Jill
“Land!” A girl squeals while excited chatter moves from person to
person, and everyone gathers on deck. My heart rate kicks up a notch. Land. I’m
desperate to get off this ship as fast as my chubby legs will carry me, but I’m
loath to emerge from my hiding spot before I absolutely have to. You see, my
friend and I got it in our heads that it’d be fun to do a singles’ cruise.
Well, she thought it would be fun, and I reluctantly agreed to come
along. The cruise company boasted that they could run all your questionnaire
answers through their computers and come up with a ‘perfect match’—*not
guaranteed—for you to spend two ‘blissful’ weeks cruising the French
Riviera with. My match was a weaselly little fellow who snorts while he talks
and drools whenever he looks at my cleavage, which is all the time. I
can’t stand it. He makes my skin crawl and my stomach sour. This is the worst
blind date I’ve ever been on because I’m trapped on a ship in the middle of the
ocean with him.
“Attention, passengers.” A voice over the PA system
addresses us collectively. “The ship will be docking in approximately twenty
minutes. Please ensure you have your luggage and any valuables locked up or on
your person as you will not be able to re-board the ship for the next
forty-eight hours while we restock and refuel.” He goes on to give further
information about accommodation and group tours, but I’ve already decided that
I’m doing this part solo while I make enquires about how to get back home to
Missouri without having to step foot on this boat again. I am so done.
“Passengers will please form an orderly line to the stern of the
ship in preparation to disembark.”
There’s movement everywhere around me while people loudly ask
which way stern is. I stay hidden and grip my luggage tight. This is going to
be a delicate extraction. I’ll have to time my movements perfectly. If I’m too
late, I’ll miss getting off the ship; too early, and I risk running into him.
I shudder at the thought.
I poke my head from the shadows, trying to get an idea of the
weave pattern I’ll need to run in order to assume minimum risk of impact. The
impact being accidentally colliding with the ‘him’ I’m trying to avoid—Craig.
“Two whole days on land. Can you believe it?” A couple approaches,
and I pull my head back into the shade to maintain my cover.
“I can believe it, baby. I can’t wait to get you all to myself.”
The girl giggles as the guy presses her against the wall and does
something in her neck with his mouth that makes her knees shake before she
says, “Not here, Martin.”
“No one’s watching.”
Um. I am! Not that I’m willing to
let them know I’m exactly two feet away from them, hiding between beams and
coated in shadows. It isn’t easy to be a covert 5’11 woman with a booty like
mine. No matter which way I turn, some part of me is sticking out, but since necessity
is the mother of invention—not to mention, I learned a lot from all those Jason
Bourne movies—I’ve figured out how to not look so…obtrusive.
“Martin!” The girl slaps him in the chest, and he chuckles before
taking her hand and leading her away. I’m so busy watching them that I almost
don’t hear my name until it’s too late.
“Hey, guys. Guys! Have you seen Jill?” Fucking Craig.
I suck in my belly and press against the wall. I wish this guy
would just give up already. I don’t want him. Not now. Not ever.
“No, man. Haven’t seen her anywhere,” Martin says. “Did you try
her cabin?”
“She’s not there.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she’s just not into you,
buddy.”
“We’re a match,” Craig snaps, muttering to himself as he moves
along. I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“You’re welcome,” Martin says when Craig’s gone. Is he talking
to me?
“Yes. You. I’m talking to you, Jill.” He is!
My eyes pop, and I poke my head around the corner of my
hidey-hole. Guess I’m not as covert as I thought I was. The girl gasps
and slaps Martin on the chest again. “You said we were alone!”
“Babe, it’s a cruise ship. We’re never alone,” he teases before
turning his attention back to me. “You want me to do something about that guy?”
I shake my head. “I’m handling it.”
“Looks like it.” He nods toward the gap I’m hiding in and laughs.
