Chapter 23 - Dishwasher Boy

As the party started to wind down, I found myself lounging on the couch with Emily sprawled comfortably on my lap. Her weight against me felt so natural, and yeah, it was definitely making things… complicated. The sheer loungewear didn’t help, and my brain was doing its usual thing, overthinking everything. Specifically, one question that had been gnawing at me all damn night: Was she wearing a thong or a g-string? My ribs ached with every slight movement, a constant reminder of Ryan's fists, but even that wasn't enough to distract me from this particular dilemma.

I couldn’t shake it. The thought had wormed its way into my head early in the night, and now it was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The problem? I didn’t actually know the difference. I mean, I’d heard of both, obviously, but I couldn’t have pointed one out in a lineup if my life depended on it. Was a thong just thicker? Was a g-string basically a shoelace? I didn’t know, and it was driving me nuts.

Emily shifted on my lap, her hips wiggling slightly, and my whole body lit up like a Christmas tree. This was getting harder to hide. I gripped her hips instinctively, keeping her steady so she didn’t notice, or at least, didn’t make it worse. A sharp pain shot through my side, and I winced. Note to self: bruised ribs and lap dances don't mix.

Finally, I caved. I leaned in, my voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Emily,” I whispered, “are you wearing a thong?”

She froze for a second before turning to look at me, her green eyes glittering with amusement. I knew I was in for it. A slow, mischievous smile spread across her lips. “Luca Rossi,” she said, her voice dripping with playful scorn. “You are such a naughty boy.”

Before I could reply, she leaned in, her lips brushing my neck in a way that sent shivers all the way down my spine. My bruised muscles protested, but honestly, I didn't care. Not when she was this close. Her laugh was soft and wicked, and I could feel the heat rising in my face, and everywhere else. This was a mistake, wasn’t it?

“Well,” I said, trying to match her energy, even though I was completely out of my depth. “Now I really need to know.” My grin felt lopsided, but she didn’t seem to mind. She leaned back slightly, her hands trailing lazily up my chest as her eyes locked on mine, filled with that teasing glint that drove me insane.

“You’re adorable,” she said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe I’d actually asked. “But tell me, Luca, what do you think the difference is?”

“A thong’s… thicker?” I ventured, my voice hesitant. “And a g-string is, like, thinner? Or… stringier?” My cheeks were burning now. God, I sounded like an idiot.

Emily laughed, a full, genuine laugh that made her whole body shake against mine. I bit back a groan as her movement jostled my sore ribs. Worth it. “Oh, Luca,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft, seductive purr. “You really are a novice, aren’t you?”

Her fingers toyed with the hem of her loungewear as she tilted her head, considering me. Then, in a move that nearly stopped my heart, she lifted the waistband just enough to reveal a sliver of red. “This,” she whispered, her voice both daring and playful, “is a g-string.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, as my eyes locked onto the sliver of fabric. My brain was screaming at me to say something, anything, but all I could manage was a strangled, “Oh.”

Emily leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. “So now you know,” she murmured, her breath warm against my skin. I was definitely not going to survive this.

“Is that what Zoe was wearing the other day?” I asked, my voice dipping low with curiosity, I’d been paying attention. Probably way too much. My bruised ribs throbbed in protest as I shifted slightly, trying to get a better look. Focus, Rossi, focus.

Emily smirked, her green eyes narrowing as if she could see right through me. “Yeah,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “They can be quite… revealing.” Her fingers traced small circles on my arm, her nails barely brushing my skin. “But then again, they’re just as comfortable as a thong.”

Was she trying to kill me? Because it was working. My thoughts raced, tripping over themselves in an effort to focus on anything but the visual she’d just planted in my head. And the growing ache in my pants wasn't helping.

And then she leaned in closer, her body pressing flush against mine. Her lips hovered inches from my ear, and I could feel her breath, warm and teasing, as she whispered, “Why don’t you ask Zoe about it? Something tells me she’d be happy to show you.”

My brain flatlined. Completely shut down. Was she serious? Was she actually telling me to ask Zoe about her underwear? The idea made my stomach flip in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Emily’s lips had just brushed my ear; thinking was not an option right now.

