Hooked (WET, #1)

by K. C. Falls

  "Oh hell no. We either charter or we use the tender." I knitted my brow at the unfamiliar term. Richard answered the unspoken question. "It's easier to show you." He picked up the radio and summoned the first mate to the bridge.

  "I promised you a tour. Come and let me properly introduce you to El Lobo."

  Chapter 8—Morgan

  This had never happened to me. Not once. Not when I was knee walkin', commode huggin’ drunk. Not when I was so tired my eyes were crossed. Not even when the chick wouldn't stop laughing. Nothing has ever deflated ‘the boy’ until the thought of that pretty little dove of a chef sprang into my head and I realized she was just on the other side of the wall.

  The two babes were working my ears and my neck when my eyes caught the faintest rustle of the porthole curtain. It was just a hint of movement but it was enough to bring me up short. If it was still Rodrigo in that room, I wouldn't have thought twice about nailing the two girls right there under the afternoon sun with the little bastard watching. It was my boat, my pool, my game. But everything had changed when Richard pulled the stunt of hiring Lara. In a ridiculous flash of time I went from wanting sex to wanting her.

  God, how embarrassing. I willed myself to focus on the beautiful women who were waiting to fuck me. Two of them, for chrissake! Ads for little blue pills started playing through my mind. The more I thought, the smaller my cock became. I was shrinking down to a micro-dick.

  "Girls," I said as I slipped back into the water. "How about putting on a little show for the Wolf? I'd love to see what you two sweethearts can do to each other."

  I glanced back at the porthole again, but the curtain was closed and didn’t move. Apparently she wasn’t into watching.

  I couldn't tell if Shelby and Emery were aware of my little problem. I was aware of nothing else. But they seemed happy enough to resume petting one another. Ordinarily, the sight of a couple of babes doing each other is a sure fire way to make me as stiff as a big game fishing rod. My cock was stubbornly flaccid—a lazy worm bobbing in the tepid water.

  The girls had progressed from the giggle phase and were making the same lusty noises they'd blessed me with a little earlier. I watched Shelby (or was it Emery?) squirm against the knee pressed between her thighs. One ground and the other ground back. My ears heard the right sounds and my eyes saw a mouth-watering sight but my brain wouldn't process.

  A tight nipple against a pink tongue. Lovely hands caressing lovely breasts, twisting a rhythm of cries from a tossed back head. Gold mane down a slim, feline back. Two shapely legs parted to receive an agile tongue. A ripe ass thrust up in the air begging for attention.

  My attention. I should have been pumping away behind those two willing ass cheeks. Instead, I was waiting for the right moment to make my awkward departure. It was pretty obvious that I was going to get zero help from my libido.

  I watched for a few more minutes until I was fairly certain that the girls were oblivious to anything but each other. Then I slipped out of the water as quietly as I could. If they questioned me about it later, I figured I could make some excuse. The truth—"Sorry ladies, I just didn't feel like doing you because my mind is fixated elsewhere."—was implausible to say the least. What man passes on a fuck-fest with two willing, exquisite women? At that moment, much as I hated to admit it, the answer was me.

  Back in my stateroom, I pulled some shorts over my traitorous crotch and fetched Mrs. Dalloway from her confinement. The little devil had digs better than most people, but she still preferred to have company—specifically my company.

  "C'mon, Ms. Mischief, let's go up to the bridge. I'll let you drive." She clamored up my arm and took her place on my shoulder as if to say "let's go!" Mrs. D. loved the bridge. All the multi-colored screens blinking as depths were charted and fish sightings recorded fascinated her. She didn't have the strength in her little hands to push anything hard enough to move it, so she spent her time watching the changing lights, trailing her tiny fingers over the patterns.

  "You're relieved, Jackson," I told the mate. He snapped me a little salute and left me alone on the pilot deck with my thoughts. I was mulling over my dismal failure as a stud when I heard the door open behind me. Mrs. D. sounded a stressed call and I turned to see Lara standing in the door to the control room. I quickly grabbed the monkey because I never knew how she'd react, especially to a female she'd only just met.

