Rock the Boat: A Griffin Bay Novel (9 page)

He ducked his head again, and Jordan tensed with anticipation—but his lips hovered just above the wet patch on her bra. She could feel his steady, even breath stirring over her nipple, chilling her, making her ache with the need for more. She tried to arch up toward him, to force the contact on her own—but Davis backed away just enough to draw out her torment.

Jordan writhed in helpless, agonized fury. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him close, gasping as his hard cock pressed against her. But Davis only pulled away more, giving her nothing of what she wanted.

“You know what you have to do.” His lush, velvety voice whispered over her breast.

Jordan swallowed hard, fighting down her pride, and secretly enjoying the thrill it gave her, deep in her gut, to crush it and put someone else in charge—to relinquish her own helm. Still, the words came hard. “P… please.”

Davis tilted his head, pretending he couldn’t hear her. “What? What did you say?”

“Please,” Jordan said, more clearly this time, but with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Dimly she was aware that he’d probably never listen to her again—that her authority as captain would be a joke to him from now on. But the ache was so strong in her, so hot and insistent, that in that moment she didn’t care.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want, Jordan.”

Even if she
had
been able to say any more, Jordan wouldn’t have done it. This was all part of his infuriating game, to whittle down her stoic nature so he could parade the power he had over her more easily than ever before. Jordan knew the more she begged, the more she gave into his commands, the more difficult the next few days on the boat would be—and she’d already made the rest of this trip hard enough on herself.

“Tell me,” Davis insisted.

Instead of giving in, Jordan grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to her breast. Davis laughed through his nose as he obliged her—laughed at the way he’d stripped away her inhibitions, at the way he was even now eroding what little remained of her control.

I hate you, you irredeemable, arrogant, ego-ridden, rich-as-sin
prick
of a man!
Jordan raged at him silently even as her body bent and melted in his hands, as she moaned and panted and wished for him never to stop what he was doing with his teeth and tongue.

Davis disentangled himself from her arms and legs; he stepped back in the confines of the cabin and watched her for a moment in silence. Jordan, still splayed on the bed, propped herself up with her elbows and glared at him.

“Stand up,” he said.

I’m not sure I can
. But she slid from the berth and stood shakily, cursing herself for not even trying to resist this command.

Davis took her by the shoulders and turned her around. She gazed out the porthole at Lopez Island, at the calm, glassy surface of Fisherman Bay. She bit her lip at the sight of the ripples spreading out from where the
Coriolis
was anchored. Who had seen the boat rocking—and did they guess what it meant?
If Storm or Emily sees this…
She didn’t want to think about what might happen if her crew knew she’d behaved so unprofessionally, so
spontaneously
—and if they knew how badly she wanted this moment to keep on going forever, how she never wanted Davis to stop.

He unhooked her bra with a deft, practiced flick of his fingers. It slid down her arms and hit the cabin’s floor. Jordan reached up automatically to cover her breasts with her hands, but Davis got there first. Slowly he massaged them, rubbing her in ever-decreasing circles until just his fingers circled her nipples, until he pinched her lightly with finger and thumb and pulled gently, so gently. She leaned against his chest, head thrown back in surrender, moaning.

“Now your jeans,” Davis whispered in her ear. “Take them off.”

This time, Jordan hesitated. She shouldn’t have allowed it to go this far. To go even farther would be…

Her hands moved of their own will, unbuttoning, unzipping, pushing her jeans down over her hips and ass no matter what her better judgment said.

Davis stroked one hand down the flat of her belly, reaching his fingers toward the waistband of her underwear with taunting slowness.

“Yes,” Jordan gasped. “Please.”

But his hand drew away again. “You know what I want?”

Jordan quivered. She didn’t
care
what he wanted—she only knew what she wanted,
needed
—a release from the throbbing ache that seemed to fill her whole body.

When she didn’t answer, Davis turned her around again. She stared up into his face. He was so cool, so in control—so unlike
her
, the quivering bundle of helpless horniness. She heard the sound of his zipper and then his jeans sliding down his body. She looked down just as he reached for his boxer-briefs—the outline of his hard cock made her eyes widen in surprise. Then he dropped his shorts, too, and his erection sprang free. He was big—big enough to give her pause. But somehow his size didn’t surprise her. It was no more than she expected from a man like Davis, who was so disgustingly sure of his own sexual power.

Davis popped open his cabin’s locker and plunged one hand into a pocket of his duffel bag. The hand came back with an unmistakable flat, square packet.

“You brought condoms on this trip?” Jordan asked. “Did you
really
think you were going to get laid?”

Davis shrugged. “Was I wrong about that?”

“You’re so gross,” Jordan said. “You really are the worst.”

“And the best.” He laughed. “You love what I’m doing. You know you love it.”

She refused to answer. She bit her lip hard to keep from blurting,
I do. I love it. I’ve
needed
it—do it to me some more or I think I might explode
. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She had no desire to confirm Davis’s high opinion of himself.

“As I was saying,” he said, his voice reaching out to brush her nearly-naked body, the sound of it sliding all along her skin, “do you know what I want?”

She shook her head.

“I want you to put the condom on me. I love it when women do that—it’s kind of a
thing
for me.”

She blinked at him a few times, speechless.

“You do know how to put a condom on, don’t you?”

Now it was Jordan’s turn to laugh. “Are you kidding? What, you think the sheltered island girl doesn’t know how a condom works?”

