In a breath, I went from kissing him to being kissed by him. Spinning me with a powerful kick, he slammed me against the submarine and pressed himself against me skin to skin.
His cock seared my core. Lightning bolts sizzled. I rubbed against him, using his body as a climbing frame.
We went from swimming to attacking all in a fraction of a moment.
I forgot how to do anything—all I knew was if I didn’t have something, I would die. I would combust. I would explode from the pressure.
With a savage bite, his teeth captured my bottom lip as he wedged a thigh between my legs. His fingers latched onto the rivets and small ladder of the submarine, somehow holding us afloat.
His kiss turned violent as his thigh rocked up, deliberately rocking against my clit. Tearing his mouth from mine, he growled in my ear. “You want to play this game, little mouse? Fine.” He reared up, wedging his cock against me as his thigh thrust harder between my legs. “Come.”
Come?
No way could I come. Not with dolphins and oceans and submarines and—
My head fell back as he yanked my wet strands, giving him access to my throat. He bit me, but it didn’t activate bad memories; instead, it made my body gush with heat and liquid, the desperation inside me reached lava levels.
My hips thrust under someone else’s command: Elder’s, some sea god, who knew? But definitely not mine because I didn’t know this person. Why was I suddenly so hungry, so reckless, so selfish to use Elder for my own gain?
I gasped as his voice turned filthy—hot and thick against my ear. “That’s it. You know I can’t fuck you, Pim. But fuck, I want to. I want to stick my cock in you so fucking bad you have no idea. Feeling your heat on my thigh...it’s taking everything I have not to spread you wide and sink inside you. Christ, I want you.”
My heart relocated into my clit, thundering with each visualization. My hips rocked faster, harder, braver.
“That’s it. Use me. Come for me. Imagine I’m fucking you. That you’re not empty, and I’m not insane, and we can do something like fuck like rabbits wherever and whenever we damn well please.” His tongue licked around my ear, pressing a kiss to my hairline. “Come, little mouse. Come. Come. Goddammit, come before I run out of self-control.”
His thigh thrust again, and I rode him.
My brain forgot about right and wrong, and dolphins and depths, and just...let go.
The bikini couldn’t stop it.
Dolphins watching us couldn’t stop it.
I came.
The rippling fantasia was different to what he’d given me in the hotel in Monte Carlo. This was a crackling hair-trigger release. Formed from intensity and released with ferocity.
Fast, wild, and crazy.
The second the last clench left me spinning, his hands landed on the submarine with a wet smack. With a grunt, he pushed himself far away from me. His eyes weren’t that of a man anymore; they were savage and primordial and reached inside me to ravage my heart and make me crave to be filled.
I was so empty, so achy, so wanting.
More...I need more.
“Don’t.” His voice was a murder weapon to my libido.
I shook my head, tears springing to my eyes for hurting him this way. For thinking only of myself while he suffered under epic self-restraint. Rubbing my mouth, fighting to stay afloat, I dropped my eyes submissively. “I’m so sorry, Elder.”
“Don’t ever apologise for showing me who you are, Pim.” He chuckled, raw and torn open. “You’re waking up. You’re finding what you want.”
“What I want is you.” My whisper barely made it across the tide.
“I know.” His voice turned grim. “And I want you. And that’s what makes this so fucking hard.”
I dared look up. “I can’t apologise for wanting you, but I can apologise for kissing you. I-I won’t do that again.”
A dolphin swam behind him, the dorsal fin coming close. He glanced at the swimming missile only for it to parry off at the last minute, leaving him to sigh and rub his face with a dripping wet hand. “This is all screwed up.”
Looking at the sky with a tormented growl, he shook his head. “I don’t want you to stop kissing me. I don’t want to stop kissing you. But back in the garage when you told me pieces of yourself...that gave me something I needed. It gave me peace even while you stress me the hell out.”
He smiled sadly, still treading water out of reaching distance. “My mind was...quiet.” He shrugged as if struggling to verbalize what was different now. “It’s noisy again. I need some distance from you. Please.” The fact he’d tacked on a plea rather than leaving it as a command unravelled me. It wasn’t a simple word. It’d been infused with every matching ache he held.
This sucked.
This hurt.
This was all my fault.
“Consider it done.” Forcing the biggest smile on my face, I made it my life mission to prove I was the master of my desires. That I could control myself around him. That I wouldn’t make this any harder.
It didn’t matter it was all a lie.
It didn’t matter we both knew something would have to break and soon.
All that mattered was spending the day together, swimming with dolphins, believing in magic, and forgetting that love could cause the worst pain of all.
Chapter Nineteen
______________________________
Elder
FOUR THINGS HAPPENED that night.
First, I somehow managed to keep my dick in my pants while Pim and I finished swimming with the damn dolphins and returned the Viperfish to its garage. I had the self-control of a monk as I invited her to a quiet dinner beneath the stars as Jolfer set us back on course. We hardly said a word, but that wasn’t the point. The point was proving to myself that I could be in her presence—even sex-infused and addiction-infested—and not give in.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, and I enlisted every trick imaginable, but I managed to come across sane...I think.