“I’m heading home from here,” I say, looking between him and the
girl on his arm. I’ve seen them both around the ship plenty, but I haven’t
really spoken to them, or anyone for that matter. I’ve been too busy hiding
from Craig—my ‘perfect’ match. I’m starting to think this ‘love match
algorithm’ is just a hat with names written on pieces of paper. Hardly anyone
hooked up with their actual matches, but most managed to find someone they enjoyed
spending time with. Take my friend, Belinda, for example. She was matched with
Martin in the first place, but they didn’t hit it off, and now she’s standing
in the line to disembark with some guy called Tony. But then, she’s never had
too much trouble finding guys. Me, on the other hand, I have nothing but
trouble.
“That’s a shame,” Martin says, pulling me from my thoughts. “But,
if you change your mind and wanna stay, me and a couple of the guys are happy
to get him to back off.”
“Thanks.” I offer him a smile as I move back into my hole.
Dominic
“What do you mean, there isn’t adequate security?” I bellow into
the phone. “It’s not like my visit was unannounced.” I pause to listen to the
man on the other end of the line. Something about a union strike over penalty
rates and a picket line that can’t be crossed.
“Why wasn’t I briefed on the labor problems here?” I stage-whisper
to my cousin, Stefan, who is a duke, but also acts as my right-hand man within
the family. Normally, I’d have an equerry or an aide of some sort, but since
I’m the fifth son of a strong and healthy king, I rank pretty low in the whole
royal family hierarchy. I’m basically just a face they send around to the
places none of my siblings want to visit to smile, shake hands, and lift
morale. Which, of course, is why I’m here this time. It’d just be nice if
someone gave me a heads up that I was walking into a total shitshow.
“Above my pay grade,” he returns with a shrug as he picks up a
cigarette and clicks his lighter. I point to the external door, and he rolls
his eyes, taking his filthy habit outside.
“What are the workers striking over?” I ask when the man finishes.
He gives me a whole new list, which I jot down and assure him I’ll make some
calls to try to work something out. The economy here is almost entirely reliant
on its farming labor force. If they don’t work, Cassaco’s GDP will take a huge
hit, and the impact will be far reaching. Our kingdom is made up of several
small islands off the coast of the French Riviera. Due to our prime location,
we’re also a wealthy nation, but only as wealthy as our ability to export our
produce. If our workers don’t work, our economy stalls. Why isn’t my father
on top of this? Why did no one warn me?
“Sit tight,” I say when I place the pen on the counter. “I’ll do
what I can and call you back.”
The guy thanks me profusely before we disconnect, and I mutter to
myself about being the prince with the shovel. This isn’t the first time I’ve
been sent to one of our sovereign states under the guise of a ‘state visit’
only to walk into a complete mess. Sometimes I swear that I’m the only member
of the royal family who actually does any work, while also being the one with
the least resources at my disposal. It’s a pile of steaming bullshit.
I flick through my phonebook and make several calls, arguing back
and forth about the importance of maintaining a living wage and government
provided healthcare for these farming families. I get some nonsense about the
Riviera wanting to rent the islands to build more tourist resorts, and it makes
the steam come out of my ears. Where are these people supposed to live if the
land they work becomes a resort for the wealthy?
After hours of arguing, I hit a brick wall. There’s no budging on
this. Then why did they send me? I throw my phone at the back of the
couch and growl before I head outside to where Stefan is holding a party for
one on the back deck.
“Have a drink, cousin,” he says, handing me a glass with about
three fingers of whiskey inside. “You look stressed.”
I take the glass from him and sit down with a sigh. “I just wish
there was some sort of communication with me before I get thrown into these
things. I mean, what are they expecting me to do? Convince the workers that
having their livelihood taken away is a good thing? These are salt of the earth
men and women. They won’t all be suited to working hospitality, waiting hand
and foot on rich-pricks.” I down the whiskey in a gulp and shake my head. “I
fucking hate this shit.”
“Cousin, cousin,” Stefan says, refilling my glass. “You worry too
much, and you work too hard. Who are you trying to please? It can’t be your
father. He barely knows where you are on any given day.”
