“Jesus, you feel like you’ve got bigger,” the man on the receiving end said.

Blondie laughed. “You just haven’t been fucked enough lately.

You need to get out on the boat more often with me.” He leaned in close and pressed his still-clothed torso against the other man’s back.

“I take your cock without a second thought. I sure as hell don’t complain. Don’t tell me you’re whining?”

The other man bucked his hips backward to impale himself even more deeply. “I can take anything you dish out, buddy. Bring it on.”

Blondie grinned. “I hoped you’d say that.”

Clarisse realized that she stood out in the open. As much as she wouldn’t mind watching the two handsome hunks go at it, she realized that might not be a good idea.

She turned and started toward the front bow cabin. She spotted, in its usual place, the familiar blue plastic envelope where the boat registration and documentation papers were kept. Clarisse grabbed it, raced to the front cabin, and softly closed the door behind her.

Unfortunately, one thing hadn’t changed—the latch on the cabin door still didn’t work. It would stay closed, but she couldn’t lock it. She jammed her suitcase into the space between the bunk and the bottom of the door. Wedged against the base of the bunk, it would slow someone down for a few minutes, at least. Not that the thin cabin door would hold if one of those buff guys wanted to kick it in.

She risked turning on the small reading light. With trembling hands, she opened the envelope.

State commercial fishing licenses and permits, vessel registration and documentation papers, captain’s license paperwork, and other official permits and documents.

The Dilly’s new owner: Sullivan Nicoletto, forty-two. The captain: Brant MacCaffrey, thirty-eight. PO Box address in Tarpon Springs.

She wondered who was who. Well, one of them had to be MacCaffrey, because the captain’s and commercial fishing licenses had been issued in his name.

With the situation fully striking home, Clarisse closed her eyes and fought another round of tears. It’d been a long shot, sure, but when she’d seen the Dilly in her slip, Clarisse thought her luck had changed for the better.

Where is Uncle Tad?

Even over the deep throb of the twin diesels below decks, Clarisse heard one of the men shout something. She shoved the paperwork into the envelope and shut off the light.

Hopefully they won’t be interested in me. A nervous giggle escaped her. That absolutely had to be stress. Not a damn thing funny about this situation.

Maybe exhaustion had finally gotten the better of her. She’d been physically and emotionally beat to hell and back. No catch in the looks or sex department himself, Bryan had accused her of infidelity enough times she’d been tempted to go out and actually do it for real, if she could even find someone interested in a “big girl” like herself.

Standing there watching those two guys…

Yum.

Clarisse curled up on the bunk. The cabin felt warmer than it had earlier. They must have turned on the heater.

Why were they out on deck?

Not as cold as Columbus, but still chilly enough out there. Why not take advantage of the warmer below-decks area?

Hopefully they wouldn’t discover her. The master cabin had a much larger bunk where two big, hunky guys could easily…

Cripes.

She shook her head to clear it. She hoped she’d be safe in the tiny bow cabin. Except now, she had a problem.

She had to pee.

Holding her breath, she moved the suitcase and carefully peeked out the cabin door. No sign of the men below decks.

With the forward head door right there, she ducked inside.

Keeping the light off, she relieved herself and started to reach for the flush lever when she stopped.

Dammit. They might hear.

She cracked the head door open. She caught a glimpse of Blondie’s ass, still on deck.

Clarisse flushed and washed her hands.

Well, if they were still busy, she might be able to take care of another need—her stomach. She crept back to the galley where she checked the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. From a box on the counter, she snagged a couple of packages of peanut butter crackers and three bananas before scooting back to the bow cabin.

* * *

Mac considered untying Sully and stripping him, but it was a tad too chilly for that. Instead, he reached under the front of Sully’s shirt, found his nipples, and twisted them hard.

From Sully’s sharp, hissing breath, Mac knew he was close.

“Don’t you fucking come,” Mac growled at him. He thrust his cock deep inside his lover, his own release rapidly approaching.

Sully threw his head back against Mac’s shoulder. “Goddamn, where did you learn that?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sully laughed. “You’re a good student.”

