Captain silver fox, p.1
Captain Silver Fox, page 1
CAPTAIN SILVER FOX
NORA PHOENIX
Captain Silver Fox by Nora Phoenix (previously published as Shipping the Captain)
Copyright ©2019 Nora Phoenix
Cover design: Golden Czermak/FuriousFotog
Editing: Tanja Ongkiehong
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without the written permission of the copyright holder, except in case of brief quotations and embodied within critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
This book contains sexually explicit material which is suitable only for mature readers.
The people in the images are models and should not be connected to the characters in the book. Any resemblance is incidental.
www.noraphoenix.com
CONTENTS
Nora After Dark
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Signed Paperbacks and Swag
Books by Nora Phoenix
Connect with Nora
More About Nora Phoenix
Acknowledgments
NORA AFTER DARK
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CAPTAIN SILVER FOX
That moment when your spectacular one night stand turns out to be your sexy, older new boss. FML.
Brantley Phipps doesn’t want a boyfriend. In his line of work, relationships are impossible. All he wants is one night of fun before he starts his ten-week rotation as assistant hotel director on a cruise ship.
He scores the jackpot with a hot older guy who hits all his yes, please buttons and who wants the same thing as him. Their chemistry is explosive, hot damn. Talk about a night to remember. That should last him a while…
Until he discovers that his one-night stand is none other than the legendary Captain Silver Fox aka his new boss. Oops.
Still, it shouldn’t be an issue because Brantley doesn’t do coworkers and Fox is known for being strict as hell about not dating employees. That should make things easy, if not for that pesky attraction that keeps flaring up whenever they're in the same room. Or on the same ship. What the hell do they have to do to get rid of that?
It's gonna be a long three months...
Captain Silver Fox is a stand alone MM romance with an age gap, yummy steamy scenes, a Caribbean setting on a cruise ship, and a one-night stand that turns into an embarrassing case of falling for the boss. This book was previously published as Shipping the Captain, but the content is unchanged.
This book is dedicated to Vicki, without whom I’d be lost. Don’t ever forget that you’re the wind beneath my wings.
Okay, that was enough sappy shit. Get back to work. LOL.
1
Fox de Vries sipped from his Coke as he let his eyes wander through the crowded bar. It was one of those places that crossed the lines between a bar and a club, calling itself a bar while having a dance floor as well. Men of all shapes, ages, and styles pressed up against each other, some more rhythmically challenged than others. Some also wearing considerably fewer clothes than others.
Fox took in a limber twink whose fluid moves had everyone watching him, his ass in particular, since it was only covered by a pair of leather pants that looked like they were painted on. Seriously, Fox wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they were body paint. But good god, the boy could move. It was mesmerizing, the way his hips dipped and swayed, his body constantly in motion like a waterfall. Prachtig, he thought, his mind switching to Dutch for a second as it often did when he couldn’t find the right word in English. Beautiful.
Mmm, maybe he could persuade him to do a private dance. He did well with twinks. They liked his daddy-look, what with the silver that encroached on his dark hair and the increasing wrinkles around his eyes. They especially liked it when he used what he called his boss-voice and played up the silver daddy role. It was an act he performed well, even if his heart wasn’t always in it.
He eyed the many men surrounding the twink, then dismissed the idea of approaching him. Too much effort. Besides, he’d been hoping to score with a different type tonight. More on equal terms, so to speak than with the inevitable power imbalance a hookup with a younger, smaller guy like that would bring. He’d be forced into the role of the dominant, the top, and he needed something else.
On his right side, a laugh cascaded over the music, carefree and genuine. Fox turned his head to see who it was. He didn’t have to search long, because the owner of that glorious sound was at the center of attention of a group of men. Oh my, he was pretty. Brown messy hair, just the right amount of scruff, an aristocratic nose, and a pair of full lips that Fox was dying to taste. A mooiboy, they’d call him in Dutch. The literal translation was a pretty boy, but it indicated someone who looked good and who knew it.
Since he hadn’t been spotted yet, Fox took his fill of him. He was mid-twenties, he guessed, and he had a tan that suggested an outside job. Maybe something like a lifeguard? Wouldn’t be out of the question in a city like West Palm Beach. He certainly had the build for it, his sleek muscles visible under the tight black shirt he was wearing, paired with tight jeans that hugged his round ass. Fox loved a pair of well developed biceps on a man, and this guy had ‘em.
