Ocean Jewel by Cassie Mint

Eight

Damian

Ithought I could handle this. That I could ease Roxy’s ache, then do the right thing. Put some space between us. After all, this is just a crush—hell, if we weren’t literally at sea, she wouldn’t look twice at me. She’d want someone her own age.

That doesn’t make it any easier. Every morning that she avoids my eye at breakfast, every time I glance over at her on the deck and she looks tired and pale, my resolve crumbles a little more.

It’s the right thing to do.

The right thing to do.

So why does it feel like I’m fucking this up? Like I’m hurting this sweet girl, turning her pale and sad and cold? Like I’ve crushed her hopes.

But that’s bullshit. Maybe she hoped for more of an encounter. More of a fling. Well, as tempting as that sounds—and my body is constantly ready for hers now—my heart couldn’t take it. Maybe it seems weak, but I don’t care.

If I let her, she’d crack me open down the middle.

Play around behind her brother’s back for the thrill. Mess around with an older, more experienced man. Then go back to her life, to the art schools she’s been secretly applying for. To guys her own age.

I wouldn’t survive it.

So this is the right thing to do. I’m protecting her from the worst of me—all the dark and desperate things I want to do to her. And I’m guarding myself too, sparing myself the pain that she doesn’t even realize she’d inflict on me. Roxy has owned my heart and body and soul since she became a woman.

I should never have let it get this far.

It’s the last night of the trip before she speaks to me again. Not by choice, no matter how many times I’ve tried to catch her eye. No—I corner her in the galley kitchen, helping out with the dishes. She’s elbow-deep in suds, scrubbing at dirty plates, and bastard that I am, I take my chance.

“Roxy.”

Her shoulders tense. Standing behind her, I can safely admire the slope of her neck. Her glossy dark hair, scraped back into a high ponytail.

Hair like that gives a man ideas. Thoughts of running his fingers through those tresses; of the strands brushing over his bare stomach; of wrapping that ponytail around his hand and pulling her head back to bare her throat.

“Yes?” she asks carefully. “Did I miss a plate?”

I glance around the kitchen, at the crew member mopping the floor, before leaning in to murmur in her ear.

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“Sure I can.”

My chest tightens. “Please. I just want to talk. So things are okay between us back on land. You’re…” I swallow. “You’re very important to me, Roxy.” Understatement of the century. “I need you in my life.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, scrubbing so hard at the plates that flecks of dish soap fly through the air.

“Is that right?” Scrub, scrub, scrub. “Because it didn’t seem like that the other night. It seemed,” she slams the clean plate on the drying rack and reaches for a knife. I reach around and pass her a bowl quickly. “It seemed like you got what you wanted and left.”

“You think I used you,” I say flatly.

“And you think I’m a child.” She slams the bowl onto the rack and spins around. We’re close, chest to chest, and her eyes flash up at me. She smacks my shirt, leaving a damp hand print. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can make my own decisions. And I know when someone’s being a jerk.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I’m doing. What my plan was, coming here. All I know is that hurt is swirling in those gorgeous eyes, and I’m the one who put it there. I cradle her face, rubbing my thumb over her cheekbone, and Roxy lets out a ragged sigh. Her eyes drift shut.

Remembering too late, I glance over my shoulder. The crew member is gone, the mop abandoned on the floor.

“Roxy,” I growl, my heart lunging against my rib cage. “Do you think I don’t want you?”

She bites her lip, not answering.

That’s answer enough.

I lunge down, capturing her mouth with mine. Fuck doing the right thing. Fuck protecting my heart. My sweet girl is hurting, and I could no more deny her right now than I could cut off my own arm. I kiss her with every ounce of the longing I’ve felt. With all the pent-up frustration I’ve been carrying around over the last six months.

Every time I came over to their apartment to see Jake, and Roxy strutted past in tiny pajama shorts.

Every time she hugged me, her soft body pressing against mine.

Every time she laughed her throaty laugh.

And those sketches. Those fucking sketches.

I show Roxy what it’s like to kiss a man. One who knows her, body and soul, and is about to make her weep from pleasure. And she moans into my mouth, kissing me back just as fiercely, her body bowing towards me and rubbing against my swollen cock.

“We should go to my cabin,” she gasps between kisses. “Someone will see.”

“I don’t care.” I grab her ass and set her down on the counter. She’s in the same leggings as last time—just another way she’s been torturing me—and her ankles lock behind my waist automatically. We’re not touching, not yet, but I can feel the damp heat of her pussy, scorching me even from here.

“Roxy.” I take her by the chin. “This isn’t a fling. Do you understand?” I rock against her as I talk, dragging the hard length of my cock, encased in jeans, up and down her core. “If you let me inside this pussy, you’re mine. There’s no going back. I don’t care what Jake or any other fucker says. You’re mine.”

It’s too much. I’m letting the mask slip too far, showing just how primal my feelings are for her. But Roxy nods up at me, glassy eyed, and catches my wrist in her hand. She drags my thumb to her lips.

“I understand.” She sucks me inside.

