by Lush, Tamara
My jaw drops when we step inside the boat’s interior. It’s all blonde wood and navy-blue cushions. If this is his, he must be loaded, because an air of class and wealth infuses the decor. Skylights and side windows allow light into the small space, making it look brighter than I’d expect for a boat cabin. It’s also surprisingly big — Remy is a tall guy, and he can stand up with no problem.
Everything is sleek and modern, with a flat-screen TV on one wall and what looks like an expensive, stainless-steel gas range stove and oven in the kitchen area. There’s a matching fridge and a couple of doors toward the front of the boat. One probably goes to the bathroom. The other is open, and I can see a neatly-made bed, covered in a white down comforter.
Two thoughts race through my head simultaneously.
How amazing would it be to have sex on a sailboat? And, he makes his bed?
Don’t think about the bed right now. Not while he’s standing a foot away, with that sexy, rakish grin on his face. I turn to the living area, where a narrow, light blue sofa takes up one side of the boat.
“Oh, this is beautiful, Remy. Just beautiful.”
I look up, into his eyes. Why does electricity seem to sizzle between us whenever we stare at each other? I feel a dampness between my legs, and it’s not from swimming.
“You know, I was going to say the same about you,” he says quietly. “You’re just beautiful.”
The way he says it, his voice desperate and growly, makes my stomach tighten. I’ve never made the first move with a guy. Ever. Especially not after I’ve known someone for five minutes.
But something about his tone and the crackling attraction between us makes me step toward him. I close the gap between us until we’re only a few inches apart. What am I doing?
“Thanks,” I whisper, licking my lips.
I’m almost not aware that I’m tilting my head up, as if I’m seeking his mouth. His hands meet my face, and cup my jaw.
“I want to kiss you,” he says hoarsely. “It doesn’t make any sense, because we just met—”
I press into him, interrupting because I’m somehow desperate to feel his lips on mine. I don’t know what the heck’s come over me and I don’t care. Maybe it’s that lack of human contact. Whatever it is, I want him. And I’m going to have him.
Today’s my day to make a stupid decision, to throw caution to the wind, to take what I want.
“Who cares if it doesn’t make sense?” I whisper.
Chapter Five
REMY
Leilani Kostas is breathtaking.
Not simply because her lips are soft and she’s giving me the most scorching, sinful kiss I’ve ever had in my twenty-nine years.
Not because those little breathy moans of hers are the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Not because her incredible tits are pressing against my bare skin.
It’s the entire package. The way she’s running her tongue over my bottom lip, the way she fits perfectly against my body even though she’s quite a bit shorter. The way her eyelashes brush against my face, little whispers of seduction.
And then there’s her muscular, tight body.
I break away from her mouth and groan. “Good God, woman. What kind of mermaid sorcery are you doing on me?”
She wraps her arms around me and grins against my mouth. “This is wild, isn’t it?”
“Yup. What’s going on here?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve known each other for all of about five minutes total.”
“True. But I feel like I’ve known you for longer.”
She nods and goes in for another kiss. I take this as a cue to slide my arms down her back and cup her juicy ass. It’s round and full. First I caress, then I squeeze. Hard. A tiny squeak escapes from her throat.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head. So I squeeze the globes of her ass again. Fuuuck.
Leilani Kostas might turn me into an ass man.
“Yeah, it’s wild because this is totally random. Meeting you in the water like that. Then running into you in the parking lot. Coming down here for a drink and now kissing you. This isn’t something I do with guys, well, ever.” She's out of breath.
I cock an eyebrow while massaging her glorious ass. She rubs herself into me, and I’m certain she can feel my stiff cock. She has to. It’s practically an iron rod between our bodies.
“It’s not something I do, either, beautiful.”
Which is true. Normally, I’ve known the women I hook up with for longer than five minutes, and usually, I know more about them than their names.
“I’m totally willing to make an exception for you, though.”
“I feel the same about you, Remy. A one-afternoon exception.” Oh yeah, we’re doing this. She giggles and I hoist her into my arms. Why even bother pretending that we’re not going to fuck? It’s unclear what she means by a one-afternoon exception, though.
Maybe she’s a tourist? That’s cool. I’m a confirmed bachelor, so hearing her say that this is just a one-off is fine with me. But I’m hoping this one-off lasts for the rest of the day, into the night, and until tomorrow morning, because she’s that stunning. And intriguing.
A random hookup with a mermaid? Opportunities like this don’t come around often. Or ever.
I carry her the few steps into the bedroom — that’s one of the perks of living on a boat, that the bed’s never far — and set her down gently. She sits at the end of the bed and I kneel at her feet.
“This okay?” I ask, because even though my dick is so hard that I practically can’t see straight, I don’t want to take too many liberties. I might be a complete horndog, but I’m into respect.
She reaches out and traces my eyebrow. “It is okay. But I like that you asked first.”
I lift my shoulder. “Consent is a turn-on. Why would I want to be with a woman who isn’t into it?”
She takes my face in her hands. “Good point. But I need to tell you a couple of things first.”
