie you up, spank you, whip you—the whole package, right?”

  She nods, her mouth open and panting.

  “Then, you have to give up control. You do exactly what I say, when I say it. You don’t get to say no to anything. You just do without thinking. If it’s too much, you tell me red to stop. Otherwise, you don’t think for the rest of the week.”

  “Exactly.”

  My inner demon comes out the second she says that. She just gave me complete control over her body. And I plan on taking advantage of having that control.

  “Excuse me,” one of the waiters says.

  I exhale deeply. I’m pretty sure steam blows out of my ears from my pent-up anger with Bayron, but it is now getting directed at this new man who I won’t let cockblock me. Not now that I finally get her with no strings attached.

  Skye gives the man an equally perturbed look. “What?” she snaps.

  “I’m very sorry to interrupt you, but the captain’s cat we think is having a seizure or something. We can either turn back or you can—”

  Skye sighs, getting up from the table, looking me dead in the eye. Then, she breaks her own rule, telling me something about herself. “I’ll take a look at the cat.”

  3

  Skye

  Damn it!

  All I wanted to do was have some filthy, dirty, mind-blowing sex with a hot stranger who wants the same thing that I do. How hard is that to get? Between Bayron forcing me into this date and now the captain’s cat, I’m not sure if I will ever get what I want.

  I quickly follow the waiter back to the captain’s quarters where they have the cat lying on a bed. I try not to think about how many rules I’m breaking by showing Brody that I’m a vet. I just want to take care of the cat and then get back to the part where Brody fucks me. The cat is probably fine anyway.

  But, when I put my hands on the cat, I know that the cat isn’t fine. He needs help. Immediately.

  “Get me the first aid kit. Now,” I say calmly, looking at the waiter.

  “Is he going to be okay?” the captain asks.

  “I need you to get me towels, his food, and favorite toys. Understand?”

  He nods.

  “Go,” I say sternly, jus
t trying to get him out of the room, so I can do what I need to do. I don’t need any of the things I just asked him to get.

  The waiter returns with the first aid kit and puts it on the bed. The cat isn’t breathing. I quickly look in his mouth to see if anything is obstructing his airflow. I can’t see anything, but most likely, there is something, and I just can’t see it. If he was having a seizure before, he might have thrown something up that is now lodged in his throat.

  I start performing CPR, but air isn’t getting into his lungs like I expected.

  “Are you squeamish?” I ask the waiter as I throw open the first aid kit, hoping it has everything I need.

  “Yes.”

  “Then, get out.”

  It has a scalpel and gauze. “I need a straw,” I say, glancing around the room.

  “Here,” Brody says, handing me a straw as he kneels down next to me on the bed.

  I give him a wide-eyed stare. I don’t have time to ask how or where he found it.

  “I’m not squeamish,” he says.

  I nod, not having time to deal with if he is or isn’t. I have a cat to save.

  “Start opening those gauze packets.”

  He does while I grab the scalpel. I don’t have time to shave the cat like I’d like or give the cat anything for pain. Instead, I palpate and then make a quick and exact cut into the cat’s lungs.

  I grab the straw and carefully place it into the opening. I grab the gauze from Brody to stop the bleeding.

  “Come on,” I say, waiting for oxygen to get into the cat’s lungs.

  His lungs slowly start filling and then emptying with air, and I let out a deep breath.

  “Hold him still,” I tell Brody.

  His hands hold the cat that will start feeling more alive now that he is getting oxygen.

  “Do you have your phone on you?”

  Brody pulls out his phone and hands it to me. I turn the flashlight on and open the cat’s mouth to get a better look while I take the tweezers. It takes me several minutes to find the obstruction, but I finally find the piece of plastic that is lodged in his throat. I pull it out, and then slowly, the cat starts breathing on his own.

  “Good kitty,” I say, petting his head. I wait a few more minutes to make sure he is breathing well on his own before I take the straw out and cover the small wound with gauze and wrap.

  The captain runs back into the room. “I couldn’t find his favorite toys.”

  I smile. “It’s okay. Your cat is doing much better now. You should have your vet take a look at him tomorrow to make sure he’s still doing okay, but he’s in the clear.”

  I can see the relief all over the man’s face. It’s one of the best parts of the job—watching owners realize that their beloved pet is going to be all right.

  He runs over to the cat and wraps his arms around him while I take a step back.

  I don’t dare glance over at Brody. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking. We were supposed to remain a mystery to each other. That was how we would be able to remain unattached. But, in a matter of seconds, I destroyed all of that.

  I walk out of the room, knowing that Brody is following. I walk back to the front of the boat as the first part of darkness starts covering the sky. I walk back to the railing to look out as the stars begin to take over the sky.

  Brody slowly walks over next to me. He doesn’t touch me. He just leans on the railing and looks out at the ocean and sky with me.

  “I wish I could pretend like I didn’t just see that, but I’m not a very good actor.”

  I sigh. “It’s okay. It was stupid to think that we could spend a week together and not learn some basic facts about each other.” I turn toward Brody. “I’m a veterinarian, if you didn’t figure that out already. I like animals more than I like people. And, if you think what I did back there was impressive, don’t. I don’t want you thinking I’m this amazing human being you should date after this. I’m not that good of a person. If that had been a human back there, I would have let them die. This changes nothing.”

