by Ellie Rowe
“It won’t happen again.” Green scarf says, shooting a quick look at me. “You have my word.” He places a hand over his heart. You know, the hand that’s not holding the assault rifle, and Hank gives him a manly nod which I guess signifies a deal’s been struck? I can’t keep up with this secret macho code.
More orders from Captain Green Scarf and the cronies are ushering us down the stairs again. But this time they don’t touch me. They don’t grab me by the arm or roughhouse me between each other. The effect seems immediate.
Sure, their guns are still there, but they’re not pointing at our heads anymore. Is this progress? Hank is quiet, given the circumstances. I’d have thought he’d be wearing a smug look of someone who’s won something huge. But no.
Instead he looks thoughtful, his brow tensed in concentration. There can’t be that many brain cells left after all the hard drugs, can there? It bothers me, his silence. I start to worry it’s my fault.
At this point we know exactly where our little bedroom lives and our escort merely follows us along instead of leading us to it. We have to pass the room where those goddamn rats tried to grab me and I involuntarily shudder.
Hank’s eyes finally flip to me and there’s real concern there. I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him, but the urge is strong. Just something to make him smile. Something to make me feel less guilty and horrible. Maybe we were better off before, sort of hating each other?
In no time we’re back to home sweet home and I don’t even pretend to fight when the door swings open for us to get locked up again. We’re alive. That’s what counts.
We’re alive and it’s all thanks to Hank fucking Wilder. I sit down on the bed and start to feel very small, and more than a little bit foolish. It worked. It actually fucking worked. I want to tell him. I need to say something, to tell him I’m sorry and thank you and I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to him.
“Hank.” I clear my throat. Oh God am I getting emotional? He’s put some major distance between us. A feat really since the room is the size of a matchbox. He looks wound up, furious even. Oh fuck he’s pissed at me, isn’t he? The mark on his face looks even angrier next to his clenched jaw. I did that.
I mean I didn’t clock him or anything. I’ve definitely thought about it, don’t get it twisted. But that was Scar’s doing. That and the tear in his shirt, revealing more of that perfectly tanned chest I got a glimpse at the other night. Jesus Veronica you’ve got to pull yourself together.
“Hank, I wanted to say thank you.” I barely get the words out before his fist hits the wall. Hard.
Sixteen
Hank
Sometimes, just when you think you’re doing good, you totally screw the pooch. We had a shot at getting away! And I blew it!
This time, when we get shoved back into our stupid, cramped little cabin, it’s me who puts distance between us. I want to play it cool, but I’m so damned pissed at myself. I pound a fist into the wall. Veronica says something, but I don’t hear her. Instead, I vent against the wall again. I’m so damn frustrated and stressed and worried for her and myself that I don’t know what else to do. So I punish the wall a third time.
I don’t like losing my cool. In my profession, my status, staying chill is a must. But fuck it. These pirates aren’t going to blab to the tabloids. Veronica’s not going to feature me in a travel article. She hates my guts anyway.
Just as I’m about to haul off and teach the wall another lesson, a hand touches my shoulder. Gentle. Calming.
“Take a breath,” Veronica says soothingly. Alright, maybe ‘hates my guts’ is a little strong.
I do take a breath. My anger and frustration gives way to what I guess is really lying underneath it all. Disappointment. “I’m sorry, Veronica.”
“For what?”
“Failing you. Making for their boat – it was a good idea. And I couldn’t make it happen. I’m sorry.”
I face her so she can see I mean it. She seems to consider my apology for a moment before sitting on the bed. “So, to be clear,” she muses, “you’re sorry about us not escaping, right?”
Where’s she going with this? “Yeah.”
“OK. Just making sure you’re not sorry about the time when you kicked the asses of those fuckers who wanted to rape me. And that you’re not sorry about just now when a bunch of pirates had machine guns pointed at us and you talked them out of shooting us. You’re not sorry for those two things, right?”
