The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (15 page)

“I don’t need any help.” he snapped throwing his arms up.
“You’d think he would have warned us about the weather. What an asshole.”

“Did you
even
have an idea of where we are going
or did you just start driving the boat?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I knew where we were going
...
I think.” He looked over at me. “Listen, I hardly think this
is entirely my fault. That douche had a fucking map—he should have given it to
us.”

“He did!” I pointed to the map on the floor.

“Can you see it?” he goaded. “I sure as shit can’t.”

We were silent for a good ten minutes before I finally
caved.

“Would it help if I showed you my boobs?” I asked wiping
water from my face.

“Maybe, show me and let’s see.”

Just then, before I can reveal the funbags, the skies
opened up and let out the loudest mother loving crack of thunder I’d ever heard
in my entire life, no lie. It actually vibrated my entire body.

Both of us jumped and my hands went wild searching for
Jameson to get as close to him as I could. The storm bubbled up, rocking the
boat fiercely. With hands still wild and breathing hard, that’s when I found
the camshaft.

Jameson chuckled and pulled me onto his lap. “That’s not
your water bottle, honey.”

The rain, warm and sticky, that was just a steady patter
before, increased and began pouring what looked like golf ball sized raindrops
onto us and if the darkness wasn’t enough to blind you—the water coming down
was. It was if someone opened a faucet on us.

As the storm surged, it was like a scene out of that
movie
The Notebook
. The only difference being we weren’t in North
Carolina and we weren’t famous actors
...
okay
well now that I think about it, this situation had little resemblance to that
scene at all—maybe just the rain being portrayed.

I took a moment to look over this whole scenario. I was
horny.

When I went back to the doctor for my six-week check-up,
he insisted we wait another three weeks for actual penetration. It sucked and I
was extremely tired of reciprocating motions.

“We shouldn’t make so much noise out here. Remember Dayton
Peak? We’ll attract Moby Dick or something.”

I think he was glaring but I couldn’t be sure with all
the fucking rain.

“Moby Dick isn’t real.” He told me, his lips capturing
mine again, his tongue swept across my lower lip, tasting me. The water was making
our lips incredibly slippery and other things. I had the bright idea of wearing
a dress, which was now on the floor of the boat because there was no point in
having any clothes on with all the rain.

“Moby Dick is too real.” I insisted, still kissing him.
“He’s a whale.”

Jameson pulled back. “Sway, Moby Dick is a mythical
creature as in fictional.”

“No he’s not, he’s a sperm whale. They
do
exist.”

“Still, the name Moby Dick and the story, is fictional.”

“Are you trying to shit on my fairytales?”

“Moby Dick is hardly a fairytale.”

“Jameson?”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking about Moby Dick and show me your di—”

His lips cut me off as we drifted in the open South
Atlantic Ocean. It was one of those moments where nothing else mattered; nothing
between us but the moist air. The sky rumbled and growled above us as our
passion for one another was the only thing we cared about.

With the high waves, a considerable amount of water was
flooding the boat and the taste of salt was prominent to me.

“It tastes like salt.” I finally said.

“I didn’t come yet.”

“I meant the water, jerk.” I clarified grinding my hips
against him. “Why do you say that? It’s not salty?”

“Just a joke between my brother and me. It’s funny.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sitting on his lap, I knew what I wanted and he was gonna
give it up even if I had to rape him.

“Oh,” he chuckled and attacked my neck again with nips
and bites. “OW FUCK!” he screamed clutching his leg, I think. I couldn’t see a
goddamn thing out there to know if he was really clutching his leg. The wind
whipped around us, crashing the boat against the waves.

“Fuckkkk!” Jameson moaned. “What the
fuck
happened? It hurts! It burns!”

“What do you mean? What happened?” Frantically scrambling
from his lap, I reached for his leg.

“Did you bite me?” he yelled over the sound of the waves
and wind. “I’m bleeding
...
fuck it hurts
with the salt water!”