  He smirks.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  “You are the strangest human being I’ve ever met.”

  My lips slowly curl up. “You think I’m strange. Good.”

  I walk back to the table, pour us each another drink, and then walk back to the railing, handing Brody his drink.

  “So, tell me something about yourself since you now know too much about me.”

  Brody takes a slow sip of his drink as he stares deeply into my eyes. “You don’t want me to tell you anything about myself.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, it’s only fair.”

  He grabs my hand and roughly pulls me to him. He’s done that a couple of times now. And, every single time, it shocks and excites me. My body comes alive with a fire that I don’t know how to extinguish and don’t really want to get rid of. I want more and more of his body. I want to feel and see every glorious inch of his hardness that he teases me with but hasn’t shown me enough of yet.

  He looks at me like he wants to devour me.

  My body screams back, Yes, yes, yes. Kiss me. Devour me. Do whatever dirty things you think of in your mind but haven’t dared to do yet. I need it. I want it. I can’t live without it.

  “My favorite movie is The Lord of the Rings.”

  My head snaps back as I look at him incredulously. I was expecting a kiss; instead, I got a lousy fact about him.

  “If you are going to share something about yourself, you could at least share something interesting. Your favorite movie doesn’t count.”

  “I just told you one of the most important things about myself.”

  “No, you told me a random trivia fact. What your favorite movie is tells me nothing about you.”

  He pulls me tighter, and I try to keep my body from getting too excited because, apparently, we are going to argue about what makes a trivia fact worth caring about. And, after we are done with that, I’m sure we will be interrupted again by the staff to handle another crisis, and we will never actually have sex. But my body doesn’t care about any of that. My body thinks that, anytime our bodies are within three feet of each other, we are about to have sex.

  “Actually, it tells you everything.”

  “How?” I ask, breathing heavily.

  “Well, if I had said my favorite movie was Die Hard or The Godfather, what would you have thought?”

  “That you are like every other hot-blooded male on this planet, who can’t think for themselves.”

  He nods. “Exactly.”

  His hand tangles in my hair, and I can’t think anymore about anything other than his hand.

  “So, what does me liking The Lord of the Rings tell you about me?”

  “Um…” I can’t think. Why can’t he tell that, when he touches me, I can’t think at all?

  He smirks, and his damn dimples catch my attention now as my mouth goes dry. I glance up at his eyes that are laughing at my predicament. He knows. He knows exactly what he is doing to me. He’s teasing me while trying to have a stupid conversation. But I don’t want to be teased. I want to be fucked.

  I can play this game.

  I take a drink of my tequila as I take a step back. I toss my hair over my head, forcing him to let go of my hair as I expose my bare neck to him. His eyes deepen, and he clears his throat as he stares at me.

  “It tells me that you are a nerd who likes watching people fight over a ring.”

  He frowns and takes a step toward me. “No, it tells you that I’m an intelligent man who has a dark imagination and isn’t afraid to go after what he wants.”

  It’s my turn to swallow hard. I watch him watch my throat as he thinks about what dirty thing he is going to do to me.

  “Fuck me before some other crazy thing happens that stops us,” I say.

  Before he can respond, a loud popping sound makes us both jump. We turn out toward the ocean where the sound i
s coming from.

  Fireworks.

  He arches an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes, Bayron planned the fireworks for us,” I say, groaning.

  It’s beautiful and romantic, and it would be perfect if I were actually on a date with a man I thought was capable of dating when I got home. But that’s not what this is.

  I don’t want to watch the fireworks. But the resort spent far too much money on them for us not to watch. So, I lean over the railing, hoping that the show ends soon.

  Brody walks behind me, wrapping his arms around me as his body presses against my back.

  “We should watch, but it doesn’t mean that you need to make this any more romantic than it already is,” I hiss.

  His mouth moves to my ear. “Don’t react; the staff is watching.”

  “What?” And then his hand slips into the front of my dress, grabbing my breast.

  I gasp.

  “Don’t react,” he commands with a growl to his voice.

  I suck in a breath as I feel an ice cube dance over my nipple. His mouth lightly kisses my exposed neck, and the combination sends chills shooting through my body.

  “You’ve wanted me to kiss your neck all night.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “I’ve wanted to do this all night.” He hikes my dress up, and his hand slips into my panties.

  I groan as his fingers slip inside my drenched pussy.

  “Not. A. Sound,” he says.

  I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I don’t know why it matters if I moan a little. The fireworks would more than cover up any sound I made.

  His fingers slide in and out of me, and my hips start buckling as he moves.

  “Don’t move, sweetheart, or I’ll stop.” His voice is serious and threatening.

  I don’t know how not to move. I don’t know how not to make a sound. But I’m so desperate to get fucked by him that I’ll do anything I can to give in to his demands. I grab the railing hard, forcing myself to remain still, as I continue to bite my lip.

  His fingers slip back out of me, and for a second, all I feel is his heavy breathing on my neck. He kicks my legs apart a little more, and then his cock enters me without warning.

  I bite my lip hard, causing it to bleed to keep from screaming.