“Shockingly, I want to help the people.”
“Maybe you should try helping yourself for a change. Look at this
place.” He gestures to the right of where he sits where the backyard turns into
a private beach that leads to crystal clear waters. “For once, I think you
should let one of your brothers clean up the mess and while you have some fun.
And I have just the thing to help you relax.”
“Is there something inside that cigarette I don’t know about?”
He laughs. “No. But I did make a few phone calls of my own. Booze,
food, women. It’s time to have some fun, Dom—maybe get laid. I
think you could use the distraction.”
I scoff. “I don’t want a distraction. I want some fucking
respect.”
Stefan laughs. “You’re the fifth prince of Cassaco, Dom. The
people struggle to remember your name, let alone what you do for them. The
credit for your hard work goes to everyone above you. I see it happen over and
over again. You want a reward for your work? You have to take it for yourself.
And as your best friend as well as closest relative, I’m taking it upon myself
to give it to you.”
“With a party?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve never been a fan of parties.
You know that.”
“Fine.” He lifts his hands in defeat. “No party. But I am
definitely getting you some pussy.”
Jill
“Wait!” I call out as I rush for the gangway before the steward
closes it off. “I need to get off too.”
“Cutting it close,” he says, stepping back as I bustle past him.
“The group is already heading for the hotel.”
“I’m not going with the group,” I say. “Thank you for waiting.”
He nods but looks a little confused as I make my way onto the dock
where the captain of the ship, Stephen, is holding a conversation in French
with a man who’s gesturing at the ship while he speaks. Neither man looks
overly happy, so I do my best not to interrupt.
“Jill,” the captain says, catching my arm on my way past. He
excuses himself as he shifts us a few steps over for some perceived sense of
privacy.
“Hi, Stephen.” I smile.
“I hear you aren’t joining us on the rest of the trip?”
I press my lips together and release a pent up breath. “No. And
I’m sorry if that causes you any trouble, but that guy I was matched with…” I
shake my head. “I don't want to spend another week with him.”
“I'm sorry you’re unhappy. The matchmaking system isn't flawless,
unfortunately. But that shouldn't mean you have to walk away from your friend
and the cruise. There’s still a lot of fun to be had. And not everyone is
matched.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“The good ones are.”
He smiles. “Perhaps. But, I assure you, the crew can make sure Mr.
Craig stays away from you. This isn’t our first matchmaking attempt gone wrong.
You can still spend the next week enjoying yourself. Yes?”
“No,” I say. “I'm sorry. I’m too uncomfortable. I just want to go
home.”
His expression falls. “I see. I'm very sorry to hear that. How
will you get home? There aren't international airports on tiny islands.”
“I'll figure it out. There are boats and buses that can get me
where I need to go. I’ll be fine.”
“Still, you’ll need somewhere to stay. There’s no boat to the
mainland until morning.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small card.
“This place belongs to a friend of mine. He rarely uses it and allows me to
stay when I’m in port. Why don’t you use it instead of me tonight? Get a good
night’s rest before you travel back home.”
“Thank you, Stephen.” I take the card and flip it over, finding a
six-digit code and an address written on it. “Are you sure your friend won’t
mind?”
“Of course not. He probably won’t even be there, but I will call
ahead just in case.”
Dominic
The intercom buzzes, pulling me from my research and instantly
irritating me. Shit. I push away from the counter and walk right over to
it, hitting the button to speak.
“What do you want?”
“Oh!” A woman shrieks and jumps back, giving me a full view of her
on the security camera. Whoa. “I’m sorry. Stephen sent me. He said no
one would be here, and he gave me a code. I didn’t realize…”
“Stefan sent you?” I ask, trying to get a hold of myself as I
realize that this is the ‘pussy’ Stefan was talking about. I had planned to
send her packing. I don’t spend time with hookers, or many women for that
matter, but for once in his life, Stefan chose well. This woman is all curves
and innocence—exactly my type. One look and my cock is already rising to the
occasion. Can I actually go through with this?