But he seemed like a lot of work as well, considering how easily he held the attention of the men around him. Fox would have to compete with all of them for his attention. He was like a prince holding court, though to his credit, he did give everyone fair attention. He didn’t seem arrogant but simply enjoyed the attention.
Too bad he was so popular, because he would’ve fit Fox’s requirements exactly. He looked like an uncomplicated good time—exactly what Fox had in mind. He just wanted to fuck the last horniness out of his system before starting his next rotation. Since he didn’t fuck coworkers and wouldn’t even consider hooking up with passengers, he was about to start a ten-week dry spell two days from now.
The first two rotations had been hard, but he’d gotten used to it, and by now, he had a routine. He would stay in West Palm Beach the week before departure and score some hookups. Those would last him for the next ten weeks. After that, he’d celebrate his return with another visit.
So far, this bar had proved to be excellent hunting ground for him. He’d been cruising for hookups here before and had done well, but he had one more night to fill, one last time to score. It looked like he’d have to make a bit more effort tonight, though.
Commotion behind him had him turning around, just in time to see a bear of a guy being held up by two other men before they clumsily lowered him to the dirty floor.
“Jessie!” one of them called out, panic lacing his voice as he crouched next to the guy who was now on the floor. He cupped his cheek, but the guy didn’t respond.
“Someone call 911!” the other yelled at no one in particular before fisting his hair with a look of despair.
Fox didn’t think but hurried over, kneeling next to the guy—Jessie—who was deadly pale despite the sweat on his cheeks and forehead. He looked to be about Fox’s age or maybe a few years older, putting him in his late forties. Fox placed his fingers on his carotid, his stomach turning sour when he couldn’t find a pulse. Verdomme. Dammit.
“Looks like a heart attack,” someone said, and Fox looked up. The mooiboy he’d been staring at earlier kneeled across from him without any regards for the dirty floor.
“It is,” Fox said. “Starting compressions now.”
“I’ll check if they have a defibrillator,” Mooiboy said.
Fox nodded, his hands finding the right place to star t compressions. He’d done this thousands of times in getting recertified every year, but he’d never had to do it in real life. He closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself, then pressed down hard and fast.
“Do we have 911 on the phone?” he asked one of the man’s companions who sat down on the floor next to him, looking stricken.
“Yes,” the guy answered.
“Tell them to hurry up. I can’t find a pulse.”
Fox’s heart rate was speeding up, sweat pearling on his forehead. Chest compressions were far more intense than most people realized. He counted the rhythm in his head, then stopped for a few seconds, only to resume again.
“No defibrillator. I’ll do mouth-to-mouth,” Mooiboy said as he kneeled down near the man’s head.
Fox didn’t need to ask if he knew what he was doing, because he put the man’s neck at the right angle, and without a second’s doubt, he bent over and breathed into his mouth, keeping his nose closed. Guidelines said to focus on chest compressions, but if there were two people who knew their shit, the combination of chest compression and mouth-to-mouth would certainly increase the man’s chances of surviving.
Fox’s muscles were cramping, protesting the strenuous effort he put them through. He ignored it, keeping the beat of the compressions in his head. The tear-stricken faces around him showed everyone realized what was at stake. Please, let this guy make it.
“Ambulance is four minutes out,” someone said.
Fox let out a breath, quickly wiping down his brow before the next series of compressions.
“Switch?” Mooiboy asked.
“Please,” Fox said, and they changed positions as fast as they could.
The two of them worked in an unspoken rhythm, as if they’d done it a million times. Someone had turned off the music, and a crowd had gathered around them. “I can take over if you need me to,” a quiet voice said behind him. “I’m a nurse. But you’re doing great, so if you’ve got this, keep going.”
Fox nodded, then blew another breath into the man’s mouth. He was getting a little lightheaded from the effort, tiny specks dancing at the edges of his vision. “Switch?” he asked Mooiboy, who nodded instantly.
He didn’t want to stop, not even with the nurse available to take over. It was like he held the man’s life in his hands and if he let go, he’d lose him. He didn’t question it but trusted his instinct, like he usually did. Mooiboy seemed to feel the same, because he kept pace with Fox, switching once more from mouth to mouth to compressions.
