Page 65 of Ship Happens
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Frankie
Isit on the edge of the bed in the cabin on the Bruise Cruise. I stare at the wall and mentally relive every glorious second of the kill. We came in last because I took so long to end Castle’s life, but I wanted to keep going. A wave of disappointment washed through me when he finally stopped screaming.
My lips curve into a smile at the memory of his muffled pleas.
He was surely shouting to everyone that I’m a fed, but he’s wrong. Iwasa fed. Now...I don’t know what I am.
I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling as the shower kicks on in the bathroom. Maverick wanted to clean up after sweating to death in that costume. I don’t exactly feel fresh and clean myself. Maybe I should join him.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I imagine getting under the warm spray and rubbing my slick skin against his. The heat. The slippery feeling.
The water in my fantasy turns red, coating our skin as we kiss beneath the vermillion rain. Instead of being disgusted withmyself, I run with the fantasy, imagining the way he’d smash me against the wall and impale me until I can’t stand.
All while covered in blood.
I can practically feel his fingers running over my body, touching and teasing. I’ve forgotten how nice it is to receive pleasure from a hand that isn’t my own as Fantasy Maverick slips two thick fingers between my pussy lips.
“Getting started without me?” Maverick says, and I pull my hand from my pants and sit up.
I didn’t even realize I’d been touching myself, let alone how much time had passed, but with this glorious sight in front of me, I want to keep going. Maverick rubs his head with a towel, and another winds around his waist. A few scars poke from the edge of the fabric tucked against his left hip.
“What happened there?” I ask.
He looks down and rubs his thumb over the faint white lines. “These?”
I nod.
“Desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed the pain to perform, and I hadn’t yet discovered ways to harm myself that didn’t leave lasting marks.”
My stomach knots when I think about him sleeping with other women, as that’s essentially what he’s implying. I’m not dumb enough to think he’s never had sex before—his skills in bed tell me he’s had plenty of experience in his twenty-two years—but I still feel so angry that anyone else has enjoyed his donkey dick.
And I have no right.
Maverick isn’t mine, and he never will be.
Why not?a voice whispers in the back of my brain, and that bitch has a point. My career isn’t holding me back from exploring new hobbies now, so it certainly won’t stop me from exploring a new relationship.
“How do you feel about commitment?” I blurt.
Maverick’s eyebrows rise, and he sits on the edge of the bed. “Wow, you’re just going for it, huh?” He rubs the back of his neck and looks at the carpet. “I’m not seeing anyone else, if that’s your concern. I’d be open to something when we get back, but...”
But?
The wind leaves my sails. “Is it my age?”
“I want you to have the space to make a clear decision, that’s all,” he says with a shake of his head. “What you want right now may not be what you want in six months, but what I want...that won’t change.”
“And what do you want?”
He turns his head, piercing me with his green eyes. “You.”
Cupping the back of my head, he pulls me closer. Our lips meet, tentatively at first, almost as if we’re both unsure. But as his hand wanders beneath my t-shirt and his fingertips glide along my stomach until he grips my hip, our confidence grows. We deepen the kiss, sighing together as our hunger ignites.
Maybe this is his way of shutting down the commitment talk, and I’m okay with that. I can badger him later.
His lips move to my jaw, and then he nips and nibbles his way down my neck. When he reaches fabric, he grips the hem of my shirt and pulls it away, exposing my breasts.