  "Mr. Wolf. Oh. Richard told me to wait here for him . . . um . . . He got called away. I was having a tour. Well then. I'm sorry to disturb you." She turned to make a flustered exit.

  "You aren't disturbing me at all. Come get to know Mrs. Dalloway." Lara took a couple of tentative steps toward me and I watched the capuchin carefully. I hoped she wouldn't make a mad dash for the chef's hair or worse. Mrs. D. had bitten a woman once and even without her canines it wasn't pretty. The bitch actually sued me afterwards and my little monkey cost me twenty-five grand. If it had been her perfect face instead of her ankle it could have been a lot more. Fortunately, it was only a nasty bruise that even her shark of a lawyer hadn't been able to paint as anything more serious.

  Lara didn't seem the least bit afraid of the monkey, but she certainly seemed less than comfortable with me. She kept her eyes firmly averted from mine. I patted the seat beside the captain's chair and she perched on the edge of it, stiff as hell and ready to bolt. The muscles on her shapely legs were tense. I could make out the definition of her delicate, but defined muscles. Spending her days on her feet had given her an awesome set of wheels.

  She smiled kindly at my monkey and looked at her through downcast eyes. It was intuitive. Lowering her head, shyly peeking at the monkey through her lashes was a naturally submissive gesture. It was also damn cute. Mrs. D. read the body language and leapt from my hand onto Lara's bare knee. I knew how those cool little hands tickled on bare flesh. Lara didn't flinch, but predictably she giggled.

  "Hello there, little one," she said in a sea-soft voice. Mrs. D. began an inspection tour of Lara's body beginning with the edge of her denim shorts. She wiggled her hand into the pocket nearest her no doubt hoping there were bears in there.

  "Mrs. D. . . . be good. No more candy today." The monkey gave me one of her most disarming grins and Lara laughed out loud. Tiny simian hands plucked at the buttons on Lara's blouse and reached the swell of her breasts. Of course, capuchins don't have any manners and Mrs. D. gave the two perfect small mounds her complete attention. Lara continued to be a good sport about it. I envied my monkey as she explored my chef’s ripe roundness.

  "You don't see many of those covered up, do you?" Lara quipped. As soon as she said it, I could see the fire rise in her cheeks. "Oh . . . oh I am so, so sorry. It just came out." She stood up suddenly, causing Mrs. D. to scamper up to her shoulder. When Lara reached up to take her in her hands, the monkey bolted for the opposite shoulder. After a couple more back and forths, Mrs. D. climbed to the top of the chef's head.

  "Would you please get her off of me?"

  I patted my shoulder but Mrs. D. refused to obey. The whole scene was pretty hilarious.

  "She doesn't seem to want to let you go." Lara still wouldn't look me in the eye. I didn't think it was possible for a person to turn such a bright shade of red without physical exertion.

  "Really. I have to . . . get back to the kitchen—the galley. To work. Really."

  "I wasn't aware that you had much to do tonight."

  "Well no. But yes. I have to . . . several of the guys will stay on board. They'll want dinner. Please?" She leaned toward me, trying to get me to relieve her of the stubborn monkey hat. It was wicked of me, but seeing her squirm was just too funny. I knew she must have thought of me as a real man-whore and wanted nothing more than to get away from me. And even though man-whore is a pretty fair assessment of what I was, some niggling little voice in my head wanted to prove that I was more than what met her eye.

  "It's still early. Why don't you keep me company for a while?" Mrs. D. was sorting through Lara's hair, pl
ucking strand after strand out of the loose twist at the back of her neck. It was grooming behavior that the monkey reserved for only her favorite people. I was surprised and rather pleased that my little pet had taken a shine to our new chef.

  "What about your company? Won't you be missed?"

  "The girls can amuse themselves. I'm sure you could see that when you were spying on us."

  "I didn't . . . I wasn't . . ." She looked around the control room like she wanted a place to hide.

  "Oh but you were. I saw the curtain rustle. Did you enjoy the show?"

  "I didn't stay for the climax."

  "There were several." She shot me a look that was a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. I was baiting her but I had this intense desire to . . . I don't know . . . start something. Or maybe I just didn't want her to leave.

