Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Kinda surprising Lane hadn’t already told Ty that. On the other hand, it was highly possible they hadn’t spent a lot of time talking.
“Huh. I see.”
I’d save the don’t-hurt-my-boyfriend speech for another time, in case their arrangement went beyond Florida.
The part with keeping my bag above the surface on the swim to the island must’ve been a pipe dream. Halfway there, I gave up and just resigned myself to hang my clothes to dry on a palm tree.
Unfortunately, the water felt really good—as did the sun shining down on us—and it became a struggle to cling to my horrible mood. I wasn’t a naturally cranky person, and I usually loved a good adventure.
I also loved a good challenge, and I’d packed some food on the down-low—for if I was given the opportunity to make a feast over an open fire. Show off my skills and take care of my loved ones, all in one go.
I swam till the water was at the level of my chest, and then I grunted and started walking along the sandy bottom. Ty had stayed behind me, which I now realized had been a gentlemanly move to make sure I got to shore safely. Because then he swam ahead, faster than I ever could, to reconnect with Lane in the water.
Only River had aimed directly for the beach. The others tossed their bags up there before returning to the water.
Since we were clearly staying here overnight, I got my priorities in order. A distraction was what I needed. Plus, it did me good to put myself to work. So as soon as I trudged out of the water, I found a semi-fallen palm tree, arched so low over the sand it had to fucking snap from its roots soon, and hung my clothes and towel to dry. This would be a good spot for a fire. A couple boulders offered a bit of shade and protection from the wind—if there ever was one.
The hot dog buns had made it, thank fuck. They were still sealed in their plastic bag. Same with the condiments. I wasn’t concerned about the vegetables, and the spicy sausages were vacuum-sealed.
“Macklin, what are you doing?” Lane hollered.
“I’m distracting myself!” I yelled back. Next step, gather firewood. I’d done that once before when Walker and I had taken his boat up to Nova Scotia in the spring. It’d been frigid as fuck—but so damn beautiful and cozy. We’d gorged on seafood and hot chocolate spiked with bourbon. Chowder and crab legs and oysters.
Walker in a wool sweater—along with the boat and our surroundings—had come straight out of an ad for New England living
As I walked along the edge of the tiny jungle, I wondered if I had any perfect memories of our relationship that didn’t involve kink or his old boat.
It was on the boat we’d delved into one of our darker fantasies of him holding me fast while I was raped by a tentacle monster. A fantasy that’d evolved later on, until he was the tentacle monster that raped me in the water.
I exhaled and swallowed.
That was how he’d become our community’s toymaker. He’d already been crafting whips and working with glass and wood by the time we met. But the silicone had brought him to the next level.
“Idon’tfuckingthinkso.” The words left me in a rush as I fell back on the sand and dropped the branches, eyes wide and trained on the giant snake I’d almost fucking grabbed. “Lane!” I shouted.
Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. I scooted back on my ass, and I could swear the snake stared right at me and planned to eat me for supper.
My heart was pounding so fast that I didn’t hear Lane’s response, but I vaguely registered more of them heading toward me.
River reached me first. “What’s—oh.” He strode forward and picked up the snake because he was a damn idiot.
“What’re you doing?” I exclaimed.
He chuckled.
“Oh my God, what a beauty!” Lane finally reached us, dripping wet, and beamed at the snake. “Congratulations, baby, you found your first python.”
“Unfind it for me,” I snapped.
It was massive.
“It can’t be old,” Lane theorized. “He’s what, maybe three feet long?”
Massive.
I was fully aware of the fact that Lane had a snake at home that was almost twice as long, but Frank was more docile than a puppy. We were in the wild now.
Ty joined us next, and he scratched his head and rested his arm on Lane’s shoulder, all casual-like. “I hate to ruin the party, but I gotta take care of that fella.”
Lane pouted and brushed a finger over the snake’s head. “Yeah, I know. We can’t have you making a bunch of babies, little one.”
Jesus Christ, they were insane.
I jumped back to my feet and brushed sand off my hands.
“Quick and painless.” Ty’s promise to Lane came with a kiss to the side of his head, and Lane nodded once.