Shauna snatched her rum and coke from the cocktail table and took a quick drink before standing. She wavered for a moment, then pointed a slender finger at Robert's chest and breathed, "Fuck you." Before he could reply, she shouldered her way past him, slipped through the salon entrance, and headed towards the bow of the yacht. Her flip flops snapped a steady cadence that echoed her rapid heartbeat.
Robert gave chase, barking a slew of curses and yelling for her to stop.
All she'd asked was to be left alone. "Just pretend like I'm not even here," she'd practically begged. But apparently her unwillingness to participate in the sex-a-pa-loo-za taking place on the yacht was a poor reflection on her husband, which was completely unfair considering she hadn't even wanted to go out on the boat that day.
"Godammit, I said stop you stupid bitch!"
Shauna ground her teeth and shook her head as she neared the stern, having nearly completed a full circuit of the deck. She was embarrassed, hurt and-above all else-furious at Robert for speaking to her so horribly, especially when she'd done nothing wrong.
She answered his directive with a quick smirk over her shoulder and a sharply executed one-finger salute. Then something inside her snapped like a dry twig, bringing her hasty flight to an abrupt halt.
Enough of this shit!
Struggling to put a leash on her roiling emotions, she tossed back her drink. She focused on the cool heat of the alcohol, cradled it on her tongue until it ignited her taste buds and escalated from a mild, tingling sensation to a near painful burn. She took a protracted breath and let it out slowly before swallowing.
Brimming with indignation, Shauna turned and barely managed to stifle a yelp as Robert drew to a stop within arm's length. But she quickly regained her composure, affecting a well-practiced air of impertinence while she wondered what the hell was wrong with her husband, besides the fact he was a fucking prick who'd long ago stopped caring about her.
"What's your problem?" Robert barked.
"Wha-? Are you serious?"
"Keep your voice down."
Shauna arched her eyebrows. "Excuse me? I'm not the one who's yelling."
Robert sighed. "Look, I just want to know why you're being so difficult."
It took every ounce of self-control Shauna could muster to keep from screaming in frustration. "Maybe," she grated, "I'm being so difficult because I don't want to be here."
She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths, not opening them until she felt Robert's bare chest brush against the thin material of her bikini top. He flashed one of his sexy grins when her nipples pebbled.
"But I want you here. It wouldn't be the same without you by my side." He raised a hand and stroked Shauna's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Now, come on, it's time to play." Then he rolled his hips under, pushing his generous erection into her belly. "You do want to play, don't you?"
Shauna tried to block out the feel of muscled chest and thick, mouthwatering cock; desperately clung to the anger that was slipping away by degrees. Though even if she could, she couldn't dismiss the naked bodies writhing not fifteen feet away. The wet, smacking sounds of furious sex made her pussy clench, her womb spasm.
Before her carnal desires could get the best of her, she growled, "No, Robert, not this time," and shoved her husband. Though he only stumbled back a step, it was enough for her to regain her focus.
Shocked by his wife's sudden aggression, Robert huffed, "Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?"
Shauna balled her fists. "What do you think is wrong? And for that matter, why do you care? You stopped doing that a long time ago."
She turned to walk away, not wanting Robert to see the tears welling at the corners of her eyes, but he quickly closed the narrow gap between them and placed his hands upon her shoulders.
"Hey, c'mon, Shauna. Why would you say that, huh? I care about you. Always and forever, you know that." He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.
Shauna couldn't help being touched by the sudden tenderness and warmth that lit his dark brown eyes. It'd been so long since he'd shown her any real affection. She also couldn't help but consider that maybe, just maybe, not all hope was lost.
"It's only . . . well, you haven't exactly shown me you cared in a while. We hardly ever speak anymore and you seem to stay away from home as much as possible." She stared at her manicured toenails. "I thought you'd finally grown tired of me."
Robert lifted her chin and kissed her. "That's not true. I've been busy, you know, distracted. But I'll make it up to you," he promised, his voice a whisky rasp that sent her heart rate soaring.
He took her hand, flashed another sexy grin. "Now let's go join in the fun, and we'll talk about this more tonight."
Shauna grinned but it was hesitant, fragile. "Or we can clear out one of the cabins," she countered tentatively, hoping she wasn't about to be seriously disappointed, "and you can spend the afternoon showing me how much you still care."
"That sounds good. It, it really does. But why don't we join in the fun? Then tonight it can be just you and me."
Shauna felt a painful squeeze around her heart. "You can't do it, can you; can't be with me-just me-when there's so much pussy around?" She threw her hands up. "What was I thinking? I knew that whatever love you felt for me was long gone but still I was hoping." She shook her head. "I just wish to hell it hadn't taken me so long to admit it to myself."
Robert released her and stepped back. His large hands closed into pale fists; his face shaded to dark red. "Bitch, don't you dare get all high and mighty with me. We're the same, you and I, and you damn well know it." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Shit, I'll bet together we couldn't count the number of cocks you've had; pussies, too. You didn't complain any of those times, did you? Never said no to any of it?"
