Mom Married the Don for Peace, So I Made His Son Kneel novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: The Wheelhouse

Madalena's POV

The Estrela sat at her slip on the Galilee pier with her diesel ticking over and her deck lights burning in the dark.

It was five o'clock on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, nineteen degrees, and the only things awake were the gulls and a forklift two docks down.

I had texted Riccardo at three: Galilee. Dress warm. Don't bring anyone.

He had driven the whole way from Providence in the black Charger and parked at the head of the pier.

Now he stood in my wheelhouse in a canvas work jacket I'd found for him in my father's locker, with his hands at his sides.

It smelled of coffee and diesel and old wood in there.

The windows were fogged, and the water outside was the color of slate.

"This is where you work," he said.

"This is where I work."

"I thought it'd be bigger."

"Forty-two feet is plenty," I said, and shut the door behind us.

I stood in front of him and held up one finger.

"Thursday, in your father's pantry. You broke my rule."

"I did," he said.

"You didn't wait to be told."

"No," he said, and a line appeared at the corner of his mouth. "I've been thinking about it every night since."

"So have I."

I took hold of the front of his jacket.

"New rule. Today you do exactly what I say. You don't touch me until I tell you to."

"All right," he said.

"Take hold of the wheel," I said.

He stepped up to the helm and put both hands on the old wooden wheel, at ten and two.

"Don't let go of it. Whatever I do."

"Whatever you do."

I unzipped the jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, and it fell to the deck.

Then I unbuttoned his flannel shirt, one button at a time, and pushed that open too.

His chest rose and fell under my hands.

I ran my palms down his stomach, to his belt.

I opened the buckle, and the button, and the zipper, and drew his jeans and shorts down to his thighs.

His cock sprang out thick and hard in the cold air.

He hissed.

"Cold?" I asked.

"Not anymore."

I took a folded survival jacket from the bench and laid it on the deck at his feet.

Then I knelt on it.

He looked down at me, and his hands tightened on the wheel until the wood creaked.

"Rebelo."

"Look out the window," I said. "Watch the water."

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