Page 88 of Ship Happens
I lather my hair with mint-scented shampoo. The tea-tree oils help soothe my scalp, which is often itchy and dry. Maverick’s hands replace my own, and I moan as he massages the tingle into my head.
“That feels amazing,” I whisper.
“Better than the kill?”
I close my eyes and remember what it felt like to watch that piece of shit take his last breath. It would have been more enjoyable if he’d been conscious enough to realize what was happening, but it was still nice.
It can’t compete with Maverick’s body heat behind me, though.
I reach back and grip his soft cock. “No, this is definitely better. I don’t think much else can compare.”
He gently spins me and places my head beneath the shower’s spray. His hands firm on my waist, holding my lower half against him as I rinse the shampoo from my hair. I crane my neck and close my eyes so that I don’t end up blind. One time, I thought I had slathered my pussy stubble with shaving gel, only to realize seconds later that I had used the tea-tree shampoo. If it burned my meat flaps that badly, I can only imagine what it would do to my eyes.
“I’m glad to hear I’m not second best,” he says before dipping down and nipping my neck. His tongue explores my skin, sending tingles through my limbs. “How about we skip the event this afternoon? Instead of riding jet skis and drowning assholes, we could ride each other.”
“That sounds amazing . . .”
His lips stop working their magic, and he stands upright and looks me in the eye. “But?”
I bite my bottom lip. “I kind of told the girls I’d go. I don’t want to disappoint them.”
His concern fades, replaced by a soft smile. “I wouldn’t want you to disappoint them, either. I’m glad you’ve made friends. They’re really good people, and I know they’ll keep you safe.”
“About that...” I swipe the water from my face and swap places so that he can wash his hair. “I’ll eventually have to tell them that I was a fed, but I don’t know how. Or when. I feel like I’m lying to them, and I don’t want them to feel betrayed once they learn the truth.”
“Wasa fed? Frankie, that’s your livelihood. You’ve dedicated years of your life to your job, and now you want to throw it all away?”
“I thought you were letting this go.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I can’t be a killer and a fed. If I have to choose, I’m picking the thing that makes me happiest. I’ve made friends here. And more.”
He sighs and dumps an ungodly amount of shampoo into his palm. Then I remember how much product he puts in his hair, and I wonder if it’s enough.
“That’s why I’m so worried about you,” he finally says after a lengthy lather and rinse. “Wearesomething more, and that means I care about you. It means I want what’s best for you, and I’m not sure this life is it.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to make that decision?”
“You’re right.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then I realize he just agreed with me. The shock is immediate. “Come again?”
“I said that you are correct. It’s your life, and you have to choose what’s best for you.” He leans down and cuts off the water, then swipes his hand down his face so that he can see. Then he steps forward, fresh hunger in his eyes. “Right now, though, I want to do what’s best for me.”
He takes another step forward, forcing my back against the shower wall. He places one arm beside my head, caging me in. His other hand reaches up to brush the damp strands of hair from my cheek.
“Right now, I just want to sink inside you. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.” He leans down and captures my mouth in a kiss that silences my brain. His hand glides behind my neck, squeezing and pulling me closer. I don’t think I could get away from him if I wanted to, and that’s a fucking turn on.
I pull back. “Get rough with me.”
“How rough are we talking?” He smirks, and I want to melt. Does he have to be so fucking hot?
I push against his chest and step out of the shower. “No limits. Safe word is pineapple.”
“Wow, you really are fitting in.”
For once in my life, yeah, I am. That’s why I can’t give this up.
I run the towel over my head and body, doing just enough so that I don’t stick to the comforter when we finally make it to the bed. He does the same, and we’re tangled in each other’s arms seconds later. We don’t make it as far as the bed, though.
He picks me up by my waist and sets my ass on the bathroom counter, to the right of the sink. His eyes are glued to the warm place between my legs as he drops to his knees and swipes his tongue through my slit.
