Southern Exposure

The yacht cut through the Gulf water like a blade through silk, and I watched my new boss lean against the railing, her white sundress catching the breeze. Margaret Beaumont—Margie to her friends, never to me—was pure Savannah aristocracy: honeyed drawl, pearls that cost more than my car, and eyes that had been undressing me since I stepped aboard.

"You ever sailed before, Noah?" she asked, not turning around.

"No, ma'am." I gripped the wheel she'd handed me. "I'm more of a land person."

She laughed, low and warm. "Land person. Lord, I haven't heard that one." She finally turned, and the way she looked at me made my skin prickle. "Well, you're about to become a water person. Come here. I'll show you something."

I left the wheel—autopilot had it anyway—and walked over. She smelled like salt and something floral, gardenia maybe. Her hand landed on my chest, light as a moth.

"You're nervous," she said. "Don't be."

"I'm not nervous."

"Liar." Her fingers traced down my shirt, stopping at my belt. "I can feel you shaking."

I caught her wrist. "Ms. Beaumont—"

"Margie." She stepped closer, her body pressing against mine. "And I'm not asking, sweetheart. I'm telling."

I should have said something professional. Should have stepped back. Instead, I looked down at her—at the freckles across her collarbone, at the way her dress clung to her tits—and I felt my cock harden against her thigh.

She smiled. "That's more like it."

Her hand slipped past my belt, found me through my shorts. I sucked in air.

"Jesus, Margie."

"Shh." She squeezed, and my hips bucked forward. "Just feel."

She pushed my shorts down, just enough, and wrapped her fingers around my cock. Her palm was warm, a little calloused—I hadn't expected that. She stroked me slow, watching my face, and I leaned my head back and let the sun hit me.

"You like that?" she whispered.

"Yeah."

"Good." She let go, and I nearly whimpered. "Now come here."

She led me to a cushioned bench at the stern, sat down, and pulled her dress over her head. She wasn't wearing anything under it—just tanned skin, full breasts with dark nipples already hard, a strip of dark hair between her legs. My mouth went dry.

"Get those shorts off," she said. "And come fuck your boss."

I kicked them off, climbed on top of her. She was soft everywhere, her thighs warm against my hips. I kissed her neck, tasted salt and perfume, and she moaned and arched her back.

"Put it in," she breathed. "Now."

I lined myself up, felt her wetness on the tip of my cock, and pushed inside.

She gasped. "Oh, Lord—"

Her pussy gripped me tight, hot and slick, and I held still a moment, letting her adjust. Her nails dug into my shoulders.

"Don't you dare stop," she said.

I started moving. Slow at first, deep strokes that made her breath catch. She wrapped her legs around me, pulled me deeper, and I watched her face—eyes closed, lips parted, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"Fuck, Margie."

"That's it," she whispered. "That's it, baby."

I picked up the pace, drove into her harder, and her moans turned into little cries. The yacht rocked beneath us, the water slapping against the hull.

"Don't come yet," she said. "Not yet."

I slowed down, pulled almost all the way out, then pushed back in. She whimpered.

"You're teasing me."

"Learning from the best."

She laughed, breathless, and flipped us over. Now she was on top, straddling me, her tits bouncing as she rode me. I grabbed her hips, guided her, watched her take what she wanted.

She leaned forward, her hair falling around my face. "You like being my little toy?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I like being your toy, Margie."

She smiled, kissed me hard, and then she started moving faster. Her breathing turned ragged, her thighs trembling, and I felt her clench around me.

"I'm gonna come," she gasped. "I'm gonna—"

"Come for me."

She did. Her body shuddered, her head fell back, and she cried out—a long, raw sound that cut through the wind. I grabbed her ass, held her tight, and let myself go, pumping into her, feeling her milk me dry.

We stayed like that a long moment, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, painting everything gold.

She collapsed onto my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her.

"Well," she murmured. "That's one way to break in a new employee."

I laughed. "You're gonna be a strict boss, aren't you?"

"The strictest." She lifted her head, kissed my chin. "Now get some rest. We've got all night."