Victoria's Secret Wish

by Piper Denna

  She looked over her shoulder, where Brett and the prince were talking, and shrugged. Lucky them–they had to put up with the royal douchebag for the rest of their trip. At least, until the last day, when he’d be leaving a few hours earlier than the other passengers. With her head turned, her dress bunched up on one side. Was that a bruise?

  “Who hurt you?” He brushed his fingers over it. A bite mark? He’d kill that fucker with his bare hands.

  “No! It wasn’t him. I mean–” She backed up a step, pressed her shoulder to her ear to shrug his touch away. Her face and neck were all red now. “Do you have the stuff for me?”

  Wasn’t him? Who the fuck else could have done it? That buff guy in the shadows on her deck. Goddammit.

  Best to act like it was a big laugh. “Gotta be careful who you and your husband play with, hon. Remember what you used to say? Discretion should be nine-tenths of a lay.” He could totally go there, if she was into threes now. Grant wasn’t unattractive–just a cocksucker for taking Victoria away. Hogging her.

  Victoria’s eyes got wide, and he wondered if she’d unleash on him. But then the shades went down and she laughed. A little tinkly, fakeish laugh. “Oh, Gil. You’re so funny. Everybody knows Brett and I don’t do things like that. About that delivery…”

  So she’d blow him off, huh? Not for long. “Have you seen the blog? About the cruise?”

  Now she leaned close. “Shh! Lower your voice.” All business now. “That’s not common knowledge on the ship, and it needs to stay that way, so we don’t have a panic situation. Got it?”

  Damn, she was sexy when she got all top-dog dominant. “I got it. How about you pay me off to keep me quiet?” He grinned and puckered. “Just one little kiss.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes, gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. “So where’s the stuff? In the chopper?”

  Her work shit. All she cared about. “Yeah. Let me get it.” He grabbed the stack from the front seat and returned with it. “All the local papers I could grab, plus the stuff Morty sent and some junk from Publicity.”

  She took the bundle from him and flashed him a real smile this time, seeming to not notice when he brushed the back of his hand against her chest–still firm. Man, he wanted to get his hands full. “Thanks. You’re the best. So I’ll see you in a couple days.”

  “Yeah. Monday, unless somebody needs an emergency flight outta here.” Sounded like she was looking forward to seeing him again, and planning to meet him. “Think while these guys fuel me up, I’ll run downstairs for a bite.” He looked at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Not that kind of bite for him, at least not tonight.

  She was already backing away, her shoulder shrugged enough for him to tell she was thinking about that mark too. Back to the fake, professional, we-only-work-together smile, but she couldn’t hide that blush, and he wouldn’t forget all those times she’d visited him in the hangar on the Mountain.

  So she liked it rough now. His little Victoria had expanded her portfolio. He liked that. A lot.

  Now, where might he find his blogging friend? She was doing a fine job. So maybe instead, he’d look up Griffin. Hadn’t been cold at all in his room the last couple nights, remembering that cock. Fuck, yeah. Maybe he could get in for another faked “appointment” behind the bar.

  His cock got hard on the elevator ride down to the Lido deck, just thinking about it. Could he talk Griffin into skipping the condom this time? Just a taste of him…

  The elevator doors opened and he pushed past the people waiting to board. Didn’t look good–no Griffin in sight–but he’d definitely ask.

  “Heya, is Griffin around?” he asked a lanky redhead working the bar.

  She gave him a come-hither smile and winked one of her wide green eyes. “He’ll be in later tonight. We switched shifts. Anything I can help with?”

  Red hair, green eyes… Could she pass as Victoria if he concentrated hard? Maybe. But he wasn’t in the mood for playing pretend. Boning some imposter pussy wouldn’t get him any closer to converting Griffin, or convincing Victoria to ditch the ball and chain. “Thanks.” He shook his head and strode back to the elevator.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered as he opened the cockpit door to his chopper.

  “Hi.” The Blogging Wonder slouched in his seat, a miniskirt shoved up so high he could smell her.

  Great, just what he didn’t need today.

  “Er. Hi. Thought I’d missed you. Nice job on the reporting, so far.”

