by BJ Wane
Sandie stroked her pussy, going deep with a hard press over her clit as she rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Heat suffused her, curling her toes and sending her blood flowing in a rapid, molten stream through her veins. Pulling back, she thrust again, harder, deeper, her hips driving up into her marauding hand. She shifted to torment her other nipple, gifting it with the same rolling torturous stimulation that zinged south and added to the growing pressure between her legs.
She thought of her own bed, in her small but homey apartment. Tears filled her eyes as she drove into her vagina with ever faster, harder desperation, despair over all she’d left behind clashing with the pleasure spiraling out of control. Now wanting this over with, she rooted out her clit and treated the hardened nub of sensitive nerves to the same rolling, pinching torment. The climax erupted without the slow build-up of small contractions, just popped then ebbed, her soft cry whispering on the air.
Catching her breath, Sandie withdrew from her still spasming pussy, the amount of pleasure she’d achieved disappointing considering the urgent need that had driven her to take matters into her own hands. With a sigh, she rolled over, curled into a ball and drifted asleep dreaming of vivid blue eyes and a large, hard body taking over her senses and boggling her mind.
The sun shone high in the cloudless, blue sky when Zachary shut off the engine and rose from the captain’s chair to stretch. He could still make out the outline of several east coast barrier islands dotting the far horizon, so he knew the waters in this area were crystal clear and filled with interesting, colorful ocean fauna and marine life he itched to explore. Hell, he thought as he strolled around to the storage closet and a pair of emerald eyes popped into his head, maybe he wanted an excuse to escape ship and her for an hour. Since she had yet to make an appearance this morning, he couldn’t fathom why he couldn’t quit thinking about her. First, she’d invaded his yacht, then his dreams and now his waking moments. And he didn’t like any of it.
Pulling out an air tank, mask and fins, he tried simplifying his interest by putting it down to lust, but since he’d just gotten his rocks off yesterday and the only thing about her body that compelled him to look twice was her nicely rounded ass showcased in tight jeans, that didn’t wash. He’d never been with a woman who inspired him to want more than sex, and since his proclivities in that area ran toward bondage and domination, that limited the playing field. There had been more than he could count dates with women who’d drawn his attention before and after he’d inherited the family business and fortune upon his grandfather’s death ten years ago, but not a one had shown more interest in him than in his wealth.
It was a few of the gang of seven, as they labeled themselves at the end of that grueling summer camp, who turned him onto the BDSM lifestyle over fifteen years ago. By the time they were all in their early twenties, each of them had relocated to southern Florida, enabling them to get together more often. They grew closer during adulthood, continued to be each other’s rock during rough times and the family they shared the good times with. Their mutual interest in kinky sex forged yet another bond and just lately, they’d discussed purchasing their own space to play in. The clubs were fine, but when those rare occasions popped up and the seven of them could all get together, they wanted to spend that time with just their secluded group and the women they extended personal invites to, to join them.
Zachary checked his tank, thinking about the special customizing he’d just had done on the yacht and how surprised the guys would be when he invited them aboard. It had taken a considerable amount of self-control to keep from gloating when he’d accompanied the Carlson brothers, Troy and Trevor, last week to look at lofts in downtown Miami. Driving down from Ft. Lauderdale, they’d spent the afternoon extolling the merits of having their own private club, insisting they’d found the perfect place when the price was reduced on the last one they toured. He agreed with them, but pointed out it had to be a unanimous decision, thus allotting him the extra days he needed to get his baby back from the shop.
Soft footsteps coming up from the lower level alerted him to Sandie’s presence. Squinting against the bright sunlight, she stepped onto the deck, shielded her eyes and spotted him at the other end. Because his pulse chose that moment to jump at the sight of her sleep-rumpled form, he snapped, “Bout time you got up. Is sleep all you do?”
There went that unperturbed grin again, the one that drove him to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her and giving her a taste of what she’d witnessed yesterday. Wearing his Speedo trunks and top which would grant him some warmth if he chose to dive deeper than he planned, he watched her eyes widen in appreciation of the tight, spandex fit.