My heart leaps. From my experience, this could be anything from I have a boyfriend who’s the president of a motorcycle club to I’m a virgin who is about to enroll in a convent. Or worse.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not looking for a relationship.”
My entire body relaxes, and I grin. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”
Her thumb brushes my lips and somehow, my cock becomes even stiffer.
“And I don’t have any condoms.”
I make a pfft noise. “No problem, I do, right…” the words die on my lips. Shit. I don’t have condoms either. In truth, I haven’t had sex in six months. Been in a bit of a dry spell, actually, ever since my twin left for Syria. My drought isn’t because of Damien, of course, but I’ve been busy working, trying to push aside the fact that my best friend and brother is in a fucking war zone and could die at any minute.
I’d never replenished my condom stash after my last romp. “Uh, actually, I don’t, either.”
She licks her lips and runs her fingers through my hair. Shit. She’s disappointed. And so am I, trust me. My dick screams in protest, straining against my board shorts. I rest my hands on her knees, which seem so small.
“There’s more than one way to have fun,” I say, running my hands up her thighs.
She grins, and it’s like the heavens have parted. “I like how you think.”
We’re both laughing as I sit up and kiss her, pressing her body onto the bed.
“Love your hair,” I growl in between kisses, arranging her long, wavy tresses over a pillow. “You smell like salt air and coconut. Just like I’d imagine a mermaid would smell.”
Leilani stops exploring my abs with her hand and looks into my eyes. “Do you have some sort of mermaid fetish or something?”
I lift her shirt over her head and she wriggles out. Every move she makes is deliberate and sensual.
“Maybe. I confess that I did in my formative years after I saw the mermaid show up at Weeki
Wachee. I was about thirteen.” I straddle her and run my hands over her bikini top. For a few seconds, I’m struck dumb because her tits feel so good in my hands.
“And?” she asks, arching her back a little.
I push aside the bikini cups and suck in a breath when I see her dusky rose-brown nipples. They’re peaked and puckered and the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I run my thumbs over them. “Those mermaids were my first sexual fantasy. I had a lot of filthy thoughts about them for years to come.”
She giggles. “When did you stop having mermaid daydreams?”
I pause, holding her unbelievable tits in my hands, and look up. “Oh, about last week. And I’m afraid having you in my bed is reminding me of every single fantasy.”
I lower my head to her right breast because I can’t exist another second without tasting her skin. She whimpers and arches her back again, feeding me her beautiful nipple. She tastes like lotion and salt water, which doesn’t sound particularly appealing, but somehow it is on Leilani.
I could do this all afternoon and all night, suck on her tit and caress the other with my hand. From the feel of her skin — she’s perspiring a little — I can tell she’s turned on. My hand skims down her belly and pops open the button on her tan shorts.
She undoes the zipper, and my dick surges in anticipation. I know I’ll probably never get the pleasure of sinking my shaft into her, but I’m on edge with the knowledge that I’ll at least get to touch her pussy.
And feast my eyes on it.
I’m still sucking on her nipple when I get impatient. I slide my hand into her half-undone shorts and under her bikini bottoms. There’s not a lot of room in there, because her bikini is tight, but there is enough for my fingers to find her slit.
“Jesus, you’re drenched and ready for me. So fucking hot,” I whisper.
Hooking her thumbs into the sides of her shorts and bikini, she tugs them both down her hips. I take this as a cue that she wants to get naked, and I’m all about obliging. We are in my bed, on my sailboat, and I want to be an accommodating captain and all.
I make short work of her bikini top.
And just like that, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on is totally naked in my bed. Somehow, she seems different than the other women I’ve brought here. Maybe it’s because of the serendipity of the day, or because she’s so damned stunning. Her long hair is fanning on my pillow, her curves lie soft against the comforter. Her legs are lightly pressed together, and she raises her arms above her head. Even her painted toes are a sensual, erotic red.
A real, live mermaid in my bed. I shove my shorts down because my raging erection chafes against the fabric.
I sit up to stare at her, because how can I not? With a flick of my wrist, I fling my shorts to the floor and she bites her bottom lip. My hand goes to my dick and I stroke it with a firm, slow grip.
“Fuck, Leilani. Incredible,” I stammer. Even saying her name aloud is like foreplay. “Beautiful. So beautiful. Like I can’t even utter a complete sentence.”
She giggles and it makes her tits jiggle a little. I stop playing with myself and run my hands down her body.
How the fuck will I ever sleep here again without thinking about her in this very spot?
How will I get through this day without fucking her?
What should I do first? Run my hands over her body or lick her?
So many important questions.
“Touch me,” she whispers.
One question answered. There is a God. I sit on one side of her legs, dipping my head to kiss her while my hand roams her body.
“Spread for me, beautiful, and I will.”
When I feel her legs shifting, I don’t think twice about sitting up. Watching her is as essential as breathing at this point. My gaze goes right to her pussy.
Sweet chocolate Christ. Every one of my teenage fantasies is coming true. There’s a thin, perfectly groomed strip of hair on her mound, but she’s bare everywhere else.
