Four Nights at Sea

by Demi Alex

  “Want to take care of you,” he said, as her head bobbed and she sucked harder. “Come up here.”

  She shook her head. He reached for her, pulled her slightly higher in his lap, and cupped her full breasts in his hands.

  “Good thing you’re such a tiny thing and can fit beneath this table. Between my thighs,” he said, pinching the nipples he’d exposed. “Are you wet?”

  She nodded, and he hit the back of her throat.

  “Come up here for a bit. Let me take care of your sweetness. I want to feel that slippery heart against your heat, and when you’re ready, we’ll come together.”

  Her eyes went dark and her ear lowered toward her shoulder, but she shook her head no. “I take what I want,” she rasped, between dipping her tongue into the slit at his tip, then swirling it around the edge of his head. “Now.”

  His balls drew up and he didn’t dare, couldn’t stop the pleasure from growing. She had him in her mouth, her throat working to accommodate his full length, and as he watched the beautiful and erotic intensity with which she gave to him, he lost himself.

  Ford came with a force that made his thigh muscles clench, his breath hitch, and his heart pound so hard it could have broken a rib. Coming down from the explosive release, he reached for Charlie, as if needing to touch her and assure himself that she was real and not a figment of his imagination.

  It took him several moments to steady his breath as Charlie swallowed and licked the last of his release, then scattered soft kisses on his thighs. She rested the side of her head on his leg and curled up against him with a content brightness illuminating her precious face.

  “Come up here so I can kiss you,” he managed at last. “Please, baby.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I wasn’t expecting that. My mind went dark and I can barely move my limbs. You give amazing head,” Ford said. “Totally mind blowing.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, her bravado wavering, but her ego stoked. He’d liked it. Considered it mind blowing. And Ford hadn’t tried to control her head or move away from her. Receiving her mouth on him, he’d let her give and take as she’d pleased. And he’d liked it!

  A sense of success fluttered in her chest and she took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she’d gone down on a man. She’d offered to do the same with James, but he’d insisted that no wife of his was going to perform like a ten-dollar hooker. At the thought, the pleasant fluttering balled into dead weight and settled in her gut. Would Ford think she was a wanton deviant because she enjoyed it?

  No. Her hair fell against her face as she shook her head. She wasn’t a deviant. James had been the problem. She wouldn’t let him ruin her moment of bliss. Not again.

  “You didn’t come,” Ford said, gently smoothing her hair behind her ear and caressing her cheek.

  “Who’s counting,” she replied with a shrug.

  “Not me,” he replied. “But I’m dying to return the favor—first chance I get.” Then he gently settled her against his side and dropped a kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to be with you, no stupid rules, no limits. Just you and me.”

  She let out a long breath, relishing his words. Maybe it was his sexual acceptance that made him so appealing? Maybe it was the theme of the cruise? But at the moment, she wasn’t going to think any further on it. She wasn’t going to let negative thoughts from the past ruin her happiness.

  “I’d like that, too,” Charlie admitted, gaining another kiss on her head and a tight squeeze in his arms. Nestled against the man who allowed, even encouraged, her sexual explorations, Charlie relaxed and got into the movie and the pajama party theme.

  “I can rectify that situation,” Ford offered, sliding his palm up her thigh and tapping on the rhinestone heart between her legs. “Maybe I can’t fit beneath the table, but I can be creative in other ways.”

  “Not now, Ford. Just hold me,” she said. “I’d like to enjoy floating on cloud nine for a little longer. We’re not keeping score.”

  * * *

  A second drink later, with Demi Moore’s character safe, and Patrick Swayze’s character forever gone from her life, Charlie squeezed Ford’s hand and turned her face up for another kiss.

  “With pleasure,” he responded. Sealing his mouth to hers and reinforcing how great it made her feel to be with a man that wasn’t afraid of appearing vulnerable—even in public, even with the restrictions imposed on him because of his work position, he didn’t hesitate to show her how he felt. He didn’t hesitate to show her how she made him feel. His low groan reinforced her spirit. She barely knew the man, but she knew she wanted Ford in her life past the four nights at sea.

  She smoothed her fingers over the five o’clock shadow that had settled there well after midnight, and rested her forehead to his. If only she could sleep in his arms, everything would be perfect. “Thanks for a great night, Ford. I never knew how exciting pajama parties could be.”

  “Pajama parties have a bad rep,” he pointed out. “We’ll have a movie night back home and I’ll show you exactly how exciting they are.”

  It wasn’t the first time Ford had mentioned them together—back home—but regardless, she didn’t want to get her hopes up. She reminded herself that he’d also mentioned he wasn’t a long-term-relationship kind of man. She was a LTR kind of woman, though. It would make any casual hookup in New York difficult to deal with. No matter how much she’d like to get to know him better, develop a relationship to take back home with her, she wasn’t going to push her luck. She’d take their temporary arrangement for what it was. Temporary.

  Charlie had to keep reciting temporary. Temporary. It had taken all of one day for Charlie to fall in love and lose her heart. Temporary. Yes, temporary.