  "Look, Mr. Wolf. I'm a big girl. You haven't shocked me."

  "But you didn't stay for the grand finale, did you?"

  "I'm not into watching other people have sex. Okay?"

  "Actions speak louder than . . ."

  "I heard noises. You were only a few feet from my window."

  "I'm sorry we disturbed you."

  "You didn't. It's your boat and you can do whatever you want on it."

  "You're quite right, I can. And what I want to do right now is have a civil conversation with you." I couldn't suppress a smile at how silly she looked with my monkey on her head. Lara rewarded my smile with a scowl. "Sit," I ordered.

  She parked her little ass as before, on the edge of her seat. Her body language said "I'm here, but it's not where I want to be." Mrs. D. moved back onto her shoulder and began examining Lara's ear. Those minute fingertips explored Lara's sensitive ear and she involuntarily rolled her head onto her shoulder and laughed.

  "That tickles." She reached up and this time Mrs. D. allowed her to catch her in her hands. Lara held the monkey out in front of her face. "You're full of it, aren't you?" The monkey-charm smile was magic.

  "She likes you."

  "She's sweet. I like her, too."

  "But her master's another story?"

  Lara stood up again, this time handing my pet back to me. "I don't think that how I feel about you is important."

  "Sit down." This time, the cat's eyed stare defiantly met my eyes. The thin line of her lips was white at the pursed edges. "We're going to spend a lot of time together on this journey. I think it would help if I knew where I stood."

  "You're my boss. That's where you stand. Isn't that enough of an opinion for you?"

  "No, it's not." I saw her hands clench at her sides and the flicker of something real close to anger crossed her face. "And, technically, I'm not your boss."

  "Richard calls you 'the Boss'."

  "Richard is both kind and wrong. It's a harmless illusion and there's no reason for me to argue with him. He doesn't know the whole story. He knows this barge belongs to my father. That's all. I'm more or less a perpetual guest—even a caretaker might be a better description. So, in the chain of command, you work for Richard who works for my father." I never admitted my real circumstance to a woman. Never. The women I dated wanted to believe El Lobo and all she represented belonged to me. With Lara, I had this totally unfamiliar urge to spill my guts. I reasoned she'd like the real thing better than a façade. That was kind of a scary thought, too.

  "I still think you're a very lucky man."

  "Nice dodge. I'm not as lucky as you think."

  "I don't think you've had much experience with hardship."

  "And you have?"

  "Not at all. I'm totally grateful for what I've had. It's not quite the same as the way you grew up"

  "You don't know squat about the way I grew up."

  "I have a pretty good idea."

  It was so tempting. I wanted to tell her exactly how I did grow up. I wanted to tell her something that no one knew about me—at least not anyone in my present day world. It was too intimate, too vulnerable. Clari knew. But Clari was gone. Nurse Kelly knew, but my mother sent her away.

  I'd hinted at my mother's madness to Richard one night when we were both stinking drunk after a big tournament win. I'm not sure exactly what I told him, but it wasn't enough to make much of an impression on him. He'd never mentioned it again and it was just as well. Richard was a friend but in a very superficial way. He wasn't someone I could trust with . . . with all that pain. His world was simple, honest and straightforward. There was no way he could understand the perverse complexities of my childhood.

  The time wasn't right. It was way too soon. I was overreacting to the uncanny likeness she had to a ghost from my past. I wanted to spill out all the things I never got to say to Nurse Kelly so she could save me. My mind was jerking me around.

  "So, that's all you have to say?" I continued for lack of anything more coherent. "Lucky? I'd be willing to bet you've got a few more adjectives you could throw my way."

  "You insist?"

  "Consider it an order from the 'Boss'."

  "Which you just told me you're not."

  "Let's pretend."

  "Okay . . . I think you are a spoiled brat who's never had to work for anything. I think you're a shallow player who's smitten with his own good looks. I think you float around the world on this fancy boat catching fancy fish and fucking anything in a skirt to make up for the fact that you've never accomplished anything. I think you take it for granted that every woman you meet is dying to jump your perfect bones just because you're rich and hot as hell."