  She smiled and licked her lips, then two fingers on her right hand. “Wanna give me a reward?” The licked fingers went between her legs.

  Shit. No panties.

  But not so much as a twitch in his Levi’s. “Babe, we got a business thing goin’. I think we should keep it that way. Okay?”

  Her eyebrows pulled down, and she narrowed her eyes.

  Wouldn’t do for her to get in a snit. She might nark him out. Maybe he should smooth this over. “Look, it’s not personal. I pretty much bat for the other team now.” Still no answer. “I’m into dick, okay?”

  She rolled her eyes, and yanked her skirt down. “Fuck you. What was all that, coming onto me Monday? And why do you want fucking Victoria if you’re a fag?”

  “I’m not a fag.” He stepped close enough to be intimidating without touching. “We needed a cover for why we’d be talking, right? My tastes are a little eclectic these days, is all.”

  “And Victoria?” she said, sneering. “Is she packing something the rest of us don’t know about?” As if this trampy little twat could ever grasp what it was about Victoria. “Is she some kind of tranny freak or something?”

  “Watch your mouth. And get out of my seat.”

  She huffed and stepped down. Man, he’d pissed her off. Now she’d probably walk off the job. Or worse yet, rat him out for setting up the blog.

  “Hey. Babe.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “Really. It’s not you. It’s me. And just because I want Brett Grant out of the picture, doesn’t mean I want Victoria for myself. I got other plans. Plans I’ll explain to you later. Okay?”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes again. “I can find plenty of ass half your age on this ship anyway.” She waddled away, flipping him the bird as she went.

  Fucking little bitch!

  Chapter 15

  Griffin hung a row of beer mugs from hooks above the bar. The Lido deck was hopping tonight. Judging by the catcalls and yelling from a couple of tables, some of the passengers had been out here for hours drinking. And the daytime bartender hadn’t done a very good job of watching how drunk the guests were. It wasn’t a hard thing to do–just keep an eye out, and when somebody started getting sauced, cut back on the booze in their drinks, or else slow down service a bit. He didn’t like the looks of things out there–heavy drinking didn’t mesh well with pools and unrestrained sex drives. Hard to tell what might happen.

  And that was one of the things Trish had bitched about–how he was always looking out for everybody’s safety. She, of all people, thought he needed to mind his own business. So maybe he would. Let the cruise director or somebody in charge worry. His job was right back here behind the bar, enjoying Close Encounters of the Unacquainted Kind. Not that they hadn’t been fun. Well, all except with that dude. That had been…unreal. He’d rather not think about it again.

  Hmm. Peyton came stumbling–literally–onto the deck. He’d looked for her earlier in the lounge. She’d been sending come-fuck-me vibes his way, and he had every intention of answering her request. But she hadn’t been around when he was looking–not in the lounge or up here at the cabanas. From the looks of her now, she’d been somewhere getting bent. Holy shit. What was she doing? She’d sat smack in the middle of the table where the four drunkest guys were sitting. He hadn’t seen a skirt that short since the guys at work had rented Girls Gone Horny. He’d bet those guys weren’t on her roster for a fantasy encounter. She was flat-out stripping for them, on her knees and shaking that aw
esome rack in their faces. One of the guys helped her down and she shimmied out of her skirt too, bent over to give them a good eyeful–Griffin got to see the front this time–and then called, “Let’s skinny-dip!”

  Great. Four drunk guys and a drunk girl in the pool. Not so safe. And where the hell was the lifeguard? Nowhere in sight. When the guys started stripping, Griffin turned back to the bar patrons. He recognized several, but didn’t see the guy from earlier, the one with the Married Woman Problem. Maybe he was off scoring again. Funny, about that guy. He sported beard stubble and a ball cap like he was hiding–in a shipful of celebs, no less–but it couldn’t be more obvious he was a pro swimmer. Dumbass. Whatever, though. Everybody was entitled to privacy, if that’s what mattered.

  Fuck. The Drunk Four had formed a circle, and Peyton was in the center. He couldn’t see much between the bodies, but it looked like she was giving head. Nice. Well, she knew what she wanted, he’d give her that much. Too bad he’d been so slow making his move. A girl with that kind of energy would be a tiger in the sack.