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? You going scuba diving or just checking equipment?”
Strolling toward him, he noticed her convulsive swallow and bit back a smile, liking his effect on her even though he had no intention of acting on it. She carried her backpack again and wore the same clothes she had on yesterday. “Diving. Why the hell do you carry that thing around? You rob a bank or something equally nefarious?” She glanced down at the satchel in her hand, her soft lips quirking up at the corners as if surprised to see it there.
“Habit, and no, I’m not a criminal.” Although the bag contained everything she owned as well as the remainder of her cash, he didn’t need to know that. “You mind if I tour your boat while you’re playing with the fish?”
Giving up on getting anything out of her for now, he replied in a clipped, frustrated tone, “Yacht, not boat, and I want you to keep an eye on the safety line. Any rapid tugs or yanks means I need you to pull me up, slowly. Too fast and there’s the risk of the bends. Think you can do that?”
Her host didn’t appear to be any more pleased about her presence this morning than he’d been last night, Sandie mused, cocking her head as she eyed him. But with that ripped body encased in a black Speedo suit with swirls of bright red decorating the sides of both the body molding trunks and top, his attitude didn’t faze her. “Yeah, I can do that.”
She watched him pull on flippers then don the air tank, his arms bulging with the weight as he slung it on his back and strapped it on. After pointing out the safety line, he covered half his face with the mask, stuck the breather in his mouth and jumped overboard. Leaning over the rail, she released a pent-up breath when she saw him swim down, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake. “Better him than me,” she muttered, turning away from the dark, swirling depths and shoving aside the pang of unease being left alone on the boat had created.
Chapter 3
Sandie strolled around the deck, circling the large room she’d hidden in and the enclosed navigation space. Peeking through the windows, she noted Zachary spared no expense in there either as the two wide leather seats sitting in front of the steering panel looked like furniture you’d relax in while lounging in front of a large screen television. She made her way to the back of the boat where she’d noticed a small, tucked away bar and lounges. Her brows dipped in a puzzled frown as she spotted attached, leather cuffs on each of the four short legs on the padded deck furniture.
“Huh,” she mumbled, fingering the soft inside of one cuff. “So the kink doesn’t stop with spanking.” Even more curious now about what kind of boat, and man she found herself holed up with for a few days, she wound her way back to the door to the large room. Casting a quick glance at Zachary’s safety line, she saw it remained lax and a quick look over the rail proved she could still spot the shadowy shape of his body a few feet down and everything remained good.
Leaving the door open, she stepped inside the cavernous room that dominated the middle of the boat’s middle tier. The two sidewalls curved toward the top and three large skylights positioned in the arch brought in large swatches of sunlight. Toeing off her sneakers, she dropped her backpack and sank her bare feet into plush teal carpet as she noticed things in the room she couldn’t see from her hidden position in the closet yesterday. “Oh, my,” she whispe
red, walking around two, floor-to-ceiling poles in the center of the room spaced several feet apart. Restraints at the top and bottom of the poles left little to wonder about their purpose. A delicate shiver rippled down her spine as she imagined herself bound against one, her face growing warm when she pictured herself naked on it, Zachary standing in front of her with that enigmatic gaze trailing over her bare flesh.
Sandie had never imagined she would be interested in alternative sexual practices. Then again, she’d never thought she’d be on the run for her life after witnessing a brutal, cold-blooded murder either. Life had a way of hitting you with the unexpected, and from the way her nipples and sheath were pulsing, there would be no running from this happenstance discovery.
