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Treasured Chest 2
🕑 Added 2020-08-14 22:00:06 +0000 UTC
Below decks, Lara took an already prepared meal from the freezer and shoved it into the oven. “I’m not much of a cook,” she explained. “But my butler is. Fortunately, he’s managed to find a way to live with himself, making meals for me to reheat later.”
“You couldn’t just take him with you?” Steve asked.
Lara flounced her way to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of merlot she’d left to chill before her tanning session. “A girl likes to be alone sometime.”
Steve looked around the luxurious interior of the yacht. Between the master cabin, master bathroom, bunk room, galley, dining area, double cabins, and jet ski garage, the place wouldn’t do too bad as a penthouse apartment in Manhattan. “So long as she’s alone in a place like this.”
“Any place is nice so long as it’s not too crowded.” Lara pulled the cork from its bottleneck. “Or there’s company you don’t mind being crowded by.” She held up the bottle. “1942. Aged to perfection.”
Steve actually blushed.
While she poured, he dropped his rucksack on a third seat at the dining table, unzipping it and pulling out a crewneck shirt to put on. Lara liked how the charcoal fabric clung to his muscles almost as much as she liked seeing the beads of water dripping off them. He further retrieved a set of boxers and a pair of trousers, but Lara tutted disapprovingly.
“No need to change yet. We may still be getting wet.”
Steve cleared his throat and shut his rucksack; Lara sensed he was being diplomatic. A natural peacemaker.
“You’ve a very attractive young woman, Lara, but I hope you’re taking this seriously.”
“As seriously as I take anything,” Lara assured him. “But I find that indulging in dramatics doesn’t do much to increase our odds, so I might as well keep a sense of humor about the whole thing.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t think it’s so funny if you heard the specifics. As one of my colleagues has demonstrated, Norse myth isn’t as mythological as—”
Lara held up her hand, quieting him. “Jokes aside, that really is a nice merlot. I believe you’ll find it’s chilled just right.” She pushed his Bordeaux glass over to the other side of the table. “I’m sorry, was that insensitive?”
Steve picked up the glass. “I don’t think anything could be insensitive in that accent.”
Lara ran her finger around the rim of her own glass. “Oh, I’ve been known to curse like a sailor—when I have sufficient cause.”
He drank. She drank with him.
Steve sat down across from her, glancing at the oven to see its timer running down. “So, what do you want to talk about? There is something of a time crunch here.”
“There can’t be too much of one if you intend to get to our destination by boat. But if you’d like to fiddle with the controls, by all means.”
Steve got up and went to the pilothouse at the other end of the yacht.
Lara signed and put the cork back in the bottle. “Perhaps he’s more of a scotch man.”
She followed him to the bow with the two glasses in hand, finding him charting a new course on the ship’s computer. He punched the coordinates in like he had them memorized.
“You’re not the least bit curious about the job?” Steve asked, poring over the instrumentation, not leaving anything to chance.
Lara set down the glasses in the pilothouse’s cupholders—no yacht was complete without them. “Some. But I’m more curious about other things.”
“Like what I think of the wine?” Steve retorted, a little caustically.
“Like what I’m getting out of all this,” Lara replied, equally acidic. “I’m not exactly hurting for money.”
“This is the kind of artifact that won’t leave you anywhere to spend money if it falls into the wrong hands.”
Lara shrugged and removed the USP from her pocket. “Well then, thank you for telling me where it is. That still leaves the question of why I should take you along?”
The hairs on the back of Steve’s neck rose as he felt the gun on him. “Is there a reason you shouldn’t?”
“Poor taste in wine,” Lara quipped. “Or… what’s the American expression… you might cramp my style. Or maybe I just don’t like giving free rides to strange men who don’t so much as call ahead.”
Steve held his hands up. “In my defense, it’s very hard to get your number.”
“You should try getting a blowjob.”
Steve finally ignored the jibe. “You’re going to need my help.”
“Fine, don’t take my advice.” Lara gestured with the USP. “Up.”
“You’re going to throw me overboard?”
“You’re a good swimmer. And you haven’t eaten yet, so I think you’ll be alright.”
Steve obligingly got out of the captain’s chair. “Lara, come on, this is crazy.”
“If you wish for the privilege of accompanying me in this very fine yacht, then I really must insist that you contribute something to the pot.”
“Like what?”
“Well, if you’ve noticed, I’m working on my tan. You could help with the suntan lotion. I have a devil of a time doing up my back. Rather a lot of yoga to make it work.”
Scott’s head dropped to the side in sheer disbelief. “You want me to help you apply suntan lotion?”
Lara lowered the gun. “Quite. And not to shock you, but I have had young male company on this vessel before. They’ve been known to find ways to make themselves entertaining.”
“You want me to sleep with you?”
“That’s such a déclassé way to put it. Let us say instead that from here until we make port, the two of us will save ourselves some laundry and go about our business naked. And whatever happens, happens.” Lara put the gun aside entirely. “I do so love a good sightseeing trip.”
“And you’re serious?” Steve asked.
“Well, don’t I feel vain now? I’d’ve thought a red-blooded American male such as yourself would need little convincing. Unless… are you by any chance…?”
“No,” Steve assured her, sitting back down and finalizing their course. The engines thrummed as the autopilot kicked in, carrying them into motion. “And believe me, you are not overestimating your looks. No convincing at all. It’s just that I’m… dubious you’re clear on what you’re asking for.”
Lara picked up her wine again. “I may not be a senior citizen, but I do have some experience.”
“I’m sure you do… I mean, not sure sure, but…” Steve picked up his own glass. “I know I come off as a soft touch, but I do have certain… tastes. And if you think you can use me like some boy toy, you should know my tastes aren’t compatible with that.”
“Oh?” Lara chortled, intrigued. “Because I’m some genteel little lady who can’t take anything more passionate than being kissed on the forehead?”
Steve swirled his merlot before sipping it. “I’m just saying that if you expect to be on top just because I don’t grunt like a caveman and use a swear word as punctuation, you may be disappointed.”
Lara undid the belt on her robe. “And I’m saying that if you think you can dominate me, by all means, try.” She let one side of it fall away, transferring her glass from one hand to the other. “I think I’d rather like seeing what all that muscle is capable of.” The rest of the robe fell over, leaving her totally naked. This was no quick glimpse. Now he could see all of her, every curve on pristine display. “I’ll even let you finish my wine for me.”
She poured the remains of her Bordeaux glass onto her chest, the red wine splashing and flowing and cascading over her perfect breasts, highlighting their splendor like she was wrapping herself in liquid silk.
Steve might have been able to resist her, but his body could not. His erection stood out from his trunks in a thick bulge, endlessly promising, just this side of excessive even with his body already so overpoweringly muscled—that cock still might’ve been the most impressive thing about him.
With a smooth motion of liquid gracefulness, Lara glided down to sit in Steve’s lap. His cock pressed purposefully into her ass. She thrust her breasts into his face, letting him see every drop of wine running over their plump contours.
“Do your worst, Captain Rogers,” she taunted him.
Comments
Just thought I point out "Scott’s head dropped to the side in sheer disbelief. “You want me to help you apply suntan lotion?”" I'm liking this concept so far
Shendude
Well this is fun.