One, two, three taps of my knife.
One, two, three scrunches of my napkin.
One, two, three breaths before answering any of her softly murmured questions.
Second thing that happened that night—after a strained but survived dinner—I created her a dolphin out of a hundred dollar bill, quickly bringing the total of origami animals closer to a thousand in cash value. She watched me silently as my fingers creased and folded, accepting my gift with a heart-pounding smile.
Third, I walked her back to her room after dessert of raspberry cheesecake, keeping my hands, lips, and cock to myself as we traversed the deck beneath the Milky Way and entered the elevator side by side. I almost broke every finger from clenching my fists so hard with self-restraint, but I managed to escort her to her door and bow respectfully as she entered her room.
I didn’t try to kiss her.
I didn’t try to spend the night with her.
I managed to remain in control.
And fourth, when I entered my lonely quarters, and all I could think about was returning to Pim, I rolled a joint and pulled my cello from its home in the cupboard. With smoke stinging my eyes and drug-fake peace circulating through my blood, I placed my fingers on the frets and played.
I played soft.
I played loud.
I alternated between traditional classical and self-composed metal.
I created music until my joint was nothing but ash and my fingers bordered on splitting. My bow once again was shredded. And my eyes strained from staring at the door, begging for a midnight visitor.
Pim might have a lock on her door, but I didn’t. And instead of hoping she’d stay away, I spent the night begging her to come find me. In the midst of the song, I imagined her walking in dressed in a nightgown which fell from her body the moment she saw me. I hung onto the fantasy of her crossing the room, unperturbed by my music to sit on my lap, kiss me, and beg me to make love to her.
But she never came.
br /> And I never went to see if her lock was engaged.
By the time I fell asleep and woke to dawn, I had a few emails to attend to from the warehouse and a couple of new enquiries requesting a consultation at the Hawk Masquerade. Turned out my attending that inconvenient affair had already circulated and the unwanted night’s entertainment would be profitable indeed.
Which I was thankful for as it was my six month mark. My next payment to my debt was due, and I had every intention of paying it. Even though the man I paid didn’t know me. Even though he had no clue how or why the money mysteriously entered his bank account.
Watching from afar, I’d witnessed my first righteous human when that initial instalment appeared in his account. Instead of staying quiet like greed demanded and claiming it as his own without knowing if it was true, he contacted the police to inform them of an incorrect deposit.
A deposit from an encrypted account in Monte Carlo valued at thirty million dollars.
I’d ensured his name, address, and phone number were listed on the transfer, so no one could doubt it was meant for him. For the reference number, all I’d put was...’from someone who owes you more than you know.’
The first instalment had been the smallest but the hardest. If it had been up to me, that amount would’ve had an extra zero attached. But Selix had forbidden it. He’d spoken sense at the time, so I’d settled with thirty instead of three hundred—hoping to buy off my never-ending guilt one repayment at a time.
Every six months since then, I paid another sum—always bigger than the first, steadily multiplying—forever working to the final tally I owed.
“Phone call for you.” My intercom buzzed, allowing Selix’s voice to interrupt my thoughts.
It was almost noon, and I’d been sketching a few amendments on Alrik’s (now Pim’s) yacht to ensure the build team got it perfect. I’d also been poring over nautical maps, both digital and paper, to figure out if and when the Chinmoku would make their stand.
Would they dare take me on in the middle of the sea? Would they have the right armada to become pirates as well as slavers? Or would they wait until I reached shore again? Would the Hawk Masquerade be too dangerous to take Pim?
Tossing down my pencil, I growled. “I’m not expecting any calls.”
Oh, wait.
I was. A sneaky, low-handed secret I’d done behind Pim’s back the night she’d returned to the Phantom. “Shit, she called back.”
“She did. You’ll want to talk to her.”
“Your bossy replies aren’t wanted this morning, Selix.”
“Your argumentative, stubborn ass isn’t wanted, either.” He chuckled. “Get up here.” He hung up before I could berate him.
Leaving my touch-ups on the desk, I stormed down the corridor from suite to office. Selix looked up as I slammed the door closed. I didn’t know where Pim was, but I didn’t want her to know what I was up to.
Not yet, anyway.
He held out the phone. “I had to accept the charges, and you only have five minutes according to the terms and conditions relayed before you got your ass here.”
Shoving the phone into my hand, he practically pranced to the exit. “Oh, and Pim has been asking about you. I told her you were working, but that excuse expires in a few hours. I’ll tell the chef to expect two for dinner.”
I gave him the one finger salute as I raised the phone to my ear.
A crackly voice came down the line. “Prest? Mr. Elder Prest?”
The air in my lungs evacuated in a rush. I knew that voice. That same voice turned me mad with fantasies and wishes and needs far beyond my control. However, it was harder, older, less loving, and more accusing than Pimlico’s.
Or should I say Tasmin’s?
Would Pim kill me for this or thank me?
