Heart's Paradise

by Olivia Starke

  He bit his lip harder. She has no idea what she’s doing to me. “As long as you want, angel.”

  She moved again, trying to snuggle closer, but when she lifted her hand from his thigh, the side of it brushed his hard cock. She sucked in a breath as he hissed through his teeth.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning away. “I didn’t mean… I mean, I didn’t know…”

  “Oh God, angel, don’t be sorry.”

  He cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth to his. Phoebe tensed, and the gentleman he always tried to be told him to back off. But he was beyond listening. He parted her lips, and his tongue coaxed her mouth open. She met him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her tongue mating with his. He groaned and tugged her over until she straddled his thighs. He couldn’t get enough of her flavor, and the kiss turned sloppy and greedy. He grabbed her ass, pulling her tight to his erection, and she rubbed against him.

  His hands slipped around, and he palmed her heavy breasts, rubbing her pert nipples through the thin cotton of her bra. She whimpered, and he pinched them lightly. Jonathon felt the world slip away as he came undone. Tell me to stop, angel. If you don’t want this, please tell me to stop now. “Phoebe, God, Phoebe,” came out instead.

  He pushed her back, following as she lay on the wet sand. One thought drove him as he knelt between her legs, spread her wide, and buried his face in the juncture of her thighs. He had to taste her pussy. Her panties were in the way. Impatient, he shoved the crotch of them aside with his thumb. The first sweet taste was heaven, and he thrust his tongue deep within her inner lips. Phoebe bucked into his mouth, panting, and making high-pitched sounds that drove him on. He rubbed her clit with the broad of his tongue, circling his head, and within moments he was rewarded with her sharp cry as her pussy contracted in orgasm.

  His balls tightened, and he reached down and pulled out his cock. He wanted nothing more than to bury deep inside her soaked pussy. Feel her grip him tight as he pumped hard and fast until he lost his soul to her. Phoebe’s fingers roamed over his chest then down his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut as her fingertips brushed the end of his dick. Her touch seemed tentative, shy, as she lightly circled his glans.

  Jonathon caught her hand. “Will you do something for me?” he asked. “I want nothing more than to be inside of you, angel…” But I’ll lose it as soon as I push inside of that sweet tight spot of yours.

  “What do you want me to do?” she whispered hoarsely.

  In exquisite torture she opened her legs once more in invitation. Flashes of lightning from the faraway storm showed her parted mouth, arched back, and supple ready form beneath him. The perfume of her arousal filled his head, leaving him in a fog of lust that strangled his good intentions.

  God, if only she knew she’d pushed him to breaking.

  He moved her hand to his shaft, wrapping her fingers around his girth. He guided her in short up and down strokes.

  “Make me come fast,” he said through his teeth. Because otherwise he might throw common sense out the door and risk unprotected sex. He braced over her on his knees and one hand, the other covering hers while she worked him closer and closer…

  “Hold tighter… Like that… Oh, fuck yes.” He shuddered as his hot cum spilled over their hands. “You’re perfect, angel. Absolutely perfect.” He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm.

  “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

  Phoebe’s question drifted between them, and it took several moments to make sense of it. And then it made no sense. He stared toward her face, wishing he could see her better.

  “Have we met before?” he asked. The nagging notion he did know her taunted his mind. “What’s your last name?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She pulled her hand free of his and crawled away, out into the darkness.

  Jonathon groaned and fell onto his back, staring into the nothingness above his head. The nip of the air cooled his skin and gooseflesh broke out over his arms and legs.

  “Damn it.” He sat up, wondering over the mystery which made up Phoebe.

  He stared into the thickening black beyond the hut. Dawn was approaching. The animals had already started changing shifts as a new set of voices drowned out the few lingering calls of night birds. He felt agitated, so he rose and left the shelter.

  Off to the east side of the island, through the filter of the breaking clouds, first glimpses of sunrise kissed the sky.

  “We’ll be hard pressed to find dry wood for a fire,” Phoebe said from nearby. “Everything got drenched.”