I feel a grin coming on. She’s an insightful lady. “Right. I’m not sorry about those two things.” I refuse to let myself off that easily, though. I drop my head. “Still. We had a shot…”
She lifts my chin and looks in my eyes. “Hey. If anything, I think this is all only going to work in our favor.”
“How do you figure?”
“Green Scarf has a conscience. He feels bad about what almost happened to me. I’m a celebrity in his eyes, too, after all.” She clearly enjoys reminding me of that. I enjoy her enjoyment.
“OK,” I admit. “And?”
“He’s going to keep a sharper eye on the men, make sure they don’t abuse us anymore. If we’re lucky, your revealing what happened to him might cause some tension between him and his men. Maybe there will be some in-fighting, and that’ll present an opportunity for us to get away.”
She’s thinking more clearly than I am right now. Not surprising. It was clear from the start that this is a woman who can hold her own. A woman I have very little to offer, if I’m honest with myself.
I also know she’s saying all this to try to make me feel better. Which in it’s own way is dispiriting. A reminder that I’m not as gung-ho as I like to think I am. A reminder that maybe I’m not as strong as I like to pretend.
Perhaps she senses my self-doubt and that’s why she does what she does next. Perhaps it’s just a little act of charity. Perhaps something more. Whatever the reason, she leans forward and kisses me once on the lips.
It takes all my effort not to turn it into something much more. I feel that stirring again down below.
There’s no way she intends this to go any further, right? That was just a ‘buck up, guy’ kiss, right? Had to be. Wait, is that even a thing?
I try to keep my head in the game. This is not something to fuck up. I should probably just thank her and move away. Except maybe she wants me to stay? Maybe she wants me to take things further?
I can’t decide, so I decide to just stand there. Like an idiot. Her face is still very close to mine. I should probably say something. “I told you I’d keep you safe,” I say.
“That’s right. You did.”
The tension is almost too much to bear. She breaks eye contact first, looks down at my torn shirt. “I’m guessing this shirt was pretty expensive…”
“Three hundred dollars,” I brag without even realizing it. She looks up and flashes me a wry smile. I can be shallow sometimes, but I swear it’s just a habit I picked up in La-La Land. Anyway, I’m disappointed in myself again. I don’t want to play that part around her.
She bails me out by joking, “I’d offer to sew it, but I’m guessing you can afford to buy another when we get out of this.”
“You kidding? I’m gonna turn this story into a blockbuster picture. I’ll make a fortune.”
“Do I get to write the screenplay?”
“Who else?”
There’s another moment where I think maybe I should kiss her. If she were anyone else, I totally would. But if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t care about the consequences. With her, strangely enough, I find that I do.
She looks back at the tear in my shirt. “He didn’t cut you, did he?” Her hand moves inside my shirt as if to check. Her palm presses against my stomach. I say a silent prayer of gratitude to my personal trainer for all those ab workouts. I could be wrong, but I think she looks impressed.
The feel of her hand against my skin fills me with a desire so intense I actually shiver.
“No,” I assure h
er quietly, in answer to her concern. “I’m all in one piece.”
“Good,” she says. “That’s how I need you.”
In the next heartbeat her mouth is back on mine. This time there’s no mistaking her kiss for something simply friendly. I respond in kind.
We pour every intensity of emotion we’ve felt over the last twenty-four hours into our kisses. It’s like we can’t share our mutual passion fiercely enough. Our mouths find their way from lips to necks to ears and back again. Each brush of my lips and seductive flick of her tongue increases our shared desire.
Remember what I told you about what a grown-up woman knows to do in bed that a younger one skips over? Yup.
Veronica pulls my linen jacket off of me as I unbutton and remove her shirt. Then she hops up and wraps her legs around my waist. I feel her pressing herself against my cock. I plant my hands under her ass and pull her tight against me. Her body responds and she gives a quick gasp of pleasure. Our kisses deepen and deepen.
I carry her to the bed, lay us down with her legs still wrapped around mine, our lips locked. My hands explore her body, her breasts, gliding along her waist to her legs.
