Captain

  Captain

  By

  Katherine Rhodes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Captain

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2014 © Katherine Rhodes

  Cover by JRA Stevens

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Chapter 1

  “Oh, damn, baby. Damn. So good, so good.”

  Bill was panting hard as he plunged himself into my pussy over and over, relentlessly bring himself closer and closer to orgasm. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else but getting that cock deep in me, and the duty of making myself come fell to my own fingers.

  Again.

  This was day two, sex-a-thon three, and self-stimulation number eight. My fingers, and my poor clitoris, were getting tired. My jaw too, since it seemed that Bill also needed constant blow jobs. We had five more days of this vacation, and I wanted to go home already. I wished I’d brought my favorite vibrator with me; it would have at least spared my fingers.

  But there went my hand, back down to territory I knew too well, and started diddling the old bean—trying to keep up with Bill and his explosive climax I knew was coming. “Bill, babe, slower,” I panted. “Slower. I’m not there yet.” He answered with a grunt and an ‘nnnggg’ sound. Which was trouble: he was ready to finish. “Bill, come on, babe. Slow it up!”

  “So close,” he breathed.

  “Bill!” I snapped.

  Too late. “Nnnngg!! Yesssss, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!” He slowed his roll as he dumped himself into the condom. A few spare strokes, and stopped his motions altogether. Bill looked down at me and smiled. “God, baby, so good.”

  I smiled and pushed my wrist into his lower abdomen, a silent suggestion that he should finish the job. I was about to tell him he could give me a hand when he backed off, pulled out, and tossed the condom in the trash. I leaned up. “Where are you going?”

  “Gonna get a drink,” he said, pulling his swimsuit on.

  “Are you serious?” I was dumbstruck.

  “Yup,” he smiled. He walked over and kissed my forehead. “Get your suit and meet me!”

  He flounced—fucking flounced—out the door.

  They say you don’t know someone until you go on vacation with them. I hated that the proverbial “They” were right once more. I wasn’t in love with this yokel. I wasn’t even in lust with him. Anything I had just felt for him, including my own bits to get off, just turned sour. Five more days in paradise with this turd?

  Oh, no. No. I was done.

  I grabbed my sandal and threw it at the door. I wished it was his head. Done. So done.

  I grabbed my bathing suit and pulled it on. I grabbed a robe and wrapped it around me, snatching my keycard off the top of the dresser. I was out the door, but instead of heading for Bill at the bar, I headed straight to the front desk.

  The concierge slid up. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Do you have any rooms available for the next five days?”

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “Nothing a separate room won’t solve.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the concierge said, clearly having no idea what to do with the information. He turned to the computer and quickly pulled up a few more screens, flipping through them quietly. “Well, we do have a room available for five days. I’m surprised. It’s a suite and it was just canceled a moment ago.”

  My wallet screamed at me, Not the suite! But I had to get away from Bill’s ragingly selfish dick. “How much?” The number he quoted me was absolutely insane. Painfully mad. And yet there was no way that I was going to get into a bed with Bill again. I sighed. “Nothing else? Do you have a package discount? Christ, I’ll do dishes for part of the afternoon.”

  He laughed. “Let me see what I can do.”

  I put my head down on the cool marble counter. My other option was to pay a more reasonable fee and switch my flight out to tonight. But I needed this vacation so much. I was beyond burnt at my job; I was beyond tired of my family drama; I wanted to sit on the beach and sip Mai Tais and slip back to the room for a quick romp before dinner. That’s all. Not too much to ask, right?

  I was clearly mistaken.

  “Miss Parsons, we have nothing else but the suite. However, I do have authorization to give it to you for half price for the remainder of your stay.”

  I whipped my head up. “What?”

  “It appears that the suite was just canceled this morning, and the manager said that if you’re willing to take it, he’ll give it to you for half.”

  “Of course!” I did a happy little booty-bop right there at the counter.

  “Just give me a moment to get all of this set up and I’ll—”

  Something crashed and clattered at the other end of the hall and I turned to see a very, very hot surfer—board in tow—walking into the lobby. He looked tired, pissed, resigned, and sexy. He walked up to the counter right next to me, and with a heave and a sigh, leaned on the top. “Dude, I hope my room is ready.”

  The guy behind the counter smirked and grabbed a pen. “What’s your name, sir? I’m helping the lady, but I can take care of you in just one moment.”

  “Allen,” he answered. “Allen Macomb.”

  “Oh.” The word was small, and contemplative.

  “Oh?” the two of us chorused.

  “Um. Mister Macomb, someone called about two hours ago and canceled your room.”

  “What.” I’d heard angry before, but this was special.

  “Yes, apparently your wife said you weren’t going to be able to make—”

  He slammed his hand on the counter. “EX-wife. That bitch.” He glanced at me. “Sorry.” I waved him off; that was fine. “Please tell me you still have the room.”

  The desk attendant looked at me. “I was about to give it to Ms. Parsons.”