  Jonathon wanted to say something about what had happened between them. Something clever and charming that would shake the awkwardness.

  “Come daybreak I’ll scope out the beach, see if anything useful washed ashore.” He rubbed his hand over his damp hair, knocking sand from his scalp. He was off kilter, his usual easy way with words eluded him.

  “I’m going to make a couple of lobster traps today.” Phoebe hugged her arms around herself, but the air had already started to grow warm. Muggy, it promised a sticky day ahead. “And look for sea urchins, I might find some in the shallows. We’ll have to eat whatever we find raw until the wood and tinder dries out.”

  Jonathon grinned. “Sushi? First class dining, and they said this would be a challenge, eh?”

  She refused to look at him, and it didn’t sit well in his gut. He should’ve left her alone, the last thing he wanted to do was make it impossible for the two of them to work together. Twenty-four days left, and if they hoped to make it through they had to be comfortable with one another.

  Good going, genius. Horniness had gotten the best of him, but was it really a surprise? How many times had his dick done his thinking in his life? Phoebe deserved better from him, and until he figured out exactly who she was, he’d keep his hands to himself.

  The last of the cloud cover broke, throwing early dawn’s colorful light over them. To make up for the previous rough night, Mother Nature had decided to give them one hell of a show. Light pinks and lavender touched the tops of the palm trees, and the white sands caught the color, shimmering pink here, orange and lavender there. Admittedly, Jonathon was a city boy. He loved the constant activity, the conveniences, and even the smell of hot pavement on a blistering Texas day.

  But here, in this moment, he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. It seemed they stood on a different planet. A strange and wonderful planet where only the two of them lived. A passenger jet crossed overhead, its faint buzz the only evidence they weren’t alone in the world.

  “This is incredible,” he mumbled.

  “It’s my favorite time of day,” Phoebe said. “Nothing can compare to the woods at dawn.”

  The romance of the moment wasn’t lost on him, and he gazed down to his companion. She stared over the Indian Ocean. Her damp, mussed hair caught the dawn, throwing in glinting shades of copper and bronze in the dark chestnut color. She’d taken it out of its braid, and the soft waves hung down between her shoulder blades. He itched to stroke it, feel its silky texture between his fingers. The memory of the night stirred his blood. Already his silent vow to keep his hands to himself battled with the desire to touch her. Kiss her. Feel her soft curves against his body.

  He struck out to the edge of the water, the last thing he needed was to let the fantasy build to frustration. Driftwood had washed ashore, and also surprisingly, a big blue cooler, along with plastic bottles. Random refuse washed in from the populated islands. At least Jonathon hoped the cooler owner hadn’t sunk somewhere offshore.

  “Might be of some use.” Phoebe walked over to the cooler and tapped it with her foot. “It’s heavy, I think there’s something inside it.”

  “Might be hiding a dead body,” he joked. He cleared his throat when she didn’t respond to the jibe. “Well, the audience will probably want to be in on this.” He strode back to the hut, finding the small headbands half-covered with sand, laying near
the salvaged turtle shell. Luckily they weren’t required to wear them while sleeping or during bathroom breaks.

  He picked them up, brushed them off, then hit power ‘on’. Their lights popped on, they’d somehow managed to survive the squall.

  He donned his. “Last night, we rode out one hell of a storm,” he narrated for the audience. “I thought for sure we were goners, but we survived. Today, we’ve found some gifts washed ashore, including a cooler that might come in handy.”

  He returned to the cooler, handed Phoebe hers, and she put it on. She dropped to her knees and rocked the cooler back and forth. “It’s really heavy. I can feel water sloshing inside, but there’s definitely something solid in it too.”

  Not long before leaving for the island, Jonathon had watched a movie about a serial killer who kept his victims’ heads inside a blue cooler. Perhaps loss of sleep brought the mental image vividly to mind.

  Phoebe grabbed the lid then hesitated, and the fact she seemed nervous didn’t help his anxiety any.