Sucking up the oxygen I’d just expelled, I clutched the phone tighter. “Hello, Mrs Blythe. What a pleasure to finally talk to you.”
Chapter Twenty
______________________________
Pimlico
DINNER STARTED OFF strained.
Elder acted differently.
As I reached for a helping of roasted vegetables, his eyes tracked me. Yet when I picked up my knife and fork and looked at him, he glanced away as if his own cutlery was far more interesting.
He seemed almost guilty of something.
But what?
Most of the day, I’d spent relaxing on my own and learning what it was like to be bored. I’d never known the concept before or after such an unusual fate. But now, as I hung on the Phantom wishing Elder would find me and put me out of my misery, and learning I could stare at the horizon for only so many hours before my thoughts annoyed me, I was ready for a task.
Any task.
I wanted to get back to work, and because my mind was now healthier and happier than it’d ever been, I turned to the last thing that’d stretched and formed it.
My university degree.
Psychology.
I found myself going over Elder’s body language without thinking. Finding hidden snippets of understanding in the way he touched me, looked at me, and up until now, had successfully hidden things from me.
I analysed our time in the hotel, going over sleeping with him, recalling the way he’d forced me to bind him and reading between the lines.
He wasn’t lying when he said he would’ve hurt both of us because he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t dramatizing his OCD to keep me at a distance or to earn sympathy from those who knew him.
Everything he said and did was the truth.
With one exception.
And now that I’d seen it, I couldn’t unsee it.
It was so obvious I wanted to cuff myself around the head for being so blind.
Three.
Elder might have a brain bordering on genius perfectionism, but even he had safe-guards in place. Life had rules and everything—humans, flora, fauna, and every microbe followed those specially specified rules—always staying within their species boundary, forever moving forward.
Elder just moved forward at a faster rate than most.
Tonight, he’d ladled three roast potatoes, three sprigs of asparagus, and three salmon medallions onto his plate.
Meanwhile, I had two potatoes, one piece of salmon, and no asparagus.
I was chaos.
He was uniform.
He thought he was chaos.
He was wrong.
To prove my quickly evolving theory, I watched him eat. Three sips of water followed by three taps of his fork against his plate. Three chews before swallowing followed by three cuts of his knife.
Did he know himself?
Did he feel himself doing it, or was it so ingrained, he didn’t even notice?
I became mesmerised watching him. He was no longer just Elder eating dinner. He was a musician creating a dance.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
A waltz.
Forever moving forward, just like life intended, but in threes not ones like the rest of us.
My heart stopped.
Oh, my God.
Was that the key?
Was that all it would take?
Don’t be stupid, Pim...it can’t be that easy.
But then, in a long ago memory, my mother’s voice came back to me. About how textbooks and pharmaceuticals and so-called professionals often gave long-winded diagnoses and even more complicated treatments to hold the allure that they knew how to help when others didn’t. How paid therapy was upheld with regulations when true therapy—real therapy that worked—was sometimes the simplest of things.
There wasn’t one perfect fix for everyone. Each person was different. Some needed chemical help. Others just needed to talk. Some needed a new environment to heal. Others just needed loved ones around them.
My mother, despite her flaws, was good at her job, and her motto was simple:
Literally S.I.M.P.L.E.
Sometimes
Impossible
Mostly
Probable
Largely
Explainable.
She meant that the impossible cases normally came with probable reasoning and those explanations could be used—if not to find a cure, then definitely to grant an easier way of life for the suffering.
She studied all walks of life to understand and focus on her clients’ strengths and not their weaknesses—even if those weaknesses included crime.
Elder had a weakness; there was no denying that.
But he also had so many, many strengths.
And those strengths might be the key to sleeping with me without trying to kill us with an obsession that could never end.
One, two, three...
Repetition was his strength.
Could it work in the bedroom?
Was it conscious or unconscious?
Deciding to test my theory, I raised my glass of water and toasted him. “To my gracious host and for everything he’s done for me.”
His cheeks darkened in a suspicious masculine blush as he copied me and held his glass aloft. With a regal smile, he clinked with mine then held it to his lips.
I sipped once.
One time.
Like a normal person would in a toast.
Then put my glass back onto the table.
Elder, on the other hand, took another sip, followed by another before placing it down.
That could’ve been a coincidence. He could’ve been thirsty.
Needing another experiment, I pulled out what I’d been able to scrounge up this afternoon. I’d felt terrible asking, but boredom made me look for other ways to entertain myself. When a girl I’d become friendly with came to clean my room, I’d asked with flaming red cheeks if she had any one dollar bills.
She’d raised an eyebrow but hadn’t asked why. It wasn’t like a dollar could buy me freedom if that was my intention. Instead of giving me the single I’d asked for, she’d passed over a small handful and smiled. She’d given them as a gift even when I told her I’d pay her back...even if it meant dismantling my upcoming origami creations and ironing the bills to return to her.
I’d intended to teach myself from unfolding one of Elder’s. I had visions of creating a perfect crane and giving it to him like he gave currency animals to me, hopefully making him as happy as he made me.