I listened and imagined and I got off myself.
Couldn’t fucking help it.
It was impossible to not touch myself, to not come alongside her, aiming up on to my belly in a thick stream. I was terrified that she’d wake up and find myself jerking off beside her, but it didn’t stop me.
It’s what I needed after all this time spent with her, all those times I wanted to kiss her when I didn’t feel like arguing with her.
That’s when I fell asleep again.
Maybe for ten minutes.
Must have turned off the alarm.
Then I woke up again.
She was still going at it.
A fucking machine.
This time I turned on the light hoping to wake her.
And in that time she was going at it again, in full glorious view of me.
Her top was bunched up above her tits and she was squeezing one nipple in such a way that it took every ounce of control not to lean over and take her other nipple between my teeth, pinching first before licking, then pulling it into my mouth.
Her other hand was down in her underwear. Pink satin knickers that were drenched with her own enjoyment.
I could have watched that all night. I started taking mental notes, thinking if I’d ever get my chance with her, I’d know all the right moves. She likes it soft at first, her fingertips just teasing her clit, teasing her length, then she slowly increased the pressure, the speed. When she seems like she’s about to come from that alone, she nearly puts her whole fist inside herself.
My little gingersnap is greedy.
And needy.
I could fulfill all her needs.
Then…she woke up.
Flushed and embarrassed and bold all at once and, fuck, I would have been up for anything. The feeling of her hand on my dick was incredible, and I knew there and then how much she wanted me too.
And then Richard started banging on the door, bringing with him reality, and I realized what a colossal mistake I made. I let Daisy distract me from my job, the job I have in keeping everyone on this ship safe.
I’m still mad at myself for it, though I have to be careful so that Daisy doesn’t mistake that for me being mad at her. I don’t want to damage whatever trust we have between us, especially since I caught her (over and over again) in such a vulnerable position.
That said, I don’t have any time to dwell on it.
We’re in a situation.
Thankfully it’s not the worst, but it’s still something I need to stay on top of.
When I first got on deck the wind was just starting to whip up and I could feel the front coming from behind us, the way the sails changed and the boat started objecting to the direction. There was enough time for Daisy to make us some coffee, but I only had a few sips before things got gnarly. There was a lot of running around as we put on foul weather gear. I had to give Daisy the wheel for a bit so I could put mine on, plus life jackets.
It was a risk since the sails were up and the wind was coming from the southwest. We have to stay as north as possible, especially with the Lau Islands to the right of us, which means fighting the wind a little.
Luckily Daisy was great behind the wheel, holding course.
That gave me enough time to start taking in sails and clipping us onto the lifeline. The wind kicked to forty knots, accelerating the boat to nine knots, and sending us skipping over waves. With each rise and fall over the waves, the whole boat shudders and shakes, like a bronco trying to buck us from its back.
“You’re doing good,” I tell Daisy, coming back to relieve her of the steering.
In the faint cockpit lights, she practically has to pry her white-knuckled grip off the wheel.
“Are we going to be okay?” she asks, before a wave whips over the side, skirting us both.
“We’ll be fine, just a squall,” I tell her. “A pain in the ass, that’s it.”
I glance at the instruments.
The rain is pouring now, messing with visibility, so the radar is blazing away looking for the next squall to tear through and, more fearsome on a night like this, freighters.
Daisy wasn’t my ideal partner to have on a night like tonight. Not that she’s incapable, just that this is risky sailing and I’d rather have her below deck where she’s safe.
But with the autopilot out of commission and Richard needing his sleep, I don’t have a choice. I need her.
She seems to get that. She’s taking this seriously, if not fearfully.
“What else can I do?” she asks.
“Just be present,” I tell her. “Have a seat, hold on.”
She sits down beside me and I glance down the deck at the sails. They’re supposed to be halfway in, or reefed, in order to keep us from being where the wind wants to take us. But they aren’t quite there yet.