Up Too Close Read online

  “Because I’m going to strip them from you and make love to you on the chart table.” The heat building in his core would not be denied. “Do you have a problem with that proposal?”

  “I, er …no,” she said, her voice a small squeak.

  René unzipped her heavy jacket and then struggled a bit with the double backup Velcro fasteners designed to keep out the wind. He finally ripped the jacket off her shoulders and then slid the trouser suspenders down across her full breasts.

  He couldn’t help giving equal attention to each of the perfect aureoles surrounding CeCe’s rosy nipples, sucking each until she broke her silence with whimpers that turned into satisfied moans.

  When he spread the elastic and pushed down the trousers to her ankles, the V of honey-colored hair between her legs stopped his heart. He pushed his face into her pubic hair, smelling her secret folds for the first time. Divine. No woman had ever smelled better in the history of the world.

  CeCe’s hands caressed his hair, a clear sign she welcomed him and had made her choice. Lover had made the list. René gently pushed his nose deeper between her legs. Her hands tightened on his head. He moved his mouth upward and slowly licked. CeCe shivered and drew back.

  “Oh, René.”

  “You are all I want to eat for the rest of my life,” he whispered. “Your smell, your taste, wonderful.”

  She kicked off the heavy pants. There she stood, her soft, golden skin fully revealed for his pleasure. It was René’s turn to moan.

  When he picked her up in one quick move, she wrapped her legs around him while he carried her over to the chart table. True to his promise, he deposited her sweet ass onto the wooden lid top. Then he sank to the chair, ripping off his foulweather jacket. He spread her thighs for better access to the succulent wetness she’d been keeping from him for days.

  CeCe gripped the narrow table and leaned back against the battery bank controls, spreading her legs wider, welcoming him.

  He nudged apart her soft folds and caressed her hot wetness with one finger. When she bent her head and kissed the top of his head, urging him on with an anxious murmur, he nearly fell apart. He’d never been so hard, so in need.

  Once he found her small nub of pleasure, he rubbed it gently and smiled at her sharp intake of breath. In a sudden move, he pulled her all the way forward to the edge of the table and entered her with his tongue, pushing into her heat and scent. Mon Dieu. It was fortunate he’d chosen to sit on the chart table chair and partake of the glorious banquet that was CeCe. If he’d remained standing, his runaway, pounding heart might have taken him down.

  He circled his arms around her and pulled her firm against his mouth. He intensified his exploration, licking her from ass to clit, and then concentrating on the nub, sucking, licking. She grabbed his hair, none too gently, and screamed his name as she crashed onto the rocks of her pleasure.

  Once he caught his breath, he stood over CeCe to kiss her and gather her into his arms. She lay back on the table, her damp hair spread all around her, while tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Non, non,” he said. “Do not cry, mon cher.”

  CeCe sat up, but couldn’t stop the sobbing.

  René cuddled her against his chest and carried her back to his cabin. The teakettle screamed out a warning, bringing him back to reality with a thud. He needed to tuck CeCe beneath his warm bunk blankets and then resume the watch. Otherwise, a fast freighter steaming up from South America could take them out before they had time for evasive action.

  “I must go, CeCe,” René said, though it just might kill him to leave without fucking her. “I have to go, but I’m glad I could finally see and taste all of you. There is more to come.”

  She laughed through her tears. “That is a bad pun, but I guess it’s unavoidable.”

  He kissed her once again. His breath felt like iron in his lungs, even as his cock swelled and throbbed.

  Chienne made a point of ignoring him as she clicked down the companionway. Well, at least one of the females aboard liked him.

  He had to smile. This trip had just become so much more interesting.

  * * *

  CeCe blubbered into René’s sleeping bag in an attempt to mop her face dry. What was wrong with her? She’d shed more tears in the last quarter hour than she’d shed in her entire life. She never cried. And especially not over sex. But what they’d just shared had been the most explosive experience she’d ever had. What the hell? Where had this sexy French shithead been all her life and why was she meeting him only now?

