Chapter 132
Madison
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a marina. Boats of various sizes bobbed gently in the water, their lights reflecting off the dark surface.
“A boat?” I asked, following him down the dock.
“Not just any boat.” Alexander gestured ahead to a sleek yacht that looked like something out of a luxury magazine. It wasn’t as massive as the one from the fundraiser event, but it was still impressive – gleaming white with elegant lines and soft lights illuminating the deck.
“Whose is it?” I asked, accepting his hand as I stepped aboard.
“Mine.” He said it casually, as if owning a yacht was as common as owning a bicycle.
“Of course it is,” I muttered. “You probably have a submarine, too, just for weekend excursions.”
Alexander’s laugh was rich and genuine as he guided me onto the yacht. “Not yet, but that’s not a
bad idea. I’ll have to look into that.”
The deck was polished teak, gleaming under the soft lighting. Everything about the vessel screamed money–from the plush seating area to the state–of–the–art navigation system. I tried not to look impressed, but I failed miserably.
“She’s called The Siren,” Alexander said, his hand still at the small of my back. “Seemed fitting.” 1
“Because she lures men to their doom?” I quipped.
“Because she’s irresistible.” His eyes met mine, and the double meaning wasn’t lost on me.
He led me through the yacht, pointing out features with the casual confidence of someone who’d grown up surrounded by luxury. The main cabin was spacious and elegant, with cream–colored leather seating and mahogany accents.
“Bar’s fully stocked,” he said, gesturing to a sleek built–in cabinet. “Bedroom’s below deck.”
“Of course, you’d point that out first,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I’m just being thorough with the tour.” His innocent expression didn’t fool me for a second.
“Right. Just like you’re thorough with everything else,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Before Alexander could respond with what I was sure would be something infuriatingly sexy, footsteps sounded on the deck. A man in a crisp white uniform appeared at the cabin entrance.
“Good evening, Mr. Knight.” He nodded respectfully. “We’re ready to depart whenever you give the
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word.”
“Thank you, Captain. Let’s head out now,” Alexander said.
The Captain disappeared, and moments later, I felt the gentle rumble of engines coming to life beneath my feet. The yacht began to move, gliding smoothly away from the dock.
“You have a captain on standby at Eleven at night?” I asked.
Alexander shrugged. “I pay him well to be available when I need him.”
“Of course you do,” I said, shaking my head. “Is there anything that money can’t buy?”
His eyes darkened as they locked with mine. “A few things. But I’m working on it.”
The intensity of his gaze made my skin tingle. I looked away first, pretending to examine a piece of artwork on the wall.
“Come,” he said, taking my hand. “The best view is from the upper deck.”
He led me up a curved staircase to the top of the yacht. The night air was cool against my skin as we emerged onto the open deck. The Manhattan skyline spread before us, a glittering tapestry of lights against the dark sky.
“Wow,” I breathed, momentarily forgetting to maintain my unimpressed facade. “It’s beautiful.”
Alexander stood behind me, his chest against my back, arms encircling my waist. “It is,” he agreed, but when I glanced up, he wasn’t looking at the skyline. He was looking at me.
I tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “So, are you going to tell me why you were so bored tonight that you had to drag me out of my apartment? Most people just watch N*****x or something.”
“N*****x doesn’t have what I’m looking for tonight.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.” His hands slid to the belt of my coat. “I want to see you wearing only this city skyline and moonlight.”
My breath caught. “There’s a captain on board,” I reminded him.
“He knows to stay in the wheelhouse unless called.” Alexander’s fingers worked at the knot of my belt. “We’re completely alone up here.”
The coat fell open under his skillet hands, revealing the red dress beneath. His sharp intake of breath was gratifying.
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“Fuck, Madison,” he growled, his hands sliding over the silky fabric. “You’re going to kill me in this dress.”
“That wasn’t part of our arrangement,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as his fingers traced the plunging neckline.
“So why are you so bored tonight?” I asked, attempting to distract myself from his wandering hands. “You could be sleeping. We have that early meeting tomorrow.”
“I’d rather sleep with you than alone,” he murmured against my neck. “And I don’t mean just sleeping.”
His teeth grazed my pulse point, and I couldn’t hold back a small gasp.
“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. About how your pussy felt around my cock. About how your tits fit perfectly in my hands.”
His crude words sent heat rushing between my legs.
Alexander moved away briefly, and I heard the pop of a cork. He returned with two glasses of champagne, handing one to me. The bubbles sparkled in the moonlight.
“To new arrangements,” he said, clinking his glass against mine. 1
I sipped, the crisp, expensive champagne dancing on my tongue. “This is better than the cheap wine I was planning to drink while researching.”
“Everything I offer is better than the alternatives, Madison.” His free hand slid up my thigh, finding the slit in my dress. “Isn’t it?”
His fingers traced lazy circles on my bare skin, inching higher with each pass. My breath quickened as he approached the edge of the barely–there thong.
“Is this what you had in mind when you said you were bored?” I asked, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
“This is just the beginning of what I had in mind.” He set down his glass and took mine, placing it on a nearby table. “Turn around. I want to see all of you.”
I turned to face him, the lights of Manhattan creating a glittering backdrop behind me. Alexander’s eyes were dark with desire as they raked over me, from my red lips down to the high heels I’d slipped on before leaving.
“Take off the coat,” he commanded softly.
I hesitated only a moment before letting it slide from my shoulders onto the deck. The night air kissed my exposed skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and back.
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.
