Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  Vasco rose to his feet, failing to camouflage his wince behind his stern façade.

  Lozano finished the last cuff. “I know someone who could make an alternative recommendation. Follow me.”

  He opened the door, Tiburón waiting on the other side. The garage windows were covered, and the dim bulbs overhead cast an eerie light. Several men surrounded a section of floor blanketed with black plastic liners, a single metal folding chair in the middle.

  With an occupant.

  The customs official’s head sagged over the uniform’s ripped collar. Wicked bruises bloomed under the shirt’s opening. Dark, dried blood covered the duct tape over his mouth, and his hands were tied behind the chair.

  Lozano’s footsteps echoed as he crossed the concrete floor to stand in front of his guest. “Officer, so good of you to join us.”

  The man reluctantly lifted his eyes, watery and bloodshot. His attempt at speaking came out as a whimper. Lozano ripped off the tape. The man yelped. A single tear rolled to the tip of his nose.

  Lozano twirled the letter opener, eye-level to his guest. The distinct, bitter stench of urine permeated the air, the dark liquid pooling at the base of the chair. “You are ground zero for this monumental fuck-up.”

  “I didn’t know.” He averted his eyes as he cried. “I didn’t tell him anything, I swear. Just forced him away…”

  Lozano slowly knelt in front of the custom’s officer. He placed the tip of the letter opener under the man’s chin, tilting his face upward.

  More of the man’s urine pooled under the chair.

  “Tell me what I want to know,” he snarled, a drop of blood coating the tip of the knife. “Or I’ll sharpen this blade with your teeth. And one by one cut things off…”

  THE BRILLIANT GEMS GLISTENED ON Alanna’s neck under the bathroom’s pale lights. Her naked reflection in the mirror wore nothing except her family legacy.

  She’d rinsed the salt water from the necklace, cleaning the jewels as best she could.

  The shower’s warm spray had washed away her tears. Tears of sorrow, relief, tension, anger—one for every emotion battling inside her. Goose prickles still covered her body from her free dive near death, despite the steam still circling around her. Her dark nipples were puckered on her small breasts, the outline of her ribs more pronounced.

  A fitting image. I’m a princess stripped of everything but my own heartbeat.

  She twisted her dripping hair up into a giant bun on top of her head. Instead of adorning tiara for a lavish palace gala, she wore a crown of vengeful pity. Toward herself, the world, everything. She was adrift, scattered to the winds like the petals of a withered rose.

  How did I get here? How have I been reduced to this?

  But the gems around her neck wouldn’t let her cry anymore. Her pride had carried her this far, and it had to carry her home. The cost had been too great to quit now.

  With a wipe of her nose, she put on her bra and panties, keeping her gaze glued on Luna de Azul. Suddenly, her mother’s face appeared in the mirror.

  The epitome of elegance, grace, and regality stared back at her. Her legs nearly buckled. Memories rushed over her, of her father hugging her mother in the Royal Garden, her brothers skipping rocks across the fountain, with their niñera scolding them for scaring the fish. Then fast-forwarded to little Alejandro taking his first steps under the rose trellis, his arms outstretched to Tulio.

  The truly happy times of her life, unconcerned with politics, leadership, and chaos.

  She couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt too much. The image in the mirror morphed back into her mother’s face. Now pale, her skin taut across her cheekbones, and gray hair thinned. The last week before she succumbed to the chemo-resistant tumor. But she still wore her unwavering smile. The memory finished at her mother’s headstone, with André kneeling before it and sobbing into his hands.

  She dropped her head. Keep it together. For her. For Father. I’m the only thing left of them.

  She didn’t hear the door open, but felt Flynn’s presence behind her. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She let her head fall back, and gripped his arms.

  His warm embrace was her security, holding her like a hammock. Her safe place to release the angst, the hurt, the pressure. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he turned in toward her neck, and just held her.

  She hurt too much to care that she was only wearing her bra and panties. And Luna de Azul. Perhaps it was better this way. Without her clothes, his soothing aura had a more direct route to hers.

