Pleasure Cruise Trilogy (Box Set)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “But…”

  “Shh,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple.

  “But...”

  “Just let it be for tonight. We’ll head to the landing strip in the morning.”

  Was he actually proposing they sleep together and nothing else? His cock screamed at him, causing the beast to rant in protest. He ignored them both, using everything he had to keep calm, logical control.

  “I should call my cousin.” Annette yawned, her voice strained with the need to sleep. “She’ll be worried about me.”

  “You can do that in the morning too,” he assured her. “Right now, I’m thinking you need to be held and I’m starting to feel the effects of that whiskey.”

  She grunted and he chuckled, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply before closing his eyes. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not with his arm draped possessively over her. Nope, tonight she was all his and not even the gods could tear her away from him.

  Chapter Two

  Vaclar groaned as he stood in the assembly of the gods, listening to Bogdan, the keeper of the records, go on about his amount of power usage. It wasn’t the first time Vaclar had been called forth to answer for his actions nor would it be the last. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went. Only this time the other gods had seen fit to put an all-points bulletin out on him. He’d been threatened with a power stripping if he didn’t report to Bogdan. It was the only reason he was there.

  Of course, it didn’t help that he often invited trouble. Immortality tended to be tiresome after the first few hundred years and Vaclar needed ways to keep his interest and his sanity intact. Somehow, he’d been labeled a trickster among the gods, though his intentions were always honorable.

  Okay, they were honorable most of the time.

  Okay, some of the time.

  Bogdan droned on, but Vaclar didn’t really listen as he wondered where the goddess Aliki might be hiding. She had incredible breasts and a fetish for having sex inside dormant volcanoes. Sure, she wanted to cuddle afterward, but Vaclar could easily get out of that. One surge of power and he’d disappear to a place she couldn’t track him until her anger cooled.

  Damn! He’d forgotten. The whole reason he’d been dragged here was for overusing his power allotment. If he wasn’t careful, they’d take away his abilities to wield power completely. Vaclar could think of nothing worse than being powerless. He shivered at the very thought of having to dress himself or worse, get what the mortals called a “job”.

  Some idiot god decided long ago that rationing the amount of power each “lesser” god could use was a good idea. Apparently, it was to keep the lesser gods in line so they didn’t try to overthrow the assembly. So what if they did? It wasn't like the assembly didn’t have all eternity to get their positions back. The higher beings would be lucky to have something so engaging to do with their time. A well-planned strategy could entertain for years.

  “You out of all the gods should know we have rules for a reason,” Bogdan lectured.

  Okay, so Vaclar did start the last rebellion. But to be fair, the “lessers” had been drinking and fucking for nearly two years without break before deciding to overthrow the killjoy assembly. The higher beings sat in their godly castle, watching the lessers with disdain, all the while bemoaning the fate of supernatural creatures on Earth. The assembly was obsessed with finding supernaturals suitable human mates. It was their newest charity and he had no doubt it would grow out of fashion just like their save-the-dinosaur campaign had, back in the day. Zeus got bit one time by his pet T-rex and, bam! No more dinosaurs.

  Vaclar grinned at the idea of a rabid human biting Zeus. The females of the human race did have their charms, in a primitive, naïve way. Vaclar found it much more diverting to obsess over mating with humans as often and as much as he possibly could—to Tartarus with everyone else.

  He tapped his bare feet on the marble flooring, waiting to be chastised for his clothing choices. He’d gone with a faded pair of blue jeans, a white muscle shirt with one of his favorite beer logos on it and nothing else. Some poor mortal in the Caribbean would be missing the attire out of his suitcase. Stealing clothes was less power draining than materializing them out of thin air. Buying them was simply not done. Not when he could take what he needed.

  Scratching his scruffy chin, he noted he had at least two weeks’ worth of growth on it. Bogdan was clean-shaven and in the normal garb of the gods—a crown of laurel leaves, a knee-length tunic with gold cords wrapped around to form a crisscross pattern, and leather sandals with straps that tied up to mid-calf.

