Page 16 of Enslaved

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I WAS EXPECTING HIM TO FOLLOW ME. Thankfully, he didn’t. My heart pounded for hours after he surprised me on deck. I laid awake on the bunk bed in my small cabin, with my face turned toward the door half-expecting him to barge in at any second.

Needless to say, I slept like shit. I tossed and turned, huddled under my sheet wondering if he was just bored last night or if he meant every word. He didn’t seem like a man who flung words on a whim, but I found him impossible to read. He was right about one thing though—my heart did race for him. I had never seen a man so devastatingly handsome. He said he wasn’t American and that I do believe. He had a dark olive complexion, hair as black as the night with eyes just as dark. No, darker. So dark, they sucked you in like a black hole.

He’s dangerous.

My gut is telling me to run, pack up my bag and find another ship to work on. But I’m stubborn, not a quitter, and I won’t let some sinfully rich playboy scare me off. He can’t just do what he wants with me. There are a dozen crew members onboard. I’m not alone with him out here. He wouldn’t dare do the things he said. I bet he was just trying to see if I would go for it. But I won’t.

Getting down from my bunk, I brushed my teeth, meeting my tired eyes in the mirror.

I looked awful.

My tummy clenched. I felt like a fool. There’s no way a man as rich and handsome as my dark devil could find me remotely attractive.

My blonde hair hung limp, half of it frizzy from the damp sea air, while the other half was crushed flat against my head from laying on the pillow. Sure, I’m tan, but I refuse to wear makeup. Dark freckles covered my nose with more on the top of my cheeks. My oversized doe eyes are my best feature, and they had half-moons under them. Rinsing and spitting, I shook my head. Despite my mother’s best efforts, I refused to wear braces to fix the small gap between my front teeth.

My nose is slightly too big; my chin too stubborn. I have high cheekbones, naturally long eyelashes, and an athletic figure. That’s been enough to catch the eye of my first few boyfriends, but not enough to ever garner the attention of a billionaire on the Med.

No.

I’m no supermodel, trophy woman, or high-end escort. I’m just Jessie, a tomboy from California who’s never felt freer. I’m not letting that man steal that feeling from me.

Pulling on my T-shirt and khaki shorts, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and found my way to the crew’s mess . I fixed myself an instant coffee and munched on dry cereal.

“Jessie?” Are you seasick or something?”

“No.” I had replied without even picking my head up.

Bad weather rolled in overnight making the ship dip and sway. It was too dangerous to take the hookers back in the tender with fourteen-foot swells, so they stayed. Thank god, I’m not part of the interior crew waiting on them and the ship’s master this morning. I’d more than likely dump hot coffee in that asshole’s lap, scalding his dick then pour it sweetly into a cup.

“Listen to this.” Sara, the chief stewardess, blocked my exit taking her wireless earbuds and holding it out for me to listen. “I downloaded a new audiobook. The man makes me come just by talking.”

I’m not really into this kind of girl bonding. But on a yacht, befriending the chief stew is a necessity if you want a drama free yachting season. So I took the earbuds, placed them in my ears, while giving a forced enthusiastic grin.

“He is hot. God, I don’t care what he looks like—I’d just want him saying dirty things to me all night. I’d be like ‘yes master,’ to anything he told me.” I held the earbuds back out to her, cringing inside at what a valley girl I sounded like. The superficial, Bel Air kind from back home. But she was right, that man’s voice was rough silk, sliding along my skin, making me yearn for things. Bad, dirty, hot things.

My back lit up with a million tingles. Every nerve ending on alert receiving some kind of invisible signal that danger was near.

“Is this what the crew does when the guests aren’t in sight? Alex is up wondering where in the hell his hot breakfast is, and I have been waiting too long for my Greek coffee.”

“Yes, sir. It’ll be right up.”Sara tucked her phone back into her shorts, quickly leaving me alone with him.

He stalked forward blocking my escape, forcing me back against the small counter.

“You little liar.” He reached out rubbing a piece of my hair between his fingers. His erection pressed up against my thigh. My eyes stared at the onyx cufflinks at his wrists reflecting the light overhead. He reeked of money and power while on a yacht in the middle of the Med. He was dressed for a meeting in a boardroom, instead of a man enjoying a vacation. His head bent, lips finding my ear, “you want someone to talk dirty to you,chrysí mía? I can’t wait to rip your clothes from head-to-toe. I’d split your shirt and watch the buttons fly to the floor. Then the sound of your bra ripping in my hands would make you wet…needy for my cock. But you’d lose your mind when I bury my head between your thighs taking pleasure in feasting on you. Then you’d taste your desire on my tongue as I shove it between your lips. I’d fuck you right against the wall yanking your hair so hard some of it would come out in my hands. The sound of my balls slapping against your skin will make you want more of me as my tip hits your womb, spray painting it with my release. Part of you will hate me, but the other half will crave my seed rooting deep, planting life inside you. Until then,little dove.”

He pulled back. His eyes fully dilated, as I swayed, falling against the counter.

“It wasn’t your words. It was the boat.” I bit out as he laughed, looking like he just stepped off a photo shoot. The man reeks of sex and danger and looks like a billion bucks.I’m in over my head. “What did you say to me anyway?”

“I called you my golden one in Greek,” he answered reaching out to touch a tendril of my long hair.

I needed to save myself because by the way he’s looking at me—he meant every word he just said. This hot AF deranged man wants me to be his babymaker? My womb clenched, my body wanting everything he said.

But I’m a rational woman whose gut instincts are telling her to run. Hell—jump off the ship and attempt to swim miles to shore rather than stand here waiting for him to pounce. As soon as breakfast is over, I’ll be in that tender, ferrying the sluts to shore with my knapsack hidden under their luggage. I’ll make a break for it, find a youth hostel and backpack my way along the coast.

Feeling wistful, I wrung my hands wishing I could stay working on this yacht. But the only work he wants me to do on his ship is on my back or as he said—on my knees.

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