Hooked (8 page)

My own breath had taken on a ragged rhythm. I was utterly aroused and completely mortified at the same time. He was just so fucking sexy. I wanted to
be
one of those girls. I wanted to be the kind of air-headed eye candy that men just couldn't get enough of and that I despised down to my hard-working toes. My experiences with men had left me with precious little faith in my choices. But at that moment I would have gladly sacrificed my fragile self-respect to have Morgan Wolf go down on
me
in the middle of the bright blue ocean.

Morgan disengaged. He slipped under the water and out of my line of sight giving me a clear view of the girls who were back to making out with each other. The unbroken mellow tan of their smooth bodies was a sharp contrast to my pasty chef's skin. The only reason I didn't have tan lines was because I had absolutely no tan. I couldn't remember the last time I actually sunbathed.

"Morgan . . . it's your turn sweetie!"

"That's right darlin', double
your
pleasure now."

The two women splashed at him with long golden legs. He swam over to them, crossing the pool in just a couple of strokes. When he hoisted himself up onto to edge of the pool, his arm muscles bulged with the effort. I wondered what it would be like to have those arms around me. I was sure he could lift me off my feet effortlessly with his strength.

He twisted around and sat between the two women. I hadn't seen it in the dark the night before, but I noticed he had a small tattoo on the left side of his chest, above his heart. It was a subtle mark, just a fishhook over a perfectly sculpted pec. There wasn't a lot of ink involved; it reminded me more of a brand than anything. Branded by the sea perhaps.

The girls went right to work. Their hands were all over him and each one started lavishing attention on either side of his neck, nibbling at his ears, nipping at his jaw. I could see his response rise between his legs until his erection pointed skyward against his flat belly. His cock was still slick with the pool water and the swollen head was bruise colored with pumping blood.

I turned away. Couldn't. Watch. Him.

The kitchen wasn't much of a refuge. I could almost feel the heat radiating through my little room, seeping under the door and grabbing me like a pair of sculpted male hands on my tits. Knowing he was getting ready to fuck the shit out of two gorgeous and enthusiastic playmates punched me in the gut and took my breath away.

Richard was alone in the command center when I peered through the glass door and knocked lightly. He gave me a big grin and motioned for me to join him. I was determined to let him distract me. Imagining what was occupying Morgan at that moment had the potential to nauseate me.

The bridge was nothing like I had pictured. It looked almost like some sort of studio or security center. There were six or seven screens lined up in front of the wheel and half again as many gauges and other instruments. Richard was seated in the huge leather captain's chair looking utterly relaxed. I flopped into one of the chairs beside him and sank into its comfort.

"Hope you don't mind some company."

"Of course not. Driving this barge across the channel is a little boring. Not much of a challenge 'til we get closer to the islands."

"It looks pretty challenging to my eyes." I rolled my eyes over the spaceship-worthy instrument panel.

"Just a bunch of toys, really. A real sailor should still be able to get from point A to point B without all this shit."

"Are you a 'real' sailor, Richard?" I wanted to give him a chance to brag on himself and puff up a little for me. I was in the mood to flirt and God knows a man's ego is always a sure-fire way to start.

"I used to be, but this stuff has made me soft. I used to find a fish by instinct and nature. Now I've got a
state-of-the-art
fish finder to do that for me." The reply was disappointing. I was hoping for some chest beating. "But, all this auto pilot stuff means you and I can cruise along and get to know one another." He crossed his sinewy arms across his chest and gave me a look that would have been a leer on a less innocent face.

"Okay. I'll start. How did you happen to become the Captain of El Lobo?"

He chuckled. "I guess you could say it was destiny. My Dad's a charter captain and I literally grew up on these docks."

"You mentioned that you and Morgan had been 'wharf rats' together."

"First name basis, already?"

"Not to his face," I blushed. "I just have a hard time thinking of a guy that young as a 'Mr.'"