“Yeah, uh… maybe another time,” I muttered, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. My voice cracked slightly, and I immediately wanted to punch myself. Or Ryan. He was the reason I was in pain in the first place.

Emily pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, her grin softening but losing none of its mischief. “I’m just teasing,” she said, her tone playful but with an edge of sincerity that made my chest tighten. Her hand came up to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over my skin. “But, hey, no judgment if you’re curious.”

Curious? That wasn’t the half of it. I let out a weak laugh, my hands tightening instinctively on her waist as I tried to regain some semblance of control. Every slight movement sent a jolt of pain through my ribs, but I didn't care. Not when she was this close. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

Her smile widened, but there was something softer behind it now, something that made my stomach twist in a completely different way. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she murmured before leaning in and pressing a featherlight kiss to my lips.

Joey, who had been pretending to browse the movie catalog but was clearly keeping one eye on us, cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, guys?” he said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “I think it might be time for bed.” He jabbed a thumb toward the clock on the wall, which read 02:00. I knew he was just trying to bail me out of my predicament. Thanks, Joey. Maybe.

The crew groaned in unison, the late hour catching up to them. One by one, they began to gather their things, stretching and yawning as they shuffled toward the door. Zoe, already tucked under Danny’s arm, shot me a knowing glance that sent my stomach into knots. She knew. Of course she knew. “Night, Captain,” she called over her shoulder, her tone dripping with amusement. She definitely knew what was up.

Emily untangled herself from my lap with deliberate slowness, her teasing smirk still firmly in place. I exhaled sharply, realizing I’d been holding my breath the whole time. Snatching up a pillow, I strategically placed it over my lap, my ears burning.

"This is all Ryan's fault," I muttered under my breath, glaring at the pillow like it was his fault I was hard and in pain. I muttered, “I’ll clean up,” before standing, hoping the motion would somehow distract from the situation below my waist, but it wasn’t working.

If the other guys noticed, they mercifully chose not to say anything. Joey, though, couldn’t resist giving me a thumbs-up, already halfway out the door with Chris trailing behind him. “Good man,” he said with an exaggerated wink that made me want to launch the pillow at his head. Instead, I clenched my jaw and let him have his moment. Next time, Joey. Next time.

As the room emptied, Emily stretched luxuriously on the other couch, her arms reaching above her head like she didn’t have a care in the world. The movement drew my eyes, not that I had any control over it, and when she propped her head up on a pillow, she caught me staring. Of course she did.

“Come on, silly,” she said, motioning for me to join her. Her tone was light, but her eyes carried that same playful edge it always did, the one that tied my brain in knots and made me forget how to think straight. “I’ll wait while you clean up.” Her smile was teasing, but there was a promise there, too. I was already counting the seconds.

I hesitated, caught between the gravitational pull of her invitation and the nagging sense of duty telling me to actually finish what I’d started. Let’s be honest, the pull was winning. “Uh, yeah, just give me a minute,” I muttered, my voice cracking slightly. Smooth, Rossi. Real smooth.

The cleanup was mercifully quick. I moved through the room, gathering glasses and plates scattered around like I actually had some purpose. The sink filled with a low hiss as I started loading the dishwasher, the rhythmic hum of the machine spinning into action helping calm my nerves. Barely. My thoughts, though? They were still in the lounge, laser-focused on Emily sprawled out on the couch behind me. I could feel her eyes on me, like she was watching my every move, waiting. This was going to be a long night. A good one. But still, a long night. My body ached, my head throbbed, and my dick was still hard. Yep, definitely a long night.

“Alright, Emily,” I said, closing the dishwasher, trying to sound like I had it all together, “Time to get you back to your room.” I’m starting to think I should have just let her sleep on the couch. Every step was a reminder of Ryan's fists, and my body was protesting loudly.

She was fast asleep, and looked so peaceful. I could have just stayed there and watched her sleep, but I knew I couldn’t.

