14. Below Deck

14

BELOW DECK

brISTOL

I lied. One kiss from Lila will never be enough.

The second our lips reacquainted themselves with one another, every one of my senses underwent a whiteout like that of a merciless snowstorm in the middle of winter. The chocolate’s effects have graduated from tension pinpricks to miniature explosions, and I can feel my balls draw up in preparation for a relief that will never come—not as long as Lila has anything to say about it.

I forgot how incredible it felt to be kissed by her. Nothing exists except for her . Not the trauma from my past, not Summit, not anything. This is gonna sound over-the-top cheesy, but her lips give me a reason to fall back in love with life. All the baggage weighing me down mysteriously vanishes, and Lila balms the scars on my heart with the tiniest spillover of love. I can’t compare this sensation to anything. Nothing in the world—not even a rare, naturally-occurring phenomenon—could equate to the emotion eroding at my rough-hewn edges. I breathe cleanly for the first time I have all month, welcoming much-needed air into my rotten lungs.

But once I get the addictive taste of revitalization, Lila blankets me in darkness again, and the atmosphere falls to an outpouring of thick, charcoal-grey smog. My stomach does a flip of hope, egging on the lovesick way my heart flutters like a baby bird’s wings.

“One more, angel. Please ,” I beg, lips still foolishly puckered, every cell in my body craving a hit to keep me afloat for the next few minutes. I can still taste the notes of chocolate that leapt off her tongue and invaded my taste buds, and her lip gloss is smeared all over my lower face.

If I wasn’t so Lila-drunk—yes, I’m coining this term—I’d make some witty remark about how flustered she looks right now. Her fingers come up to touch her lips in betrayal, and her pupils are completely dilated, pushing aside the rings of blue in her eyes. Not to mention that those pointed beads of her nipples are flashing at me like some X-rated high beams.

A frown unfurls on her face, followed by a laborious hitch of her chest that only succeeds in spewing out a few shallow breaths. “Bristol…”

Everything inside me is ringing alarm bells, and the little amount of blood still in my head makes a quick break south of the equator, forcing my libido into toe-curling action. I have no right to say what I’m about to say, but I abandoned my dignity a long time ago. I may be a man, but any man with half a brain would know that his place is on his knees, worshipping his woman.

“Fuck. I can’t stand this fake dating shit. I can’t stand being your friend.” I pause, choking on the words that bitter my throat. “Jesus, we’re not even friends at this point. I can’t stand…I can’t stand meaning nothing to you.”

I know I just broke rule number two. I don’t know what I expect her to say; I barely thought before speaking myself. But judging by the wobble of her lower lip, I’m expecting a repeat of the conversations we had prior. However, like everything Lila does, she fully knocks me on my ass and steals the breath from my lungs.

She grabs me by the shoulders, manhandles me onto my back, and crawls on top of me within the span of a head-spinning second.

“Stop talking. For once in your life,” she growls, her long, toned legs straddling my hips, both of her hands pinning my wrists to the mattress.

I stare at her in shock—and partly fear—and adjust my hips so my cock’s directly underneath her cunt, demanding entry into the wet paradise between her thighs. This is seriously sick and twisted. Here I am trying to tell her how much she means to me while my dick’s simultaneously grinding against her pussy. I’m trying to be a gentleman, I really am. But, my God, do I need to fuck her. I need her to use me and do whatever the fuck she wants to me.

While she’s suspended on top of me, touching every exposed part of my body with a coyness that literally makes me want to swallow my own tongue, my belly bottoms out and a horde of hormones pelt me like bullets from a semiautomatic. I don’t grab her waist like I normally would—not that I could if I wanted to. Considering the position she has me pinned in right now, she’s in control.

“Maybe you wouldn’t lie so much if your tongue had something more productive to do,” she purrs, taking her glittery, almond-shaped nail and tracing it across my inner arm.

I try my best not to twitch. “Not lying.”

“Don’t think I asked for your opinion.”

Not only am I playing with fire, but I’m juggling it in front of an audience. “You finally gonna shut me up, Lils?”

When her nail reaches my collarbone, she grabs me by the chin, caging it with her claws. “You finally gonna be a good boy and behave?” she challenges, and I shouldn’t have underestimated the lengths she’d go to torture me, because she still manages to roll her cunt right over my rock-hard erection.

Dear Lord. More and more pressure stacks in my lower gut, and my mouth goes fuzzy while the edges of my vision slowly shrink. I whimper and nod, seconds away from promising God that I’ll be an upstanding citizen for the rest of my life if it means the pain will subside. You want me to choose celibacy, dude? Consider it done!

Lila runs her thumb over my bottom lip and parts it slightly from the top. “I want to hear you say it.”

Jesus. I won’t fucking survive this. Tell my friends and family I’ll miss them.

With one of my arms now free, I grab her wrist, feel her thumb slip from my lips, and hear her gasp in surprise. With a metric ton of confidence, I look at her through my lashes while I envelop her finger in my mouth, proceeding to hollow my cheeks and suck. She doesn’t pull away, nor does she break eye contact.

