Page 36 of Weathering The Storm

The problem is, he’s even more convincing when he’s not talking.

As soon as I grab a rung on the ladder, his fingers dig into my ass. Both hands squeezing both cheeks.

My gasp is lost to the engine noise, but nothing can hide the way my knees buckle when he leans in, lips sweeping over the side of my neck.

I’m going to climb up the ladder one step at a time, head back to my quarters, and rub one out. The sex can wait until we’re off this boat.

I’ve been patient for four years. There’s no reason I can’t survive a couple more weeks.

But my body doesn’t seem to get the memo. My body is a gluttonous, traitorous thing. And when the next rolling wave presses all of his front against all of my back, it knocks my objections overboard.

The metal bars of the ladder dig into my chest, and his weight pushes all the air from my lungs. He’s hard everywhere I’m hard. He needs me in every way I need him. Filthy, primal, urgent.

We’re both dirty and sweaty. It’s been weeks since either one of us has shaved. His beard chafes my neck raw when his teeth latch onto me. His tongue presses against my pulse, licking the sweat and musk and tacky ocean salt off my skin.

Maybe I’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so into it. But apart from the vibration of the engine, there are smaller, more intimate vibrations traveling down the cords of my throat and settling in my chest. Where my heart registers them as groans.

Ineedto feel more of him.

I face Seth, wrestling him out of both shirt layers, stretching the neck holes around the backs of my hands to keep them fromsnagging on his muffs. My sweater and undershirt go seconds after, his hands spreading over every inch of my torso once he drapes our wad of clothing over the ladder rung.

The light strips reflect off the surface of his eyes, off the sheen of his skin. And suddenly I feel like the vulnerable one.

He leans in, letting me feel the words I can’t hear as they brush my lips.I want you, Nicky.

I grab a fistful of his hair and crush our mouths together. Beards scraping, beads of sweat rolling down our cheeks to mingle on our lips. A punch of diesel and hot metal perfumes our tongues when they meet, but at the forefront of everything is the taste of Seth. Clear river water and forest air.

My head spins pleasantly from the heat, the same peaceful euphoria as lying inside of a sauna. I’m panting. Chest heaving in an oscillating rhythm with Seth’s. Every breath blocks out more of the mechanical layers and draws in more of him.

He loosens the drawstring of my pants and shoves his hands down the back. Palming my assthoroughly. One hand bandaged, one blessedly bare, groping both cheeks. Kneading them. Spreading them.

I’ve never been able to read his mind more clearly.

He’s thinking about how his cock would look, pumping in and out of me. He’s thinking about how tight my body would grip him. He’s wondering if the engine is loud enough to drown out the moans of ecstasy I’d make for him when he fills me.

I know exactly what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too.

I kiss him harder, gripping the back of his head and biting his bottom lip with a groan. My teeth rake over plush, smooth flesh as I pull away and bury my face in his neck. Drinking in the scent of the ocean on his skin while, outside, it generates the force that rocks his body into mine.

He tugs my pants and long johns beneath the curve of my ass, then pulls his down, too. I’m acutely aware of each inch of length and girth throbbing against my cock. His body is so fucking hard and hot, so many sounds rumbling through his throat, that I half-believe I’m going to wake up from this fantasy any minute. Deliriously draped over the engine itself.

Fuck,I watch him curse when he wraps one hand around both of us. Pumping with the raw glide of his sweaty palm. His teeth catch his bottom lip on theF, and his lips remain parted with the last three letters.

He dips forward, dribbling a strand of saliva to where our bodies meet, and my head lolls back. Hard. The impact of my skull reverberates through the metal ladder.

My hips buck against his, out of control, while I stare down. Spellbound by the bronzed tan of his skin against the lighter shade of mine, the shine of pre-cum and spit. I wrap my hand around his, admiring our contrast there, too.

Every time my cock pulses, his grip tightens. Tendons flexing beneath my fingertips while we touch and stroke. Clinging to each other so hard, I wonder how I ever thought there would be a chance of tripping. We’re locked together. Inseparable.

I kiss him, and I keep kissing him. Letting him feel my noises, holding his body close to mine as our hips thrust and clash, vying for more friction.

With his bandaged hand, he grabs one glute. Grinding my body against his with bruising force, then letting that hand dip lower. Middle finger slipping down my crack until the tip presses against my hole. Not pushing, not rubbing, just touching. Teasing the memory of that same finger knuckle deep. How much more full it would be if hiscockbreached me.

That image sets like an anchor in muddy seafloor. The more we both move, the deeper it buries.

I want it. I want it so bad, the thought of him fucking me is about to make me come when he lets go of me and spins me back around.

I grab the ladder rails to steady myself and his hands close around the metal right beneath mine. His body slams mine into the bars.