“No, how could I have bit you when my mouth was against
yours?”

“Well I don’t know
...
something
bit me.”

In that exact moment, while arguing about biting, I felt
something wet and slimy against my foot and practically jumped on Jameson’s
shoulder because holy shit balls there was a goddamn shark in the boat with us.

It was either that, or that was one hefty salmon.

“OH MY GOD
...
SHARK!”
I shrieked in a voice that sounded similar to Michael Jackson in Thriller.

Jameson went all Steve Irwin of the shark community and
kicked it. Yep, kicked it.

As if kicking it was really going to do anything to a
fucking shark.

“Are you kidding me?” I punched his shoulder.

I’m not really sure what possessed me to do it but I
picked the shark up and tossed it over the edge. And when I say there was a
shark on the boat
...
it was a tiny shark,
like something you’d have as a pet but still, it was a shark and teeth that
could quite possibly kill you.

Regardless of the size and teeth, the Mama Wizard shined
and saved the night.

I turned to Jameson who was clutching his calf.

“Wife ten—husband two,” I swept my wet hair out of my
face dramatically as though I’d just run across country. “I need a drink.”

“How the fuck did you get ten?”

“Because I didn’t scream like a little bitch,” I told him
with poise. “I took care of the problem.”

“Okay first off, you
did
scream and climbed on my shoulders.
Second, the goddamn thing bit me. I could have died!”

“You’re overreacting.” I slumped against the floor beside
him, exhausted by my endeavors.

“No
...
I’m really
not overreacting.” Jameson turned wiping water from his face. “Have you ever
been bit by a shark? Or stabbed with a goddamn fork?”

“Well no
...
but
that’s hardly a shark bite. It’s more like a scratch.”

He pushed his leg in my face. “That’s a scratch?”

Now that I was closer, it was obviously not just a
scratch. 

“Holy fuck! You need stitches.” I told him acerbically.
He actually might, but I decided to keep with the sarcasm because this
honeymoon was turning out to be a shitstorm.

Just when I was thinking we might possibly die out here
and how I would decorate my
Wilson
, we crashed against something hard
and then scrapped along it.

The boat jolted forward and then slammed to a stop
throwing us against the seats.

“What if it’s Moby Dick? Or another shark?” I asked shyly
covering the funbags that were still playing in the rain.

“It’s not
...
Moby
Dick. And let me tell you something,” he glared. “if it’s a shark, I’m feeding
you to him.” He moved me off him and peeked over the side of the boat. “It’s
shore!”

The relief I felt was hard to describe. I wondered if
that was how the pilgrims felt when they made it to North America. I resisted
the urge to say “Land-ho!” If that’s what they said.

I should have paid better attention in history class and
then maybe I’d know the correct terms.

“Really?” I peeked over the edge as well to make sure he
wasn’t joking. I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up. I was already picturing this
turning into the movie
Cast Away
and having to make my water bottle my
own personal
Wilson
.

“Yes really.” Jameson said. “Get your ass out. I’m done
with this fucking rain and this boat.”

I slapped his wet shoulder. The sound echoed throughout
the boat.

Walking forward, his jeans clung to him but I was more
distracted with the fact that he had no shirt on and the water gliding off his
chest was creating a waterfall effect over his abdominal muscles.

With the breaks in the clouds, the moonlight reflected
off the white sand glowing against his skin.

“Stop gawking at me and get out of the boat.” He clipped
smacking my wet ass as he helped me out. “With our luck, this thing will carry us
to China.”

I stopped, my feet sinking into the warm wet sand.

“Where the hell were you in history class? China is on
the other side of the world.”

It’s not like you’re any better dumb-shit. You
couldn’t figure out what they said when they discovered land.

“No it’s not
...
”
without looking back at me he kept walking toward the trees. “It’s that way.”
He pointed at the ocean behind us.

“No
...
it’s not.
That’s Africa.”

Jameson stopped suddenly and spun around to face me, his breath
tickling my damp neck. He leaned forward, his lips gliding across my jaw.