  That was her last thought before she drifted into a deep sleep, bereft of dreams of any sort. Chienne had crawled onto the bunk and curled around her feet, completing the warming process.

  Usually, she fell asleep analyzing what her next step should be. Tonight, her body refused to let her worry about anything but blessed, uncomplicated sleep.

  * * *

  René filled a tall thermos with gobs of sugar and as much black coffee as he could pour from the French press. He took a long, satisfying swig of the dark elixir on his way up to the helm. Once he got there and clipped in, he could see the lights of shipping traffic all around them. No matter how intense the siren call of the honey blonde now wrapped warmly in his bunk, this voyage could be their last if he didn’t cross all his “t’s” and dot all his “i’s.” His father had taught him a very valuable lesson as a boy. There are no shortcuts in ocean sailing, unless you want to end up sleeping permanently in Davy Jones’s Locker.

  He touched his father’s watch, and then found himself patting the wheel of the Tourbillon. His pere, and his grand-pere, were with him. Maybe the old ship wasn’t so bad. She’d weathered their first storm well.

  René smiled, and his smiled widened when he thought about what had just happened between him and his first mate. They would continue their exploration in the morning when they traded watches. A few minutes of cuddling, maybe a little more, couldn’t hurt once he’d checked traffic in the light of dawn and listened to the weather reports coming off Puerto Rico.

  The stars winked out one by one as he sailed toward another dawn, and the sun gradually peeked above the horizon, bringing an explosion of pink and gold radiating streaks along with a new day. With the rising of the fiery orb, the rain-slicked wood decks dried rapidly from the storm of the night before.

  Beneath his own suspendered, heavy-weather trousers, his cock was on high alert. After the previous night’s sensual banquet at the chart table, the poor appendage had not had the sense to calm down. But then again, neither had he.

  With less than an hour of his watch to go, he began to make a mental list of the things he would do to CeCe, a little bit at a time until she screamed again. No more sobbing, or so he hoped. The previous night’s waterworks from the masseuse had unhinged him. He never knew what to do when women cried. And women cried a lot around him—a player’s occupational hazard. But he’d never had a woman cry after a sexual encounter. CeCe was the first.

  * * *

  When he went below to wake her, he couldn’t resist stripping before climbing beneath the blankets. Chienne rolled away from the cabin bulkhead where she’d been dozing and bared her teeth. This time at least she didn’t growl and snarl, but he didn’t want to push his luck. When he looked up from his standoff with his grandmother’s difficult dog, CeCe was awake, her eyes soft from sleep.

  “Chienne,” she said with a note of sharp command in her voice, “get off the bed so poor René can get warm.” The dog growled low, but moved away and trotted out to the galley to her water dish.

  CeCe sat up, not bothering to cover her glorious breasts. She said nothing more but merely pulled the covers aside and motioned for him to join her.

  “We don’t have much time,” he said. “Lots of traffic out there this morning.”

  “Then get in here,” she said, crooking a finger his way and scooting beneath the covers.

  Within seconds René was beneath the blankets, his cock rock hard and getting ha
rder by the minute. She scooted her warm body next to his cold one and reached down, giving him a gentle squeeze.

  He grabbed her hand, gasping. So intense. How was he going to last? He’d come in seconds.

  Immediately, he began to catalog everything wrong with the Tourbillon to pull him back from the edge.

  The diesel engine cooling lines must be all gunked up. He should’ve had the boatyard clear the hoses.

  It worked. He backed away from his orgasm, even as she stroked him, base to tip.

  Yes, the engine, and then she started kissing her way down his body.

  All thoughts of the engine roared out of his head when her mouth inched closer and closer until her tongue finally brushed his cock.

  Chapter Twelve

  20.9001ºN, 62.8600ºW

  Day Ten, Aboard Tourbillon

  Along Rhumb Line to Bermuda

  When CeCe covered the soft skin of René’s belly with little kisses and licks, he trembled and arched against her. She helped him slide his cock between her breasts and squeezed.