  “You want me to open it?” he asked. He started to reach for the cooler, but she batted his hand away.

  “No. There was a movie not long ago… I’m sure there’s nothing in it but maybe some fish.”

  Jonathon held his breath. Phoebe threw the lid open. The odor of rotting flesh hit him, and he stumbled back, covering his face with his forearm. Phoebe had turned away as well, looking ready to gag.

  “Oh God, that’s rank,” he said, grateful his stomach was empty. The smell of the salvaged turtle shell wasn’t nearly as awful as the cooler.

  “Yeah, I don’t think we’ll want this after all.” She staggered to her feet and walked away from it. “I was right, it’s fish. We’d need bleach, and I’m not even sure that would get the smell out.”

  They both retreated upwind of the rotten fish as gulls swarmed in, already squabbling over the disgusting breakfast Phoebe had uncovered for them.

  “I’ll make us some sandals after I finish the lobster traps,” she said when they’d returned to camp. “We’ll need shoes when we hike inland for our next drop. Why don’t you see if you can get us something to eat? Coconuts for now, then I’ll go find something from the ocean.”

  He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, determined to prove he wasn’t completely useless. Granted, his partner had years more experience than he did, but nonetheless, he could find sea urchins or maybe spear a decent-sized fish for their meal.

  “I’ll take care of today’s food, you can work on the traps.”

  She lifted her eyebrows, an expression of doubt which set him on edge. He had learned a few things about spear fishing and come hell or high water, he’d prove it to her. He walked over, grabbed his machete, and set about making himself a decent spear. When he had a long stick sharpened to a deadly point he walked back to the ocean and waded out into the surf. He moved slowly, staring into the crystal clear water. Fish darted this way and that, too small to mess with, but they nipped at his legs.

  A large gray shape swam into view, and for a split second he thought it was a shark. His heart jumped into his throat until he realized it didn’t have the right fin shape. He carefully lifted his arm, then the spear shot out in a blur—and completely missed its target. The large fish was nothing more than a silver flash as it took toward deeper water.

  Jonathon growled and waded to a new spot until waist deep. The sun beat down on his skin, and he felt the sting of sunburn on his shoulders and the back of his neck. He ignored the discomfort, determined to prove himself. Another large silver fish came into view. Once more he thrust his weapon, and the fish was long gone before the spear tip ever broke the surface of the water.

  “Damn it!”

  He stubbornly tried for another hour, until a headache pounded in his temples, and the sun and salt felt like fire on his sunburn. He gave up his ill-fated breakfast attempts. He swallowed over the bitter lump of pride as he made for shore. They’d have to settle for coconut meat, and he’d have to deal with Phoebe’s disapproval. He dove beneath the waves, letting the warmth soothe the worst of his headache and aggravation with failure.

  When Jonathon broke the surface and stood up in the shallows, he found Phoebe staring at him, her gaze feeling like the sensual scrape of fingernails on his flesh as it raked down him. She caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she zeroed in on his crotch. He glanced down, finding the wet fabric of his briefs left little to the imagination. His heart jumped into overdrive. With just a look she’d aroused him more than any woman had in years.

  They stared at one another, trapped by the moment. A tenuous thread of desire stretched between them and he dared not move lest it snap. He wanted to cross the hot sand, grab Phoebe up, and bury balls deep inside her. Hear her high-pitched cries of lust as he drove into her over and over. The silent vow he’d made to himself hours before seemed impossible when her large brown eyes shone with the same need he felt. Jonathon took a step forward. Then two, three, four...watching her closely, wanting her to welcome him, but at the same time wishing she’d turn away and show the restraint he didn’t possess.

  Then Phoebe blinked and turned her back. He deflated as disappointment and relief flooded through him. She walked over to the shade of a tree as he left the water. By the time he reached her, she already had several coconuts on the ground. She hacked off the end of one, handed it to him while avoiding his gaze, then opened one for herself. He tipped it to his lips, drinking the fluid within, letting it wet his parched throat.

  “We’ll need fresh water again before long,” she said.

