Page 122 of Player

Clarissa

It must have been the blindfold that perked Finn up. He produced it out of nowhere and with a naughty smirk on his lips. Promising me a feast of the senses. Turning me on in that delightfully wicked way of his.

“Practice,” he’d murmured in my ear, slipping it around my eyes before pushing me back and onto our bed at the Derrytown Inn. “For tomorrow’s surprise.”

Four earth-shattering orgasms later and I’ve become a huge fan of blindfolds.

Tired yet happy, I allowed Finn to play tour guide this morning, following him through the streets of Derry with him pointing to places he played as a lad, the first pub he had a pint in, the shell of a building that once was his home. He offered me a glimpse into what shaped him as a man and with each short narrative of “his troubled youth,” I fell in love with him even more.

Now we’ve arrived at the harbor and joined the line of people waiting to board a ship.

“We’re spending the day cruising?”

He nods.

“You hate boats.”

“Sometimes you do things you hate in the best interest of someone else. Besides, I’ve arranged for accommodations.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Accommodations?”

“A cabin. Food and drinks included. And, your luggage is already onboard.”

“My luggage?” I gasp. “We’re staying overnight? And when did you plan this?”

“Never mind with the thirty questions and focus on the thirty ways I’ll be making you come once you settle in.” He offers me a wicked grin. I still can’t believe he arranged all this.

“You hate boats.”

“Give me a reason to love them then.” He turns toward the ship. “Stay put while I see about priority boarding.”

“Priority ... wait. Finn. Passports.”

He taps his pocket. “Right here.” Then before I can rummage through my knapsack and confirm that, yes, indeed, the wicked, cunning man rifled through my bag, he’s hurrying off.

I scowl, not liking how he went through my things.We’re like an old married couple.

He returns, and we’re promptly ushered ahead of the line.

“In all of my travels, I’ve never been on a cruiseship,” I say in wonder, my earlier anger fading.

“This one promises to be memorable,” he mutters as a reply.

We locate our cabin, located not too far from the boarding area. It’s well-appointed, with a king-size bed, a small bathroom, and a terrace overlooking the water. I spy our luggage, pre-delivered as promised. Finn might act the easygoing oaf, but the truth is, he doesn’t miss a thing. “Expensive,” I murmur. “The CIA better be paying you well.”

“A high price, for sure, is what I’ll be paying,” is his answer.

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you surprised me with a trip you can’t afford?”

He doesn’t respond and moves us further into the room.

“Finn?” I press, alarmed at the abrupt change in mood. He steps away to pull back the bedspread. Then, like the naughty magician that he is, produces the blindfold and a rope. The latter isn’t made of black silk like the blindfold but is thin enough to easily bind someone with.

And that someone is me.

“Hands behind yer back.”

I laugh nervously yet place my hands behind me. “What’s your next trick, hot wax?” He gently ties my wrists together, the rope’s fibers softer than expected. “Not too tight?” he murmurs, soothingly.