Sitting down near her feet, I rested my elbows on my knees, unsure of what to do next. I felt like an idiot. I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing at her loungewear, it was far too revealing, though I supposed that wasn’t news by now. I still couldn’t wrap my head around how Zoe and Emily had managed to convince the lady at the uniform shop to sell them these; it was ridiculous. Even the guys’ underwear was visible through the thin fabric, though none of us seemed to care. It was like some bizarre, see-through uniform.

We were all into sports, I mused, my eyes drifting to the dim lights of the lounge. Locker room rules, I guess. But the girls… I sighed, the thought trailing off, yeah, the girls brought a different energy to our evenings. Emily, with her playful teasing, always seemed effortlessly alluring, and Zoe, with her confidence, didn't even need to try. They were both something else. And now, thanks to Ryan, I was feeling every single one of my bruises. Great.

Occasionally, Zoe would arrive without wearing a bra. Though her breasts were barely there, she still made an effort to draw attention to them. The outline of her dark nipples pressing against their long lounge shirts certainly did the trick. Despite the flirtatious atmosphere amongst our crew, there seemed to be some level of restraint as there had been no news of any extracurricular romance. Was this a typical normal? I didn't want to think about it too much, after all, we were having fun. I was just glad that my arousal was finally subsiding, that was a relief.

My eyes flicked to Emily again, and I took a deep breath when I realized her bra had slipped loose at some point, one breast now exposed. She must have known or done this on purpose, probably, yeah. My heart thudded as I looked away sharply, forcing myself to focus on the blank wall ahead. Okay. Nope. Not going there, I told myself. What the hell, man?

After a beat, I grabbed a nearby blanket and carefully draped it over her, tucking her in gently. Just cover it up, that’s right. Problem solved. But as I adjusted the blanket, my eyes betrayed me for a second, catching on the tiny knot at her waist where her g-string was tied. It had the ship’s logo printed on it, just like the rest of our clothes. Even the underwear, I thought wryly. What a ridiculous use of my budget. She was beautiful, and sure, I wanted her.

“Come on Emily, time for bed,” I sighed after a moment, touching her shoulder, trying to sound like I had it under control, but yeah, I was a mess.

As Emily stirred awake, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her sleepy eyes and disheveled hair. She was beautiful.

“Mmm, what time is it?” she asked, and yeah, she was still half-asleep.

“It's time to say goodnight, sweetheart,” I replied. I was such a sap for her. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Emily reached into her shirt and unclipped her loose bra, letting it fall beside her. She stretched, her bare chest now exposed, her movements deliberate. I was trying so hard not to look, and failing miserably. Her arms extended out, giving me a glorious view of her fully exposed breasts just a foot away, and I was pretty sure my brain stopped working. Slowly, she reached out and ran her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. “I had so much fun tonight,” she breathed before leaning in to kiss me. My ribs screamed in protest, but I ignored them. This was worth it.

My heart raced as I returned her kiss, my hands instinctively finding their way to her hips. We broke apart after a moment, both slightly breathless. And I was now, officially, fully awake. And hard. Again. Great.

“Me too, Em. We’ll do it again sometime,” I admitted with a smile. “But it’s late, and you should get some rest.”

Emily pouted, looking at me with those big green eyes of hers. “Do I have to?” she asked, tracing circles on my chest with her finger, I could get lost in her eyes. And her fingers weren't helping with the whole 'bruised ribs' situation. Or the other situation.

I felt myself growing warm under her touch. “We have a lot of work tomorrow. Come on, I’ll walk you.” I needed to get out of here, fast.

With a sigh, Emily nodded. “Definitely, Captain.” That was it, she had me, I knew it.

I stepped away, allowing her to get up off the couch, the blanket falling off her. Then, I guided her out of the lounge toward her quarters. As we approached her cabin door, Emily shivered, goosebumps visible beneath her sleeves. Her big, forlorn eyes met mine as she whispered a soft “Goodnight.” I could see that she was tired, that she was letting her guard down, and that was a privilege.

“Goodnight, Emily,” I replied gently, watching her step inside, kind of hoping she would invite me in, yet dreading it, before heading back to my own cabin once the door slid shut. My body ached, my head was pounding, and my dick was still hard. What a fucking night.