Surviving Raine

“You want me to…drink…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Sit back,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. For once, she did what I said and dropped from her knees down to her ass. It made her chest bounce a little, which made me smile a little.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I answered, shaking my head to clear it. I was a sick fucker; I knew that. I was probably the only man in existence who could get horny from pretty much any physical activity. Fishing was no exception.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just close your eyes and open your mouth.” I couldn’t help but smile more and raise my eyebrows at her. “When I tell you to suck, suck.”

“Oh, very funny,” she snapped back at me. “I’m not going to…”

“Don’t think,” I interrupted, tilting her head back a little with my finger under her chin. “Don’t taste. Just drink it down as fast as you can.”

“Why me?” she asked. “Why don’t you drink it?”

“You need it more than I do.”

I don’t know how she managed to do it, really, but she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and I cut through the spinal column and held it up to her lips.

“Suck hard,” I said, trying not to picture myself putting something else in her mouth. She did, grimacing at first, and I thought she might not finish it. “Don’t stop!”

She listened and gulped it all down quickly. It would help her a lot with the digestion of the fish’s flesh.

“That was really, really disgusting.”

“Beats death,” I shrugged. “I thought you looked kind of hot doing that.”

“You are sick.” Raine’s face turned into a grimace, and she looked around the raft nervously.

I shrugged again since I didn’t have any argument against that.

“Ready to eat?”

“How are you going to cook it?”

“Seriously, Raine?” I stifled the laugh. “Princesses like you know all about sushi. I should be charging you at least ten bucks for every piece.”

“Raw?” She cringed and made her face scrunch up.

“All you have to do is imagine the rice and wasabi,” I smiled, trying to put her at ease a little. I cut off a piece and downed it myself, trying not to chew it too much because it really wasn’t particularly tasty. I cut another one and held it out to her.

Raine looked at the piece of raw fishy-flesh between my fingers then back to me. She did that a couple of times before she finally took it and shoved it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly.

“That’s awful,” she said.

“I know,” I replied. I smiled at the face she was making and tried not to laugh out loud. “But it’s a shitload better than nothing.”

“If that’s what sushi tastes like, I’m glad I never had it.”

“You never had sushi?” I marveled. “I thought all you high society bitches were weaned on that shit.”

“Why do you think I’m rich?” she asked.

“Because you were a passenger on my ship, and it costs a fucking fortune to travel like that,” I answered. “You have to be.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said. “I told you, my father was a cop. He didn’t make a lot of money.”

Well, yeah, I did remember that. I kind of figured mom must have been a doctor or an executive or something.

“How’d you get on my ship?”

“I used the settlement money from the state,” she answered. “I never wanted it, but I got it anyway. Lindsay convinced me to use most of it for the cruise.”

“You should have booked a chalet in Aspen or something.”

“I think you are probably right.”

“But hey, if you had done that,” I said, holding my arms out wide and smiling, “you wouldn’t have met me and had the time of your life with the biggest asshole in the Caribbean detoxifying right in front of you!”

At least I made her laugh.

“You are an ass,” she agreed.

“I know,” I said, still smiling. I held up a chunk of fish meat. “At least I’m a useful ass.”

“Why are you so…cheerful all of a sudden?” she asked.

I tore another chunk of muscle with my teeth and ate it, looking at her and debating.

“I always feel this way after a fight,” I finally said. “Leftover adrenaline or something.”

“Is that when you started drinking? To get rid of the extra energy or whatever?”

“No,” I said shaking my head and scowling. “I might have a beer or something, but I never really drank after a fight.”

“When did you start to drink more?”

I looked over to her and knew this was exactly what she was waiting for, and she wasn’t going to let me out of it until I gave her some answers or fucking gagged her. I did want to gag her, but not quite in that way. I know – I’m fucking depraved.

“I didn’t start really drinking until after my last fight.”

“Did you lose?”

“I never lost,” I snorted. Losers didn’t walk away from a fight.

“Tell me about it,” she insisted.

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