by BJ Wane
Shaking her head at the extravagance, she strolled to the rear of the boat that looked set up for games. A shuffleboard court stretched along one side, stations for what appeared to be skeet shooting sat on the end and a small putting green took up residence in the middle. A few lounges and deck chairs lined the opposite rail where people could watch out of the way. Sandie could feel Zach’s eyes on her as she walked past the outdoor kitchen and two tables with seating for at least six to check out the front of the deck.
The largest hot tub she’d ever seen, and didn’t know could be built so huge, sat off to one side and a decorative fountain complete with a mermaid rising from the basin balanced the space on the other. Humor inched her mouth into a quirk as she noted the large naked breasts on the shiny teal sea creature before forming an O of surprise when she made out the clamps squeezed around the nipples, connected by a glittering gold chain attached to a collar around the neck. Arms outstretched, the look on the statue’s face depicted raw, carnal pleasure.
“See, there’s a lot more involved with play on my yacht than you’re acquainted with.”
She whirled as Zachary’s amused voice startled her out of her inspection of the fountain. “Doesn’t mean I can’t get acquainted.” A tiny voice whispered to tread carefully lest she really did bite off more than she could chew with her constant prodding of this man. But all it took was a look ahead at what awaited her when they returned to Miami for her to shove aside all cautions and continue embracing this new, daredevil side.
His thundercloud expression told her he wasn’t on board yet, darn it. “Don’t you have a pair of shorts in that backpack? You must be burning up in those jeans.”
If he wanted to change the subject, she’d go along, for now. “No, just another pair of jeans. I’m starving.”
“Come on, they’re almost done.” He headed back to the grill, asking over his shoulder, “Why don’t you cut off a pair? You’ll be a lot more comfortable.”
“Can’t,” was all she said instead of telling him she couldn’t afford to buy any more clothes right now.
“And you can’t tell me why, right?”
“Right. Do you have cheese? I love cheeseburgers.” The thick juicy burgers looked ten times better than the fast food and shelter fare she’d been living on.
“I have everything,” he answered in a smug tone.
Rolling her eyes, Sandie sat at a table, wishing Zachary hadn’t donned a shirt. She liked mentally drooling over that wide chest as well as feeling those rippling muscles under her hands when he’d pulled her against him. The sudden increase of moisture that recollection produced forced her to tighten her thighs and look for a way to divert her thoughts.
“So, what do you do to make enough money to afford all this?” She swept her arm out to indicate the boat.
“Not a damn thing.”
The bite of anger behind his words caught her attention. “Ah, Daddy has money and you resent he holds the purse strings.”
He cast her a disparaging glance as he scooped the burgers onto buns. Carrying the two plates over, he quipped, “It was Granddaddy who held the purse string until he died ten years ago and it all fell into my lap. Now, all I have to do is attend a weekly board meeting and reap the rewards of his successful, very profitable investment firm. Dear old Dad was already rotting in the ground when I came into the picture.” Zach was so grateful she’d laid off coming on to him, at least for now, he didn’t mind talking about his family, especially since there wasn’t that much to tell.
“Mmm, this is good—you have daddy issues, I take it?” Oh, he didn’t like that observation, she mused as she took another bite.
“I don’t have daddy issues, or any other issues for that matter. Haven’t you been listening? I’m filthy rich and can have and do whatever I please.”
She swallowed then told him what she thought of that statement in blunt terms. “You’re an ass.”
“Never said otherwise.”
“You enjoy being a jerk,” she pointed out.
“Damn right.”
Sandie couldn’t help the tickle of amusement from his proud tone. Shaking her head, she asked, “Is there any part of this boat not designed or equipped for your kinky sexual preferences.”
“Nope, and not just mine, but I have six close friends I intend to surprise with my baby when we return. They’re going to love it.”
That arrogant confidence coming from anyone else would turn her off, but for some unfathomable reason, it suited him. Waving her hand holding the last of her burger, she asked, “You don’t bother to take an interest in the company that funds your lifestyle, so what do you do all day when you’re not bending women over on your boat?”
Guilt slithered through Zach, creeping like an insidious snake, striking when he least expected it. And he didn’t like it one damn bit. He knew he was an ass, knew he led a worthless, self-centered life, so why did hearing Sandie point it out piss him off so much? Shoving back from the table, he glared down at her, catching the hint of a knowing smirk behind the guileless façade.
“Whatever I damn well please, as you should know by now. Call my yacht a boat again, I’ll bend you over, only I’ll yank those jeans down first. I’m going to get us underway, you’ll have to amuse yourself.” He doubted that threat would encourage her to back off him, but she’d winced, so at least she was thinking instead of just spouting off.
Zach checked the grill, made sure everything was off then wound his way down to the helm, old feelings and long-ago memories rising to the surface to flood him with more guilt. Settling in the captain’s chair, he turned the motor over, felt the purr vibrate under him, the power of his toy doing little to please him as it usually did. Setting a course for due south, he rubbed at the tenseness in the back of his neck as regret tugged at his conscience.
