Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I fought a mental battle back at that cabin. And I came to a realization.
He wants me as much as I want him, and I’m not going to fight it. There’s no damn point.
Cupping my jaw in his large, rough palm, he brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, “I want you, Harper.”
I swallow hard. “I know.”
“I want to fuck you day and night and leave the memory of my lips on yours, the taste of me on your mouth, the feel of my cock between your legs.” His voice is just above a growl, low and seductive. I pull closer to him because I love this, his warmth, the possessive way he holds me, the dirty words he says that make me want for more than just a kiss. “I want to seduce you and shower you with attention, bring you to climax again and again, until every bit of resistance seeps out of you and you belong to me.”
“Oh?” I ask in a breathy whisper. “Sounds manipulative. Also sounds pretty damn good, so I can deal with that.”
His low, dark chuckle makes the little hairs on my arm stand up on end.
“You’ve made me forget my troubles, Harper, and I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.”
“Um. You’re welcome?”
Still chuckling, he gives me a playful slap to the ass and I smile to myself.
I belong to him on this island, and until our circumstances change, there’s no turning back.
Thirteen
Cy
Days go by, then weeks, and we fall into a familiar routine. We spend our days gathering food, until we have such a solid store, we’re set for a while. Though we have no way of storing the roasted fish, we store everything else.
There’s no sign of human life besides the two of us. Maybe Will died during the storm after all.
No helicopter returns, either.
We make the turtle soup with the greens, and Harper actually admits it could almost be chicken and spinach.
“Almost,” she says. “Let’s not talk about the turtle shell.”
I still can’t get her to eat the all the varieties of rodents I catch. She was pretty fit when she came, but after a few weeks of island fare, and the miles of walking we do each day, she’s tanned and more lithe than before, whereas I’ve filled out more.
She’s got razors in her bag, which she uses sparingly, but I ask her to help me shave the ridiculous beard I’ve grown while on this island. It’s kinda of a bitch to shave, but together we do it. It feels so fucking good to get that hair off my face and neck. We use some of the knives we have back at the shelter to cut as much of it off as we can, and when I’ve cut it down as far to the skin as it can go, she shaves me. It’s intimate and sexy, and it’s no surprise that once she’s shaved me clean, I thank her by pulling her onto my lap and kissing her sweet mouth.
It’s almost comfortable like this together. No. It isn’t the two of us that make this complicated, but our situation.
With Harper? It’s fucking perfect.
One day she admires her muscles in the reflection of the water.
“My hair must be a sight,” she muses. “But wow, look at those guns. And my ass.”
She turns to look at herself, and I do, too. It’s almost as good as an invitation to lie her down and fuck her right by the shore, so I do just that. She doesn’t complain.
We’ve both stopped fighting it. We don’t understand why or how this attraction between us flames to life at the merest whiff of the other’s scent or the slightest touch of the other’s skin, but it does. I’m no more capable of self-control when I’m around her than she is. So, after a while, we don’t even try to stop it anymore. We make love when we wake up and take a nap during the day and wake to another go around. Most evenings, we can’t help ourselves and end up in bed all over again.
She can take me. She fucking loves it when I pin her down or restrain her with makeshift ties from what I find. When I place her belly-down and smack her ass while I fuck her from behind, she melts and takes every last stroke of my cock. We bathe by the watering hole and skinny dip, but there’s so much more I want to do to her.
One night by the fire, I sit her on my lap, and when she’s nestled good and secure, I cup one of her breasts.
“Cy,” she warns.
“Mmm?”
“I’m sleepy,” she says on a yawn.
“So? Be sleepy. I didn’t say I wanna fuck you.”
“As if you ever announce it,” she protests on another yawn.
“This is true. But you know, there are a few things we haven’t tried yet.” There’s a ton we haven’t tried yet, but I’m easing her into the kinkier, deeper stuff. She responds well, but I don’t want to scare her off.