Mac nipped the side of his neck. “My Master’s a damn good teacher. You can schmooze all you want. You still can’t come yet.”

“Fucker.”

Mac released Sully’s nipples and grabbed his hips. “You betcha.”

He thrust hard and fast, slamming his cock home until he cried out as he came. He wrapped his arms around Sully as he caught his breath.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out this weekend.”

“I thought you had to fish?”

“Who says I can’t do both?”

Sully wiggled his hips against Mac, whose softening cock was still planted in his ass. “Thank God I brought a few pairs of sweatpants. Otherwise I’d be freezing my butt off.”

“I should have modified them and cut a hole in the ass.” Mac dropped his hand to the other man’s still-hard cock. “You’ve got thirty seconds to come or you have to wait until the next time I feel like doing this.” He started stroking as Sully’s eyes dropped closed, his hips working against Mac’s hand. The action immediately revived the interest of Mac’s cock, which started inflating again.

“Mmm, yeah, I get seconds,” Mac said. He wrapped his fingers tighter around Sully’s cock and pumped his fist up and down his shaft.

Sully fucked himself back and forth between Mac’s cock and hand, groaning as he struggled to make it. Just when he thought he never would, his climax rocked him, coating Mac’s hand with his juices. “Fuck yeah!” he groaned.

Mac gave him a few seconds before he grabbed Sully’s hips again and pounded his cock into him. “You lucky bastard, you barely made it. This is what happens when you torture me before we get on the goddamned boat. You left me fucking horny this morning…ah!”

He leaned against Sully for support again, trying to catch his breath. After a moment, he withdrew and slapped Sully’s ass, hard.

“Be right back.”

“You’re leaving me here?”

Mac laughed. “Gonna clean up. I’ll take care of you in a minute.”

He walked around the sorting table. “Hey, at least it’s too cold for me to hose you down.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“I might. My boat, my rules. That’s the deal.” He grinned. “I told you, payback’s a bitch and so am I.” He didn’t bother zipping his jeans. He walked below decks to the aft head and cleaned up. Then he zipped, washed his hands, and walked over to the box of supplies on the galley counter. He reached in, hesitating before he pulled out a banana. He returned to the deck.

“Hey, you been into the food already?” he asked Sully.

Sully glanced at him. “That’s a weird tangent.”

Mac didn’t bother untying Sully. He lounged next to him in the deepening gloom and peeled the banana. “There’s only three bananas left. You been into them? I thought I grabbed a larger bunch than that.” He broke off a piece and fed it to Sully after taking a bite himself.

Sully shook his head, chewed, and swallowed. “Nope.”

They finished the banana. Mac tossed the peel overboard. “Well, whatever.” He caressed Sully’s ass. “You’re feeling a little chilly there, buddy.”

“No shit.”

Mac started slapping his ass again until Sully’s flesh turned warm and pink. Only then did he relent and untie his hands. “Go clean up.”

When Sully turned from the railing, Mac grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, pulled him close, and crushed his lips with his. “I’m gonna love using your ass this weekend. You’re gonna be gone a lot next month. That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” Sully grinned. “You’ll just have to get creative.”

* * *

Clarisse huddled in the V-berth and prayed they didn’t find her.

How would she find Uncle Tad? Maybe the marina would know.

Worse, where would she go? She still had more than five hundred dollars in cash, but she wouldn’t be able to access the other funds in the new account for several days. She’d been gone from Florida for so long that she didn’t know anyone else here but Uncle Tad, unless some of the regulars still had slips in the marina.

Now she’d have to call Raquel and admit this was a dead end. She felt so tired, bone-dead tired, exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Maybe she should have just stayed and let Bryan kill her. No more struggle, no more fighting. She’d be with her dad and mom, right?

Hopefully.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on a pillow. No, definitely exhaustion speaking. She didn’t want to be dead. She wanted to be free, and it’d been so damn long since she’d been free that she’d forgotten what it felt like.

Her eyes snapped open. She must have slept again because she saw through the tiny port window that night had fallen. She didn’t hear the men, just the sound of the diesels.