Page 67 of Judging Duke

“Who do you think I am? Ryan Reynolds? If I had half his money, I’d have my own yacht.”

“And a personal masseur.” I laughed as he looked over at me. “What? I need the money.”

We sat in silence and gazed around as the yacht picked up speed, taking us further out to sea.

“You don’t think they’re going to kill us and feed us to the fishes, do you?”

“What on earth made you think of that, Simon?”

“I watch the programmes. I see the serial killers. How well do you actually know Barbara?”

I rolled my eyes. “Long enough to know she doesn’t have an evil bone in her body. You, on the other hand.”

“What do you mean? I’m a nice guy.”

I side-eyed him. “Really? You wanted to kill me a few months ago.”

“Yeah, well, things change. People change. Opinions change.”

“I’m not the boy I was, that’s for sure.”

“I can see that, and don’t think I missed your comment about being a prostitute yesterday. You need to fill me in on that.”

Well, fuck. I thought he might have missed it or was being too polite to bring it up. Guess I was wrong. I wasn’t ready to talk to him about it. Maybe I never would be.

“Not today. Let’s have a good time. How about you get your camera out and take some pictures?”

I watched as he unpacked his camera, a digital affair with a long lens. I had no clue about them, but he seemed to know what he was doing as he stood at the front of the boat with the camera to his face.

I couldn’t help but admire his thick thighs. He wore a pair of tight-fitting navy-blue shorts with a pale-lilac collared shirt. Funny how we’d dressed almost the same without trying.

I closed my eyes against the bright sunlight, the motion of the vessel and the dull throb of the engine below sending me to sleep.

Gentle hands caressing my arm woke me.

“What the…”

“You have no sun cream on, and it’s hot out here.”

He continued to rub in the cream. “We could go down below if you’d prefer. We’ve dropped anchor, and Pierre said we could take a swim before lunch.”

We had indeed stopped. The coast was still visible, but we were further out than before, a few more yachts dotted around us.

“Fancy a swim?” I asked.

“I’m up for it. I have my swimwear on under my shorts.”

“You do?” This I was dying to see.

We made our way downstairs to the rear of the yacht. There was a small decked area a foot or so above sea level, a few people using it to dive into the sea.

Simon stripped off, revealing a pair of snug white swimming briefs, the outline of his cock clearly visible.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and neither could anyone else. That was one way to grab attention.

“What?” he asked, looking at me. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Absolutely nothing. Looking fine. I’ll go get changed.”

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