God.The searing heat of her mouth, her swirling tongue, those wide eyes fixed on mine as her cheeks hollow—I groan, thrusting my hips harder against her. In an ideal world, I’d have planned this moment. Planned the kind of first time she deserves. But she’s nipping against the pad of my thumb, thrusting her hips against me in turn, and it’s too fucking late.

I need in there now.

“Sweetheart,” I rasp, yanking at her leggings with my free hand. “Fuck. Get those down.” She lifts her hips, wriggling those leggings to her knees, then hitches her legs up and tugs her panties to the side. I pause, chest heaving as I stare at her pussy. Pink and swollen and slick.

Am I really going to do this to her? Take her like an animal on this counter, out in the kitchen where anyone could see?

“Stop it.” She tugs at my shirt. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. I want this.”

I stare hypnotized at her slit. “But—”

“No buts.” She tugs my pants open, drawing out my cock in her palm. She squeezes once, drawing her fist along my length. I hiss, bucking into her hand, and she fixes me with a look. “Or do you want me to beg?”

Yes, god, yes, I want that, but not this time. This time, if she pleads for my cock, I’ll blow where I stand. I crowd closer, lining up with her entrance, then hold her gaze as I ease the first inch inside.

Her wince breaks my heart. Smashes it into a thousand pieces, leaving only jagged edges and dust in my chest.

“Does it hurt?” I rasp, pulling back. She locks her ankles and tugs me closer, impaling herself another inch.

“Yes,” she breathes, rolling her hips slightly. She wets her bottom lip. “But it’s a good kind of hurt.”

And fuck, we don’t have time to unpack all that, but there will be time—weeks, months, years. A lifetime of this beautiful girl and this perfect pussy, and I let out another groan as I sink deeper inside. She’s tight and hot, as wet as her mouth, and that eases the way. Lets me push closer, closer. And though Roxy clings to me, arms shaking, her head tipped back, I can feel her pussy twitching. Can feel it clamp down on me, sucking me further inside.

“You like this cock?” I nip her ear. She nods, whimpering.

“Uh-huh. I want it so bad.”

“You’re getting it.” I slam the rest of the way home, cursing under my breath at the perfect clasp of her. Her legs are twitching on either side of my waist, and I run soothing palms up and down her thighs. “There, sweet girl. I’m all the way in.”

“It’s so big.” She buries her face against my throat. “I can feel you everywhere.”

She can’t say that shit to me. Not without sawing through the last of my control. I snarl, snapping my hips forward, jerking her back against the counter and sending a container of wooden spoons clattering over. I grip her ass cheeks in both hands, grip bruising, dragging her closer to the edge, and roll into her. Over and over, tortuously slow, until we’re both gasping for the same air.

She’s everything. Every part as good as I’d dreamed.

She’s oblivion.

And she’s mine. Mine. Mine.

“You feel that?” I tilt my hips, dragging my length over her g-spot. Roxy cries out, twitching in my arms. “That’s the only cock you’re ever going to need. It’s all fucking yours, baby.”

She’s whispering something under her breath, and it sounds a lot like ohmygodohmygodohmygod. I reach between us and rub her clit, pinching and rolling it between my fingers, and she squeaks.

Fuck. I need to hear that sound again. I need to hear it every day for the rest of my life. I need it for my goddamn text alert. I lick a stripe up her neck, dragging my teeth over her pulse point, and I feel the exact moment that she comes.

Her breath hitches. Her muscles go rigid. And her pussy clamps down so hard on my cock, I see stars. I keep thrusting into her, rubbing her clit and working her through it, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of her. I grit my teeth, concentrating harder than I ever have in my goddamn life. And only when Roxy slumps in my arms, her strings cut, do I bury myself to hilt and finally let go.

“Fuck. Sweetheart.” I drop my forehead onto her shoulder and empty inside her, filling her to the brim. She gasps at the sudden wet warmth, urging me closer with her heels. Dirty girl.

“Damian.” Her voice is quiet. Dazed but something else. I look up.

She’s… unsure. Her fingertips trail along my jaw, and she swallows hard before she finally meets my eyes. Whatever she sees there, burning in my gaze, chases those final fears away.

A smile breaks over her face, cheeks dimpling, and I chuckle as she leans forward and nips my bottom lip. I wrap her tight in my arms, cradling her to my chest, still hard and pulsing inside her.

“What the fuck is this?”

We freeze. Roxy lets out a sound—a soft, horrified cry—and I pivot us slightly. Shielding her from view.

“Give us a moment.” My tone brooks no argument. I’m not asking Jake; I’m telling him. The pain and fury was clear in his voice, but I won’t have Roxy shamed or made to feel small.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Out!” I roar, turning and pinning him with my glare. Jake flinches in the kitchen doorway, his face already pinched with rage, and starts forward.

“Jake.” Her voice is so small, muffled by my shirt. My heart twists. “Please. Don’t.”

He stops. Sucks in a long, shuddering breath, staring at the two of us like he doesn’t even know us.

Then my best friend turns on his heel and storms out of the kitchen.