Chapter 5: Salt and venom
1205 Words
Emma’s POV
The first thing I feel when I wake up is the ache between my legs. Delicious, filthy proof of last night. Richard’s heavy arm is slung across my waist, his chest warm against my back, his breath is steady as he sleeps.
I shift, and the movement wakes him instantly. His hand slides down my stomach, fingers finding the mess he left inside me, two fingers slipping easily through the slick mix of us.
“Morning, little mate,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. His c**k is already hard against my ass.
I should leave. I should slip out and head back to work, but maybe a few minutes more with him wouldn’t hurt. So, instead of leaving, I arch back into him.
He doesn’t ask twice. One strong arm hooks under my knee, spreading me open. The thick head of his c**k nudges my entrance, still swollen and dripping from round two (or was it three?) hours ago. He pushes in slow, letting me feel every inch, letting the burn remind me who I belong to now.
“f**k, you take me so perfectly,” he groans, bottoming out with a roll of his hips. He hits that spot inside that makes my toes curl.
I bite the pillow to muffle the moan. He doesn’t like that; he fists my hair, pulling my head back so he can growl against my ear. “Let me hear you.”
He’s already slick with last-night’s c*m and my own dripping mess when he pulls out and plunges in again, his thick c**k splitting my swollen p***y wide and burying to the root in a single wet slap of skin on skin. I’m so full I can’t breathe, every vein dragging against my walls, his fat crown kissing my cervix like a promise.
Then he starts f*****g me, hard, filthy strokes that pull almost all the way out until my greedy cunt is gaping and empty, only to slam back in, balls smacking my clit, hips grinding deep so I feel him in my throat. Each thrust is a wet squelch, c*m and cream frothing around his shaft, dripping down my thighs as he reams me raw, stretching me, owning me, pounding that swollen knot against my entrance until it finally catches and swells, locking us together while he pumps me full of another scalding load.
He follows with a guttural sound, hips jerking as he spills deep again. We stay like that, panting, stuck together in the pale dawn light filtering through the porthole.
“I have to go to work,” I whisper, voice still hoarse from screaming his name.
Richard’s arm tightens around my waist. His lips brush the bite mark on my shoulder, then the shell of my ear.
“No,” he growls. “Stay. I’m nowhere near done with this pussy.”
“Richard, please,” I breathe, trying to stay sane. “The captain will fire me if I don’t show up this morning. I need this job.”
“Let him try. I’ll buy the f*****g yacht.”
“You don’t need to, let me go, please. It’s just for a few hours.”
A long, frustrated silence. Then he sighs against my neck, sounding almost pained.
“Fine,” he mutters, pressing me a lingering kiss. “But you’re serving me breakfast in that little skirt (nothing underneath) and the second your shift ends, you’re back in this bed, legs spread, taking my c**k until the sun goes down again. Understood?”
I nod, breathless.
He kisses me slow and deep, tongue stroking mine like he’s already f*****g my mouth. Only when the knot finally deflates does he let me slip free, c*m pouring out of me in a hot rush as I stand on shaky legs.
“Tonight,” he says, eyes glowing gold. “Don’t make me come find you.”
I tug the skirt down over the mess between my thighs and escape before I change my mind.
My shift starts in twenty minutes. I duck into the crew stairwell, splash water on my face, and head to the lounge bar to work like nothing happened.
The lounge was quiet. The hush broken only by the clink of glasses as I restocked the bar. I hummed under my breath, some stupid Christmas jingle I couldn’t shake, while my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere filthy.
Richard’s voice, low and ragged against my ear:
“Open wider, baby… that’s it, take every inch of Daddy’s c**k down that pretty throat.”
My knees on the carpet, lips stretched around him, spit dripping down my chin while he fisted my hair and f****d my mouth like he owned it.
The way he’d growled when I swallowed him to the root, “Good girl… look at you choking on me, still begging for more.”
Heat flooded between my legs again. I could still taste him, salt and pine and raw Alpha, could still feel the ghost of his knot stretching me open, locking us together while he pumped me so full of c*m it leaked out around us for hours.
I shifted behind the bar, thighs slick under the tiny skirt. My n*****s ached against the velvet top, remembering how he’d ripped it down and sucked them red, teeth grazing, tongue flicking, promising,
“These t**s are mine now… gonna keep them swollen, keep you dripping for me every night.”
God, the way he’d flipped me onto my stomach, spread me wide, and slammed home in one brutal thrust. I sobbed into the pillow while he knotted me again, again, again, until the sheets were soaked and I was hoarse from screaming his name.
“Mine,” he’d growled against the fresh bite on my shoulder, licking the blood like it was honey.
I was smiling like an i***t, lost in the memory, fingers brushing the bruise on my neck, when a sharp voice sliced the air.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Emma the Eternal Virgin.” Brittany sauntered in, wearing a white sundress, hair in a perfect chignon.
She didn’t act reformed like she did in front of her father—her smirk was pure high-school venom.
“So with all the books you read, this is how you ended up? Polishing glasses?”
My spine straightened. Some of the guilt I felt was beginning to fade. “Morning Brittany. Sleep well?”
Brittany’s laugh was a razor. “Better than you, I’m sure. Daddy says the staff cabins are *disgusting*. Probably used to it, though—crawling around on your knees, right?” She stepped closer, voice dropping to a hiss. “God, look at you. Skirt so short I can see your desperation. What do they call girls who dress like that on a yacht full of rich men? Oh, right—a whore.”
The word *w***e* landed like a slap on my face. I set the glass down calmly, meeting Brittany’s eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “I AM a w***e. And guess who my client last night was?” I paused, letting the question sink in before revealing the answer.
"It was your father,"I smirked.
- Writer