There’s still residual chocolate on her skin, and I lick it off, burying a smile when she eventually lolls her head back in bliss. She’s too proud to vocalize a moan, but I can tell I’m chipping away at her with my poor man’s mallet and chisel.

I contemplate taking her thumb to the base, but I decide to let up halfway, giving her one last lash of my tongue that confirms I’m up for whatever mouth-stuffing task she’s determined to give me. The homie upstairs must’ve heard my prayer because I’m suddenly imbued with an insane amount of arrogance, and if I wasn’t loving the way she’s parked over my dick, I’d have her on her back in a heartbeat.

“You want to play this little power game? Or do you want my tongue in your fucking cunt?” I ask.

It’s rhetorical, if you were wondering.

Before she can bite my head off, I use my free hand to grab her waist and yank her up toward my face, causing her to brace both of her arms against my chest.

“I don’t care how mad you are right now. I want that delicious pussy riding my face, and I’m going to spend as much time as I want eating you out.”

Her eyebrow ticks up. “And who says I won’t attempt to murder you by way of suffocation?”

“Angel, you’re not doing it right if you aren’t suffocating me.”

Since she’s mistakenly freed both my arms, I grab two handfuls of her ass, watching as her whole body lurches forward and bounces those beautiful tits of hers. She hisses through her teeth, her chest dressed in goose bumps and that bothersome scrap of fabric that’s been teasing me this entire day. I want it off .

I lower my lips to her throat, tenderizing the area with some open-mouthed kisses before I mark my territory, and my hand sneakily works to lower her bikini top strap. I’m met with a surprising lack of resistance while I unravel her nylon strings, allocating extra effort in sucking bruises onto her neck, right where the world will be able to see.

Her hand tethers in my hair, pulling harshly in a half-assed attempt to regain control. “If you’re giving me a hickey right now, I’m going to kill you,” she snaps, though her fa?ade glitches when I nip at a sensitive spot.

“I’ll take that chance,” I mumble against her throat.

With my lips occupied, she sheds her bikini top, and I move my sights to the voluptuous breasts now unveiled before me, her dusk-colored nipples pulling at my last thread of patience. I weigh one of the globes in my hand, loving the overspill through my fingers, and I delicately brush my thumb over her puckered bud.

“Fuck,” she groans, her other arm shooting out behind her to steel herself on my thigh, that greedy cunt of hers generating friction against my straining hard-on. She’s rutting her hips into the air and capturing my dick in the crossfire, and a shudder sparks through every inch of me, feeding electricity to an already-revved engine.

“Tell me how much you hate me, Lila. That lie sounds so sweet coming out of that pretty mouth.” I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger as another wave of pressure washes over me, induced by a swivel of her hips that I remember vividly from the last time we fucked.

“I…” she starts weakly, eyes closed, head tipped to the ceiling.

“You hate me so much it hurts, right? Like an itch you can’t scratch? An ache you can’t satiate? You hate me so much that you just wish I’d stuff that leaking pussy?” I taunt, flicking my fingernail over that tiny erogenous zone and watching in satisfaction at the way her expression screws tight.

The sexiest mewl exits her lips, almost loud enough to seep through the yacht’s thin walls. “I…want…”

I employ the full effort of my hand, and I fondle the mound of her boob like it’s my own personal plaything. “Go on.”

“Your mouth…on me.”

“Use your words.”

She hesitates. “Your mouth…on my cunt.”

“There she is,” I coo, dragging my hand down the silhouette of her tit and over those hourglass curves, inching closer and closer to the desired target. My fingers play over the protrusion of her hipbone, ducking under the thin strap of her bikini bottom. “There’s my good girl.”

She’s hovering over me, trembling, losing the leverage she once had. I haven’t even touched her pussy yet and she’s putty in my hands. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have this sweet and disciplined version of Lila before she starts berating me again, so I take advantage of her willingness, positioning myself accordingly so she can grab the headboard. Her eyes spring open for the first time in minutes, and a splash of shame resonates in her deep-sea irises.

“On my face, angel. And don’t bullshit me with suspending your weight. Want you suffocating me, got it? Don’t want to fucking breathe for the next few minutes while I feast on the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. And when —not if —you come all over my face, I’m going to clean every last drop of cum out of you. We’re not done until you’re empty,” I tell her.

She fully sits up all the way, and I have no idea how my dick’s lasted this long without blowing its load.

“I don’t think I can tak?—”

“You can take it. You have in the past. More times than I can count.”

Lila’s always been sensitive. It doesn’t take her very long to come—which is a blessing and a curse—and I can only imagine how heightened everything feels after taking that aphrodisiac. My dick jerks in response, slathering the inside of my swimsuit with pre-cum, and I have to clench my stomach or else this whole thing will be over before it even starts.