"Just wait until he asks you to call him by his first name. He can be a prick about things at times." He adjusted the wheel just slightly before he continued. "Yeah, Morgan showed up on the pier when he was around twelve or thirteen. He was a little bit of a nuisance at first. Followed me around like I was a big hero 'cause I'm two years older than he is."

"How old is that?"

"Just turned 28. I'm a summer baby. That's why I have such a sunny disposition."

I had to agree with him. Everything about Richard was light and easy. He had a way of smiling at me that made me feel very comfortable.

"Morgan was 26 last Valentine's Day," he went on.

I tried to remember my sun signs. February 14 was . . . Aquarius. Not that I believed in astrology much, but it figured he'd have a water sign.

Richard continued. "I went to junior college but academics aren't my thing. Not that I have a room temperature I.Q."

"Of course not. Remember, the only thing I've ever studied is culinary arts. I'm with you on the college thing. It just seemed to me such a waste of life. I wanted to get on with it. Do something. Plus, my parents stuffed my head with enough knowledge my first eighteen years. There are times when I regret it, though."

"Why's that?"

"A couple of reasons. Sometimes I think I missed the party, you know? Culinary school is fun, but not in the same way. Everyone there knows what they want to be when they grow up. They're focused. Even drunk they're usually still talking shop."

"I see your point. My two years at PBJC were one long blur of beer and babes."

"I also think that I underestimated how much of a disappointment it was to my parents that I didn't pursue a 'higher education'. I hate that. They deserved better from their only child."

"I kind of surprised my parents when I passed the Captain's exam on the first try. It's a beast. Most people have to take it twice or even three times. But I grew up breathing all that shit. It's just natural."

"Isn't this an awfully large boat for someone like you? I mean, I would have thought you'd have to work your way into something like this."

"Trust me, I started small. It was just a stroke of luck that Morgan's father decided to add this toy to his collection. He got a deal and that's something he can't resist. Once he had it, the thrill wore off. As usual, Morgan got his hand me downs."

"This is some hand me down."

"Morgan sought me out. We had stayed close even after he went off to school. When El Lobo entered the picture he found me and hired me. He doesn't get close people and he wanted someone around that he knew he could trust."

"Why doesn't he . . . get close to people?"

Richard arched his pale eyebrows. "It's complicated. And you don't need to know. I don't even know Morgan's whole story. But I know he's got demons."

"I see. Well right now he's getting quite close to a couple of ladies in the pool."

"That's typical. And meaningless. Morgan gets used by women and he uses right back."

"Not a very attractive trait in a man." The image of the using taking place on the lower deck sprang back into my head. It was impossible not to think about those bodies all tangled up and sweating in the sun. Especially Morgan's body--naked.

Would one of the girls watch as he screwed the other one? What was the protocol for two girls and a guy? Did all three have to be 'active' at the same time? I had run through several combinations of cock, mouth, pussy and hands before Richard brought me back to the here and now.

"So, what's your story? I mean other than the professor parents and being a chef. Is your choice of career some kind of rebellion?"

"I wouldn't put it that way. I just wanted something different than what was expected of me."

"And that was?"

"I was a total geek in high school. It's genetic. I was raised to be a walking encyclopedia and by the time I graduated I was very much over it all."

"Geek was never my problem. I was a solid 'C' from first grade on."

"In a way I envy you. Nothing says 'untouchable' quite like straight 'A's'."

"C'mon. Are you trying to tell me that a little hottie like you spent Friday nights on the internet?"

"That and watching 'films' with my parents, yes. You wouldn't believe the movies I've seen. Directors you've never heard of and never want to."

"Yikes."

"For sure, yikes. I went to culinary school because I bought into the glamour of it all. A lot of my friends worked in restaurants during high school while I was earning my spending money tutoring people like you." I grinned at him and he shrugged. "They had all kinds of wild stories. And, I loved the idea of doing something creative that was so temporary."

"Now you're over my head."