  He let out a gasp that ended in a sob of desire, his cock soft steel against her smooth skin.

  She was determined to give him as much pleasure as he’d given her the night before.

  She settled between his legs and took her first good look at his sex—long, thick, perfect.

  She gently eased back the foreskin. Some of his juices pearled at the tip. A quick stroke with her tongue gave her a first taste of his most secret part. Salty.

  “Please,” he whispered. And then a string of French poured out of him. She didn’t catch every word, but she did hear a Dieu and s’il vous plait, pleading with God and her.

  She eased him into her mouth, trying to prolong his pleasure.

  He clutched her hair and moaned.

  His musky scent invaded her senses. His sweat trickled where his body touched hers.

  She loved the power tingling in her fingertips, the pleasure she could give. She sucked and let the head pop out of her mouth.

  She increased the slide of her right hand up and down his silky shaft while sucking. He moved with her, in and out of her mouth. She tasted more of him. He was getting close.

  “CeCe, I’m going to..I’m going to …”

  She was intent, in full concentration, her hand going faster, her mouth a vacuum over René’s most sensitive part. He warned her, in case she wanted to pull away before he orgasmed.

  She didn’t. Other men, she’d let them finish on their own bellies, but with René, this bad boy trying to be a good guy, she wouldn’t mind taking all of him.

  She pulled her mouth off him, but kept her hand stroking. “I want you to come in my mouth, René. I want to taste you, all of you,” echoing what he’d said to her the night before.

  The words pushed René over the edge.

  She closed her mouth around him again, and his juices burst into her. She swallowed, still squeezing and rubbing him, until he slid back.

  He gasped and twisted, his eyes closed. “Too good,” he muttered, “too good.” His eyes fluttered open, and he flung a pillow over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer but lay still for several minutes. The silence was weird.

  She eased the pillow away from his face. His eyes were soft, maybe a little scared, and an emotion she never expected to see there—shyness.

  “What?” she asked. “It was good, yes? Last night was so good for me, I cried. Now you know how I felt.”

  CeCe drew her body across his and pressed as close as she could. She was a moist mess between her legs, though she felt more languid than sexy, like a cat waking from a long sleep stretches out for a another long nap. But when René suckled hard at a nipple and rubbed at her clit, her inner cat awoke with a yowl. A quick, intense orgasm rolled over her, and she shuddered.

  Afterward, they lay there quietly. She listened to his heart slow. Then he kissed her softly, caressing her hair, tracing the whorls of her ear. Finally, he looked into her eyes.

  She believed she could see what he was feeling, and fresh tears fill her eyes. She refused to cry again in front of him, so kissed him one last time and stood up.

  “I’d better get up top. Shipping lanes and all. I take my duties very seriously, and the captain is real hardened ass.” She frowned, talking quickly, suddenly nervous. “That’s not the right idiom, but I’m close. Hard butt? I don’t know.”

  René’s mouth curved in a quirky smile. He didn’t say a word, but there was an amused look in his eyes.

  CeCe crawled from the bunk and layered her favorite “Whirled Peas” T-shirt over a bikini bottom. She retrieved her foul weather gear from the galley where she’d thrown it the night before. The early morning breeze was still a bit chilly, so she stopped to pull on the heavy suspendered trousers. Chienne gazed at her, mouth hanging open, tongue lolling.

  “I know,” CeCe whispered. “I know. But you and I both understand how these things work. René might be feeling all lovey after sex, but that doesn’t translate into anything else. Most guys get like that after good oral sex. I’m not worried about René.”

  Lie.

  “I’m more worried about me. One little baby can’t be responsible for all this crying.”

