Rough Road (15 page)

“Oh.” I glance down and see our hands clasped together. “I don’t think I want that. But if you wanted me to—”

“I don’t.” He laughs. “It was hot, watching you with Keith. But it was different, we weren’t . . . we weren’t
us
yet. I think I’d feel differently now.”

“I feel differently now.” I squeeze his hand.

He swallows, then squeezes back. “Let’s put the anchor out and go downstairs.”

I grin. “I’ve never actually had sex on this boat before.”

He helps me drop anchor, and we head into the cabin. He stops halfway down the stairs and turns to me. “I just had a thought. I could . . . I could call Tommy.”

“Your friend with the leg? Why— Oh.” A shudder runs through me.

“I mean, it’s gonna be a hella awkward conversation, but worth it if it means we don’t have to wait six months for the all clear.”

“Well, this should be interesting.” I’m trying to imagine how this conversation can play out, and any way I picture it is humiliating. At least Tommy will be on medical leave and Wish won’t have to see him for a while.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials. His hand is shaking. My poor lovely.

“Hey, Tommy, how ya feeling?”

He listens to the voice on the other end for a minute, a sad smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, I broke my arm when I was a kid. The itching, man.” His face flushes. “Oh, well, you’re welcome. That’s actually why I was calling, you see . . . I didn’t have . . . um, I mean I didn’t . . .”

Oh dear.

I snag the phone from him.

“Hello, Thomas?” I lay the lilt on extra heavy. “This is Edward Russell, Wish’s boyfriend.”

“Um, hi?” Tommy’s voice is confused, but I roll ahead anyway.

“Listen, Wish is concerned about the exchange of fluids. He got quite a bit of your blood on him the other day, and he wasn’t wearing any protective gear. We have a bit of a romantic evening planned, and he—and I, let’s be honest—need to know if he needs to take any precautions before we, ahem, engage?”

Silence. Wish’s eyes have gone wide.

“Hellooooo?” I trill a little on the
o
. If you don’t go all out, don’t go out at all. “Thomas? Are you there?”

“Oh man.” I can practically hear him cringing on the other end of the line. “Did you call me—in my hospital room—to ask if you can fuck your boyfriend without a condom?”

“And they say painkillers dull the mind!”

“Am I being punked?”

“Focus, Thomas. It’s a yes-or-no question.”

“No, dude. No. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thank you, dear heart. Heal up quick, now.” I hang up the phone and catch Wish’s mortified expression.

“I cannot believe you did that, like
that
.”

“I excel at awkward conversations. It comes with being shameless. Now, let’s get you out of these trunks.” I reach for the laces on his board shorts.

“You really are shameless, aren’t you?” He stills my hands on his trunks and moves them behind my back, not forcefully, but gently, like he’s testing me.

I nod, letting the smile spread on my face, and I try to tug my hands out of his grasp. He tightens it, careful not to tip me off-balance here on the stairwell.

“I like you shameless.” He pushes me back against the bulkhead and kisses me. It’s a sensual, unhurried kiss, roughness hinted at under the lazy sweep of his tongue against mine and in the steady grip of my wrists in his hand. I thrust my hips against his, and he rewards me with a slow, steady grind and a bite to my lip. His lips travel across my cheekbone, featherlight, then he catches my ear between his teeth, a sharp pinch of pain.

“Bed now?” he whispers, then soothes my ear with a tickling kiss.

“Yeah.” I rock against him again, and he lets go of my wrists and grabs me around the waist.
So strong
. I wrap my legs around him as he carries me the rest of the way down the stairs, through the tiny galley to dump me on the bed beyond.

Out the portholes on one side, I see the flicker of fires on the beach, from the other I see nothing but starlight.

The cruiser rocks with the wake of a passing boat as I peel off my Speedo and Wish sheds his trunks. He lands on the bed on top of me with an enthusiastic
thump
, wrapping his arms around me to pull me close. I feel his erection push against my thigh, and I wriggle and turn until I can take it in my mouth, thrusting my own against his shoulder in a none-too-subtle hint.