“Yes,” she says, answering both my internal and external
questions. She’s leaning close to the monitor again, and all I can see are her
full pink lips. My mind is already conjuring ways for her to use them, and I
almost slide my hand into my pants, seeking relief, before she speaks again and
snaps me out of my love spell. “He gave me this code—which doesn’t seem to
work—and the address. It’s only for tonight. I have to get to the mainland in
the morning.” Annoyance flares in my gut. Am I aggravated that she has
another booking? “But I can leave if it’s a problem. I don’t really do this
kind of thing.”
That has me curious. “How many times have you done this before?”
“Never, really. But circumstances…” She offers a nervous laugh
instead of a complete sentence.
“I see.” Does that mean I’m her first client? Something
about that knowledge makes me feel a hell of a lot better. I hit the button to
let her inside.
She thanks me, then she’s out of my sight, heading through the
security gate as she walks up the path to the entryway. I practically run to
get there in time to open the door, so I can watch the way she moves. There’s
something so seductive about a woman with curves. I love the way her hips sway
from side to side, the jiggle in her breasts each time her foot lands on the
pavement. She’s wearing a frilly dress that’s short enough to show off her
thick thighs and low enough to give my eyes a great view of her tits. Her long
blonde hair is braided and hanging over her left shoulder while she carries a
heavy-looking bag on her right. On her feet are strappy sandals that show off
painted pink toenails. If she hadn’t been purchased for the night by my cousin,
I could see myself falling at the feet of this girl and making her my queen.
But as it is, the only thing I know is real about this girl is my reaction to
her. I need to remember that everything she does is just an act, a fantasy. I
probably shouldn’t even believe the bit about this being her first time on a
call. Perhaps that’s just her act—the sweet and innocent virgin. Most guys
would eat it up. It’s the perfect fantasy.
Which is why my dick is straining against my zipper.
“Hey.” She smiles as she meets my eyes. “I’m Jill.”
“Dominic,” I offer, even though she probably already knows that.
“What instructions did Stefan give you?”
She stops in front of me and runs her fingers down the length of
her braid like she’s nervous. “Um. Not any really. He just said that his friend
owned this place, and I should stay the night instead of him.”
“I see.” My eyes drag from her eyes to her toes, then back again.
She looks like she’s in her early twenties, if that.
“You knew I was coming, right? I can leave if this is weird.”
I step to the side and gesture for her to come in. “That won’t be
necessary.”
She smiles again as she thanks me and comes inside, her eyes
taking in the open living room with views of the ocean as far as the eye can
see. “Wow.”
Wow, indeed. I can’t stop looking at her ass. It’s round and firm,
and I have the desire to lift her skirt and take a bite.
“Would you like something to drink?” I offer.
“Oh, um, yeah. I think that’d be great. Settle the nerves a
little.” She puts her bag on the floor next to the couch, then walks to the
kitchen counter, where I’ve placed two crystal tumblers. “I’m Jill, by the
way.”
“So, you said.” I smile, holding up the bottle of whiskey before
she nods, and I pour.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m nervous—shit—I said that
too, didn’t I?”
I can’t help but smile. This girl is adorable. She plays the part
well. But I can play too. “Don’t be nervous,” I say as I push the glass over to
her. “I don’t bite.” She laughs a little as she lifts the glass to her lips,
making a liar out of me because I want to take that full bottom lip of hers
between my teeth and suck on it. Maybe I do bite. “Unless you want me
to, of course.”
She pauses. Her eyes going wide as she looks at me like she’s
actually seeing me for the first time. Her gaze moves down, spots the rather
large bulge I’m not even attempting to hide before her hand shakes, and the
glass slides from her grip, spilling the contents over the counter. “Oh God,”
she gasps, and I don’t know if she means the spilled whiskey or the size of my
dick.
