“I’m watching you carefully, babe. I’m not going to lose you. Listen to my voice.”
Those interludes of normality weren’t strange to Gemma. To be addressed, almost matter-of-factly, as if their kinky sex was a routine act, kept her grounded. Throughout their time as Dom and sub, there remained a backbone of civility, respect, and mutual trust—essential elements for making their relationship successful and enduring. By the time he had achieved his long-awaited orgasm, she had been ready for his other qualities—tenderness, consideration, and supportive aftercare. Lying on the bed, he conducted himself beyond the duties of a sometime Dom. He conducted himself as her husband.
She welcomed the ice-cubes, their numbing addition to her insides. One in each hole. He checked over her body from tip to toe and announced that although he had marked her skin aplenty. Within a couple of days, she would free of the blemishes. The exception, the six marks on her buttocks—those he had applied specifically as a more enduring feature of the session.
“What is all the noise above us, Jason?” asked Gemma, head buried in her pillow.
“Apologies. Very distracting. The helipad is being assembled on the sundeck. I’m being picked up by helicopter and taken to Rome for my flight home.” Jason remained stretched out on his side, a hand stroking her back gently.
“Helicopter? You’re leaving on a helicopter?” She perched on her elbows.
“Easier than guessing which port we’ll be closest to. The GPS can pick us out of the water easily.”
“When?” she had to ask, having avoided the details of his departure all afternoon.
“In two hours. That leaves us about an hour to sit in the bath and make sure you’re in a fit state to be left. I don’t want you blubbering the minute I’m up in the air.”
“I feel strangely in control of my senses. I think you fucked me into a cathartic state of being. Like a good cry, which I did this morning, as you probably guessed.”
“Which is better, cathartic fucking or bawling your eyes out?”
“Oh, the former. Definitely.”
He gently kissed her sweaty forehead. “I’ll go run the bath.”
Afterwards, she curled up on the bed again, feeling impossibly sleepy. Jason dressed
to travel, slipping back into his executive role. He packed a small overnight bag with a few essential items, stowed his laptop safely in its case, and he ensured her smartphone could receive e-mails.
“I’ll text or e-mail you from time to time. So don’t stray too far from your device.”
“Sure,” she murmured, practically asleep.
Gemma heard the hum of rotary blades. She shot bolt upright.
Dashing to the window, she saw a whirlpool from the downdraught of the blades. The yacht was nearly stationary, and all about the white-crested waves swelled due to the helicopter’s presence. Before she could work out if Jason had gone up to meet it, the helicopter came into view, blades spiralling about, rising up into the sky. He had gone. She stood, eyes hypnotised by the small two-man helicopter as it swerved to the right ahead of the bow and then headed off into the horizon and away from Sublime.
No teary good-byes or lingering kisses or embraces. This was what he wanted, she presumed—her fast asleep, exhausted, and unable to register even the loudest of noises. In the midst of the helicopter maelstrom, he had left her, quite alone, in the middle of a vast sea and with no friends to keep her company.
Gemma tried very hard for the next few hours not to be a blubbering wreck. She succeeded, and that, in itself, was immensely satisfying. However, she couldn’t face leaving the stateroom or the upper deck. She didn’t want the sympathy of the crew or their ingratiating conscientiousness. Instead, she lay on his side of the bed and smelt his scent on the pillow. Barring deliveries of essential meals and drinks, she remained there for the rest of the day.
At close to midnight, he sent a text.
: Home safe. Missing you babe.?
She replied instantly.
: Me too. Glad you’re back safe. Thinking of you.
She couldn’t hold back the frustrated tears any longer. The intolerable emptiness inside her consumed her completely.
Part Two
Chapter 21. Seeing Red
Day Twelve
Jason approached in the shadows and took in the salon of the main deck. A large proportion of the crew hung about, positioned on chairs or standing, watching. Kevin, the engineer, perched on a plush armchair. Nick, the second officer, with a beaming smile and arms flailing around, chatted animatedly to Kevin. Beside him the Filipino, Modesto, eyes fixated on Gemma and, standing behind him tapping a foot, Ludo Savage. The chef Dario hovered by the door of galley, neither in nor out, with an empty platter in his large hands. Seated at the games table, the second engineer, Hans, who appeared to be playing solitaire with Gemma’s deck of cards. Laid out on the table, Jason’s backgammon set. By the piano, Enrique with arms folded, back resting on the musical instrument, and beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, Maria.