And wet. Soaked. Her smooth skin glistens because she’s so turned on. My hand goes there and I slide my fingers between her lips and groan. Loud. I settle in next to her so I can explore.
“Ohh,” she breathes as my middle finger finds her swollen clit. We do this for a while — my fingers do the talking, she lets out little moans and sighs between kisses — and I nearly go out of my mind with lust. I’m not even sure how long, but I’m pretty certain I could keep this up for hours.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” I murmur in her ear.
She nods. “It does. The best. How did you know?”
The best. My brain lights up as if I’ve won a prize.
“Know what, beautiful?”
“Know exactly where to touch me. Know exactly what I wanted from you. Oh!” she mewls, probably because I’m circling her clit with a little more pressure now.
I tug on her earlobe with my teeth. “We seem to have this crazy, magical attraction, so I guess that’s how I know.”
“I guess.” She sighs. “I’m already really close. Sorry.”
Sorry? Sorry’s for spilled beer and fish that got away. Sorry isn’t for having an orgasm quickly because of my touch.
“Never apologize for coming. I want you to. Early and often.”
She tilts her head to the side, so she’s in the crook of my arm, and closes her eyes. Her hands gather the duvet, and the sight of her scarlet-tipped fingernails make me press my dick into her hip. I’ve never been with a woman this sensual.
I stop touching her clit because I absolutely have to taste her juices. She whimpers in protest and opens her eyes in time to see me licking my fingers like a popsicle.
She’s sweet and salty and perfect. Like the really good trail mix with the peanuts and the M&Ms. I groan.
“Don’t stop,” she says in a shaky voice.
I continue fingering her, but now my thoughts are on her taste.
“Can I go down on you? Please? I’ll beg if you want me to. I need to lick that beautiful pussy of yours. I think I might die if I don’t. Honest.”
Her pretty, blue eyes widen, and she blinks slowly, as if I’ve just asked the strangest question she’s ever heard.
“You like that?” she gasps.
Chapter Six
LEILANI
Why is Remy looking at me like I’m insane? It seems like a reasonable question, whether he likes that sort of thing. Some men don’t. My ex didn’t.
Then it hits me: maybe Remy actually loves going down on women. “You like that?”
My ex had done it reluctantly and listlessly at first, then not at all. So, it was something I never learned to enjoy. Even now, my stomach is clenched just thinking about how Remy might consider it a chore.
“Are you joking?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
I try to deflect by smiling, and my eyes dip to his erection. Eek, he’s massive down there. “No, just curious. Some guys don’t prefer to do that, you know.”
“I don’t know, actually.”
He stops touching me and moves so that he’s straddling my hips and sitting on top of me, looking into my face. Then with the hand that hadn’t been between my legs, he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I don’t generally talk about my past. But I can tell you that I love doing that. Like it’s one of my top three favorite things in the world.”
He cracks an adorable, lopsided grin and I can’t help but laugh. “What are the other things?”
“Fishing,” he says quickly, and that makes me laugh even harder. I squeeze his muscular thighs.
“I’m a sport fisherman and run charters,” he offers, then kisses me.
“So you said earlier.” I pause. “What’s the third?”
He presses his nose and mouth to my cheek, grinning. “Fucking.”
His erection’s jutting into my belly. We kiss for a bit as I roll the three things around in my mind.
I turn my head, giggling, and hold up
my fingers. "Fishing. Going down on women. Sex. Not a bad combo, if you ask me."
But I’m not here to get attached to his favorite things. This isn’t a Buzzfeed listicle. I’m here because I’m crazy attracted to him. Because he doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Because I deserve a single afternoon of pleasure with a kind and hot man after everything I’ve been through, dammit.
So, yeah, I want him to lick me. I want to find out what I was missing all those years with Brent.
“About your earlier question...” I rake my nails lightly down his back while he’s devouring my breast. “The answer is yes. I want you to. And wouldn’t want to deny you one of your top three favorite things in the world, either.”
He lifts his head. “But is it one of your three most favorite things in the world?”
I look into his honey-colored eyes. Part of me wishes I could tell him the whole story of my life, how I rarely came with Brent over these past two years. How I’m the only source of my own orgasms. How I’ve longed to have a man ravish me in that way and truly enjoy putting his mouth on that part of my body.
“I can’t say it is, but maybe you could change my mind.”
He grins wickedly. “Challenge gleefully accepted.”
With a maddening slowness, he kisses down my body. By the time he gets between my legs, there’s a fresh rush of wetness there, and I’m almost writhing from the anticipation.
He settles in between my legs, on his stomach, and growls. Like an animal would. “Spread even more for me.”
I oblige, feeling only a little self-conscious. It’s almost as if Remy’s as desperate for me as I am for him.
I gasp when he softly kisses my inner thigh. He nibbles and licks there, too, and I begin to giggle.
“Ticklish?” he asks.
“A little. But it feels good.”
“That’s all that matters.”
And that’s when I feel his mouth between my legs. He takes a long lick of my damp flesh and I moan.
“Remy.”
“Oh, I love that, you calling out my name. Is that all it takes? Me licking? What about this?”