  Chienne lifted herself stiffly, gave herself a good shake, and limped over. CeCe petted and scratched the dog, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with me, but the minute I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

  CeCe found a bag of tortillas in the cooler, and after a good slathering of peanut butter and strawberry preserves, rolled herself a very American, un-Mexican burrito. Her friends in Florida had introduced her to the New World’s most exquisite foods: tortillas, peanut butter, and deep-fried pickles. But not all together at the same time. She might be pregnant, but she wasn’t that pregnant.

  Chewing on her burrito, CeCe climbed to the top deck dragging her heavy foulie jacket. The minute the sun, wind, and sea struck her face, CeCe knew she’d figure everything out.

  She fantasized about René’s cock sliding into her. She shivered, smiled, and felt like yelling out in excitement. He was the perfect playmate before her life changed forever.

  * * *

  René woke with a start, his heart pounding. The nightmare had dragged him deep, something about the Tourbillon sinking, CeCe and Chienne below decks, and him diving to find them.

  He’d been so into the dream and sleep, he had no idea what time it was. Could’ve been next Tuesday for all he knew.

  He felt for his watch, but his wrist was bare. At some point he must have taken it off. That had become habit. Too many women had been pinched by the big metal watch, and so he removed it before love play.

  Was that what he was doing with CeCe? Just playing?

  He recalled her mouth on him, her smell, the soft gold of her hair, the depths of her blue eyes, the way her face glowed with sunshine when she smiled.

  If he was playing a game, it was clear he was losing, losing himself to a woman, the first time ever. Now he understood the tears after her orgasm the night before. Hell, if he’d had a little to drink, he might have been reduced to tears. What was it between them?

  He didn’t know, but something had him snared.

  And if she didn’t feel the same way, he was in danger of being massacred when they parted. Could he really drop her off at the airport in England and sail away? He might as well cut off his arm.

  René turned over and fished through his clothes to find his father’s watch. He lifted it to his eyes. Mon Dieu! It was late afternoon, a little after four. What the hell? CeCe had let him sleep through his next shift. Why?

  Then reality hit. The Tourbillon was barely moving, just bobbing in the water. He knew why. The wind had come down, and that goddamn diesel engine had gone belly-up again. He and CeCe had agreed to start the engine whenever the wind dropped below seven knots. She must have hove to and stopped the boat while she tried to troubleshoot the
damned engine.

  He didn’t bother going up top. He padded down the hall, past the galley, toward the engine room. There he found CeCe, crouched down, grease on her nose, waving a wrench and muttering what he assumed was some strange Viking curse.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  CeCe grinned at him. “It’s the hoses. I should know. I’m good with hoses.”

  René paused. Had she just made a dirty joke? A dirty pun at that. “Yes,” he said, a little breathless, “you are very good.” She stood and kissed his cheek and then hugged him, her face on his chest.

  He held her, feeling her, smelling her, and closed his eyes. And of course, his little sailor lifted again in salute.

  She felt it and leaned back. “You do know the wind is way down, and the engine isn’t working. Do life-or-death-situations turn you on?”

  “Pas de probleme,” René said. “We have a working radio, several backups, and we’re in one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. I say we float until we hit land, get too sore for sex, or run out of food.”

  “We’ll always have enough to eat,” CeCe said, with a sly smile.

  Speaking of which, he kissed her mouth, and she pulled him close, rubbing against him.

  She nipped at his lip and pulled back. “The Tourbillon will find more wind, I have no doubt. In the meantime, you and I should take care of one piece of very important business.”

  “Cherie, we have to get the engine running again, but that pile of crap will always have one more hiccup. Right now, I have a more pressing checklist,” René said. “We are doing well, kissing, oral sex, but we have many more items to check off.”

  “If you can catch me,” CeCe whispered. She pushed him away and ran down the passageway.

  René chased after her all the way up to the deck and out into the sunshine.

  * * *

  CeCe left her bikini on, but everything else she shed in seconds. René followed, and when he started to strip off his swim trunks, she stopped him. “No, not yet. Let’s pretend we haven’t done anything, and we are very shy. Then tonight, I will let you check more things off your list.”