by Ashlee Price
Langdon considered that, nodding slowly. “But you still don’t like the deal?”
I lingered on that, knowing he was trying to make me commit, which I couldn’t do in any way at that time, and for so many reasons. “I’d proceed with caution,” was all I really could say, and Langdon seemed to understand that.
“Fair enough. With one caveat.” I waited for him to set his terms. “No more talkin’ ‘bout business till we’re back on dry land. Deal?”
Back on dry land? I was about to ask him what he meant when we pulled up to New York Harbor and a helicopter which sat waiting for us.
The rotors started turning, and Langdon led me, head down by sheer instinct, into the plush cabin. We strapped in and someone closed the door behind us. With Langdon’s nod to the pilot, the bird lifted off the ground and ascended. My stomach turned with just the slightest bit of nerves, and my blood was pushing through my veins as my body gobbled up the oxygen. I took Langdon’s hand and squeezed tight.
Manhattan was spread out beneath us, getting smaller by the second as we rose over it. Those mighty skyscrapers which had towered over me for years suddenly seemed humbled, reduced. But it was still New York, still impressive, and seeing it from above only gave it an additional gravitas. It sprawled out into the distance, boroughs connected by bridges and tunnels, streets and structures.
We flew over Central Park, alive with tiny pedestrians, the zoo looking like a model on some architect’s desk. Everything beneath me seemed surreal, unlike the city I’d come to know and more like the movie version, the famous facade without any of the reality that lurked behind it. But I had seen more than enough of that dark underbelly. Floating above the scramble of the city, I was more than happy to leave it behind, not to let in encroach upon that lofty experience. Langdon’s right. Leave business for when we get back to dry land.
But I had to ask myself yet again, dry land?
The helicopter took us around the island and then back toward the harbor. The great Statue of Liberty stood not far into the harbor, and the helicopter pilot took us closer than I would have thought possible, much less safe. We flew right up to the statue’s face. Her stern countenance was much more attractive than I’d ever realized. From a distance, it was hard to take in the high cheekbones, the full lips. I was reminded that its creator had been a Frenchman, after all.
The helicopter brought us back to the landing pad near the edge of the harbor, and I fought a pang of disappointment. The date was looking to end on a melancholy note until Langdon led me away from the helicopter and toward a large white yacht with black windows that was waiting at the dock.
The captain was standing on the deck waiting for us, smartly dressed in a white uniform. Langdon nodded at him. “Permission to come aboard?”
The captain nodded, tipping his white cap. “Permission granted.” Langdon led me up the gangplank and the captain disappeared into the cabin. The yacht’s big motors turned over and water foamed around the stern.
We set out slowly, and the mighty statue above us seemed more familiar than ever as we sailed out of the harbor and into the Atlantic chop. The wind grew stronger, and even that huge yacht still seemed intimidated by the colossal sea beneath us all. Langdon and I stood on one side of the deck as the cold breeze pushed back our hair. Langdon’s long brown locks intermingled with my own blonde strands, tying us together for what I hoped would be the rest of our lives.
What a moment, to be on that magnificent yacht sailing away from Manhattan and feeling for the first time that the city was actually going to miss me while I was gone. But also for the first time, I didn’t give a damn what Manhattan thought about me, or about the city at all.
I was more interested in the man standing beside me, warm and inviting and more charming than even seemed possible. If he was playing me, and I knew that was likely, I was ready to get played.
But I also had to do a little playing of my own.
“So tell me something,” I asked, “what got you into the fashion industry? You said you started off in real estate.”
“Still in it,” Langdon said. “But I didn’t get into clothes as fashion, not at all. I don’t give two shakes of a lamb’s balls for all that fancy shite. Have you ever been to a Paris fashion show? They dress those girls up like space aliens, big hats that look like something out of a psychotic’s wet dream. If that’s fashion, they can have it. That won’t get you across the outback, I’ll tell you that.”
I tried not to laugh too much. A lot of what he said did make a lot of sense.
“I started off making gear,” he continued, really leaning on that last word with his Australian accent: Geeeeaaaaah.
“Stahted off designing a new clip for mountain climbing, reduced accidental falls by about sixty percent by the second year.”
“No kidding.”
“But that was a one-time thing. Sold the rights, got into the wider market for breathable fabrics, sportswear, things like that. One thing led to another, just kinda happened that way, I guess. How about you? Liked to play dress-up as a little girl, did ya?”
“Not at all, actually.” I gazed out over the water, choppier as we got further out to sea. “I always had this… I dunno, artistic impulse, I guess. I loved to draw as a kid, but I really wasn’t very good at it. I tried all the media—clay, paint, dance—”
“I’ll bet you were an amazing dancer.”
“Two left feet.”
“Great legs, though.”
We shared a chuckle. “But fashion seemed like a palette I could work with. And I like the people in the industry, all in all. I mean, nobody’s perfect, and it is pretty cut-throat, but I think that’s the way it is in most industries.”
“True ‘nough,” Langdon said. “Now are you ready to stop bullshitting me… and yourself?”
I was taken aback. I couldn’t disguise it. I felt my mouth drop open, my eyebrows rising on my forehead. But I also knew that if I feigned anger or offense I’d only be making it worse and proving him all the more right.