  One of the four sat down at the edge, or sort of fell down to a sitting position, and then another. Nobody else seemed to be paying much attention to the scene in the pool, because three really hot chicks were going at it up on the platform. And the lifeguard was…where? Damn it. How was he supposed to mix pitchers of margaritas when all those inebriated idiots could drown?

  He’d go clear some tables and check on the pool action. Who was he kidding, though? He had to find the lifeguard or he’d be stressing all night. Man. Was she blowing that guy underwater? How long could she stay down there? Seventeen...eighteen… How long had she been down already? He moved closer.

  “Hey, bro. Is she okay?” he yelled at the drunks. “Hello?”

  Peyton wasn’t going down on the dudes–she was just down. On the bottom. “Fuck. Watch out!” He shoved past the two standing guys and jumped in. The water was clear enough to see her eyes closed. He grasped her by the waist and pulled her up–not a hard job as small as she was–and hefted her to the decking. Out cold. Not breathing, but she had a pulse. Airway seemed clear. Time for mouth-to-mouth. “Somebody get the lifeguard, or doctor, or whoever the fuck is in charge around here!”

  Her chest spasmed and she tried to cough, so he turned her to her side. Thank Christ.

  “What’s going on here?” Cruise director Shawna knelt beside him. “Oh my God. Is she all right?”

  “I think so. Somebody get me a towel so I can cover her up?”

  Snickers from the group of guys. “Like it matters,” one of them called.

  “It matters, motherfucker. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t press charges.”

  Shawna nodded at two late-to-the-scene security guards. “Help those guys back to their berths, please. Time for them to sleep it off. And who the hell is the lifeguard tonight?”

  Peyton kept coughing and puking up water, and finally moaned. “Oh God. Helllp.”

  Somebody pressed a towel into his hand and he covered her with it. “Shhh. It’s okay. Just breathe. Real slow.” He looked up at Shawna, who was on her radio trying to track down a lifeguard. “I’m gonna take her to the infirmary. Can you hand me her clothes from that table over there? Somebody should probably stay with her, for when she starts puking up the booze.”

  “If you’d like to, that’s fine. I’ll get somebody else at the bar for the night. You’re kinda…wet, anyway,” Shawna said. “Thank you for being there. I mean, if something had happened–”

  “Something did happen. And more somethings are bound to, if safety measures aren’t put in place.”

  “The Grants will be in touch with you. I’m sure there’ll be a reward of some sort.”

  He stood and swung around, Peyton’s legs dangling over his right arm, her head over his left. “If you wanta reward me, make sure I don’t have to do my real-life job anymore while I’m on this fantasy cruise.”

  * * * *

  “Oh God. I’m never drinking again.” Peyton sang the tune of all drunks since the beginning of time. He’d heard it before, sung it too.

  She seemed to be alert enough now, maybe a little puffy-faced, and she knuckled away a tear now and then. The doc had checked her out and deemed her “lucky.”

  “So.” He cleared his throat. “Listen. It’d be fine with me if you wanted to come hang out with me in my room. Just, you know…to make sure you’re okay. You probably shouldn’t be alone.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “You saved me. That means you’re my hero, right? A big, strong hero, who wants me to spend the night with him. Maybe the doctor was right and I am lucky.” She licked her lips–probably trying for sexy, but with eye makeup smeared clear down her cheek, it turned out looking more psychotic. “Actually, what time is it?”

  “It’s almost ten. Why, you got a date?” he teased.

  “I turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of twelve.” She sat up. “Thanks, but I’d better get back to my room and rest. Got an early morning tomorrow.”

  “Early morning? You planning on going ahead with your roster?”

  She shrugged. “Who hasn’t survived a bad drunk, right? But maybe…we could get together, huh? I’ll see you in the lounge for breakfast. And hey, thanks.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Hero.”

  Hero. The word echoed in his ears all the way back to his room.

  Chapter 16

  Midnight, and they were just heading back to the suite. Brett leaned against the elevator wall and pulled Vic close to his side. “Long fucking day, eh, love?”

