7 Years Bad Sex by Nicky Wells Read Free Book Online

smiled to herself. This would really be a good night. They would make it, finally.
    ‘Casey.’ Alex’s voice was a low, hoarse rasp. He really was horny. Casey worked harder, feeling herself grow moist in anticipation. The yacht loomed large; only a couple more minutes, and they would reach their cabin.
    ‘Casey, stop. Please.’
    It was the urgency in his words that halted her in her tracks rather the meaning itself. Shocked to the core, she removed her hand and sat back.
    ‘Alex? What’s the matter now?’ She didn’t manage to keep the hint of frustration out of her voice. What could possess him to ask her to stop when the going was so good?
    ‘I—eurrrgh!’ Alex didn’t manage to explain himself, but he didn’t have to. Leaning violently to the left, he stuck his head over the side and heaved. And heaved. And heaved again.
    Momentarily dumbstruck, Casey didn’t know what to do. She breathed deeply and willed herself to hold on to her own food. She caught the driver of the launch turning his head to figure out what was going on. He nodded his head in Alex’s direction and threw out a question. ‘Everything all right with you?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ Casey replied.
    ‘Shall I keep going, or do you want me to turn back to the mainland?’
    ‘Keep going, please,’ Alex coughed before Casey could reply. He sat up unsteadily and wiped his mouth. Casey couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but she thought he looked somewhat green. Sweat beaded his brow, and flecks of sick had soiled his formerly white shirt.
    ‘Shit, honey, I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I… euuuurgh!’
    And off he went again.
    Casey stroked his back and held his hand whilst he was in the grip of another bout of nausea. A spectacular ending, she thought philosophically. But not what we expected .
    ‘Oysters?’ the boatman’s voice piped up again from the front of the launch.
    ‘Yes,’ Casey replied wearily. ‘He had some oysters.’
    The driver winced sympathetically. ‘First time, eh? With too much alco’ol, per’aps?’
    ‘Yes on both counts,’ Casey confirmed.
    ‘Ah oui. Better in the morning,’ the driver offered. ‘Et voilà. And ‘ere we are.’ He moored the launch against the yacht and deftly jumped aboard.
    He offered his hand to help Casey climb onto the yacht, but she propped up Alex instead, making sure he got up the little ladder safely before clambering after him. When she arrived on deck, she found Alex swaying and holding on to the driver of the launch. The brighter light on the yacht confirmed that Alex’s face had indeed gone an interesting shade of green, and Casey knew that any hope of romance would be misplaced. She smiled ruefully, partly relieved and partly frustrated.
    ‘Come on, darling, let’s get you to bed,’ she offered gently. ‘Can you walk?’
    ‘I think so,’ Alex mumbled, looking distinctly unsteady. The slight rolling of the yacht didn’t help, and he lurched from side to side like a drunken sailor.
    ‘I bring you a bucket to the cabin?’ the driver suggested.
    ‘Yes, I think that would be a good idea,’ Casey replied gratefully, her mind turning over practicalities. Perhaps she would surrender the bed in its entirety to Alex and retreat to the sofa instead. There was love, and there was foolish love. And sleeping next to a husband who was liable to be sick at any moment definitely came under the heading of foolish love.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ Alex whispered when he was safely tucked up in bed, a large bucket placed by his head. ‘I really thought we’d do it tonight.’
    Casey smoothed the hair away from his forehead. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she smiled in the most supportive fashion she could muster. ‘Oysters, right? Not so much aphrodisiac as up-chuck-o-disiac.’
    Alex burst out laughing. He held his stomach and groaned. ‘Please don’t crack any more terrible jokes, you’ll start me off again,’ he pleaded.
    ‘Sorry.’ Casey