"Think about it. Most art can be captured--you can look at a painting over and over or listen to music as many times as you want. A book can be re-read. But a meal can never be eaten in exactly the same way. Even if the cook and the ingredients and the prep are all identical, it's a new experience every time."

"That's a pretty heavy outlook on cooking."

"I tend to over think everything. Sorry."

"No, no. It's cool. I just never thought about it that way."

I felt like I was boring him. Enough about me and my bizarre thought process. I wanted to hear more about Morgan anyway. "So, you've been the Captain on El Lobo for how long?"

"About four years. We've had a great time. But I think the Boss is getting restless. That's why he's itching to join daddy dear's business."

"You don't like Morgan's father?"

"Let's just say I don't have a lot of respect for him."

"Why not?"

"Because he's a spineless asshole. A douche of the highest order. Let's just leave it at that."

There was obviously quite a bit of history that Richard seemed determined to keep to himself. As curious as I was, it seemed pushy to pry. "Four years is a long time. Do you just cruise around all the time?"

"We've been all over the world. Fished in a lot of tournaments."

"On this boat?" I didn't know a lot about the sport, but I sure as hell knew I wasn't aboard a fishing boat.

"Oh hell no. We either charter or we use the tender." I knitted my brow at the unfamiliar term. Richard answered the unspoken question. "It's easier to show you." He picked up the radio and summoned the first mate to the bridge.

"I promised you a tour. Come and let me properly introduce you to El Lobo."

Chapter 8--Morgan

This has never happened to me. Not once. Not when I was knee walkin' drunk. Not when I was so tired my eyes were crossed. Not even when the chick wouldn't stop laughing. Nothing has ever deflated the boy until the thought of that pretty little dove of a chef sprang into my head and I realized she was just on the other side of the wall.

The two babes were working my ears and my neck when my eyes caught the faintest rustle of the porthole curtain. It was just a hint of movement but it was enough to bring me up short. If it was still Rodrigo in that room, I wouldn't have thought twice about nailing the two girls right there under the afternoon sun with the little bastard watching. It was my boat, my pool, my game. But everything had changed when Richard pulled the stunt of hiring Lara. In a ridiculous flash of time I went from wanting sex to wanting
her
.

God, how embarrassing. I willed myself to focus on the beautiful women who were waiting to fuck me. Two of them, for chrissake! Ads for little blue pills started playing through my mind. The more I thought, the smaller my cock became. I was shrinking down to a micro-dick.

"Girls," I said as I slipped back into the water. "How about putting on a little show for the Wolf? I'd love to see what you two sweethearts can do to each other."

I couldn't tell if Shelby and Emery were aware of my
little
problem. I was aware of nothing else. But they seemed happy enough to resume petting one another. Ordinarily, the sight of a couple of babes doing each other is a sure fire way to make me as stiff as a big game fishing rod. My cock was stubbornly flaccid--a lazy worm bobbing in the tepid water.

The girls had progressed from the giggle phase and were making the same lusty noises they'd blessed me with a little earlier. I watched Shelby (or was it Emery?) squirm against the knee pressed between her thighs. One ground and the other ground back. My ears heard the right sounds and my eyes saw a mouth-watering sight but my brain wouldn't process.

A tight nipple against a pink tongue. Lovely hands caressing lovely breasts, twisting a rhythm of cries from a tossed back head. Gold mane down a slim, feline back. Two shapely legs parted to receive an agile tongue. A ripe ass thrust up in the air begging for attention.

My attention. I should have been pumping away behind those two willing ass cheeks. Instead, I was waiting for the right moment to make my awkward departure. It was pretty obvious that I was going to get zero help from my libido.

I watched for a few more minutes until I was fairly certain that the girls were oblivious to anything but each other. Then I slipped out of the water as quietly as I could. If they questioned me about it later, I figured I could make some excuse. The truth--"Sorry ladies, I just didn't feel like doing you because my mind is fixated elsewhere."--was implausible to say the least. What man passes on a fuck-fest with two willing, exquisite women? At that moment, much as I hated to admit it, the answer was
me
.