I taste the lake on him, mixed with his salty sweat and the tang of pre-cum. It’s a heady taste, the combination of this man and this place.
Home
. I tremble as he takes me in hand and pumps me slowly. He tugs at the Prince Albert, sending a shivery sensation down my cock.

“Wish I could have seen you get this done,” he murmurs against it, then licks a line from one end of the barbell around to the other. “Would love to see your reaction to the needle going in. Goddamn.”

The idea of him watching a needle pierce my body shoots through me like wildfire, stealing my breath. I gasp around his cock, then suck him harder as his hand finds my balls and the ring behind them. He gives that one a tug as his mouth engulfs me, and I let go of his cock to groan against his thigh.

We tease like that, building the heat between us, until we’re rocking desperately into each other’s mouths. Then, he pulls off and leaves me twisting on the edge, urgency boiling up in me, but not tipping over. I let go of his cock and shift onto my hands and knees next to him. I look over my shoulder at him and beg, “Fuck me.”

He sits up and reaches for my legs, pushing them farther apart. He slaps one cheek, then the other, not hard enough to really even sting, raising a prickly warmth. He moves up over me quickly, shoving my face down to the bed. My arms buckle underneath me, and I fall forward, my ass still in the air. The force in his touch sings to me, and I settle into the bed as he grabs my wrists and holds them at the small of my back.

“Don’t move,” he orders, letting go and heading for the stairs.

Yeah, right. I roll onto my side and pillow my head with my arm. I’m not feeling quite rebellious enough to follow him to the deck naked, but I do watch his ass all the way up the steps.

When he comes back holding thick marine ropes, I can’t help the grin or the flutter of excitement in my chest.

“I told you to stay put,” he growls, a playful light in his eye.

“Fuck off.” I flip him the bird.

He pounces.

Looming over me on the bed, he grabs for my wrists. I struggle, bringing my knees up against his thigh. We grapple for control, but with him, a trained wrestler, on top, there’s not much I can do, and when he pins my thighs apart with his own legs, I sink back to the bed in acquiescence.

“I’m going to tie your wrists behind your back. I’m going to play with your ass, maybe spank it, maybe paddle it. Maybe fuck it. Maybe hold you open and stare at it.”

The wash of humiliation at his words makes my body hum.

“You want that, Eddie?”

I shake my head. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

He laughs, then rolls me over, tying my hands like he said he would. The polyester fiber of the rope is scratchy, not designed for human comfort, but to resist decay in wet environments. Its roughness is going to leave marks, and that turns me on even more than if he’d restrained me with the nicest silk ropes.

He shoves my knees under me so my ass sticks up, then takes another rope and loops it from my wrists to my ankles and back, securing me in position, taking care to leave my genitals hanging free between my legs. I have enough slack to spread my legs farther, and could probably get my ankles free if I really worked at it, but now I’m too turned on to try.

I feel a finger at my hole, nudging insistently inside. He groans, low and loud in the dark cabin.

“You’re so tight and hot. Gonna feel so good to slide inside you bare. Can’t wait to see you push my cum out of this hot little hole.” He pulls his finger back and flicks my guiche ring. I squirm, straining against the ropes binding my wrists.

“I brought something for you,” he whispers. “I had it in my bag all day, waiting for everyone else to go home. I got hard just thinking about using it.”

He reaches behind him, then puts something on the bed in my field of vision. My favorite paddle, only about an inch wide, with soft leather on one side and smooth, polished wood on the other. The smell of leather invades my senses before he takes it away, using it to draw a line down the center of my back, tiptoeing along each vertebra until he reaches my crack. He slides it along the cleft of my ass, leather and wood warming to my skin. I wriggle back, begging for something with my body, anticipating the whistle of it through the air, the soft thud against my skin, the sharp sting.

