Page 12 of His Curvy Castaway Obsession - A Man Who Knows What He Wants

“Zoe, what are you talking about?” I ask her as she sits up, looking past me to the door. Looking like she wants to leave.

“Come on, Michael, look at me! Do I really look like your plastic, fake tan supermodel type out there? No… Why don’t you just go after her like you know you want to… just leave me alone. I’ll be going once I-”

But I can’t bear to hear it. I won’t let her say it. She’s not going anywhere, nowhere without me anyway.

I feel my mouth pressing over hers, hot and salty from her tears. She makes a sound and after trying to pull back for hardly a second, I feel the relief of her tongue wrapped around mine, my hand cupping the back of her head and pulling her closer to me as my other arm goes behind her back. I hear us both moaning as her stiff chest presses fully into mine and my groin feels the pleasing strain of my dick against fabric again as I feel like I’m in the only place I want to be in the whole world.

With Zoe in my arms.

Her whimpering sounds of pleasure turn into ones that match my own deep sounds. The sounds of needing her.

I don’t just want to kiss her, to tell her how fucking beautiful she is. I want to show her, I want every inch of my body, inside hers. I want to show her without words how much she means to me.

But she’s pulled away again.

“I just made up my mind, Michael… I’m through being a waitress. I’m sick of rich pricks telling me what to do… I want off this boat and I want back in charge of my life…”

She’s getting up off the bed, struggling to get past me again, looking torn between me and what she’s already made her mind up about. But I can’t let her go so easily, not without telling her how I feel.

“I want you Zoe… don’t you understand? You’re mine! I don’t want you to be a waitress either, I want you to be with me… just me…” I want to kiss her again, but she looks confused.

“So, you don’t want stick thin, silicone girls that have more money than sense?” she asks me, sniffling back the last of her tears, the light returning to her eyes as she realizes I’m being level with her.

“No.” I tell her honestly. “I want you Zoe, look at what you do to me! How can I fake this?” I take her hand and press it hard against my bulging cock, making her gap out loud until she reminds herself she’s supposed to be angry.

“What makes you think I’m interested anyway?” she huffs, pretending to sulk, but I feel her hand exploring my growing hardness, making me snarl with satisfaction that things are finally going well for once today.

For once in a long, long time.

Chapter Nine

Zoe

I try to stay mad, I try to even remember what I’m mad about.

I’m not mad at Michael, I’m not even mad at myself anymore, but that bitch. I’m mad at her still, and all those like her, how dare she…

But it looks like I’ve blown my job as a waitress for the day.

“Am I fired? And did you really kick her off the boat?” I ask, not even trying to take my hand away, willing him to kiss me like he just did all over again.

“I think we can agree that your waitressing days are over,” Michael says gravely, letting a hand trace the stray hair away from my face, “and yeah, she’s off the yacht. I made sure of that.”

“But…” he continues and I feel a jolt of panic, all of life’s problems come flooding back in an instant too.

My job. My bills, my rent.

“But?” I venture nervously.

“But, I have this yacht load of millionaires to look after… and I kinda need that fun loving, sweet, sexy girl I know to help me out. At least until we can offload them too, but that won’t be for a while yet…what d’ya say? Can you help me out?”

“I can give you a hand,” I murmur, feeling him thicken to full attention with my hand totally gripping his rod through his pants by now, making him moan as he laughs at the same time, tossing his head back.

I realize I must look awful. I feel puffy, my makeup’s running and I have hair all over the place but none of it bothers Michael, quite the opposite. I’ve never had a guy, let alone a real man come onto me so strong and stick up for me, all while cruising on a luxury yacht.

There, I said it. I can say it.

So what am I so scared of?

Maybe enjoying myself.

Maybe letting something good actually happen is a little scary at first.

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