  “What’s wrong with her current room!” he barked.

  “Dude, relax,” I stated. “You’re not garnering nice points here.”

  “I have no nice left!” he yelled. I backed up; this guy was on the edge. “I had my children’s vacation wrecked by the homewrecker I used to call a wife. The damn plane was delayed on the tarmac, my suitcase lost a wheel, my surfboard has a crack, and my sex wax is missing!”

  I stared at him, letting his voice echo through the lobby for a moment. “Sex wax?”

  He stared back at me. “Board wax. I have to wax my stick.”

  “Your… stick?”

  “I have a long board and it needs a lot of waxing.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. “So you wax often?”

  “Every time I use it,” he answered. “It gets dings if I don’t.”

  “Dings from what?”

  “Debris, hard dives,” he answered.

  “And do you go in hard often?”

  “Best way to catch the wave.”

  “So I guess you like big waves?”

  “Bigger the better. You want some serious curls so you can ride the tunnel.”

  “Ah, yes, riding the tunnel. Is it wet in the tunnel?”

  “It’s—wait.” Allen stopped and looked at the desk attendant. By the hand over his mouth and the laugh he was trying to
suppress, it was clear he had understood exactly what had just happened. Allen looked back at me, and I was desperately trying not to laugh as well. “So you like to take your long stick in a nice wet tunnel after you’ve waxed it.”

  “Oh, wow, I haven’t been caught in that web in a long time,” Allen said. “I do need a vacation.” He sighed and motioned me away from the counter, where the clerk couldn’t hear us. “Look, lady—”

  “Glenda,” I offered. Least I could do after embarrassing the crap the crap out of the guy.

  “Glenda,” he repeated with a nod. “I need this vacation. My ex-wife apparently thought that if I didn’t have the kids, I wouldn’t go. Which is just not true.”

  “Mister Macomb, I was a credit card swipe away from breaking up with my ass of a boyfriend,” I explained. “I really need to be in a different room from him. They’d just offered me the suite at half the price and…” I huffed. “I just need to be away from him.”

  Allen looked back at the board, and then back at me and then at the desk clerk. “Would you object to sharing the suite? It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms and kitchen and den. The doors lock, and I swear to you I’m not stalker or a pervert—despite my diatribe about sex wax a few moments ago.”

  I fish-mouthed a moment. Did I want to share a suite with a guy who just walked into my life and ranted and raved about sex wax? Or did I want to continue sharing a room with the self-centered sex-possessed vomitorium that my soon-to-be-ex had become in just forty-eight hours?

  “Halfsies?” I asked.

  “Halfsies of the halfsies. You pay for the room at the discounted rate, and I’ll give you a check. Or cash. Or your drink tab for the week. Whatever.”

  “And you swear you’re not pervert?”

  “Not in the unlawful sense of the word,” he said, raising his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  I couldn’t help chuckle at the ‘unlawful’ qualification. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. He could have his vacation, I could get away from Bill the Penis and everything would be right in the world. Or at least, on the resort. “I can’t help but wonder… what kind of person brings a surfboard to the Caribbean?”

  “One who planned to tow his kids around on it,” he admitted. “It’s had a crack for years. I was just irate and it sounded really good in the rant.”

  “Very convincing, Mister Macomb,” I said. “All right. Halfsies. And you can give me the cash so I can pay part of the bill right away.”

  “Oh, God, thank you thank you thank you,” he said, and hugged me.

  “I thought you said you weren’t a pervert.”

  “I said unlawful,” he repeated, stepping away. “Halfsies. Two keys.”

  “Two bathrooms, and don’t rifle though my bags.”

  “No, but your dirty laundry is free territory.”

  I couldn’t help laughing as I walked back over to the counter. “Go ahead. I’ll take the room and I need two keys.”

  “Of course,” the desk clerk smiled, happy with the outcome. “I’ll set up two tabs if you like.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Allen said.

  Now all I had to do was break up with Bill.

  * * *

  Bill sat on the bed with the beer in his hand, just watching me putter around the room. “You’re really doing this?” It was the twelfth… or fourteenth?... time he had asked.

  “Same answer, Bill,” I said, wrapping the cord around my hair dryer. “Same answer every time.”

  “I didn’t know you were this unhappy.”

  “Oh, come off it,” I snapped. “You didn’t listen to me telling you how unhappy I was this morning. You got your jollies and you were gone.”

  “I thought you liked sex.”