  He still smelled of the ocean, and the grainy remnants of salt clung to his arms. He’d removed his shirt, the thick bands of his muscled abs pressed against her body.

  Rubbing his hand along her side, he started to sway. She wasn’t sure if it was him or the boat swaying, or the whole world. It didn’t matter.

  The mirror’s reflection showed her enwrapped in his hold.

  The image was as comforting as his arms.

  “Three days.” His breath warmed her neck. “We’ll be in Singapore, and I’ll get you home. Just hang on.”

  “Hang on to what?”

  His grip tightened. “Me.”

  The one word sent her over the edge. Fire sparked in her gut and spread through her whole body. Slow at first, embers glowing between connecting tissues. Then faster, as the swaying of their bodies together made her mind spin.

  She turned in his arms. Her gaze locked onto his brilliant green eyes. Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips over his.

  The salty sweet of the sea clung to his skin. Fresh and ripe. He tasted like home.

  Home.

  I’m so desperate for home. For him.

  He was warm, enveloping, and stronger than the tides. Everything she needed.

  His arms wrapped around her and lifted her, deepening the kiss. Her fingers dived into his hair, still damp from the ocean.

  Her pinkie grazed the top of his ear, and he stiffened.

  She opened her eyes to his grimace, his brow wrinkled and lids clamped shut.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just a second.” He kept his eyes firmly closed. Something battled inside him, that much was clear. Whatever it was, he tried to bury it down. She kept her hands soft on his shoulders, afraid her touch bothered him somehow.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  He held onto her hips for another moment, then finally opened his eyes.

  “No.” He clutched her hands and flittered kisses across the knuckles. “Just fighting old quirks.” He guided her fingers to his waist. “Keep them here.”

  “I don’t underst—”

  His rough hands cupped her face, the look in his eyes desperate and pleading. “Don’t give up on me.” He touched his lips to her forehead, and kissed a trail down her nose.

  How could I ever give up on him? He’s never given up on me.

  He finally connected with her mouth, and every thought vanished. He was soft and warm, breathing life back into her. She opened for him, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Dancing with hers. Tilting her head, she delved into him, tasting every corner.

  Kissing her guardian angel would never get old. Heaven was real; it stood right in front of her.

  She hooked a finger into the belt loop on his shorts, and tugged him closer. A low moan resonated from his throat, filling the minimal space between them with a spark that lit up her insides.

  He pressed her against the bathroom sink, his pelvis flush against her abdomen. With one hand still holding her head, the other moved down her side to cup her ass and raise her onto the counter. He made her feel like a matchstick, lighter than air and ignitable with a single touch. Instinct made her wrap her legs around his waist. She desperately wanted to run her hands through his hair, but she kept her fingers tucked in his belt loops, urging him closer.

  His hand smoothed down her bare back. The heat in the bathroom escalated to a nearly suffocating level, the only form of oxygen from
him. From his mouth on hers. His hands on her skin.

  His caress slid to her breast. Her heart rate doubled, and her limbs grew heavier. As her tongue dived deeper, his stroke intensified. Her nipples strained against the cotton fabric of her bra. Rapturous sparks shocked through her lower gut, growing hotter with every circle of his thumb. He hooked a finger inside the lace hem and grazed the naked flesh of her nipples.

  Her breath caught, and she pushed into his palm. The promise to keep her hands on his hips had no chance over the urge to cover his hand with her own. He moved the fabric aside as the bra straps fell off her shoulders. They massaged her breasts together, fingers intertwined.

  Her hips involuntarily ground against him, and his length hardened against her panties. He pressed her into the foggy mirror, breaking the kiss. Lips swollen and cheeks flushed, his green eyes had darkened to a ripe avocado, hazed with lust.

  A shudder danced up her spine from the way he looked at her. Something she’d never forget. Like the priceless necklace around her neck were cheap rocks compared to her beauty.

  He lightly pinched her nipple between his knuckles, and she gasped. A surge charged her core. Everything throbbed.

