by T L Swan
Mac is looking up into the air with his hand shielding his face from the sun. What’s he looking for? I look into the air and I see a helicopter hovering above the boat.
What the hell?
Help.
Help is here! My eyes dart around frantically. Help is here and I dash toward the door.
“Roshelle,” Angela calls out.
I run up the hall toward the stairs and she takes chase. “Stop!” she calls. “Roshelle, stop.”
I take the stairs two at a time and get to the top just in time to see the doors open of the helicopter and two huge man with machine guns get out.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Angela grabs my arm from behind. “Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed.” she whispers angrily.
“They will help me,” I breathe frantically as my eyes snap between her and the chopper.
She shakes her head. “The people who come to this boat do not help you.”
I watch as Mac greets a man in a suit that has gotten out of the helicopter and the two bodyguards with guns watch on. He gestures over to the containers and they all walk over and disappear out of sight.
My eyes fall to Angela. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. Keep your head down and stay close to Mac. These people will kill you. Actually, no, you will wish you had died instead of living after they have finished with you. These are fucked up high powered criminals.”
I frown, still unsure if I should run out there. The guns are putting me off.
Angela grabs my hand and tries to lead me back down the stairs. “Helicopters come to pick things up everyday.”
I frown. “Why?”
She shakes her head. “You can’t be that stupid.”
I look at her blankly because obviously I am.
“This isn’t a normal cargo ship.”
I continue to stare at her.
“This is a drug ship.”
5
I lie on the bed, deep in thought. After lunching with the girls today my mind has gone into overdrive.
He may have saved me.
Maybe he kidnapped me to save my life. They would have just shot me dead on the spot if it were up to them. There was already one dead body, what’s the difference in two? For six days I have lived with him, despised him, loathed my body for being somehow aroused by him, and now I lie here feeling somehow grateful for his intervention. Things could have gone down so differently that night. I try to remember back, and although it’s a blur, I know for certain he wasn’t one of the men who hit me. I specifically remember him saying to leave me alone. Why?
Chelsea said she doesn’t think he is who he says he is. I know that’s true.
His name is Stace. I smirk. it’s a much nicer name than Mac. Where did Mac come from?
I stand and walk over to the porthole and stare out over the sea. What are you up to Stace? What’s your motive?
What happened to turn you to this lifestyle?
He should be back soon and I set about finding something in my shitty bag of clothes to wear. I take out the three dresses and the skirts and tops and lay them out on the bed. There is also a white bikini in the bag. Where the hell would I wear that? One by one, I hold them up to myself and look in the mirror. They all look like shit. The door creaks to announce his arrival and I turn to face him as his huge frame overtakes the room.
“Hey,” he breathes as he walks into the bathroom and washes his hands.
“Hi,” I call as I feel my nerves flutter.
He walks back into the room. “Did you go to lunch?”
“Yes, your girls took me to lunch,” I reply without thinking as I sit on the bed.
“They are not my girls.” My eyes hold his. “Not even close,” he mutters under his breath as he lies down on the bed next to me.
I stay silent for a moment as I contemplate saying this and I know it’s probably not wise, but it’s burning a hole in me. I need to just say it. “Mac?” I watch him, unsure if I am saying the right thing or not.
He raises a brow in question.
“Thank you,” I murmur. His eyes hold mine. “I know you saved me.”
He doesn’t answer, but continues to watch me intently.
“You didn’t have to save me, you didn’t have to protect me from them.” He rolls to his side to face me as I sit next to him. “And…” I frown as I try to articulate my thoughts. “I’m grateful that you went to Chelsea the other night.”
Surprise crosses his face. “Chelsea?” He smirks, and I hesitate unsure what to say. “You think I went to Chelsea?”
I nod quickly.
He picks my hand up and holds it in his. “Do you really think that Chelsea could put out a fire that you started?”
My brain misfires as I stare at him. “I suppose if you have an itch it needs to be scratched.”
He smiles sexily as he lies onto his back, his blonde, messy curls are splayed over his pillow and he smiles broadly revealing those cheeky dimples. “If I was a nice guy I would tell you I jacked off in the shower before I came to bed to save you having to suck my cock.” His eyes drop to my lips and I feel it all the way down there. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat.
“Would you be lying?” I whisper. Why are we having this conversation? It shouldn’t matter to me whether he did or didn’t.
His dark sexy eyes hold mine, but he doesn’t reply.
“Truce?” I ask, hopeful.
He nods. “I have to get you a new passport made so you can slip out of here unnoticed when we get to port. A chopper is bringing one in for you in a few days. I will get a photo of you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I smile my first hopeful smile in a week. He’s serious about helping me get out of here alive. Maybe he’s not so bad. I feel relieved that we have had this conversation and we stay silent for a while. “Can I ask you something?” I ask. He smirks as if liking where this conversation is going. “You know how we…” I hesitate. I don’t really know how to put this. “Make out to everyone that I am yours?”