  “I do,” I ground out, stuffing the dryer and two pair of shoes into the suitcase. “But I also like to think of myself as more than a joystick. Up up down down left right left right BA start is not the interaction I’m looking for here. It’s only gotten worse since you got the new job, and this weekend has just kind of cemented the fact that I’m not a factor in your relationship with me. I’m a place to lay the pickle, and that’s about it.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, Bill, what do you think I was screaming this morning? It wasn’t your name! It was more like ‘slow down,’ ‘wait for me,’ ‘hang on, I’m not there!’ and you just kept on like you were trying to saw a tree.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “My. Point.” I sighed. “Look. Bill. It’s just not working. Just stay here, enjoy your vacation, and I’ll get out of your way and enjoy my own. We’ll sort our shit when we get home. I’ll drop off your stuff from my place and pick up anything I have at yours. I just can’t deal with my first vacation in five years and you just…”

  I stuffed a few more things in the suitcase and looked around. “If you find anything, just leave at the desk.” I zipped it, heaved it off the bed onto the wheels, and headed for the door. “I’ll talk to you later, Bill.”

  “Later, Glenda,” he said, looking up.

  There was not an ounce of ‘chase her down, win her back’ in that tone. In his whole body. I stepped out and it slammed behind me.

  “Jackass,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “He’s really not—”

  I screamed and slammed into the wall before I realized it was Allen standing there. I put a hand over my heart. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No!” he laughed. “But the scream was a nice touch. He’s really just going to sit there?”

  Ever after the scream, Bill didn’t open the door. “Apparently so.”

  “He really is a prize.”

  “A gag gift, maybe.”

  Allen took the handle of the bag. “Let me?”

  “You don’t have to,” I said, trying to grab the handle back.

  “It’s polite,” he yelled directly at the door.

  “Stop!” I laughed. “Fine, if you want my baggage.”

  “If it’s connected to that fine trunk, yes.”

  I glanced at him. “I’m starting to doubt your honesty about not being a unlawful pervert.”

  “Why? You’re single. I’m single. I like your butt. It’s all perfectly legal.”

  “I’m reconsidering my offer here, Mister Macomb.”

  He swung the bag around behind us and offered his arm. “My humblest apologies, Ms. Parsons. Allow me to escort you to your humble abode?”

  I rolled my eyes and walked ahead. I heard him laugh behind me and run to catch up. I was also desperately trying to hide the blush he’d caused when he complimented my ass. It was just… an ass. Nothing tight, nothing booty poppin’. Just my butt. But it had caught me off guard and I had to recover.

  “You know you don’t have to do this,” I said.

  “Yeah, I know,” he answered. “But you were nice enough to share the place with me, so the least I can do it help you break up with your turd and offer you a dinner.”

  “Allen, please.”

  “Please nothing,” he said. “Just have dinner with me tonight and I’ll leave you alone the rest of the week.”

  “Dinner?”

  “You just broke up with a guy who’s apparently part of the ‘Ump’ Club, and I just want to take a pretty woman to dinner.”

  “’Ump’ Club?” What was this guy on?

  “Yes, ‘Ump.’ Pump, dump, and jump.”

  I snorted. “For real!?”

  He looked at me as we got in the small elevator. “Yes, I’m for real. The ‘Ump’ Club. A bunch of guys I knew in college called themselves that. They were all about the conquests. Needless to say, I kept away from them. They were disease-ridden after a year of that.”

  “Oh, ew,” I gasped.

  “Fear not!” he said. “I warned every woman I could about them. The ‘Ump’ Club ceased to exist shortly thereafter. Mostly because of crabs, and Bob cut his balls badly when he had to shave them.”

  “You are overshare
extraordinaire.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Bob nearly cut his nut off.”

  “After I tell you you’re oversharing,” I groaned with a laugh. “If I agree to dinner, will you stop talk about Bob’s balls?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Dinner, agreed.”

  The elevator only went up four floors, but I was happy it did; the suit case was ridiculously heavy. As usual, and like all women, I over-packed. Allen wouldn’t give me the handle back to roll it to the room, and I was kind of glad he didn’t. I almost tripped when I walked into the room, for no other reason than the sheer ridiculous magnificence of the room.

  And I’d paid one quarter of the price.

  It was a gorgeous tropical décor with open terraces on three sides and all the shutters open to show the grounds and the Caribbean Sea beyond. The living room was in the middle of those shutters, and the kitchen to the left against the back wall. The stairs to the second floor—holy shit, there was a second floor?!—were just to the right of the entrance. It was a perfect room.

  “You all right there?”

  “When I think of suite, this is not what comes to mind,” I answered, walking in slowly.

  “What do you think of?”

  I glanced at him. “Residence Inn.”

  He nodded. “Usually me too. But I’m on goddamn vacation, and I’m tired of being confined. I wanted big windows and bigger views.”

  “This works.”

  Allen heaved the suitcase up the stairs before I could stop him. “No, let me! It’s my mess!”

  “Shut up and let me drag this thing up there,” he directed.

  I started to chase him up the stairs, but stopped any true effort once I got a look at his butt and the way his muscles rippled as he carried the suitcase up the stairs. There was some seriously good-looking physique going on ahead of me—not Greek God level stuff, but it was certainly turning my head. I was almost sad when I couldn’t openly ogle him as he reached the top.

  “Okay, now you can take over,” he said. “I can cut out two sets today for the weight of that thing. What did you pack? Lead?”