  “Do you have enough information to write the feature?” Ford asked, bringing up work and grounding her expectations.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “I’m surprised I have so much in such a short amount of time, but I’d like to see how things develop. I want to make this the strongest piece I can write, and I want it to open doors for future projects.” She looked up into his face and found his jaw set tight.

  “I’m willing to be booted off the ship in Cozumel, as long as you’re with me. We could make our own way back home.”

  “I don’t like airplanes,” she said, pointing out the obvious.

  “We’ll drive,” he offered. “I’ll get you back on time to meet your deadline. You can write that kick-ass piece in the car while I drive. It’ll give us a chance to discuss what I’ve observed on other cruises. There’s plenty of romance on the high seas.”

  “What about your job? You’d burn your bridges.”

  “Georgiou will understand. I won’t burn any bridges,” Ford said. “And as for my duties, they’re complete. Ramos has already stepped into his responsibilities and is doing great. The ship doesn’t need my services, and I’ll find a different way to supplement the money. I would much rather spend my last few days, before my world implodes, with a beautiful and sexy woman, driving to New York and getting to know every inch of her body while I do so.”

  The muscles low in her abdomen tightened. Heat rushed over her skin, but her mind shouted that she remain focused. She needed to shut it down before she gave in and was gallivanting across the US and Mexico just to spend more temporary time with a man.

  “I don’t mean to pry, and you definitely don’t need to share if you don’t want to, but you never elaborated on your future plans. So far, I gather it has something to do with your own café and that it’s in New York.” There. She’d turned the focus back on professional aspirations and managed to avoid dreaded personal relationship talk.

  “You’re on point,” Ford confirmed, stretching his long legs and relaxing against the seat. “As Eugenia so eloquently puts it, and I must admit I like the way she puts it, I plan on building a java empire of my own, starting with a location that helped fund my graduate education.”

  “So you want to own and operate your ow
n café?”

  “More than one,” he said, straightening in his seat and placing his hands on the table. “I worked at a place in the Village while I was at NYU. It was always busy, not only because the coffee and sweets were great, but because every single customer saw it as his place.”

  “That’s nice. A place to belong,” Charlie said, thinking of Mr. Wile’s little shop a block from her apartment. If the old man had the energy to update the décor, add a few trendy pastries, and hire an extra barista or two so they could actually step out from behind the counter, he’d double his business. Not like he was doing bad or anything, but there were down times in the day. Down times that customers could use to make his little place their own. “We have a tiny spot like that in my neighborhood, but the owner is tired and doesn’t want to do more than he already is doing. It’s too much for him.”

  “I get that,” Ford said, placing a big hand on hers and smoothing his thumb over her knuckles. The action immediately took her thoughts from Mr. Wile’s café’s potential, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to remain in the conversation.

  “My old boss is ready to retire,” Ford continued. “Almost. Thankfully, he’s held out from selling. I approached him two and a half years ago and told him about my vision. We discussed what I’d like to make happen, and he really liked my ideas. I mean really. He’s given me the opportunity to come into his business, grow and expand it, and he’ll eventually phase out of the day-to-day operation and into full retirement.”

  “It’s set? He’s ready to retire and just hand you the café?”

  “He’s not handing it to me. I’m buying into it,” Ford explained. “He’s not stepping away from the business entirely, but he’ll be taking on a passive role as things develop. He really wants to retire and visit with his children, who live in Colorado and California, as much as possible. Truth is, the man deserves it. He’s worked hard and has built a solid foundation that I could take to a different level with more work and new energy.”

  Much like the energy Mr. Wile’s place needed. She nodded and gave him a smile.

  “The success of the current store gives us an advantage in the startup of multiple locations,” he said, surprising her with the continuation of his explanation of his business plans, while taking her mouth in a kiss.

  Tasting him on her lips, she wondered how he could go from one to the other. How he could kiss her and send tingles through her body while speaking about business was foreign to her. She’d never experienced it before.

  It didn’t take a long discussion to see that Ford wasn’t buying a job. No. He was building an industry model with hundreds of jobs. His plans included two new locations in Manhattan by the end of the year, and five more the following, expanding to Boston, Washington, and Chicago quickly after that.

  “Impressive,” she admitted.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “All of it, even the first location, is still on paper. I have a lot to accomplish before it can be called impressive. Next week I’m meeting with landlords for location number two. When the third store opens, then you can tell me you think it’s impressive.”

  Once again, he referred to them in the future. Once again, her chest ached from the impending loss.

  “What about you, gorgeous career woman? Have you always wanted to be a reporter?”

  “No.” She shook her head, recalling how she’d ended up at Columbia University, which eventually allowed her the opportunity to land the job at City Wings. Her father had insisted that she needed to pull her eyes from reading fiction and use her time efficiently. He claimed her undergraduate degree in literature was the cause of her unattached love status.

  A degree in English Literature had kept her from developing a relationship with the right man. At least a journalism degree, if used correctly, would have her interacting with proper subjects. According to her mother, she’d interview powerful and rising men.