  The corner of his mouth tugged upward, and he pinched her again. And again, until the nubs ached. Each time elicited another gasp or a bite on her lip. But she kept her gaze locked on his, refusing to miss a single flicker of divine seduction on his face.

  Her cheeks burned and it was impossible to catch her breath, but she wouldn’t dare tell him to stop. The ache in her sex coiled tighter. She wanted the exquisite pressure to simultaneously release and keep building.

  While his one hand continued to torture her nipple, the other slid down her body, hovering at the seam of her panties. His large palm was hot on her skin, covering most of her abdomen, and his thumb teased her navel in time with his other hand.

  She braced herself against the counter, arching her hips upward to urge him on.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered.

  “Don’t give up on me,” she panted.

  When the slightest smile broke on his face, the room stopped. Only angels with naughty minds had a smile like that. He slipped his fingers under the fabric and between her folds. The pounding escalated in her ears, and her breathing accelerated.

  With a simultaneous pinch on her nipple, he found her center. Her body jerked, and she clutched onto his bicep to keep her balance. Her head fell against the mirror. He relentlessly massaged the little nub past the point of numbness. The pressure she craved grew higher, stronger, tighter.

  What does it feel like when it bursts?

  She rolled her hips in rhythm with his strokes. When he slipped his finger deep inside her, everything trembled. She purred through the electrical shocks vibrating her senses, the pressure building.

  “You’re so tight,” he cooed.

  She bit her lip in response, and the room tilted over her head.

  Her nails dug deep into his shoulders. His sizzling breath against her neck was another dip and bend in the ride.

  He pumped in and out, while his thumb massaged her clit. Involuntary spasms speared up her spine with his occasional nips on her collarbone.

  “What does it feel like?” he asked, the words dancing across her breasts, followed by his tongue, flicking her nipple. “Tell me.”

  “Hot. Dizzy. Like I’m gonna fall,” she huffed out. When he tugged the tip of her nipple between his teeth, she whimpered. “Or explode.”

  He moved up her body until their eyes locked on each other. He looked feral, almost animalistic this close. Even out of control. Her heart skipped.

  “Then do it. Fall.” His voice was liquid sugar over her body. His finger pumped into her faster, and harder. “Explode, Alanna.”

  Her eyes rolled back. The coiled tension inside her burst. “Flynn,” she cried, her voice unrecognizable as her body clenched around his fingers.

  “Yes,” Flynn growled and covered her mouth with his, stifling her long moan that erupted from deep within. He continued to pump in and out of her, rubbing the nub at her apex until everything turned numb.

  She’d lost control over her body, and she loved every second. For the first time, abandon was more important than pride. More pleasurable.

  That’s what I’ve been missing.

  She smiled against him, and then devoured his kisses.

  “Watching you was hotter than hell,” he finally said.

  Tingles invaded her entire body and her tongue felt swollen. “I want to do that again.” She moved her hand lower to cup his groin, the length of him solid like a rock. He hissed, pressing himself into her hand.

  “So does he,” he rumbled like thunder.

  A harsh knock on the outer door made her jump. Flynn dropped his forehead to hers and grimaced. “Shit.”

  “Break is over. We need you on deck.” Liang’s harsh voice ripped her from the rapturous high. He knocked again, the sound reverberating throughout their close quarters. “Now.”

  “All right,” Flynn snapped, the creases in his forehead deepening.

  “I didn’t take that long, did I?”

  He looked hard into her eyes. “You will next time.”

  FLYNN STEPPED ON DECK, THE cutting wind slapping his face. He almost welcomed it, given the erection still raging in his shorts. Every movement was uncomfortable, damn near painful. The sharp gust of spicy air meant one undeniable thing:

  Storm.

  And that he definitely didn’t welcome.

  Charcoal clouds gathered in the distance, streaked with wisps of green. The waves churned, rocking the yacht like a small bath toy, the chop now dark and threatening. Time to tie things down and prep the boat.

