“And when you get old?” I ask, lying down next to him. “You won’t be able to sail professionally anymore. You’ll be too slow.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replies sadly. A few seconds pass and then he turns his head my way. “My dad wants me to work at his company when I retire from sailing. He owns Richmond Holdings. They’re one of the largest architectural firms in the world.”
Yes, I know, but I don’t tell him that. I think everyone knows who his father is. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to do that?”
“Because I don’t,” he answers, his voice low.
“And why not?”
He exhales and rolls on top of me, his hand gentle as he brushes the hair away from my face. “My whole life I’ve had people tell me what to do. For once, I want to choose my own future.”
“Then tell me what your future looks like?”
Slowly, he leans down and kisses me. “It’s a lot simpler than my life now. When I’m done sailing, I want to teach kids how to do it. Being on the ocean has been my escape. It’s the best feeling in the world.”
“Then do it,” I murmur. “Choose your own path.”
His smile makes everything inside of me tighten. “I think I will. But what about you? It’s your time to choose what you want tonight.”
“What are my choices?”
He presses his cock into me. “You can either stay tonight and I give you as many orgasms as you can handle, or I take you back to the marina.”
“As many orgasms as I can handle? Think you can do that?” I ask, grinning mischievously.
“Don’t know, but I’m more than happy to try.”
4
Max
Before most of Rhode Island woke for the day, I had London back to Dawson’s Marina completely sated and unable to walk normally from all the orgasms I gave her. I have never broken a promise and I wasn’t about to start with this one. It was as I walked back to my boat that I noticed the for-sale sign, hiding somewhat behind the scrubs. There was no way the marina was for sale.
I don’t know how long I stand and look at the sign. I have the number to call memorized and I’ve found the listing on some local realtor app. Honestly, I’ve never looked at the price of a marina before but am surprised I could afford this place. I finally decide to look around. There’s a booth that people pass by, where they pay for parking and whatnot. The parking lot has to be resurfaced, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a defunct restaurant with patio seating that looks over the water.
Instead of heading back to my boat to make a phone call, I see a path leading through the trees and decide to see where it will take me. After getting smacked in the face by a few errant branches, I finally land on a nice sandy beach.
“What the fuck?” I mutter. I look around and notice that overgrown trees are preventing people from using this space. Maybe that was intentional, but it seems like a nice marketing tool, especially to entice families to come visit.
I give this place one last look before I pull my cell phone out and dial the number on the for-sale sign. The line rings three times before voicemail picks up. “Hello, my name is Max and I’m calling about the for-sale sign at Dawson’s marina. If you could call me back,” I finish by leaving my number and making sure I’ve saved this contact.
As soon as I’m on the dock, I drop down to my knees to look at the structure. It looks sound and would be one less expense for me to tackle right off. There’s more pep in my step when I get back to my boat. I want to tell London about my idea, and I go to call her, only to realize I don’t have her number, which is how I ended up in her dressing room yesterday. I wasn’t exactly honest with her about happening to see her in the window, and I had been following her, but it was only after I saw her and her friend pulling into the parking spot that I decided I needed to see London again. It took, what felt like forever, for her to finally find something to try on. As soon as I was in that small room with her, I wanted her. Hell, just thinking about her now gives me a stiffy.
It took me three years to ask London out and when I finally had the courage, and she said yes, I never thought we’d end up between the sheets. Although, it was exactly where I wanted to be with her. She’s sex on a stick, wrapped in a nice little package, and gives me hard-on like no other. The problem I’m facing is that my parents are coming to town, both sets. One will accept London for who she is and the fact that she’s putting a smile on my face. The other set will put her down, call her things no one should ever be called, tell me to get her out of my system, and take my boat to Newport where Alyssa is waiting.
Every part of me wants to tell my dad and his trophy wife to stuff it. He was never this type of person when he was married to my mom. I’m not sure my mom would even allow that kind of behavior. Worse, if I hadn’t lived with my mom growing up, I probably would be like Yates and Vance. That thought makes me shudder.
I sail back to the Wesleyan Yacht Club, thinking about the things London said to me the night before. She had been married, right out of high school and her ex took