“Stop arguing with me, wife.” His hands moved to pick me
up bridal style. “I’m soaking wet, I’m
extremely
horny, and the last
thing I want to be doing right now is arguing about Moby Dick or where the fuck
China is at or talk about what
is
or
isn’t
a fucking scratch. I
want to have sex with my wife.
Right now
.”

I giggled the entire way to the bungalow he rented.

The secluded house was situated in amongst the trees, set
back away from the ocean by about a hundred yards or so. It was beautiful,
dark, but beautiful. I assumed with the hurricane the wind had knocked out any
power this place might have had and did I mention it was still raining and
still blowing like a motherfucker outside.

Once we made our way through the dark vegetation and up
the few stairs that led to the front door, I heard Jameson groan. “Damn it.
It’s locked.”

“Huh?”

“It’s locked, the door
...
it’s
locked.”

“Seriously?”

“Do you really think I’d be lying at a time like this?”
he challenged.

“Now wha—” Before I could even finish my sentence Jameson
kicked in the door, the sound deafening as hefty wood splintered crashing to
the ground.

Jameson stood beside me all hulking looking, staring at
the door. He probably couldn’t believe he’d gotten it down.

“Was that really necessary?” my eyes focused on him and
not his insanely hot body. “I’m sure we could have called someone.”

“Apparently it was. Did you see any other boats out there
in the ocean?” He asked with a sly grin. “It’s the only way onto this island.”
He then winked and lunged for me.

My head tipped back, giving his lips access to my neck
and when he gently bit, I whore-moaned louder than I think I ever had. “Jesus
Christ!”

“Not quite.” He pulled my earlobe between his teeth. “But
I’m pretty damn good.”

Restart – Jameson

Every time I thought about this night, with my wife, I
had pictured spending hours exploring her skin with my tongue, kissing every
inch of her and teasing her into a frenzy before we finally came together and
made love at a reverent pace until the sun started to rise. That’s how a
honeymoon was supposed to be like, right?

It wasn’t going down that way.

At least not this first time or after everything we’d
been through in the last day. The need I felt was too great, all encompassing,
and it appeared that my wife was in the same frame of mind.

The frantic desire had to be sated. Neither of us was in
enough control of our want for the other to take our time.

Between the airplane and the boat teasing, it only
amplified our need.

Not that I wasn’t still upset about being bit by a
fucking great white, but still, I was horny and that took precedence over
everything.

Sway ended up on top when we hit the floor once inside
the house and immediately snaked one hand behind my neck to pull my face to
hers. The other reached down to stroke my camshaft with the heel of her palm.

The beginnings of the erection I had moments ago turned
rock hard under her touch. I wasn’t going to be able to wait, not even for a
moment.

I curled my forearm around her waist and with a quick
flick flipped her onto her back. My left hand reached for a handful of her hair
as my right slid the length of her body over her torso, between her breasts,
down her flat stomach to between her legs.

She gasped when my hand slipped over her crankcase. I
moaned again and settled my legs between hers, my right hand reached for her
left knee to draw it up my hip.

I drew back for just a moment, long enough to catch her
heated gaze with mine, her emerald green eyes looking up at me.

There was no more Moby Dick talk, no more China talk,
just grunts, moaning and my leg bleeding.

The emerald in her eyes seemed to have deepened somehow
with her need, turning them almost black. There was no mistaking the urgency.
She wanted this hard and fast too. There would be plenty of time for tenderness
later.

“I love you.” I told her, my voice husky.

She moaned against me wiggling her hips. With that
assurance, I pushed inside her with one continuous stroke, pausing only when
our hips were pressed together and there was literally no further I could go. I
hesitated there for just a moment, feeling her heat around me, enveloping me,
welcoming me just as she had before. It was the same but different, somehow
more intense, as though the waiting had made it better.

Or maybe it was the loss of blood from my shark bite that
was causing me to hallucinate.