  A door slammed and it echoed through the halls of the assembly building. A table lined with wine decanters and cups was left wobbling. The “big guy” himself must have been storming about because no other god had the power to cause a tremor to ripple through the building.

  Vaclar glanced up at a statue of a male god engaging in sex with serving girls. It, and others like it, lined the upper terrace level. The area was reserved for the elite to sit while a large-scale meeting of the gods was in session. The entire massive structure was a shrine to them all, depicting their history, their desires and some of their downfalls. The white marble statue that had caught Vaclar’s attention had been chiseled into a striking likeness of his cousin, Vincenc.

  Vaclar’s cock hardened at the sight of the serving girls’ breasts. They were pert, small, with upturned nipples—just the way he liked them. Too bad they weren’t real. He could use a good fuck before he had to deal with the rest of the gods.

  Maybe if the rest of the gods took a moment to pole a few serving girls in real life and not just for the sake of art, they’d loosen up a bit.

  Doubtful.

  Bogdan peered down the end of his narrow nose, a judgmental look upon his pinched face. The man seemed to be in constant a state of worry. “Let’s see.”

  He opened a scroll and the end of it fell to the floor, rolling away, listing infractions Vaclar had incurred over the course of his immortally long life. Vaclar waited for the scroll to stop unrolling and reach the end but it kept going, and going, and going.

  Tapping the edge of the scroll, Bogdan nodded, appearing to have found the answers he was looking for. “Mmmhmm, yes. It would seem you are over your limit by…”

  Vaclar shrugged, more interested in the erotic sculptures than the man before him. “What? A couple of weeks’ worth? We can ask Anfisa to stop her efforts to fix that pesky ozone problem everyone keeps crying about and that should free up some reserves. Really, are you buying this whole greenhouse effect the little mortals keep going on about? What’s so wrong with warmer weather?”

  Bogdan puffed with superiority. “Try closer to five years over your limit, Vaclar.”

  “Five years?” Vaclar ran a hand through his long black hair, wondering how it was he’d used so much power in so little time. The gods were given the amounts they needed to fulfill their sworn duties and a small amount for recreational use but nothing more. It was possible to dip into the general power pool as often as one wanted but the assembly of the gods kept a close eye upon the reserve—punishing those who dared to break the laws.

  Vaclar’s gaze darted toward the side of the assembly where statues depicted the demise of gods who had dared to challenge the others. He gulped at the sight of one of them being fed alive to a mammoth water snake. Another showed a god’s limbs being severed and fed to the lions guarding the gates of paradise.

  His palms began to sweat.

  Okay, so maybe he’d been just a little excessive. He’d summoned forth a private tropical island, filling it with willing virgins who wanted nothing more than to please him, and feasting on an endless buffet of food and wine. As Vaclar thought back to the week of constant debauchery, he cringed. With Bogdan’s incessant clicking of disapproval, he found himself debating if it had been worth it. On one side, naked virgins running around, breasts bouncing, young bodies wet with surf, dusted with sand, so tan and…

  Vaclar groaned,
his cock responding to the very memory of the pleasures he’d permitted himself.

  “Care to explain what it was you used the power for?” Bogdan asked, his tone condescending.

  Vaclar cleared his throat, his mind racing for an answer. “Uh, I… umm…” He glanced toward the wall, noting a tapestry for the assembly’s new pet project, “Pleasure Cruise”. He’d heard other gods talking about the cruise line they’d put together in order to help supernaturals find their mates to continue the species. Vaclar had even debated crashing the party to see what kind of mischief he could cause, but decided against it since it was so heavily monitored. The other gods seemed to be putting a lot of effort into the cause. His smile was animated as he spoke, “Why, yes, Bog-man, I would love to tell you what I’ve been up to.”

  “It’s Bogdan.”

  “I know.” Vaclar winked, tossing an arm around the thin man’s shoulder. “I heard about the Powers That Be wanting to boost the supernatural population back to what it once was by to hooking them up with their destined mates and I thought I could lend a hand. You know how much I worry about the little rodents… erm… I mean humans and supernaturals.”