Wondering what else she had missed while crouched in the closet, she took a moment to look out the window, ensuring Zachary’s line still laid relaxed before continuing with her slow tour of the room. Above the curved sofa, along the back wall, a window afforded a view of the rear deck and lounges. Anyone who thought they could slip outside for privacy would find out otherwise. Along the same sidewall as the small closet, she spotted three pull levers mounted far apart, about a spot just above her head. Figuring they opened storage compartments, she moved on, the sight of a chair at the front of the space that resembled something out of a torture chamber had goosebumps popping up along her arms. Refusing to get any closer to the medieval device, she pivoted and her eyes landed on a contraption in the far corner of the room that drew her over. The odd arrangement of wide, flexible strips and dangling, cuffed lines was difficult to figure out. She tried playing with them, holding out the narrow cords and picturing them attached to arms and legs. The images popping into her head were lewd displays of naked, swinging bodies that once again warmed her from head to toe, her fun zones in between turning the hottest.
“Someone has a vivid imagination.” Sandie wasn’t sure if her remark referred to her host or herself. Peeking out the window again, she saw Zachary shrugging out of the air tank, the tight spandex swim top molding to the muscles in his back as he lowered the heavy equipment. Since he knew she was on board, she didn’t feel any inclination to look away when he pulled the tightly stretched top over his head, revealing a light mat of hair curling over thick pectorals. Her mouth watered as he slid his hands past ribbed abs to peel the almost knee-length trunks down his legs.
The term, ‘buns of steel,’ came to mind as he bent over to retrieve both swimsuit parts before draping them on a deck chair. She licked her lips as she imagined nipping those firm buttocks and feeling the muscles clenching under her mouth. Unabashed in his nudity, he stretched his arms over his head then twisted at the waist, long, lean muscles bunching and rippling with his slow movements.
“You make a fucking, lousy tender.”
Zachary’s cool tone coming in through the open window startled Sandie before she smiled. If he wasn’t as attuned to her as she was to him why the show?
“What’s a tender—how was your swim?”
Shaking his head, she watched him pull on shorts commando then followed him through the window as he strode to the door and entered the playroom, as she’d dubbed the decadent space.
“Can’t you stick to one topic at a time?” He stood in the doorway, fists planted on lean hips, his blue eyes appearing even more vivid with the bright sun shining behind him.
“Gotta go with what the brain demands. What the heck is this thingamajig?” Sandie waved a hand toward the corner conglomeration of straps. Cocking his head, he regarded her with a look she couldn’t fathom, but one that prompted her to squeeze her legs together.
“A tender is the person who’s supposed to be on the lookout for trouble when someone dives, and my swim was fine.”
“I was watching.” She pointed to the window. “I could see your line just fine from in here. So, bondage and spanking. Is there anything else you’re into?”
Shaking his head, the flare of heat in his eyes mocked the exasperation lacing his tone as he said, “I take it you missed this stuff when you snuck aboard? Too busy hiding out from what you can’t tell me? Are you familiar with the lifestyle? Because you don’t seem surprised or put out by what you’ve seen.”
Surprise was watching her stepfather order a murder, hearing the rapport of the gunshot as she fled everything she knew and loved in terror. Sandie snorted, thinking of her small hometown with a church on every corner, a family oriented place she missed more each day. “Not hardly, but you could show me the ropes.”
Bemused with her own, uncharacteristic behavior, Sandie again blamed her distressed circumstances for leading her down this path of reckless pursuit and her recent celibacy for the uncontrollable lust she harbored for a man who showed no interest in her. Regardless of the reason, she didn’t want to back down, not even when he scowled and swore at her suggestion.
Zach’s cock twitched at the thought of giving her a lesson, her teasing grin at odds with the fear-tinged sadness clouding her eyes before she blinked it away. There were layers to this woman he was starting to want to peel away, for reasons that eluded him. She was annoying, had interrupted his longed for solo excursion and admitted to secrets, which meant he couldn’t trust her. Thinking to warn her off, he advanced toward her with slow measured steps, hardening his voice with a blunt response.
