“Aye aye, Captain,” I slur, the words tumbling out between giggles.
We’ve just stumbled out of a pub called The Dirty Hen. Probably a cheeky play on words because “The Dirty Cock” was taking things too far, even for sailors.
“Can we do theTitanicscene? You know, where Jack gets behind Rose and does the whole king-of-the-world thing?” I ask, making a heroic dash toward the bow of the boat, arms outstretched like I’m about to take flight.
“Gemma.” Liam glares at me. “No running on the boat.”
“How are you gonna stop me?” I tease, my hands catching the mast as I swing around it with a playful twist.
He strides toward me with the determination of someone who’s had enough of my nonsense for one evening. But I’m too quick, ducking out of his way with a triumphant cackle.
“Gemma,” he says again, his tone promising all sorts of delicious punishments if he catches me.
And catch me he does, his large hands grabbing me by the hips and yanking me against his rock-hard body with a force that knocks the breath out of me. Holy mother of seafood, I can practically feel his heart pounding through his clothes. Or maybe it’s just my own.
“I caught you,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers through me. “Now I can do whatever I want with you.”
My body trembles with anticipation. “Do your worst, captain.”
His arousal presses against me as he kisses me hard, all dominance and raw need. He slides a hand over my breast, squeezing possessively as if to prove a point.
I give in completely, kissing him back with everything I’ve got.
What am I doing? We’re out here on the bloody deck, where anyone could catch an eyeful of this R-rated nautical show.
“Liam,” I gasp out between kisses. “Someone might see.”
And by “someone,” I mean literally anyone with eyes on the dock and the misfortune of looking in our direction.
But my clit is already throbbing. I need to have sex, like, two hours ago.
“Let them,” he breathes against my lips. “Fucking get on top of me. Now. I can’t wait any longer.”
He walks us backward until he hits the bench. Without another word, he pulls me onto his lap in one fluid motion.
I sink down on top of him, every rational thought in my mind dissolving as pure arousal takes over.
He lifts me up, just enough so that he can fumble with his jeans zipper, his movements urgent. The metallic rasp of his fly echoes in the night air, followed by the soft rustle of fabric as he shoves his boxers down. Sitting on that cold bench must be absolute torture on his bare ass, but I’m far too turned on to care now his cock is free.
His hands are back on my hips in an instant. He slides his rough palms up my thighs, the callouses on his fingers from handling ropes catching on my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. His fingers find the lace of my panties, and with a swift, almost impatient motion, he pushes them to the side. The sudden exposure makes me shiver.
The head of his cock slides along my slit, teasing me.
I grip his shoulders tightly, my breath catching in ragged gasps.
“Liam,” I whimper, grinding against him, seeking more friction. “Please.”
He pushes his throbbing cock inside me and I let out a cry, half pain, half pleasure. Gasping at the fullness. And the fact that we’re having sex on the deck of a boat, where anyone from the pub could see us if they walked by.
“We shouldn’t . . .” I try to protest as I spot people over the other side of the port, but he cuts off my words with another deep thrust.
“Can’t stop, baby,” he groans, taking control of my hips and grinding me up and down on him. I ride him over and over again, relishing the sensation as he owns me.
I’m too far gone now. I don’t care if the whole harbor witnesses us; all I want is to come on his cock.
“Gemma,” he growls, his voice low and ragged with need. “Don’t hold back. Show me how you want to fuck. Take control.”
I don’t even bother with a response, just sink down onto him in one smooth, agonizingly pleasurable motion. The stretch andfullness of him inside me makes me whimper, my nails digging into his skin as I start to move.