“Please,” I whisper. “Want it.”

And he gives it to me. The whistle, the thud, the bright, bright burst of delicious pain across both cheeks. I feel my flesh lift as the paddle moves up slightly, then releases me.

Another crack, two, three. He stops every so often to play with my balls and tease my guiche ring, but leaves my cock hanging hard and heavy between my legs. The deprivation there makes me squirm and arch into his next swing.

“You have stripes on your ass. They won’t last as long as the ones from the caning, but you won’t be able to sit down without knowing I did this.” He grunts as he strikes me again, letting fly. He knows how much I can take.

Tears sting my eyes, but it feels pulse-poundingly good. The next strike makes me cry out, and then his hand is there, rubbing the stinging flesh, squeezing it and soothing.

“Fuck me,” I demand.

He groans, grabbing my hips and rolling his dick against my ass. “Wanted to get you more worked up first, but I don’t think I can wait.”

“I’m worked up, trust me. Want to feel you lose it.”

“Lube?” he asks, and I gesture toward the little drawers built into the bulkhead by the bed. I hear the drawer open and close, the click of the bottle, and the wet sound of lube on skin.

He rubs two fingers over my hole, pressing a fingertip inside to lube me up. I push back, asking for more. He adds more lube, working it into me, and then replaces his hand with his dick.

Bare
.

The intimacy of trusting him with my body enough to say he can have me like this, and no one else can, makes the moment enormous and pivotal, eclipsing anything we’d done before.

He pushes in slowly, a deep, constant pressure, and I rut backward, trying to take him faster, wanting to feel every inch of him, hot and naked inside me.

His hand comes down on my ass with a loud slap, right over the paddle marks. “I’m setting the pace.”

With my hands behind my back and my face chafing against the comforter, there’s nothing I can do but let him. At this angle, he feels huge—and the slide of his skin, the friction and the heat of his body? Delicious.

“You feel so good,” he says, a tremor to his voice. “So hot.”

He sinks in the rest of the way, his balls slapping forward, and we both groan. His arms come down and wrap around me, pressing my back to his chest, my bound hands caught between us. His lips find the nape of my neck, and he brushes tender kisses there. I rock a little, and he lets me set the rhythm now, a small gasp slipping from his lips.

He starts to fuck into me harder, and I need a hand on my dick. I struggle against the ropes, and he lifts off me, dragging me back with one hand on my hip to keep himself inside me. He reaches around and grabs my dick.

“Come on, honey. Come on.”

The gentle words, the roughness of his motions, the harsh gasps of his breath and the heat of the summer air. So much sensation.

“Bite me,” I demand, and he does, right on my shoulder, then he groans, loud, and thrusts into me harder.

I revel in that violence, let it take over my body as I shove back against my bonds, against him, while he ruts into me faster. My orgasm hits almost without warning, and there’s only time to shout, “Please!” and to shudder helplessly in his hands while my dick shoots across the bedcovers.

He cries out a moment later, then stills—I feel the heat of him coming inside me, and I shudder again, excited and sated together. His hand makes small circles on my back, his breath slowing. He eases out of me, and I grunt at the loss of him. Then he’s untying me, rubbing my arms and legs and helping me to my shaky feet.

He makes sure I’m steady enough, then he leads me to the sink in the galley, turns it on, and grabs a small dishtowel from the cupboard. He cleans me up, pausing to play with my ass, fingering me and groaning at the slide of his cum around my hole.

“God, this is hot.” He sounds breathless, and I don’t blame him; it turns me on too. He teases me a moment longer, until I’m moaning, and then finishes cleaning me and inspects the marks on my ass.

“You’re gonna bruise a little,” he gloats.

“I don’t care.” I shrug, and the motion almost tips me over.

“Bedtime.” He leads me back to bed, helps me climb in, and then slides beneath the covers and pulls me close. A warm contentment steals over me, and I roll my head into his shoulder as I rub my stinging ass against the sheets.