“That’s a fucking swing with various positions, all of which will leave a woman spread eagle for the entire room to view.” Her face reddened, but she didn’t shift her eyes from his face or walk away. Pointing to the opposite wall, he said, “Those handles pull down spanking benches, each one a little different. My favorite is the narrowest one that only allows room for you to brace on elbows and knees, your ass and pussy put on display for whoever is around. Great for fucking deep and hard.” This time, she swallowed hard, but damned if her nipples weren’t hardened pinpoints outlined against the flimsy tee shirt. He wondered if the slight shifting of her bare feet was due to her pussy growing damp.
“Maybe we could start with something… tamer,” she ventured without backing down.
Shaking his head, wondering what he could say to get her to back off, he thought to scare her with the threat of pain. That ought to do it. “Tamer? I don’t do tame, baby, which is why you need to stop the come-ons and teasing. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
She shocked the hell out of him when she stepped toward him instead of away. Her small hand on his bare chest burned against his cool, damp skin, and this time, his cock did more than twitch. The flare of reckless need flashing across her face stopped him from grasping her shoulders and pushing her toward the door.
“I know, that’s why I want you to show me. Haven’t you ever wanted to set aside all your troubles and do something crazy, something that’ll allow you to feel? Forget about yesterday and tomorrow and go with today?”
Zach had to remind himself he didn’t care about her problems, didn’t want to know what made her tick, what she feared or what she wanted. He didn’t care for the poke at his conscience urging him to delve into those very things, so he opted to catch her off guard with a small sample of what she kept pushing for.
“Think you can handle me, what I want?” Clasping her upper arms, he watched her eyes go wide as he yanked her against him. “Let’s see, shall we?” Swooping down, he took those taunting lips in a no-holds barred kiss, sinking his teeth into her plump lower lip before delving inside. He stroked deep with his tongue, gliding over teeth and moist flesh, tickling the roof of her mouth and each crevice in between. Her breath filled his mouth, her low moan reverberating between them.
What started as a lesson aimed at deterring further pushiness from Sandie ended up tempting him more than he’d been enticed in a long time. Angry at the turnabout, he broke off the kiss without warning and flipped her over his arm before she knew what he was doing.
Bringing his hand down on her denim-clad ass in a hard swat, he stated harshly, “This is just a taste of what you’ve been asking for, Sandie
.” He delivered a rapid succession of blistering smacks, hard enough to burn through the jeans before stopping as abruptly as he’d begun. Lifting her, he gazed down into her red face and glittering eyes, then was forced to clench his jaw when her lips curved at the corners. Before she could say something outrageous and prompt him into doing something he had to keep reminding himself he didn’t want to do, he said, “If you’re hungry, come up to the top deck. I’m grilling hamburgers.”
Still shaking from the unexpected pleasure Zachary’s surprise spanking elicited, Sandie watched him stride out, those long legs putting distance between them as fast as he’d tried to do with his frigid look and cool lunch invitation. Her butt tingled from those few swats, the dose of warmth that found its way through her jeans spread to between her legs, leaving her to stand there alone while her buttocks and sheath pulsed from his hard handedness. Touching her lips, she tried to recall a time she’d been kissed with such forceful intent, when her whole body had melted against a man and her blood flowed in a hot rush through her veins from a simple lip-lock.
She could still feel the imprint of his lips moving against hers, his tongue searching every corner of her mouth with erotic thoroughness. The intimate invasion had put her senses on alert, the quick switch to bending her over and smacking her butt had sent them reeling. Holy crap. Here she stood, a befuddled, aroused mess, just from a kiss and mild example of pain induced pleasure, and all she could think about was what would her response be to bare skin contact of any kind with or from him?
As Sandy snatched up her backpack, the only thing she knew for certain was she longed to find out. Climbing the spiral stairs to the top tier she’d yet to explore, she marveled at the view from that height. Miles upon miles of azure blue spread out before her. Small green swatches of land looked far away, but she doubted the islands were more than an hour given the size of motor this boat must have. The middle of this deck boasted a covered outdoor kitchen where she spotted Zachary standing in front of billowing smoke from a huge grill set in the center of a long expanse of granite countertops.