Page 86 of Weathering The Storm

I sigh, bone-deep grunts flooding the anchor locker now as he churns into me. My whole body tingles with the overload of pleasure so soon after coming, my cock thickening and muscles shaking as waves of sensation crash over me.

Cum keeps slicking my tip, even though I feel dry. Tapped out. But the pain is so good it carries a bliss of its own.

“Come inside me,” I beg him. Overstimulated and desperate to feel him fill me the way I filled him.

He moans, leaving a trail of soft, sloppy kisses across my shoulders. His hand closes around back of my neck, and he thrusts. Thoroughly. Embers of pleasure ignite into an inferno. The impact of skin on skin mimics the rhythmic slap of water against the hull, and only then does it occur to me. The whole fucking boat is rockingas we come together.

He slips an arm beneath me, elbow to wrist stretching from my navel to my sternum as he comes. His release warming me from the inside out.

We stay there, catching our breaths for a moment before I turn to face him.

“Bend over.” I capture his lips in a kiss, raking my teeth over the bottom one. “Show me what I gave you.”

Nick groans as I grab his shoulders and spin him around. Pressing down between them until he’s on his elbows and knees. Ass spread. A trail of cum, thick and shiny, drips from his well-fucked ass down his left thigh, pooling in the crease of his knee.

“You look even hotter covered in my cum.” I scoop it up with two fingers, keeping his cheeks spread with my other hand as I shovel it back into that slick pink hole.

He cries out, hips bucking. “Seth.”

“Good boy.” I smack his ass and lay him down. “Hold onto that for me.”

The plush fleece beneath us sticks to sweaty, overheated skin as we face each other in the berth.

“This blanket’s gonna be disgusting,” Nick says roughly. Chuckling as soon as I start up.

“Good. If we ruin two more, I might finally be able to sleep through the night without waking up drenched in sweat.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I toss an arm over his waist.

I know he’s been bundling me up after I nod off. I just haven’t had the heart to tell him to stop. Secretly, it melts my heart.

Nick gives me a look. The kind that doesn’t need an explanation, because I know what he’s thinking.

I’m thinking about how much I love him, too.

“I think I’ve decided… I wanna find another boat eventually. Maybe start out with summers or something. Maybe not. All I know is… you’re right. This is what I love. This is my life.” He smiles, the tip of his nose brushing my cheek as he leans in. “If you still want to be my first mate, that is.”

“I’m your only mate, Captain Lundvall. For everything, from now on.” I kiss his lips, his nose, his forehead. “Wherever you weigh anchor, I’ll be there.”

8 months later

Nick

TheMerlinis ninety-six feet, built in 1987. About the same size as theSuoja, ten years younger, and probably in worse shape than theSuojawould be now, if there was a way to drag her up from the bottom of the sea.

The previous owner said his daughter named the vessel. She was obsessed with folklore and fairytales when she was little, and he wanted her with him whenever he had to be away from home.

I guess his fairytale is getting a happy ending of its own, since he was selling theMerlinto move down to Michigan and be closer to his grandkids. With a story like that, and a little touch of luck, there’s no way I was going to change the boat’s name.

There will never be any replacement for what theSuojameant to me, but theMerlinfills a void all the same. There’s a sense of pride that comes with preserving someone else’s legacy. A peace to be found in all the new memories we’ve already made so far.

Memories of Seth sliding over the classified ad while we were having a cup of coffee out on the patio. Asking me,“What do you think? I know she’s a fixer-upper, but you love a project.”

Memories of us touring the vessel for the first time, seeing the potential in her bones even though the mechanics look like they belong in a museum.

Memories of our Squid, our St. Bernard-husky mutt, bounding around on deck in search of barnacle-crusted rope to chew on and trouble to get into.