The truth was, Jordan had never put a condom on a man before in her life. Oh, the few times she’d stumbled through terrible sex with her old boyfriend they had used protection. But she’d always left that up to
him
. This was uncharted territory for her, and she felt more out of her depth than ever.

I’ll be damned if I give Davis the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated
. She swiped the package from his fingers with a swift, sure gesture. Then she tore it open and pulled the rubber from its wrapper.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod
, she thought in a panic as she held the thing delicately. She tried to remember the one lesson in “family planning” she’d had in high school, when a lady from Planned Parenthood had demonstrated how to put a condom on a banana.

Jordan reached low and took Davis’s cock in her hand. It was so firm, so thick—and the skin of it was as smooth as warm silk. Captivated by it, she ignored the condom and ran her hand up and down his shaft, feeling the subtle shift of its contours, the way it thickened slightly in the middle, the delicate shape of its head and the way the skin glided over it, easily beneath her touch. She tightened her fist just a bit, the way Davis had done to her breast, and felt his cock give a small, involuntary jump in her hand.

Davis’s studied composure fell away; his breathing turned ragged, and his chest tensed as he struggled to keep his cool.

“Oh,” Jordan murmured wickedly, “do you like that?”

She worked her hand up and down his shaft again, slowly, then with gradually increasing speed.

“Put the condom on,” Davis said hoarsely.

“What?” She pretended not to hear him, sliding her hand along his length.

“Put the fucking condom on!”

“I don’t—”

Jordan never finished her sentence. He tangled his fist in her ponytail and kissed her hard, with a desperate force that almost knocked the wind from her lungs. Then he backed away just enough to speak.

“I
have
to fuck you,” he growled.

He still had his grip on her hair; with slow, steady pressure he pulled backward, until her face was tilted up, her neck exposed. His mouth and his unshaven chin traced along the line of her throat, speeding her pulse and wrenching a moan from deep inside her.

Jordan found that the long-ago lesson came back to her quickly. In a moment the condom was in place—she didn’t even have more than a heartbeat to wonder about all the creative condom-applying techniques Davis’s many previous conquests had used to impress him.

But she figured in this case, speed counted more than style. Davis seemed to agree. He lifted her, both hands gripping her ass, and tossed her lightly back onto the berth. Giggling a little with the absurdity of the situation—and with shock at the potency of his need, which so mirrored her own—Jordan lay back gratefully, eager for what would follow.

Davis pulled her panties off and tossed them into the cabin behind him. Then his broad, strong body loomed up over her own. When he reached down to part her legs, she did it for him, clinging to his muscular arms and panting out her pleas for him to hurry, to do it, to give her what she wanted.

There was only a moment’s brief resistance, and then he was inside her.

“God,” he groaned in her ear, “you’re so wet. You’re… so… wet.” He gave her one deep, slow stroke for every word.

Jordan could do nothing but arch and gasp, raising her hips to meet him with every movement he made. He worked at her steadily, filling her and withdrawing slowly so she could feel every bit of his thickness and length. The heat built inside her; the last of her inhibitions spiraled away.

Davis kept up a steady rhythm, but though Jordan hung on the tantalizing edge of ecstasy, she could get no closer. Finally he shifted, pulling back, allowing more space between their two striving bodies.

She stared up at him, at the light falling on that perfect, strong body. She looked in amazement at her own legs wrapped around him—she couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe a man as good-looking as Davis was doing
this
to
her
. She couldn’t believe she’d gone this far… and she didn’t want it to end.

Jordan reached up toward this hard, rounded shoulders, wanting to pull him back down so she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, so she could lick the tiny, glistening beads of sweat from his neck. But Davis caught her wrists again—he had such an irritating habit of doing that—and gently pinned her hands on the mattress beside her rumpled hair.

“I want you to come,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Jordan’s eyes popped. She shook her head, gasping. She didn’t think she could do it—not like this. She’d never come with any partner before—not that she’d had many. And certainly none of them had ever made her feel this good. But even so, how would she even…

Davis released his grip on her and moved back again. He was still inside her—oh, how she loved the feel of that big, hard cock sliding in and out—but this was less an embrace and more a case of Jordan being spread out before him, vulnerable to all his commands. Just as she marshaled her breath to ask him what he was going to do, he reached toward her mouth with one hand.

Jordan tensed. Was he planning to cover her mouth? Was this some kind of weirdo
thing
he did, a way of taking his need for sexual control even farther? But he only dipped his thumb inside her mouth, resting it on her tongue.

She sucked it eagerly, circling it with her tongue, savoring the faint salty taste of his skin. Then he dropped hand down between her thighs.

When his slick thumb circled her, Jordan’s body bent backward as if she’d been hit by a bolt of electricity. She cried out, loud and sharp, then gasped with the effort of controlling herself.

“Don’t,” Davis murmured. “Let it out. Let me see how much you love it. Let me
hear
it.”

She whimpered, grappling for command over her own body. But Davis’s thumb circled tighter, faster, and his cock moved with the same insistent rhythm. Soon Jordan could only pant and moan at the same pace, giving one harsh, half-strangled cry for each stroke of Davis’s cock.

Through the fog of her rising passion, Jordan shook her head in disbelief, in denial, and told herself,
What the hell are you doing? This is stupid… stupid… stupid!

Soon that berating voice threw her out of the rhythm. She squirmed and swallowed her cries, regaining her self-control.

“No,” Davis said firmly. “I want you to come.”

“I… I can’t.”