They kept at it until the paramedics arrived, and even then they kept going. The paramedics set up the defibrillator, but Fox and Mooiboy didn’t stop until one the paramedics gave him the signal. Fox immediately released and crawled away, too exhausted to even get up.
God, his muscles were screaming with fatigue, and he winced as he stretched. His shoulders in particular hurt like a mother, but his arms and hands burned as well. It would subside, he was sure, but damn, he’d put in some serious effort there.
“Great work,” someone complimented him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” another guy said.
He nodded, not even sure at who. “My pleasure.”
He was handed a wet wipe, and he used it to clean his mouth, his face, and forehead. So far for scoring a hookup tonight. He’d be off to bed instead; his body needing rest after that experience.
“Need a hand up?”
He recognized that voice, and he looked up. Mooiboy stood in front of him, extending a hand. Fox took it, allowing the man to pull him to his feet. He was even prettier from close up, with a pair of blue bedroom eyes that reminded Fox of the Caribbean.
“Excellent teamwork,” Fox said, keeping hold of the man’s hand.
He was rewarded with a crooked smile. “We had a good rhythm there.”
Fox finally let go of his hand, and they both turned to watch as the paramedics strapped the man to a stretcher, his two companions never leaving his side. He was loved, Fox thought, and it was a beautiful thing to see. Even better was the fact that he seemed to have a heartbeat again. Thank fuck for that.
“The bartender told me their defibrillator was stolen and they never bothered to replace it,” Mooiboy said, his voice thick with frustration.
“It’s not a legal requirement for a bar like this to have one,” Fox said.
“I know. Doesn’t stop me from being pissed they were so flippant about it. If we hadn’t been there…”
Fox rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. “Good thing we were, then.”
“Sore?”
Fox shot him a quick grin. “Yeah, and not the good kind.”
The smile he got back had his balls tingle, and so did the thorough once-over pretty boy gave him. “I’m really good at massages.”
Fox’s smile widened. “Are you now? Even better than at mouth-to-mouth?”
Mooiboy laughed, that wonderful, rich laugh that had attracted Fox in the first place. “My mouth is quite talented, but I’m good with my hands as well.”
“How are my chances of assessing that in person?”
Mooiboy stepped close. Their eyes met, and the hunger he saw in Mooiboy’s eyes matched his own.
“Do you think I could get your name? I keep calling you pretty boy in my head, but it’s getting a little bothersome,” Fox asked.
“Bentley.”
That didn’t sound like a real name, but Fox didn’t care. He never used his real name either. “Call me Silver.”
He’d barely finished the last letter when Bentley pressed those luscious lips to his. Mmm, they were exactly like he had imagined, soft and seductive. Fox curled his right hand around Bentley’s neck to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, their slick tongues engaged in an ancient dance, twirling around each other. Exploring, finding, wanting. Fox’s tongue roamed Bentley’s mouth before he was chased back into his own and welcomed him there.
Their bodies moved until any distance between them had disappeared. Fox only had an inch or so on Bentley, and it made for a delicious matchup, as their mouths lined up so perfectly…and so did their erections, which found each other, even with layers of clothing still between them.
Fox’s head swam with the heaviness of the kiss, the perfection of it. He didn’t always get to kiss in hookups, as more and more men just wanted the sex, not the intimacy. He wasn’t looking for commitments—they wouldn’t work in his line of work anyway—but he often missed the emotional connections in hookups. This was different, Bentley equally eager to take his time building up to the main event as Fox.
Behind them, someone cleared his throat. With regret, Fox broke off the kiss.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” a man said, then extended his hand. “I’m Willis Pollock, the owner of this club. I heard about what happened, and I just wanted to thank you both for what you did.”
He shook Fox’s hand first, then Bentley’s.
“It was our pleasure,” Bentley said, and Fox liked how he casually linked them together, as if they’d known each other before.
“I’ll call the hospital in a bit and ask them how that man is doing,” Pollock said.
“They’re not gonna tell you anything,” Fox said. “HIPAA prevents it. But you can send a card or flowers to his room with your contact information, and he or his family may contact you.”
He’d been in that position enough times when something had happened to a passenger to know this from experience. It was what they always did: send flowers to the passenger and invite them to contact the cruise line if they felt like it. Most did, if only in appreciation of the cruise line’s attention and care for them.