He picks my hand up as he watches me. “Like when I touch you,” he whispers darkly.
I nod nervously. Oh man. “I just…” I hesitate again as my heart rate picks up form his electric touch. “I’m not used to this.”
“Obviously.”
“I just want to be clear that you know we are not going to have sex when we get back to the room.”
He stays silent and his eyes narrow as if thinking.
“I want you to be able to stop. Can you promise me that you can stop after we pretend?” I raise my eyebrows in question. I don’t want to rev him up outside only to come back and find him unable to stop. If he knows the limits, maybe this will work after all.
“Can you stop?” he breathes as his eyes drop to my lips again.
I nod nervously. Of course I can.
“I want to leave this ship with my dignity,” I murmur. “I’m not a sleep around kind of girl.”
He smiles sarcastically. “How self preserving of you.” He rises from the bed. “No need to worry yourself, Roshelle. I will get my itch scratched somewhere else.” He walks into the bathroom.
“Good.” That was the answer I wanted, but for some reason my heart drops. “Thank you,” I call after him. I hear the shower turn on and then he drops his clothes in front of the door and I can’t make myself look away. He turns to face me and his dick is hard. That thing is always bloody hard.
“Can you bring me a towel?” he asks.
What’s he playing at now? I swallow nervously and nod. I get a towel from the linen cupboard and walk into the bathroom to put it on the sink.
“Are you on call tonight?” I ask.
He shakes his head as he soaps up. “No.”
I smile shyly. I feel awkward with what I just said and now I’m standing here ogling this muscled sex machine. I do feel better for having said it, though. Now he knows how I feel and I won’t feel like I’m prick teasing him. It’s just an act,
that’s all.
“I thought we might have a few drinks,” he says casually.
I smile.
“Watch some television.”
“We shall see how the night turns out?” I murmur.
He smiles sexily as he strokes his body with his soapy hand. “Yeah, I suppose we will.”
Half an hour later, we walk into the common room hand in hand, his strong frame towering over mine. The glances of the crew members tell me they are still not convinced that he has staked his claim. “Let’s get a drink.” He gestures to the bar.
We make our way to the bar and he stands behind me and wraps his large hands around my waist. “Can we have two Scotch and Cokes?” he asks the bartender.
“Sure thing,” the guy replies. He’s a different guy from the other night and I look around to the men to see if I can recognize any of them. Mac’s lips drop to my neck and his hand rises up to cup my breast. I really hate this. I do. I really do, I remind myself. His hands roam up and down my body as if he has been waiting all day to touch me, and my neck stretches out instinctively to give him room to kiss me.
“Playing along already?” I whisper.
He bites me and goosebumps scatter everywhere. “Just letting them know you’re mine,” he murmurs into my skin.
Oh God. My eyes close as his lips skim the length of my neck, he feels…
Hazy arousal starts to fog my brain and I panic. “I don’t think that’s what you mean at all,” I breathe.
He pulls back to look at me and his dark eyes hold mine and he raises his eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He’s not telling them, he’s telling me, and my damn body is agreeing. “Are you telling me that I belong to you or are you telling them I belong to you.”
He grips me hard and brings me back to his body aggressively. “Let’s get one thing fucking straight here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and frown as a jolt of fear runs through me.
He bends and whispers into my ear, “I don’t need to tell you you’re mine. I don’t care if you are, but I will not be played for a fucking fool. You’re getting a little self-righteous, Roshelle. It’s pissing me off.”
He jerks me and I frown against his mouth as it presses up against my cheek.
“When you are in this room, you are mine. You do as I say, when I say.” He bites my neck hard and I shrivel. “Don’t misinterpret my manners for a weakness. It will be your fucking undoing.”
“But you said…?” I whisper.
“If I want to touch you out here, I will touch you out here.”
I stare at him as my mind malfunctions. I’m confused.
The barman comes back with our drinks and he takes them and walks straight over to the corner where two barstools wait for us, and he takes a seat.
I frown and he glares at me to follow him. I tentatively walk over and he spreads his legs and drags me in between them.
My scared eyes hold his. He’s a different person out here.
“Kiss me.” He growls.
“What?” I whisper.
“I want a fucking kiss.” His dark eyes drop to my lips.
Oh hell. I glance nervously around at the people around us who are pretending not to watch. He grabs the back of my head violently and drags me to him. His mouth sucks on my closed lips and my eyes instinctively close. He kisses me again and again until I can’t stand it. Finally, my body succumbs and both of my hands slip around his large muscular shoulders. His hands grab my behind and bring my body onto his.
“Do you know how fucking hard you make me?” he whispers into my lips as he wraps his arms around me tightly
My eyes hold his. What’s he doing? Is this part of the illusion?
An idea runs through my pea-sized brain.