As I start to unbutton her shorts, she puts her hands against my shoulders and breaks the kiss. “Wait, wait,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “You’re not just doing this because… I’m some convenient piece of ass and you’re a horn-dog, celebrity lothario, right?”
“No,” I say with all the intensity of the passion I feel. “The minute I first saw you on your boat, I couldn’t stop thinking about exactly this.”
“OK. Good.” She smiles and kisses me passionately once more, helping me slide herself out of her shorts.
As her fingers undo my pants, though, a thought suddenly occurs to me. “Wait, wait,” I say, stopping things. Her brow furrows in concern. “You’re not just doing this because I’m an incredibly handsome and charming movie star, are you?”
“No,” she says kindly, laying a hand on my cheek. “I hate your movies.”
“Fantastic.”
We kiss again. Then my lips make their way down her neck, between her breasts and along her belly. I kiss and flick my tongue along her skin just above her underwear, then slowly slip them off her.
She gives an expectant gasp. I brush my lips against her inner thighs, teasing her, slowing things down to build anticipation. I glide my fingers along the smoothness of her, my fingers doing some teasing of their own. I feel her get goosebumps. Then I go down on her.
I try not to think about the exotic locales she’s been, what she might have experienced in those far-away places. Instead, as my tongue begins its soft exploration and her fingers twirl themselves into my hair, I focus on working her into the greatest orgasm of her life.
Maybe I’ll get myself featured in one of her articles after all.
Seventeen
Veronica
His tongue swirls inside of me and I know damn well he’s not just spelling the alphabet. No, this is a man who knows what he’s doing. A man who’s done this quite a bit I think, but push the thought away. I’m a modern woman, I can be grateful to those that came before me, pun intended. I’m grateful as shit if it brings me this.
My fingers are tangled in his silvery mane and I drag my hips forward to give him access to all of me. He’s somehow got the wherewithal to slide a hand up and around my thigh to press against my clit.
“Oh God!” I gasp and slap my free hand over my mouth.
“Don’t do that.” He growls as he comes up for air. “You be as loud as you like.”
“But they’ll hear—Oh!” He silences me with a flick of his tongue and takes hold of my thighs, pushing me even closer to him.
“Let ‘em hear then.” I dig my nails into the sheets, relishing in the sweet pleasure. His thumb slides back to my clit and he thrusts his tongue deep inside of me. I moan with abandon as his thumb and tongue work in tandem rubbing me, licking me faster and faster.
He moans in response to my cries and the sound vibrates inside of me sending me over the edge. I grab onto his hair and break the rules by moaning my orgasm into the pillow. Holy fucking shit. How did he do that? Not once in the history of my being alive have I ever come from oral sex.
I meant to tell him as much when we started but by the time I could speak he’d already proven me wrong. He chuckles and drags his tongue between my slits, drinking me in greedily before biting at my hip bone. I gasp as his teeth meet my flesh. Your turn.
“Get on your back.” I order breathily, through my post orgasmic haze.
“Excuse me?” He asks as he rises up to look at me. He licks his lips before dipping down to suck at my hardened nipples. Damnit.
“I said,” I punctuate by pulling him up by the hair. He inhales sharply at the pain and looks at me like he’d love nothing more than to eat me alive, again. “Get.on.your.back.” He raises an eyebrow but I’ve had quite enough of his insubordination.
I grab his shoulders and use his surprise to flip myself on top of him. I’d made fast work of his buttons but take my time slipping his pants off. Gotta love linen, it slides off pretty smoothly. Once they’re off I swim my fingertips up his legs as I crawl back to him. I can tell he likes the view as I watch his lips part in shocked admiration.
I slowly finger the place where his boxer briefs meet his skin and slip a finger under the band. He groans impatiently before I grab the band with both hands and yank his briefs down sending his erection springing out of his shorts.
For a second, I’m taken aback. So, it wasn’t a dream after all. He really is that huge.
