Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
He grins, positioning himself between my legs, and teases me with the head of his hardened cock. “I fucking love you,” he says, right before he thrusts. I throw my head back and sigh with utter contentment, so full, so perfectly stretched, wrapping my legs around his torso as he rocks his hips. We’re panting and moaning. I pull my wrists, but his grip is too tight. He may give me many freedoms, but freedom in bed isn’t one of them, and I fucking love how commanding he is when we make love.
This time we don’t take our time. There’s no torturous wait while he brings me to the edge of climax. His thrusts are almost painful, savage and determined, and every time he moves, my need to come ratchets higher and higher. My breath catches, and I wrap my legs tighter around him, when he leans down and whispers in my ear. “Come, baby.”
Then his mouth’s on mine, and I’m drowning in the intimacy of this moment. His tongue sweeps my mouth, his hands squeeze my wrists, he thrusts one last time, and I shatter. He swallows my moans, coming when I do, his own groans mingling with mine, and still he kisses me. My body is wracked with spasms of pleasure, my pussy clenching around his cock, milking every bit of this until he finally takes his mouth off mine, only to drag his lips across my cheeks to kiss me.
“I fucking love you,” he repeats. “So damn much.”
I swallow hard and hold him tight. “And I love you.”
We don’t speak again after that. We don’t even get up to clean ourselves or anything. He slides down but stays in me, as if neither one of us wants to break this spell. He finally draws out, but still holds me close to him, running his hand up and down my back. There’s a poignancy in our lovemaking this morning I haven’t felt before. A part of me wonders if we know something intuitively.
Today is going to be different.
Something’s going to change today.
I have no idea what or how, but I know it, and I won’t let him go because a part of me’s afraid that if I do, I won’t get him back. Get us back. That if I let him go this morning, something will change forever.
But I’m being silly. We can lay here for hours, but not days. So finally, with a regretful sigh, he releases me. I shiver, suddenly inexplicably cold. In silence, we clean up and do our morning routine. When he’s sharpening the knives, prepared to get some early morning fish, he pauses.
“Do you hear something?” he asks. I sit up, my heart already slamming against my rib cage. I hold my breath and sit perfectly still, so I can hear what he does.
I shrug to him, silently communicating. Maybe?
He glides one of the knives silently into the loop at his waist and beckons me to come with him. I stand up, my heartbeat racing. There’s something out there, but I don’t know what. Neither of us do. Something’s happening.
No.
Someone’s here.
We walk to the door in silence, and his places his hand on the makeshift knob. But before he opens the door, he turns back to me and reaches for me. He hugs me.
“I love you, Harper,” he whispers in my ear.
“And I love you.”
He squeezes my hand but doesn’t let it go. Slowly, he glides open the door to the shelter and steps out. I follow behind him, holding my breath. Listening.
There are sounds, down by the beach, but I don’t know what they are or what they mean. By the confused look on his face, he doesn’t either.
He looks to me quizzically, and I look back at him. “Go,” I silently mouth.
He nods. Slowly, so quietly we don’t make a sound, we walk toward the beach. I’m glad he’s with me, for when I see what’s before us, I almost scream, but he quickly clamps his hand on my mouth to silence me.
It’s a cruise ship. A fucking cruise ship. The same one that brought me here?
I look to him and he looks to me. I don’t know what either of us expected, but it wasn’t this.
“Are there people on it?” I whisper, even though the ship is way too far out for either of us to see.
He shakes his head. “I can’t see. We have to get closer.”
“Then what?” I whisper. “Obviously they had something to do with us being here. Do we trust them?” But even as I ask the words, I begin to wonder. Am I crazy? What are the chances that the cruise ship had anything to do with me being here? What if this is just a regular cruise ship with just regular people, and this is our only chance of ever getting off this island?