There were regrettable things he’d done that Zach wasted little time lamenting, but his rebellious teen years and the grief he’d caused his mother would always be a blight on his conscience. The only people he gave a fig about were the friends he’d bonded with the summer he’d turned fifteen and his only parent. Watching his mother work two, sometimes three jobs to feed him and keep a decent roof over their heads had bothered him so much as an adolescent, he’d lashed out at society the only way he knew how. After a year of getting caught shoplifting, joy riding in ‘borrowed cars’, skipping school and drinking to excess, Carol Allen had finally resorted to tough love and sent him to that summer camp run by both parole officers and ex-cons. It had been an eye opening few months, but he doubted even the strict regimen and counseling would’ve stuck if he hadn’t been a part of the gang of seven.
Every one of his friends came from troubled backgrounds. He had been the only one who had a decent home life even if they were dirt poor. When his grandfather had hunted him down upon learning of his existence, his bitterness increased when he’d heard he had a father who could have eased their burden, especially his mother’s. The seeds of deep and bitter resentment had already taken root by the time he met the old man, and it had only been for his mother’s sake he’d fallen in line, gotten a degree in finance and stepped into the company that was his birthright.
The smooth glide of the yacht through the lapping waters did little to soothe memories of ten years ago that escaped from the corner of his mind where he tried to stow them. At twenty-eight, Zach hadn’t been ready to take the reins of the investment conglomerate that had fallen to him upon Floyd Vancuren’s death, and he sure as hell hadn’t been ready to hear, let alone accept, his beloved mother had been stricken with Alzheimer’s. Ignoring her arguments, he’d set her up in a plush apartment in the high rise where he’d purchased a penthouse suite once he’d graduated from college and started working. For the first eight years of the disease, he’d spared no expense in keeping her in her new home, hired round-the-clock nursing staff when she took a deep spiral down and could no longer live alone.
Then came the day she curled into a fetal position, and s
he’d been in that vegetative state since. He’d moved her to the best private facility in the state and visited every week, making sure they treated her with compassion and dignity. Through it all, his bitterness toward life in general continued to fester like an open, infected wound. What good were tens of millions of dollars if it couldn’t help the one person he cherished above all others?
Having Sandie toss in his face his egotistical lifestyle had pissed Zach off, but was he angry with her for pointing it out or with himself for the truth of it? Swearing under his breath, he shoved the memories back where they belonged, in the past, and thought ahead to when he brought the guys aboard for a cruise. They’d take her out for a day, maybe an overnight, with just them aboard first. They often tried to take a day or two for a male get-together whenever schedules could be worked out to do so. The Carlson brothers were just thirty minutes away, up in Pensacola, and they worked their vacation days around their gatherings. The rest of them worked flexible schedules, which made it easy to accommodate the Carlsons’ limited free time. Jackson didn’t mind making the forty-minute drive into Miami from his ten-acre animal rescue and veterinary clinic, usually combining a supply-buying trip to coincide with a play party.
The only one who wouldn’t make their trip would be Dax, who remained MIA with Doctors Without Borders. It’d been well over a year since they showed their support and attended the funeral of Dax’s good friend and colleague, but his sudden, unexpected announcement he would be leaving within a few days to work overseas with the voluntary medical group came as a total surprise. He offered no explanation, and other than e-mails sent in a group mailing, they hadn’t heard from him.
Zach supposed they all struggled with private issues, but damn, they missed the son-of-a-bitch. “Speaking of issues,” he murmured when Sandie strolled onto the bow deck, a bottled water in one hand and her backpack in the other. He didn’t have time to wonder what she was up to as she pulled a lounge out into the sun and retrieved a sketchpad and box of drawing pencils from the bag. His first thought centered on how hot she would get baking in the sun wearing those jeans. But when her hands went to the waistband and loosened them, his mind went blank with something akin to panic.
He’d been resisting her come-ons for the past twenty-four hours, but as she pushed those jeans down slender, well-toned legs and stepped out of them, teasing him with a glimpse of pink panties barely covering her ass, he clenched his jaw against the failure to remain unmoved looming ahead of him.
Chapter 4
Sandie breathed a sigh of relief when the cool breeze wafted over her bare legs. She had been hot in the jeans, and since she didn’t own a pair of shorts and couldn’t afford to cut up one of only two pairs of pants, parading around in a tee shirt and panties worked for her. It remained to be seen if it would work for Zachary. Bending her knees to brace her sketchpad against, she pictured him sitting behind the glass front of the steering enclosure she’d positioned herself in front of. Had she shocked him with the removal of her pants, or did her innocent, partial striptease pale in comparison to someone of his vast experience with sexual proclivities she’d most likely never heard of or imagined?
Selecting a drawing pencil, she gazed out across the blue/green expanse of water shimmering like clear glass under the bright afternoon sun. She didn’t delude herself with the idyllic view or her attraction to her reluctant host. This brief, safe interlude didn’t mean the threat wasn’t waiting for her upon their return. But for the first time in weeks, while out from under Jacques Deveau’s threatening reach, she could relax and indulge in thinking about other things, such as the way Zachary could set her body to singing with just a look. Whether it was knowing she lived on borrowed time, or a desperate need for anything that would take her mind off her troubles and grant her some stress relief, compelling her to push him into giving her a taste of his sexual preferences, she didn’t know.
