The only thing on this motherfucking boat that's a siren is Hannah. Everything she does calls to me.
When I went down to the crew mess for dinner and saw everyone there but Hannah, I couldn't stop my feet from moving to find her. I like to think that I'm being a good captain and helping her out, but that's far from the truth. I want to be near her.
Pathetic.
She had been dancing as she worked and like a creep, I stood right outside the door watching. I couldn’t take my eyes off the swing of her hips and the roundness of her ass.
Hannah does have a lot on her hands and if I can do something as simple as vacuuming to ease her load, then I'll do it. But I'll do more than vacuum. I caught the little lie the moment the words left her mouth, that adorable nose of hers scrunching as she lied. As I walk through the boat, I spotted some things I could do to help her and quickly found the cleaning supplies I needed. It’s not much, but every little bit helps.
The hum of the vacuum leaves me alone with my thoughts and all I can focus on is the way that pretty mouth of hers says captain. It makes my dick twitch and I want to hear it again.
I'm playing with fire and we haven’t even left the dock. Once again I find myself clenching my teeth at the thought of having to keep my distance.
A distance that is growing more impossible to keep.
By the time I slide into the sheets of the Captain’s quarters, I'm exhausted, but nothing can stop my mind from thinking of her. Of how Hannah’s probably curled up in her bunk down below, all alone in that bed of hers. My mind strays to other impossible and improbable things, like how her skin would feel under my hands, and the warmth of her body next to mine. These thoughts plague my mind, unable to let me drift off into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.
Before I know it, the sun is rising above the horizon signaling a new day and it feels as if I barely slept.
Working on yachts has made me an early riser and nothing will change that, even a shitty night’s sleep.
Making my way down the steps and into the galley, I'm surprised to find Hannah already up. Our guests don't arrive until later this morning and there's no need for her to be awake right now, especially at the ass-crack of dawn.
"Good morning." My voice is still gruff from sleep and I fight the urge to clear my throat. She's got on her uniform, the redSirenshirt and gray skirt, her pen tapping against her lower lip as she leans on the counter, a pad of paper in front of her.
Hannah turns to me and I can't help but notice her sharp intake of breath. "Good morning, Captain. Is there anything I can get you?" She straightens, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
It's so early that even Damon isn't up working in the galley and the thought that we’re alone together thrills me.
"No, it's alright. Don’t worry about me." Playfully I nudge her shoulder as I pass by her for the coffee needing to touch her, and I'm rewarded with a soft smile. She must have already brewed a pot and I notice the steaming mug in front of her that looks more like cream than coffee. "Long night?" I ask nodding towards her mug.
She nods her head stifling a yawn. "Oh, you know, there's always more work to be done."
Absently I wonder just how long she stayed up and what I would have done if I'd known. Would I have helped her more if I had? Part of me says I wouldn't have been able to stop myself.
I don't say anything, pouring myself a cup of black coffee and taking a sip. Out of the corner of my eye, Hannah reaches for her mug, lifting it off the counter by the rim. I watch as the mug slips through her fingers, shattering on the floor with its impact, the sound of breaking glass cutting through the sleepy quiet of the boat.
"Shit," she curses, carefully stepping away from the broken shards, her feet bare and unprotected. Unable to bear the thought of her being hurt, my hands settle around her waist, and I pull her behind me, away from the glass.
"Don't move," I say, my voice coming out harsh.
"I'm sorry, Captain." I bend down to pick up the broken shards and see her shuffling her feet. "Here, let me go get a rag and help you."
"No, you won't. You're going to stay right there,” I order. “I don't want you to hurt yourself." Can this girl not follow orders?
That’s something I'll have to remedy.
Fuck. No.
My palm itches with the image of her ass draped across my lap, her cheeks red and tender. No matter what, I can't let that happen. But I want it to. I want her full submission, her obedience, her tied up and wet for me.
Shut. It. Down.
"It's not a problem," she chuckles as if she had a funny thought. "With the number of glasses I break, I'm a pro cleaner by now."
Then, she completely defies my order by stepping around my hunched frame as I scan the floor for any remaining shards. The retort dies in my throat the moment she gasps in pain.
"Ouch. Oh shit." She balances on one leg teetering between my back and the counter and grabs my shoulder to steady herself making my whole body freeze at the innocent contact.