A lone tear rolled down Shauna's cheek as she finally accepted what her heart had been trying to tell her for quite some time. That the love and passion Robert had once lavished upon her was truly gone, lost to the winds, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.
Shauna stared into her husband's eyes, refusing to back down. After a few tense moments he grunted a breath of palpable disgust, turned and sauntered towards four women and men sprawled across a cushioned bench. The women were on their hands and knees, facing one another, while the men frantically pistoned into their pussies from behind. He shucked his swim trunks and sat between the two women who greedily fell upon his raging erection and tightly drawn sack. He cast his wife a final smile that dripped self-satisfaction before resting his head against the back of the bench.
Shauna stepped into the salon and grabbed a bottle of rum from the cocktail table; she exited the room just as quickly.
I am so fucking done.
I'm leaving that bastard.
He can fuck off and die for all I care!
She stopped near the bow of the yacht and finished the dregs of her drink. With a fierce growl, she reared back and heaved the rock glass into the dark, rippling water. Turning around, she rested her ass against the railing and mumbled, "No-good-motherfucker. Never cared about me at all. Just his fucking cock." She unscrewed the cap from the bottle of rum, raised it high and took a long, hard pull, spilling a copious amount down the front of her feverish body.
She wanted to sob, but the mere thought of shedding any more tears made her feel weak and full of self-loathing. Robert was the problem, the one incapable of love, of loving her. She gazed at the distant horizon, trying to tamp down the flurry of emotions raging throughout her body.
A seagull banked low across the bow, squawking as it turned. "Fuck you, too," she muttered before taking another slug of rum.
Shauna squeezed her temples. Her head had begun throbbing in time with the pounding of her heart and seemed to be concentrated behind her eyes. A sudden compulsion to do something, hit something or someone, overcame her. With a vicious snarl she kicked out at the cabin roof, feeling a twinge of glee as she imagined her foot connecting with Robert's smug face. But she'd failed to notice the puddle of water under her feet, made worse by the rum she'd been absently spilling each time she'd taken a drink. Her long sable hair flew wildly when she flipped backwards over the railing. She screamed until her head struck something solid.
Salt water stung her eyes; filled her lungs. She was sinking, both literally and figuratively, into a deep abyss. Still she fought, flailing her arms and kicking her legs until the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins finally ran dry. She closed her eyes and with a strange calm accepted the cold death that awaited her.
#
Shauna was awake despite her desire to remain within the blissful confines of sleep. Her entire body felt weak, deflated, like she'd pushed too hard during one of her cardio sessions. She groaned and bit her lower lip, stretched and flexed her legs and feet, her arms and hands.
Oh, God.
What the hell happened to me?
She was stuck smack dab in the middle of the mother of all hangovers; at least that's how she felt. Her head was banging like a base drum and her mouth felt like the Sahara. Try as she might, she couldn't recall having ever felt so terrible.
"Damn," she groaned, "must've really tied one on."
She remembered going out on the yacht with Robert and his piece-of-shit friends. They'd argued and she'd stormed off with a bottle of rum while those two skanks sucked his cock. After that . . . nothing.
Shauna scoured her memories for a hint of what had transpired after the argument until she absently curled her fingers. "Ow, shit!" She rubbed each fingernail against the pads of her thumbs. "What the fuck?" She'd broken at least two nails on each hand.
In a blinding instant she realized the back of her body was pressed against a rough, uneven, porous surface. She cringed as a myriad of scenarios ran through her head, each one unpleasant and ending with her not lying atop silk sheets in her big, beautiful, ornately-carved Victorian bed. She inhaled a deep breath and wrinkled her nose at the smell and taste of musty, stale air. It reminded her of an old room that'd been closeted from any hint of a cleansing breeze.
She opened her eyes. Between her lack of night vision and the pounding pain in her head, it took a few moments for them to focus. Wherever she was, it was dark, except for the glowing green light emanating from the ceiling.
What the-?
Shauna shot up to a sitting position and turned just before emptying the liquid contents of her stomach. She coughed and hacked and dry-heaved until she lowered herself back to the hard surface.
Gasping for breath, she tentatively opened her eyes but remained on her back this time. She stared up at the distant ceiling and its randomly-spaced green-glowing spots; in her peripheral vision she saw the walls were similarly bedazzled. She turned her head and cried out as a spear of pain pierced the side of her skull. She touched the affected area, just above her left ear, wincing when her fingers grazed a golf-ball-sized goose egg.
"Jesus Christ," she growled. "What the hell happened-?"
. . . her foot slipping out from under her. One moment she'd been looking at the cabin wall, imagining a small spot of it was Robert's face as she kicked. She'd seen the sky, dark water, the hull of the boat, then nothing. She remembered a bone-chilling cold crawling across her flesh, saltwater flooding her mouth and nose, stinging her eyes . . .