No, that’s a stupid idea. I shouldn’t incite the tiger within him. This could back fire, but he does want it to look like we are really fucking. We kiss for a moment longer. No, damn it. He wants the illusion, then I will give it to him full force.
“How hard are you going to blow tonight?” I whisper into his ear.
His eyes darken and his hands tighten on my ass. “That’s more like it.”
I kiss him gently as my tongue swipes through his open mouth. “I bet that big cock of yours tastes so good,” I whisper into his lips.
He kisses me almost aggressively as his hand rises and grips a handful of my hair.
“I want to feel you gag around my cock,” he breathes. “I could fuck your mouth so fucking good, baby.”
I smile as my tongue rims his lips and my hand runs through his hair. “Please,” I beg.
His eyes roll back in his head and he kisses me hard. I feel my arousal heighten and, Oh God, I am not even joking, I could take him all and I would drink it down. We make out for another ten minutes in the dark and I don’t know if anyone is watching and, stupidly, I don’t even care anymore. I can’t remember ever being this aroused.
Finally, our dinner is called and he begrudgingly drags his lips away from mine. He runs his hands up and down my behind as he watches me intently. I would give anything to know what he is thinking. The blood is pumping hard around my body and I desperately need a cold shower. We eventually stand and he leads me to the dining area.
I’m frazzled.
I sit at the table as my arousal thumps heavily between my legs. I can’t imagine what I must look like. My face is flushed and my hair is all over the place. I have never…
I stare dumbfounded at the table in front of me. I can’t even pick up my knife and fork. What the hell? My body is thumping, and although he is acting to the others that he has fucked me into submission, the truth is he hasn’t needed to. I’m secretly begging to suck his cock now.
I have no idea what’s wrong with me. This isn’t who I am.
He gets our dinner and puts it in front of where we are sitting at the table and then goes back to the bar and gets two more Scotch and Cokes without a word. My eyes watch him across the room, wearing tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt that hugs his every muscle. His tattoos are peeking out from under his shirt. He towers above all the men at the bar and I feel myself flutter as I watch him. Hell, this is ridiculous. I am not sure if this dominance show is for the people around us or to let me know how badly my body wants him… and it really does. Either way, I’m totally screwed. While he’s gone, Chelsea and Angela get their dinner and sit down next to me at the long table.
I’m brought back to reality with a thud. One glance of her big slutty tits in my face and my arousal instantly dissipates.
“Hello.” Chelsea fakes a smile.
“Hi,” I reply as I cut into my chicken.
Angela smiles warmly as she puts her hand on my leg. “God, Mac is like an animal with you. I’ve been watching him.”
I swallow uncomfortably. I’m a ho.
“Mac is an animal with all women. You should see him with me,” Chelsea murmurs sarcastically into her wine glass.
Angela and my eyes meet and I continue to eat in silence. I know this shouldn’t piss me of, but it fucking does. Mac comes back and takes his seat and my angry eyes flicker up to him. I imagine the girls on the ship all lining up to fuck him and I feel sick. What in the hell goes on around here when they are all alone at sea?
This is not who you are, Roshelle.
I’ve already shared one man. Why in the hell would I willingly share another?
A European looking man walks over and talks to a blonde man. Mac looks up and glares at him, his jaw clenching in anger, and my eyes follow the man across the dining table.
“Who’s that?” I ask Angela.
“Stucko,” she whispers as she drops her head.
“Who’s he? I haven’t seen him before.” I frown.
“Be grateful. He’s a nasty piece of work.” She whispers.
I glance over at Mac who is openly glaring at him across the room. I can tell there is no love lost between these two.
“So, twenty-
one days until Puerto Rico.” Angela smiles as she tries to make conversation.
“Oh, I can’t wait.” Chelsea smiles and then she looks over to Mac. “Mac and I have had some pretty wild nights in Puerto Rico, haven’t we?”
He keeps eating with his head down. He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t acknowledge what she has just said.
I get a vision of them fucking in a nightclub and my blood boils, even though I know I am being utterly ridiculous. I am unable to control it.
“What have you got planned for me at this port Mac?” She smiles sexily over the table.
I chew my food in silence as I stare at my plate.
“Enough, Chels. Cut the fucking shit.” He snarls.
Angela widens her eyes into her wine glass. “Awkward,” she mouths at me.
We continue to eat in silence and eventually Chelsea gets up to go to the bar and Angela starts talking to a man who sits down next to her. Mac casually puts his hand on my upper thigh and I flick it off discretely under the table. He glares at me and raises his brow in a silent dare.
I lean over and whisper into his ear, “I don’t appreciate your scratching post boring the fuck out of me with her sleazy tales about you. I’m going back to the room.”
“The hell you are,” he growls in my ear as he grabs my hand.
“Stay here and fuck her on the pool table,” I whisper angrily as I rip my hand from his grip.