  “You,” Bogdan huffed in obvious disbelief, “thought you could help? How?”

  A Cheshire-cat grin slid over Vaclar’s face. He couldn’t believe how easy this was—lying to Bogdan. Though he wasn’t really surprised at the ease with which the falsehoods came. He’d done his fair share of lying over the centuries. Thinking of his tropical island paradise just waiting to sink into the ocean from his more recent neglect of it, he said, “I’ve created an island, devoted solely to bringing together supernaturals and their mates. I was so inspired by the brilliance of Pleasure Cruise. Was that your idea, Bog-man?”

  “An island?” Bogdan asked, his interest piqued.

  “Oh yeah,” Vaclar said. “A regular Garden of Eden on Earth. In fact, it’s all ready to go. I even used five years of my own power to create it. Do you see how helpful I’m being? I’ve told you I’ve changed.”

  Not really. Not even close.

  “With such a grand scheme as the boat trips to live up to, I didn’t want to tell you about it until it was up and running with the first couples, but,” Vaclar shrugged, giving the man a purposefully forlorn look, “you forced me to ruin the surprise.”

  “And this is where the power went?” Bogdan didn’t look completely convinced, but he was wavering.

  “Yes. Every bit of the overage and then some. I told you, I even donated all my leisure allotment to make it work.” Vaclar had only planned to use the island for a week to spoil maidens and it was anything but a paradise when he left. It looked more like the morning after a party at a fraternity house, but it wouldn’t take too much to clean it up. “Of course, I’ll need a wee bit more power allotted to me.”

  Bogdan raised an eyebrow.

  “Just to put the finishing touches on it. You know, make it extra-special. Human women liked to be romanced.” He lifted a hand, motioning toward the vaulted ceiling. He widened his eyes and leaned down to Bogdan’s height. “Can you see it now? Bogdan… the one who helped the gods fulfill destinies. A hero, a legend. That could be you sculpted up there.”

  Bogdan nodded, seemingly swept away in Vaclar’s theatrics.

  “They will have ceremonies honoring you. Bards will sing of your contributions to the greater good for centuries to come. Supernaturals will speak your name in hushed, reverent tones. Maidens will swoon at the very sight of…”

  Licking his lips, Bogdan stared up at Vaclar. “Maidens? How many?”

  “Oh, more than you could ever count, my friend. It’s a well-known fact that maidens like heroes.” He bit back a laugh. It was clear Bogdan hadn’t been laid in quite some time. The fact actually explained a lot.

  “And exactly how many couples does this island hold?” Bogdan asked.

  “Ah, one?” He didn’t want to do too much work after all. Bogdan began to shake his head in denial. Vaclar quickly amended, “Two. It’s perfect for two couples. I didn’t have enough power to make room for more. I thought I’d try it out, make sure everything was up and running smoothly first. Wouldn’t want to have anyone leaving unmated, would we?” He gave a nervous laugh, seeing the wavering in Bogdan’s eyes. “What do you say, friend? Can I have more power rations?”

  Bogdan was silent for a moment before nodding. “Yes. Two weeks’ worth. No more.”

  Two weeks’ worth? What the hell was he supposed to do with that? He knew better than to push and risk Bogdan coming back to his senses.

  “It’s a deal,” Vaclar said, wondering how he was going to pull off transforming an island, created on a whim, into the next paradise on Earth. He’d think of something, but first he needed a few test subjects. How hard could it be to please a few humans and supernaturals?

  Bogdan leaned closer to him and sniffed. “What is that horrible smell?”

  A week’s worth of sex, food and wine.

  He thought it best to avoid the truth. “Uh, I’m not sure. I noticed it when I walked in but I didn’t want to say anything.”

  Pointing down the hall, Bogdan took a step back from Vaclar. “Bathing pools are that way. The daughters of Talisgon are there as we speak. They’ve asked about you twice already.”

