Leaning against the railing, warm wind gusted from across the ocean, spreading goosebumps across my bare shoulders. Below, white waves broke against the star-board of the ship. Not even a hundred yards away, the water was consumed by an epic darkness, and the longer I stared at the horizon, the dizzier I became.
I'm getting too old for three glasses of win
e, I hypocritically thought, sipping on my fourth.
Despite the expanse of stars, the void surrounding the ship made it seem like we were traveling forever, stuck in an endless trip with bottomless booze and all-you-can-eat buffets. Only the moon was a reminder that we weren't lost in a Twilight Zone episode.
A week had passed since leaving from New York to travel up the coast of Maine, eventually reaching the St. Lawrence River that flowed into Quebec. After a jaunt through Canada's largest province, we were now returning, only a couple more nights at sea before waving hello again to Lady Liberty and taking a flight back to Chicago. It had been a trip of adults-only revelry that was coming to a close, but not yet over. There was still plenty of time to make even more memories.
Laughter broke my reminiscing. On the deck above, the other passengers were drinking, dancing, and swimming. I looked up and three men were carrying drinks, laughing and stumbling, walking down the length of the ship before disappearing around a bend. It wasn't even midnight so the fun would keep going for at least a couple more hours.
Another gust of wind came through, tossing my chin-length brown hair and rustling my black strapless dress. I took another sip of wine, the warmth hitting low in my belly, spreading out. My buzz made everything softer, the ship's lights more golden. Standing barefoot, the deck's wood was a delightful chill that contrasted the warmth of the air, thick with the end of summer that wrapped around me like silk.
In my haze, last night suddenly sprang to mind, Nicholas guiding me to our room's terrace and taking me, my breasts exposed to the ocean and breeze, bouncing as my husband took what was his...
One more gust, slightly sharper than the last, brought me back to the present. It lifted the hem of my dress and traveled in between my thighs like gentle hands. Blood flushed my cheeks and my breath became more ragged. Tingling swept across my skin from a slowly growing desire deep inside my core, flowing from my own defiling thoughts. The alcohol hummed through my veins, lowering my defenses. Everything felt sharper and sweeter, and the wind and wine blurred the edges of my consciousness.
Before my mind could catch up to my body, my pierced nipples tightened against the thin fabric of my dress, thighs brushing together instinctively. There was no one watching and before I knew what I was doing, my hand was in between my legs. Tilting my head toward the sky, I gently pushed against the fabric of my panties, the pressure on my clit sending soft waves of pleasurable heat through my limbs.
My hips subtly shifted and heels came off the ground as fingers pushed harder. I became intoxicated not just by the drink, but by the freedom of the moment. The heat and pulse of desire rose slowly and steadily like the breeze that stirred around me.
"Babe!"
The familiar voice startled me out of my debauchery. Nicholas was jogging over, smiling, with a drink in one hand that was perilously close to spilling over the rim yet somehow never did. Before my body could come down, Nicholas deeply kissed me, only fanning the flames of my growing need. A small whimper escaped, but he didn't seem to notice. Nicholas was just as tipsy as me, and he pulled away too quickly.
"Sorry that took so long. The pool bar was swamped," he said, leaning over the railing next to me.
"It's, uh, no problem," I murmur, trying to regain my composure.
"Are you alright?" Nicholas asks, taking a sip of his drink.
"Yes, I was...I was just thinking about last night," I say, turning towards him.
He smirks, moving behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "You mean, how I took you onto our room's terrace, completely naked, spread your legs, and fucked you?" he whispered in my ear, softly kissing my neck. His free hand started to trace the curves of my thighs.
I giggled. "Down, boy," I whispered, doing nothing to take his hand away.
He cupped the inside of my thigh, steady and deliberate, as if reacquainting himself with a favorite place. Moving slowly, like he had all the time in the world, his hand traced the lines of my body with a touch that was both possessive and reverent. His palm slid up along my side, catching the edge of my breast, his thumb grazing the soft underside before circling back with just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.
The warmth of his body against mine ignited something deeper, a low thrum of need that tightened in my stomach and pulsed between my thighs.
"You look so gorgeous," he whispered before setting his drink down on the deck.
His lips were now pressed against the crook of my neck, tongue digging in. His other hand followed, drifting over my stomach, pressing me closer, molding me to him. Every movement was purposeful, every stroke a quiet promise, heightening my awareness until even the air between us seemed electric.
I want him. I want him so fucking bad, it hurts.
I spun around and, without a word, our mouths collided, desperate and hungry. His lips claimed mind with a groan, tongues meeting in a rhythm that matched the pounding need in my core. My hands threaded along his shirt, pulling him closer, anchoring myself to the railing behind me. One of his hands slipped beneath my dress, rougher now, hungrily grabbing my ass as he pulled me tighter against him. The sudden contact made me gasp into his mouth, hips involuntarily grinding against his knee, chasing the friction that sent sparks shooting through me.
His fingers once again found the crease of my thigh, teasing higher under my dress, grazing heat and slickness that made my knees weaken. I clutched his shoulders, breathing ragged, my body trembling with every touch. Somewhere above us, laughter echoed faintly, possibly too close, but neither of us moved. If anything, the thrill of being watched only made the moment sharper, more illicit. My skin prickled with sensation, every nerve alight, as his fingers continued to explore with deliberate care, drawing out soft moans I couldn't quite stifle. The waves roared behind me and the wind teased, overwhelming my sensations.
Finally, I had had enough. I needed so much more and I didn't care where or how I got it. WIth all the confidence in the world, I pushed Nicholas away, grabbed his hand, and led him to a deck chair that was under the walkway of the level above us. Every few seconds, a new person walked by over our heads.