“I wanted to get out of Eugene, Oregon,” I said, with no regret or bashfulness. “Fashion meant a big city, Los Angeles or New York. That’s what I really wanted, I guess. But I did study fashion design in school, and I know I’ve got a lot to offer if I just get the chance.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Langdon said, “not one bit.” He pulled me closer. “When am I gonna have a chance to see some of your designs?”
I smiled, if only to give me a little time to think. That sounds like a line to me, but what if he’s serious? And so what if it is a line? Might as well give it a little tug, see what he does. Or…
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about business until we got back onto dry land.”
He smiled too, but he didn’t seem to need any time to think. Langdon Cane didn’t need anything.
Except perhaps for a certain someone.
A flash of gray poked out of the blue-and-white churn of the Atlantic, catching our eyes. Langdon and I looked over to see a gray dolphin jumping even higher out of the waves along the side of the yacht. My heart skipped to see that gorgeous, sleek animal throw itself into an alien environment, out of place and yet perfectly at ease. Another dolphin jumped near it, and I realized there was an entire pod of bottlenose dolphins swimming alongside our yacht.
What a sight to behold! These divine creatures seemed to be paying tribute to the yacht—and, of course, its master. I couldn’t help but think that even these amazing animals, which could communicate across the globe with just a few clicks, which had soul and intelligence beyond our imagining, would recognize in Langdon Cane a mammal of even greater power and strength. They leapt higher as if to impress him, chattering and flapping and leaping up in ever increasing numbers. Langdon and I clung to one another as we enjoyed their performance. There must have been a dozen or more of varying shades of gray, speckled with black and white. They danced in the yacht’s wake, celebrating our union, the life even they envied, hoping for a fle
eting glance at an ecstasy they could only imagine in their murky gloom.
But then another figure broke the surface only a hundred feet or so from the starboard bow. It was a massive whale, a humpback or something, with tremendous fins, a bulbous head, and a huge mouth filled with baleen filters. It rose up like some living statue and seemed to pause in midair for a moment, resplendent in its majesty, before dropping back into the ocean with an eruption of white foam and spray.
I felt that crash in my blood, tasted the spray on the back of my tongue, redolent with salt and the rush of wild wonder. I’d never expected to come so close to so much natural beauty, but I’d also never been on the open ocean in a yacht like that, with a man like Langdon.
But things went from fascinating to frightful in an instant as somebody hollered something from the captain’s cabin above.
Langdon and I looked over to the yacht’s port side. A huge whale just like the other breached the surface only a few yards away. There was no time to run into the cabin for whatever safety it may have offered. The yacht was already listing heavily toward the starboard. Reacting instantly, Langdon put a strong fist on the rail on either side of me, his body in front to block any rogue wave that might hurl itself over the deck.
My eyes were locked over his shoulders on that titanic creature pushing itself up and out of the water. It seemed to be moving in slow motion, sheets of water flying off its huge fins, caked with barnacles and raked with battle scars and shark bites. It just kept rising, higher, taller, bigger than any living thing I’d ever seen.
But it was when the creature stopped rising that I started to worry, because what goes up…
The yacht’s motors growled, the great white ship sloping and listing to avoid being crushed by the beast as it fell—and it missed us by a precious few feet.
The wave the whale kicked up was almost as tall as the yacht itself, and I could feel my feet slip out from under me as the boat rocked and listed even further. The force was so great that it pulled one of Langdon’s hands free of the safety rail, and it sucked me across the deck, toppling ass-over-tea-kettle toward the rail on the port side—and then over that railing and straight into the Atlantic Ocean.
I reached out in panicked instinct. I could feel the world being pulled out from under me as my own chiding inner skeptic reminded me that she’d told me so, that there was a price to pay, that dreams like these simply didn’t come true.
But a hand grabbed mine just as that weightless moment turned against me to suck me into a briny tomb. My hand locked onto Langdon’s and my body smacked hard against the side of the yacht. It hurt. Waves of numbing pain and blinding cold shot through me. But they weren’t enough to loosen my grip, on Langdon or on life.
My legs kicked, scrambling to find a foothold in midair, and my free hand slipped from the edge of the deck again and again as Langdon and I together finally managed to pull me to safety. He grabbed the back of my coat to pull me over the railing and I fell into his arms, protected and safe once again, my systems gushing with every chemical reaction known to man and previously unknown to this woman.
Chapter 10
My heart was pounding, the thrum of near-death throbbing in my veins. I pulled myself close to Langdon, burying my face in his chest, nuzzling him for protection, for security, for dear life.
“Take me inside,” I said in a hot whisper.
But his response came cold. “No.” I looked up at him, confusion obvious in my pouting lips, blue eyes wide. “Out here.”
I looked around, now more stunned than confused. “Here?”
“Here… now.”
“But…”
“Sheryl, you just survived a terrible accident. You could have died! But you’re alive now, you made it through. Don’t let that moment pass you by. Don’t let your life pass you by! Celebrate it! You don’t dare do anything less. I won’t let you!”