  “Twice?” Vaclar grinned. “Then I should really be on my way. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

  “Yes, they are insufferably impatient when they want something,” Bogdan said.

  Vaclar ignored him as he hurried toward the bathing pools. Suddenly, he stopped when he remembered the need to find test subjects for his island. The call of the daughters of Talisgon was almost too much but he resisted the urge to ignore his new duty. He liked having powers as much as he liked fucking. It would be easy enough to find two pairs destined for one another. Though he did feel a little sorry for the poor suckers.

  Ah well, better them than him.

  His pity didn’t last long. He’d get them to the island with little more than the briefest of moments wasted. Really, it didn’t matter how he got them there, just so long as they got there. Then he could get back to bathing pools.

  * * *

  Annette sat, staring out the tiny window of the twin-engine plane, wondering why she’d forced Jurgen to take her to an airport that wasn’t shut down when the weather was less than stellar. Surely the international airport was shut down for a reason. They said there was a spill on the runway and maintenance issues, but what if it was something more? Maybe it was the tropical storm.

  All she knew was that she needed to get off the island. It was an overwhelming need that flooded every thought and drove every emotion. They’d waited until morning and until he’d slept off the alcohol he’d consumed before departing. In her defense, no storms had been predicted by the weatherman. One most certainly had come.

  She glanced up at Jurgen once more, already having spent most of the time in the air watching the side of his head. Her eyes traced the line where flesh met light brown hair, hair shaved so close to his head that it was almost nonexistent. The clean-cut look suited him, as did the stubble lining the sides of his face and jawline, accenting the cleft in his chin. He was well past the point of handsome and even though he was crass and a bit of a jerk, he had his finer moments, like when he’d offered to handle her problem with her boyfriend. The insistence on holding her in the middle of the night was a bonus, not that she would ever admit as much to him. Perhaps it was the charm of the island, but from the first moment she’d looked at the sexy pilot, she’d felt a connection to him. Every part of her begged her to be near him, to trust him.

  Jurgen had grown quiet after they’d taken off. She almost missed his sexual innuendoes and teasing smile. The small plane could seat upward of eight people and appeared to be well cared for. Right now, she was the only passenger. The plane wasn’t new but it wasn’t old either. The interior looked to have been redone at some point and was white with varying shades of blue edging the seats.

>   The plane rocked as it went through another set of dark clouds. Annette hated to fly but it was a necessary part of her job. She’d only been on a plane this small a handful of times and never remembered a flight being so rough.

  “Is this normal?” she asked.

  He didn’t glance back. His attention was on the skies ahead of him. Annette wouldn’t throw a fit about it because it was better he focus on his flying rather than her, but still, the sting of rejection was still fresh in her mind. It was no fault of the pilot’s but rather her boyfriend.

  No, she thought to herself with a huff. Ex-boyfriend.

  Annette had it in her head that she was going to surprise her boyfriend by visiting him at his summer home on a tiny, private island he had leased in the Bahamas. She’d packed all new lingerie and a bagful of sex toys she’d bought especially for the trip. Her boyfriend used to complain she wasn’t daring enough for him and that he wanted to break her out of her shell. She’d set out to change all of that. After notifying her boss that she’d be taking a two-week vacation, she’d called her cousin Christy, who was more like a sister to her, and confessed her plan to surprise her boyfriend.

  Unfortunately, the surprise had been on her when she’d walked in to find him with another woman. Annette should have been furious. She wasn’t. Oddly, she was relieved, though she wasn’t sure why. In fact, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. The only hitch in her island escape was when she’d finally managed to get a boat back to the larger island of New Providence, all flights out had been canceled. Then some strange guy with a leaf stuck in his hair had directed her to the annoying, albeit incredibly handsome, pilot. She was told there was only one private airstrip off the island and it was lined with old downed planes. It was either Jurgen, or she would be forced to beg one of the numerous cruise ships coming into port for the day to let her on board. With ship security, she really doubted they’d care about her predicament. So, the pilot it was. After much tantrum-throwing and, in the end, pleading, she’d convinced Jurgen to give her a lift.