  “I’ll get it, I saw a couple of bottles washed on shore I could use.” At least he could do one thing right today.

  Chapter 6

  Phoebe couldn’t shake the shame she felt with what she’d done with Jonathon. What the hell’s wrong with me? Sure, she’d been terrified of the storm. Since childhood they’d made her nervous. When he’d held her during the worst of the squall she’d been grateful for the security of his arms. That part she could justify. An innocent need to feel safe and protected when she was usually the protector.

  What had followed was another story. Her weakness had been thrown in her face yet again. She’d always considered herself a strong and independent woman, and being unable to control her baser wants with Jonathon was an ugly thing. Being effected by his charm...fine, she could write that off to a lame love life. Raising a daughter and working long hours didn’t invite many dating opportunities. Having a great big make-out fest was something entirely different.

  And who was she kidding, she would’ve gone all the way with him if he hadn’t had the sense to put the brakes on. One tiny moment to be grateful for, God knew she didn’t need to risk another pregnancy. This time she couldn’t blame youth and alcohol for rash behavior.

  She shoved her hair out of her eyes. The humidity and saltwater had left it frizzy, and she couldn’t keep the layers contained in a braid or bun. With every slight shift in the breeze loose strands tickled her nose and cheeks. One more annoyance to add to the day, along with sand flea bites that left her scratching her legs.

  “I can do this,” she mumbled to herself. “I’ll do it for Sarah.”

  Thoughts of her daughter left her miserable in a whole different way. Phoebe toyed with her colorful good luck bracelet. She missed her child so much it hurt. A constant ache buzzing in the background of everything else. With Jonathon gone to find water, she sat down and gave into a few tears of frustration. How on earth would she spend the next couple of weeks with the man? Her fickle hormones made her a fool around him.

  When he’d returned from his spear fishing attempt, the sight of him walking from the ocean, water streaming down his perfectly sculpted body, had taken her breath away. The wet boxer briefs had clung to him, an erotic thrill to the already tempting view. He’d become a god rising from the deep. A young Poseidon coming to claim a human conquest. And what an easy conquest if he would’ve taken her in his arms.

  She s
hook the memory away as her face heated and her pussy tightened. She gnawed at pieces of coconut, watching the gulls fight over the cooler down the beach. When she finished the coconut, she decided to find something more substantial to eat in the ocean. She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, walked to the beach, and waded out into the warm shallows.

  The clear surface made it easy to see to the bottom, and she walked slowly until she found one of the black prickly creatures she was searching for. She reached down and plucked the sea urchin off the coral, stuffed it in her bag, and continued on.

  Her skin grew tender where the sun had kissed it to a deep pink, and she finally gave up her quest and headed back to shore with only five sea urchins to show for her effort. She ate two of them raw, enjoying their salty sweet taste, and saved the other three for Jonathon. His larger size needed more calories. Then she set to work on her lobster traps. The weaving was meditative, and she soon forgot all her earlier troubles. When Jonathon returned, she felt almost happy as she showed him her first basket trap. He took it, turning it this way and that.

  “Wow, great job,” he said.

  Silly pride swelled inside her over his approval, and she shrugged, uncomfortable beneath the warm caress of his gaze. “It’ll do. I’ll finish the other one, and this evening I’ll go set them.”

  He handed her a filled bottle, one of the many empty bottles washed onto the beach by the storm. She took a sip from it, finding the drink pleasantly cool.

  “Thanks,” she said, handing him the cloth bag. “This is all I could find, but it’ll give you a protein boost.”

  He took the bag, peeked inside, and grinned. “A gourmet brunch.” He settled on the ground across from her and popped the first sea urchin open, eating it the same way she had with his fingers. “Yum. All we need are a couple of mimosas.” He licked his lips after the first bite, and her heart rate kicked up a notch over the sight of his tongue.

  Phoebe forced her attention back to her weaving, and much to her chagrin, Jonathon moved closer, watching her fingers, which suddenly fumbled with the weave, and she found it hard to concentrate.