  “I’ve always had my head stuck in a book,” she explained. A chill crawled on her skin and she rubbed her palms over her arms to chase it away. “I fell in love with reading when I was eight, probably before that, but I remember finishing the Little House on the Prairie series and moving on to ‘mature’ books.” She made air quotes around the word mature. “Or so I thought. At first, I dreamed of escaping to Katherine Paterson’s Terabithia. I learned that tragedy could happen anywhere, even in a magical kingdom, and I was hooked. I wanted to rewrite their fate. I did rewrite it.”

  “Didn’t they make that into a movie?” Ford asked, shifting his body and cradling her against his warmth.

  “They did. Just not with my ending,” she said wistfully. “Plus, their situations were very different from my own. But for some reason, the book totally hooked me. Anyway, it was while we were on a family ski vacation that I found I could soothe my stressed emotions with fictional characters. I didn’t know about the marital problems my parents were having, but I could hear the arguments and it hurt too much. Fiction was my escape.”

  “I’m glad your parents worked it out,” Ford said, pulling her closer and brushing his lips over her forehead. “It’s hard for a kid to be in the middle of her parents’ drama.”

  “It was,” she admitted. His words registered, and she looked up and studied his dark eyes. He knew of her parents. This wasn’t a casual hookup. He knew. Their conversation sounded more like a real date than a sexual encounter.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone. “Sorry you had to go through that. Your brothers, too. Your family’s firm has a strong reputation for family values, and meeting you, I can see it’s not just a public image.”

  He knew about the family business. The knot in her throat tightened and her body went stiff. He couldn’t have known when they’d met. She’d bumped into him by accident. He wasn’t like her ex. Was he? Had he planned on being at the right place at the right time?

  No. It wasn’t possible. He’d had plans with Eugenia.

  “They worked it out,” she said, intertwining her fingers and twisting her hands in her lap. Swallowing her dread, she pushed air past the knot in her throat, and asked the question she wanted so badly to avoid, but needed him to provide a good answer to. “How do you know about the family firm?”

  “Charlie, the Stanton name is all over financial publications,” he said. No hesitation. No retreat to cover his knowledge. “A quick Internet search, and you appear beside your dad and brothers in numerous results. I’m well aware of your family’s place in the investment world. Your mom isn’t written about as much, but there are many family photos of her and your dad with captions at various charity events.”

  His thumb continued caressing her knuckles, his body remained comfortable, and he didn’t show any regret in searching her name. He spoke about it like it was expected.

  “I’m also sorry about the asshole you married,” he added, a muscle in his cheek twitching and his features going hard. “I had the displeasure of meeting James Norrington a few years ago, and the man was a total ass. Don’t know what you ever saw in him, but I do know you’re better off without the dick. At least he won’t be bothering you for the next two years.”

  He knew an awful lot. Knew James was in jail for embezzlement. Knew how he’d tried to throw Charlie under the bus and shift the blame on her, when she had known nothing about anything. Like she’d ever do something so terrible to her family.

  Charlie wasn’t sure what to think of Ford’s knowledge, so she made a decision to shut it down. Shut it all down. The night had to end.

  “I’m tired,” she said. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure,” Ford replied, sliding out from behind their table and standing. He offered her his hand. “We have a full day tomorrow, and I don’t want my Charlie skipping any events because she’s too tired to participate.”

  His tone was easy, his body relaxed, and he didn’t give any physical indication of feeling uncomfortable. It was as if he dismissed the possibility of the James nightmare holding any truth. If so, he
was right. It didn’t. Yet, she insisted on space between them as they walked. Ford clearly didn’t approve. His fingers gripped hers something fierce. His hand didn’t swing, but was stiff and held hers tight against his thigh.

  She’d messed up. Let her guard down and ignored her place. A woman with her family’s standing in the community had certain expectations to live up to, responsibilities, but instead, she’d just gone down on her knees, hadn’t even bothered to hide her over-the-moon pleasure about it, and had sucked off a man who knew who she was. She’d even thanked him.

  A Stanton woman didn’t do things like that. Judgment was inevitable. Shivers, and not the good kind, caused her skin to prickle with the backlash. James hadn’t bothered to disguise his displeasure with her sexual appetite, even in the privacy and dark of their bedroom, and he had gone as far as to discuss the unpleasant, unnecessary, and unsanitary, as he put it, hype of oral sex at a supposedly intimate business dinner. That dinner had been just after she’d tried to join him in the shower and been rejected.

  It was all on James. First, he’d turned her down repeatedly. Second, he’d discussed—admittedly without specifics—but he had discussed their sex life with business associates. She’d never have guessed a man would act in such a manner at a business event. He was the messed-up one. Not her. Right?

  “Baby.” Ford’s deep voice broke into her thoughts and she found her back pressed against the wall outside her cabin, his hands on either side of her head. “I’m sorry if the mention of the dick upset you. I won’t talk about him. He’s in the past. You’re free of him. You’re you.”

  Tears threatening to spill, she stared at his shoulder. Current need and desire battled with stern and disparaging expectations from her past. She wanted more than a sterile marriage. Needed more than limited interaction to procreate. Charlie craved the kind of passion that made her feel desirable, enough magnetism between her and her man that had them rushing back to each other every single moment available, and the undeniable attraction that set the butterflies dancing in her belly with a simple touch.