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)
“Then fuck me,” she says on a moan, her head tipping back and eyelids fluttering closed. “Fuck me, Cy.”
“Baby,” I groan. But I want in her as badly as she wants it. “Bend over,” I tell her, pointing to the side of the tub. I’m too tall to have her any other way, but we’ve got space and I need in her. Quickly, eagerly, she obeys, bracing herself on the edge of the tub while I position behind her. It’s a goddamn pin-up wet dream, her leaning against the tub like this, so eager to have me.
So I don’t go slow and gentle. I don’t take my time. I anchor myself on her hips and drive my cock in her hot cunt and groan in pleasure when her slick walls grip me. Fucking hell, she’s tighter than I remembered, so hot and wet I’m gonna come like a teenager. My groans echo in the shower, the piping hot water still pounding on us as I take her hard and fast.
“You’re mine, Harper,” I tell her, bringing back my palm and slamming it against the side of her ass. “Fucking mine.”
Moaning, she grips the tub, and rocks her hips in time with mine, our hot, slick bodies working in time like a symphony, building to our crescendo.
“I love you,” I whisper as she keens with pleasure and bows beneath me.
“I love you,” she breathes. She rocks her hips and arches her back, and I come as she does, in wild abandon, claiming what’s ours.
Our movements slow, wringing out the last bits of ecstasy. Panting, she grips the side of the tub and groans. “Fuck, I needed that.”
I grin. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
We finish showering in silence, soaping each other, then rinsing. I shut the shower off and grab two towels, draping one around my waist before reaching for her and helping her out of the tub. I towel her off with care, reveling in the intimacy of all this. She watches me, her eyes soft, and when I’m done, she leans in and kisses my shoulder. Sweet. Tender. Poignant.
We dress together. Eventually, I suppose one day I’ll let her out of my sight. It won’t be soon, though. After being torn apart, the thought of even a moment of separation is unbearable.
Her contacts have brought us clothes and cash, and after we get dressed, she gets a phone call.
“Yes?” she looks to me. “Yes, of course. Just a minute.”
She taps a button on the phone to mute it and looks to me. “Cy, are you up for an interview?” she says. “Mal says that if we do an interview, it will help spread the word of our escape and what we’ve been through quickly. I think it will help to face this. Really shed some light on what happened. Then we can move on… rebuild. You know?”
“Yeah, baby,” I tell her with a sigh. I don’t want to do a fucking interview, though I see the wisdom in it. “Let’s do it.”
Within half an hour, a full news crew’s in the large hotel room. We answer question after question, until I can tell she’s had enough. It takes something out of us, every time we tell the story. And it also somehow heals us, a little, I think. Airing the truth. Allowing others to hear of what happened. Giving voice to the tragedy that took place. Shedding light on the lies.
“That’s it for now,” I finally say, effectively ending the interview. “We’re going to visit Harper’s brother.”
Chapter 13
Harper
I can’t believe this is real. That this is happening. I’m riding in a car next to Cy. He’s driving, which doesn’t surprise me at all. He likes to be in charge, and that isn’t going to change.
And you know, I’m okay with that. I can’t believe I am, really, that I can let go of so much of what held me back. It’s like on the island, I discovered what really mattered.
I holed myself up so much, from everything and everyone. I was so determined to be my own person, to pave my own way, that I never made room for anyone else but Daniel. But now, there’s Cy. And in some weird way… there’s me. The real me.
We marvel at how different everything looks here. “So many signs and noises,” he says.
“Right? It’s weird,” I tell him. “I can’t even really wrap my brain around the clocks. The time. It’s everywhere.” On the island, we’d just fall asleep when we were tired, often shortly after the sun set. Sometimes later. And we’d wake when the sun rose.
“Yeah. Not sure I like it,” he says.
This morning, we made love again, needing to reconnect in this way, needing the intimacy and assurance of one another.
His phone rings, and he picks it up on the first ring. They haven’t found the footage of the island, and we’re on edge about it. My contacts and investigator are unearthing one after another of the names complicit in this, and we fear at any moment the footage will be released.