“They’ll see, the crew…”
“Let them see,” Langdon said. “They work for me, they work for you. Let them see what kind of woman they’ll never get to have, what kind of woman a woman can truly be.”
“Langdon, I…”
“You’re above them, Sheryl, above all of them. Revel in it, indulge it, live it!”
“But… it’s cold!”
“We’ll make our own heat.” Langdon’s eyes were locked on mine as his hands undid my belt, my snap, my zipper. My heart was still pounding, but now with a whole new sensation. I looked up at the yacht’s blackened windows. They were all watching us unseen. I could only imagine what they were thinking.
“Good, then.” I heard myself agree with Langdon in a voice I only just recognized as my own. Let them see what kind of man Langdon really is, what kind of prize he gets for saving my life, in so many ways.
But that cold ocean breeze cut into me, telling me how much colder it was going to be when he pulled my pants all the way down.
But as always, Langdon was one step ahead. One powerful hand on each side of the zipper and a terrific yank ripped an opening down the middle of my pants, exposing my crotch but leaving the rest of my legs and body covered and warm. I couldn’t help but smile. My trust in him was even greater than before, and my admiration for his cleverness too.
I leaned back against the safety rail behind me, my arms reaching out and wrapping around the rail to secure me. Our bodies spoke to one another without needing words or instructions, as if in a dance that had been choreographed centuries before but never performed until that very moment.
Unsheathing his already hard cock, Langdon reached down under my legs and lifted my lower body up off the deck. My arms stiffened against the rails to support and secure me, but the rest of me was under Langdon’s control. He slipped his head between my labia, which were hot and damp despite the chill. Once his cock slid into me, there was no question about the cold. He was right; we were generating out own heat, and we’d only just begun.
I felt vulnerable with half my body suspended over the vast open sea, but I knew Langdon was in control. His rhythm matched the motion of the sea, in sync with the elements, almost commanding them to do his bidding. I couldn’t help but look up at the blackened windows of the crew cabin above.
“They’re watching us,” Langdon said, “you know that, Sheryl. They’re watching us and wishing they were me, wishing they could fuck a girl so pretty, so perfect, so powerful in her own right. A masterpiece of love and lust, Sheryl, that’s what you are. You’re the subject of every man’s fantasy. You know it and you’ve always known it. Your schoolmates, your teachers, your father’s friends, everybody’s first thought was that they wanted to fuck you so hard, Sheryl, the way I’m doing now, the way those men up there wish they could do! They’re going to dream about fucking you later. They’ll be jerking off to the memory of this very moment! They’re yours, Sheryl. They worship your beauty, but they know they’ll never have it, or anything even like it.”
The boat rolled with the ocean waves beneath us, that careless chop clapping against the hull, seagulls crying overhead as they looked down in envy. They could only fly, after all.
“You’re something special, Sheryl, and your life should be special, better than the others, better than all the others!”
“I… I…” I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just kept holding that safety rail for dear life as our coats cloaked our crotches, keeping the heat in and the juices flowing, forever flowing. I felt like I was in the center of the natural world, as if the entire Universe were revolving around me and Langdon and that there was nobody else and nothing else in that great expanse of time and space; just me, just him, just us.
“Let me show you,” Langdon said as he pulled me away from the safety rail. I wasn’t prepared, and as my arms slid away, my weight suddenly reminded me of the near-death fall of only a few heated moments before. I reached out in desperation, fingers clawing for his shoulders.
“Langdon, no!”
“It’s okay,” he said, “I got ya!” But my
scrambling hands clawed my way up his chest until my arms could wrap around his neck. I held on for dear life, my body sliding down onto him, my legs pulling back to press the backs of my calves against him so I wouldn’t fall too deep. Even in that frantic spin of helplessness, I was learning to find my own footing, to control my destiny even when endless possibility stretched out on either side.
Langdon nudged forward with tiny steps, but each one registered with ten times the power when passed through his transcendent dick, magnified by its size and strength and by my own sensitivity. That cock had become the center of my attention, a subject of longing, desire and beauty, the way I myself had been to so many men nowhere near Langdon’s stature.
So I let my body mold around it, using my legs to keep me in perfect position despite the slow circular march around the deck. Each step pushed us closer together, our two bodies incrementally becoming one.
The boat rocked, swaying and listing, and I was almost afraid of being thrown off, but there was no time for fear, only for faith; in Langdon, in myself, in us. So I kissed him hard, closing my eyes to the danger, to the terrible possibilities I’d just narrowly escaped. I was in good hands, in the arms of the man I loved, and I knew I was safe. I kissed him hard, searching for reassurance just the same.
And I found it. His tongue was calm, and his arms flexed with muscle nowhere near the breaking point. I felt like I’d climbed a massive tree and was making love to it, or to some magnificent moving mountain. Surrounded by that vast ocean and the glimmering creatures of massive power and ancient greatness, I was beyond merely being Sheryl Francis. I felt like I didn’t have a name anymore, that I didn’t need one.
But if I did, my last name would be Cane.
Langdon started to spin, slowly at first, but I could feel my arms clinging tighter to him. His hips thrust less as he spun faster, and it just took a few well-placed jabs before I felt my fingers slipping from off his shoulders.