She did know she wanted a taste of what this boat offered, the mind-numbing diversion of sex and the man who brought her body alive in ways she’d never experienced before. Sandie was to the point she didn’t care about the reason for her uncharacteristic responses to someone she’d known less than forty-eight hours and who, by her own words, was a first-class asshole. After they returned to Miami, she’d have to flee, and she’d never see him again, so what did she care if he acted like a jerk or not?
Twenty minutes later, she’d finished her sketch of the late afternoon vista, including the lush greenery on islands they’d come close enough to enjoy, yet she remained alone on the deck with her fantasies, her body humming in desire from her own imaginings. Time to up the ante, she decided, setting aside the sketchpad and rising from the comfort of the cushioned lounge. Hoping Zachary’s eyes were on her, she arched her body in a long, slow stretch, raising her arms above her head and twisting at the waist to loosen stiff muscles. Conscious of the rise of her tee shirt with her movements, she pictured his face as she gifted him with a clear look at her pink satin-covered butt.
Sandie’s audacity amazed even her, but between hot daydreaming that rivaled the sun’s heat and the decadent freedom of being able to parade around wearing nothing but a top and panties, there was no fighting her body’s growing demands. With a sigh, she padded over to the rail, leaned on her elbows and enjoyed the waft of air caressing her exposed thighs and undercurve of her cheeks. Whether he took her up on her blatant offer or not, Sandie basked in the pleasure of warm, drowsy awareness of all her senses.
That did it. Zach slowed the yacht, throttled down until the large vessel decelerated enough he could cut the engine and still enjoy the slow glide on the water as they drifted. He’d managed to stay seated while Sandie propped herself on the lounge in his direct line of vision, teasing him with shapely legs he pictured wrapped around his back as he pounded between them. The quick strokes of her pencil made him as curious about her ability as an artist as he admitted to being about the rest of her body under that shirt. It had taken extreme effort on his part not to give in to that curiosity and he’d been priding himself on his control before she stood and stretched.
Ignoring his command to remain unaffected, his cock hardened into a painful erection pressing against his zipper. The final straw came when he watched her bend over the rail, just enough to tease him with a glimpse of the sweet, plump undercurve of her soft buttocks. She’d been pushing him for a lesson, and as he strode across the deck, he decided it was high time he gave her one.
“What are you doing, Sandie?”
She turned, those green eyes conveying that indescribable ache he had no name for. The one that pulled at him from the moment he’d startled her awake in his room.
“Taking in the awesome view from your…” She paused, a light of mischief replacing the ache in her eyes and a small smile flirting with the corners of her mouth as she finished with, “boat.”
He narrowed his eyes, accepting the taunt as he strode forward. “I warned you.” Grasping her shoulders, he spun her around, placed her hands together back on the rail, and shackled them in place by wrapping his much larger hand over both hers. Without pausing, he flipped up the shirt and swatted her silk covered ass, the thin, see-through panties providing no cushiony barrier this time.
Her soft cry resonated across the water along with the slap of the next smack. “This is what comes when you don’t heed my warnings.” Two more sharp smacks that bounced her round globes. “This is just one of my favorite things to torment a woman with.” Another two, these reddening her sit-spots. “Sex with me is my way; whatever I demand, whenever I say, wherever I want it.” He tormented her thighs next, two swift swats on each before caressing his way up to cup one, spank-warm, malleable buttock.
Bending down, he nipped the soft flesh between her shoulder and neck. He felt her jump, heard her sudden, indrawn breath and could almost swear the slight breeze teased his nose with the pungent aroma of her arousal. A lesson, he reminded himself with a swift, brutal pushback of his body’s demands.
“Yes, and it worked.” Sandie’s flesh burned, her butt pulsing from his hard hand. He hadn’t held back, but he also didn’t hurt her, at least not too much. The swift onslaught of arousal stemming from the soreness and heat spreading over her buttocks with each strike took her by surprise. One of the benefits, it seemed, that came with knowing when the end of a relationship would be was the lack of time to indulge in questioning new, sometimes puzzling responses. With just a few days allotted to their somewhat odd pairing, she was determined not to waste a moment on anything except racking up pleasurable memories to sustain her for the harrowing weeks to come.
“Yeah, it did. Now, the question is, how far do you want to push me? Try moving your hands.”
She’d barely noticed his firm grip imprisoning her hands, her mind consumed with the blistering heat of his other hand connecting with her butt. That low-voiced command sent a shiver rippling down her spine and couldn’t be ignored. Jerking her arms met with resistance and a surge of dampness adding to the seeping juices between her legs already wetting her panties. Her nipples tightened, her mind reeling from the way the mild bondage increased her lust.
But the exalted sense of freedom to indulge in this uncharacteristic behavior his control brought about was overridden by a quick surge of panic. Looking out at the vast nothingness of blue water reminded her she was in the middle of nowhere with a man she didn’t know, at his mercy and now under his physical power. After her stepfather’s betrayal, trust didn’t come easy, and her heart tripped with the multiple ‘what if’ scenarios flashing through her mind.