  “Bring in the patio chairs.” Liang Wen secured a fender. “Anything that isn’t tied down.”

  The creases on the first officer’s forehead combined with his jerky movements proved how nervous he was about the oncoming weather. The rest of the crew shared his edginess, frantic to prep everything. Flynn’s heart rate kicked up a notch.

  Manual labor was the only thing that would keep him from losing his mind. At least take his focus off the pulsing madness in his shorts. That’s what Alanna did to him. She made him crazy protective and equally carnal. And irrational—a trait Flynn scorned in others.

  He pulled another fender against the side, counting each heave on the rope. Leaning back, he kept the slack tight until Liang tied it off.

  The first officer wiped his brow and looked up at the threatening sky. Only then did Flynn feel the cold drizzle hitting his forehead, a warning of the upcoming deluge only minutes away.

  In his peripheral vision, Alanna dragged patio chairs into the sky lounge. He could have sworn he felt her eyes on the back of his neck. That was another thing about her. His body naturally responded when she walked in the room, whether he knew she was there or not.

  This tiny woman, so young and receptive, made him helplessly vulnerable and obedient to her every word. Would do anything for her safety. For her affection.

  “I’m a damn puppy,” he muttered.

  “It’s your job, sailor,” Wen barked. “Go pull up the last fender.”

  Flynn complied, just as the dark clouds grew too heavy to hold the rain. Within seconds, he was soaked to his toes. Everyone sped up then.

  But the jumpy energy didn’t seem to affect Alanna. With focused confidence, she scooped up the patio cushions and tucked them in the onboard cabinets. Then she hauled the weighted lid over the enormous spa. She either still reveled in their pleasures from below deck, or had the best poker face he’d ever seen that concealed the anxiousness shared by the rest of the crew.

  The weirdest part was she didn’t even know she had this control over him. Was that from her years as living as a princess, detached from the rest of the world, or her own authoritative nature, that was as intimidating as it was subconscious?

  “How long do you think this will last?” Flynn asked Marcus as they hauled the patio
table inside the sky deck.

  “Not sure,” Marcus grunted. “I haven’t seen the radar.”

  Alanna followed with each arm clasped onto a patio chair, and flashed a smile at Flynn. A loose strand of hair brushed her cheekbone, flushed and adorable. Rain dripped from the end of it, landing on the corner of her lip.

  His dick responded to her presence again. To which he tried to hide by grabbing the chair from her and keeping his crotch hidden as he put it on the other side of the room.

  Damn, I need to relieve the pressure. As soon as everything is prepped, I’ll lock myself in our cabin.

  “Anything else out there?” Marcus asked.

  “That’s it.” Alanna’s eyes locked with Flynn’s, and her cheeks flushed.

  The yacht listed starboard, and he caught himself on the doorframe. Alanna’s weight landed on his torso. She was so warm and soft, pressing against his wild erection. The blush deepened on her gorgeous face, and wrapped around her neck. He swallowed a groan.

  Sublime torture.

  Marcus looked between the two of them and hid a smirk. Not convincingly. He cleared his throat. “Lanna, please secure the kitchen with Alfred.”

  Flynn wanted to punch Marcus in the jaw for that. Instead, he followed her to the stairwell. Through the windows, he saw a small cove where the captain had clearly intended to drop anchor. A decent looking refuge from the storm. He’d need to be on the main deck in a few minutes to secure the anchors.

  They descended the spiral staircase, Flynn first so Alanna could use his shoulder for balance amid the choppy sea. Ten steps down well hidden from both floors, he turned and pushed her against the wall. Without missing a beat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and glued her lips to his. All his weight ground into her body, chest to groin, as their souls fought for control. Fought for this ruthless urge to be sated.

  Still just like coconuts. Nothing in the world tasted better than her.

  The kiss broke apart sooner than he wanted, but her coffee irises gazed at him like he was the key to her life. Trusting, full of passion.

  Her hand drifted down his abdomen and grasped his cock through his shorts.