  I let a slow grin spread over my face. It probably looked insolent to her, but it wasn't meant to be. I heard every word, but 'hot as hell' bubbled up to the top of the list. Hot was good. I could build on hot.

  Chapter 9—Lara

  Oh God, I did not just say that. WTF, Lara? You're going to be tossed off El Lobo the second she hits the island. Shit. Dad always said I didn't know when to shut up and this was only the latest proof of that. My shiny new job. Gone.

  He had this half grin on his face. I couldn't tell what it meant. When he stood up, he placed Mrs. Dalloway carefully on the captain's chair and took one long step toward me. Having him stand so close to me sent every inch of me into sensory overload. The man had been naked or almost so at least half the time I'd spent with him so far. His height and my lack of it meant that I was staring right at his chest. Right at that fish hook tat that I wanted to trace with my tongue.

  He tilted my chin up with the knuckle of his bent index finger. A square inch of his skin against a square inch of mine. The arc was so strong I thought it might weld his hand to my face. Touch me more. I want you to.

  "Most of what you say is true. But I'd like the chance to prove you wrong on a couple of the details."

  The knuckle traced the line of my jaw; one side and then the other sending a shiver through me that made me need a deeper breath. He sensed my instinctive reaction. He could hear the silent crackle of sparks flying. He could see the hidden tightening of places I wanted him to explore.

  My eyes closed involuntarily when he extended his elegant forefinger and slid the tip of it down my chest to the top button of my blouse. Barely touched, my flesh radiated along the path of his small caress.

  Player he may have been, spoiled rich guy he certainly was but when I opened my eyes to meet his, there was an unexpected reality there. I wanted it to feel more practiced. I wanted him to look less sincere. I wanted to like him less. Maybe it was the monkey. She made it hard for Morgan to hide his humanity.

  I waited for him to kiss me. I didn't care if it was a bad idea.

  He might have leaned toward me, but Mrs. D. caught us both by surprise and dashed through Morgan's legs and vaulted onto Richard's knee, climbing him in seconds and grabbing the hat off the surprised Captain's head.

  I hadn't heard Richard enter because I was in that bubble that forms when your world narrows to the smallest space two bodies can occupy. The bubble locks everything out but the notion of two in a place that seconds before had been rese
rved for one. I’d never felt it before, but the primal me recognized it.

  The monkey scampered as high as she could get above one of the windows and put the hat on her tiny head. The distraction gave me time to compose myself and I did a pretty good job at appearing nonchalant by the time the cap was retrieved. Morgan turned back to the ship's wheel. I wondered if his composure had been rattled too. I sure hoped it had. I’d hate to think I was alone in that splendid, timeless moment.

  "Lara, sorry about taking so long to get back here." Richard looked over at Morgan behind the wheel. Mrs. D. was back in her co-pilot perch on his shoulder. "You decided to drive?"

  "I needed a distraction." Morgan slid out of the captain's chair and motioned for Richard to take it.

  "I'd have thought there was ample distraction for you on deck."

  Morgan just cleared his throat in response. I felt newly uncomfortable and well reminded of what the actual reality of the whole scene was. The one I wanted to rationalize into existence just because he stood close to me sputtered and died. Richard had interrupted in time to save me certain and painful embarrassment. A vivid imagination coupled with raging horniness is a dangerous brew.

  "Boss, if you want to stay behind the wheel, I can continue Lara's tour," Richard offered. "We were on our way to the sea deck when they asked me to take a look at the right bilge pump."

  "Actually, no, you can take over. I'm going to take Mrs. D. back to her room and grab something to eat. As good as your salad was at lunch, Lara, it didn't exactly stick with me. Can you rustle up a sandwich for me?"

  "Of course," I answered him. I had to. It was my job as long as I still had one.

  "After that I'd be happy to show you the sea deck. It's one of my favorite parts of the boat." He glanced over at Richard who was suddenly very busy with the instrument panel.

  "I'll get started on the sandwich," I said as I headed out the door.

  Grateful as I was to be back in the kitchen, my nerves were jagged. His effect on me was like looking over a cliff. Vertigo with none of the usual prompts. The ground beneath my feet felt pillowy; as if any minute I'd lose my balance and tip right over into the abyss.