“Something wrong?” he asks as he gazes at me over his massive hard on.
“Not at all.” I smile as I slide off his boxers. “Just sizing you up is all.” Before he can make another remark, I lower my mouth onto him. My fingertips glide over his balls, searching behind them to apply pressure as my mouth moves rhythmically up and down.
He’s a lot to handle, but I keep my hand twisting gently at his base so I’ve got every inch of him covered, even if I can’t yet take him all the way into my mouth.
“Holy fuck.” He whispers and reaches down to stroke my hair. I let my tongue trail along with my lips swirling at the top of him. I can tell it’s driving him crazy by the way he pulls at my hair and lifts his hips up, desperate for every lick and suck.
“Veronica.” He moans and I finally stop my sucking, running my lips up one more time with a satisfying pop.
“Can I help you?” I ask sweetly, running my tongue along his shaft. He shivers and tries to regain his voice.
“I think you’ve done enough.” He grins. “Any more of that and I won’t last any longer.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I laugh as I use my spit to slide my hand up and down. He breathes in sharply and lets his head fall back.
“Oh no.” He recovers as he reaches down to grab my chin. “I’m not finished with you yet.” God the way his mouth moves is enough to send me over the edge again. Especially now that I know what he can do with it.
He bends his knees, forcing me forward so he can slide a hand under my arm and another around my waist. He flips me up and over to the side of him so fast I can’t help but giggle from the motion of being thrown. He’s pressed against me from behind and it’s like deja-fucking-vu.
Maybe that wasn’t a dream so much as a premonition? He kisses my neck, my shoulders, all the while letting his dick slide between my legs. Guess I’m clairvoyant. I’m so wet from his hard work, and he’s so wet from mine he can slip in and out easily, the head of him slicking between my folds and rubbing against my clit with each thrust.
I tighten my thighs around him and I can tell he’s seeing stars by the way he groans into my shoulder. He pulls himself from between my thighs and replaces his dick with his fingers slipping two inside to start. I think I’m warmed up enough to take all of him but I don’t mind the extra help.
His knuckle is pressing against the skin between my ass and the opening h
e’s currently pounding and for the second time that night I can feel myself about to come undone. I reach behind me to grab onto him as the orgasm fires through me. It feels so fucking good I clench my legs against his fingers, desperate to ride it out for as long as it will last.
“Hank…” I moan, and finally grab onto the base of him. “Please.” That’s all he needed to hear. He grabs hold of himself and pulls my thighs apart with his hand to slide inside me.
“Wait a minute.” He stops. That fucking bastard why in gods name would he stop? “You on birth control?”
“I’ve got an intrauterine device.” I gasp, annoyed. He’s frozen. Jesus Christ. “An IUD Hank.” Still nothing. “Yes, I’m on birth control.”
“Thank Christ for that.” He finds my opening and pushes his way inside me. It’s not too rough, but it’s definitely not gentle either. Good. He knows just what I need.
The moment he first slips inside of me I’m grateful he can’t see my face. He feels so good my mouth falls open in pure goddamn shock. Is this what I’ve been missing?
And it’s not just the way he feels, it’s the way he touches me. The way his hands glide over my body and pull me in. Closer and tighter, listening to how my body responds. Like he actually wants me to come, needs me to come. It’s fucking heaven.
“You alright there Swift?” He asks huskily in my ear.
“Just shut up and fuck me.” I moan and he slides out and pounds back into me, filling me up.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He breathes, and I gotta hand it to him for showing restraint. I twist my head to him and nip his chin.
“You’ll be the first to know.” Turning away I grind my ass against him and he grips onto my hips for dear life. We find our rhythm quickly and thanks to his size he can slide in and out without fear of losing contact.
I can tell he’s getting close from the way moans rumble through his chest, and decide to turn up the heat even more. I grab onto his ass and start to turn myself so my belly is flat against the bed. He follows suit, still inside, and now he’s on top of me.