  She sighed, then reached down and removed her shoes. With them dangling from her hand, she wrapped her arms around his torso. “Too long. Somebody needs to tell your friend the prince he’s only royalty in the UK. Everywhere else, he’s just a spoiled punk.”

  He smiled at the thought. Perhaps a good backhand would be more in order, though. “Royalty or no, next time the little bastard tries to feel you up on the dance floor, he’ll be needing to see the royal dentist for a smashed mouth.”

  She shook her head against his collarbone. “Tomorrow we’re calling in sick–to everything. We can see what’s going on around the ship, and nobody needs us.”

  The lift stopped, and they got off.

  Vic was so adept at redirecting the conversation. Probably for the best, though. Not much good came of jealousy. Which reminded him. “Why did that bugger Gil touch you this afternoon?”

  She stopped at their door and put her hands on her hips. “That bugger Gil is our helicopter pilot. He saw the mark on my neck.”

  “No part of his job description includes touching the proprietors.” Nosy, staring fuck. Gil was another bloke about to get a mouthful of fist.

  He keyed in the code and held the door for Vic.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Gil has a boyfriend. So cool your jets. Anyway, how can you possibly still act like a jealous fool?”

  David sprawled, sleeping, across the sofa, the TV playing the action scene of Ghost.

  Vic put her finger to her lips to shush him, and they crept to the bedroom.

  “I suppose that puts the brakes on any wild plans this evening.” Brett loosened his tie. “Probably as well. I’m so bushed, the kid would likely show me up.”

  Vic dropped her shoes inside the closet and untied the top of her dress. “I’m pretty raw. Maybe some recovery time would be good.”

  He pulled her against him, rubbed his thumbs under her eyes. “Vic? Is this all right with you still? It’s not too much?” She hadn’t lost all control yet, as he’d hoped she would. It seemed she enjoyed the antics, but perhaps it was for his benefit. “Is this what you want, love?”

  She looked away briefly, then met his eyes again. “Yes.”

  Worried. What was it this time? “If you decide it’s not, all you have to do is tell me. We’ll be done.” Much as he loved watching her with David, much as he liked having David around, he’d not force her past her comfort zone.

  Her lips pursed and she sq
ueezed him tight. “I know.”

  “Right, then. I’ll go fetch us a bottle of water and turn off the telly. Join you in a moment?”

  She let go of him and went inside the closet, probably in search of a gown to sleep in. Tonight she had a better chance than average of keeping it on.

  He turned off the TV and looked down at David. Sleeping like a baby. Not the soul of a baby, though. More like old before his time. He’d wake up feeling old, for certain, the way his neck hitched at the back of the couch.

  “David. Hey.”

  Nothing.

  He raised his voice a little. “Hallo. David.” Should he touch him? Might startle him, but hell. The guy had had his mouth pretty damn close to his cock earlier, and his hands had been between his thighs and Vic’s chest. The guy’s cock had been in his wife, for the love of God. Touching shouldn’t be a problem. But where? “David?” Just the arm would be fine. A smooth, warm arm. He gave it a little shake.

  “Mmm?” Blue eyes opened and blinked up at him.

  “Hey. We’ve gone to bed. Feel free to sleep…wherever. You’ll likely get a crick in your neck like that.”

  David nodded, patted his hand, turned over, and went back to sleep.

  So. There’d be a bit more room in the bed tonight, at least. Sunny side to every cloud.

  * * * *

  He woke to an empty bed, with a vague recollection of Vic kissing his forehead as she rustled away. She hadn’t gone far, as he could hear her voice, and David’s as well.

  A quick trip to the loo, a turn with his toothbrush, and he wandered out to the main room. Oh, they were outside. Probably breakfasting–the clock said half past nine. The sun was blazing down, and Vic had taken cover on a seat under the enormous table umbrella. Wearing a thick white robe, she had her feet on the chair nearest her, with a shirtless David seated at the next. Breakfast was in full swing. Hmm. Perhaps it had been the door shutting behind the servers that had woken him.

  “So why do you think he wanted you guys to hang with him all night?” David asked, while cutting something on his plate–ham? Good Lord, he was hungry, but he’d like to watch them together for a bit.