She’s less reluctant this time as she slides her bikini bottom off and positions herself over my face, showing me those swollen, glistening lips that I got a sneak peek of when the chocolate catastrophe first struck. The fact that she’s completely bare and shaven has me salivating like I haven’t eaten in days, and I’m halfway to begging her for a taste before she finally lowers herself.

I grab her ass—mainly to ground me rather than her—and swipe my tongue through her soaked slit, testing the waters with a few laps that just barely start to stimulate her nerve endings. She squirms, her hands slapping loudly against the headboard, and I take that as an invitation to plunge inside her, swallowing a surplus of arousal at the same time my tongue begins to employ a circling motion .

“Bristol!” she cries, bearing down on me, incentivizing me to speed up my pace and sweep the expanse of her inner walls—which now clench upon every stroke. Even with my lack of breath, I pay special attention to every crevice I can, thanked by an emission of even more slick that inundates my taste buds. Fuck, she tastes so good. She shakes, which shakes me, and now we’re both shaking the bed with her cresting orgasm, probably awakening some other bodies on this cramped, glorified boat.

“Shh, angel. Wouldn’t want the crew knowing how much you really like me, now would we? How fucking wet you are for me?”

She ignores me. “Too much,” she whines, grinding her cunt over my pursed lips, staggering slightly and smearing her liquid desire all over my lower face. “It feels so good, Bristol. I can’t…oh, God.”

My fingers delve into her ass cheeks, and I try my best to keep her in place when she’s a second away from breaking contact. I’m going to see this through, and if I embarrass myself and come in my pants while doing so, then so be it. This girl has a chokehold on me—literally and figuratively. Her thighs quake by my head, squeezing my temples like an overpowering headache, and she gives me an unneeded reprieve when she momentarily lifts herself off me. She’s panting for air, serenading me with the most desperate whimpers I’ve ever heard, and the image of her gorgeous pussy spread open before me sends me over the fucking edge.

“Fuck, Lils. You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. I’ve missed everything about your pretty pussy. Missed the way it clenched around me no matter how I fucked you. You’re so good to me. And you taste and smell like heaven. I could spend hours down here pleasuring you until you can’t walk, until you drench my face in multiple orgasms, until you scream my name loud enough for the entire crew to hear. ”

“I forgot how amazing you were at this,” she moans, and maybe it’s the airy quality of her voice, but I can’t tell if that’s a complaint or a compliment.

She hasn’t sat all the way down yet, which I’m guessing is more because she’s exhausted and less because she wants to engage in playful banter while I eat her out. I drag the flat of my tongue over her puffy clit, and I feel her lower body shudder. “You want to know what else I’m amazing at?”

She barely utters a yes, too enraptured with the competing sensations slamming into her from every direction, bending that strong will of hers like a rod of metal. I can faintly feel her cunt squeeze, desperate to be full of my tongue again, desperate to paint my face with her cum.

“Fucking you,” I whisper against her apex, drilling back inside her with lick after unforgiving lick.

The loudest moan yet rumbles through the open-ended space, cluing in any still-awake passengers to the antics of our after-shoot rendezvous, and the fact that she’s so shamelessly loud makes a concentrated pulse ripple through my dick. I need to be inside her so badly it hurts.

I work her with my mouth and an added finger, angling the joint just right to flitter outside of her G-spot, and my tongue maps the tireless routes I’ve ventured before, compiling enough pressure until she’s given no choice but to erupt.

“Bristol, I—I can’t. I’m going to…” Her words get broken the moment she falls apart on top of me, coming so hard that a geyser hits my tongue and splatters over the surrounding area of my face. She douses me in her juices, almost drowns me—though I’m not complaining—and crumples against the headboard, the pressure from her legs relenting against my temples.

“That’s it, angel. You did so well.”

I swallow the last of her cum, gently move out from underneath her so I can face her, and I push a strand of sweaty hair out of her watery eyes. She’s curled in on herself, taking a minute to catch her breath as post-orgasm shivers run through her.

“You’re okay. Just breathe,” I whisper, brushing the backs of my knuckles over her cheek, noticing the tiny track marks in her foundation where tears must’ve rained down her face.

She looks down at the state of my swim trunks. “Did you…?”

As much as I want to fuck her, she’s tired, and I’m never going to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. “Not yet, but I can take care of it in the shower.”

Those big, blue beauties of hers blink at me, as if she can’t understand why I wouldn’t jump at any opportunity to have sex. “But—” she starts.

“Lila, guys fucking dream about the way you just rode my face. I don’t expect shit from you, okay? I didn’t expect any of this to happen tonight, but I’m glad it did, and if you still want to do something, that’s fine. If you just want to go to sleep, that’s fine. If you…”

“If I…what?”

“If you want me to hold you, then that’s fine too.”

And suddenly, my dick isn’t the priority anymore. My only priority is keeping this vulnerable side of her around for as long as I can, even if it reminds my heart of everything I’ve lost up until now. Even if it reminds my heart of the Lila-sized hole expanding in the crumbling mausoleum of my chest.