The Rock Star's Virginity (Romance Island Resort #3)

by Demelza Carlton

  "Miss Flavia…Lancaster? From York?" Xan enquired, trying not to sound gleeful. She was dying to ask the girl why she'd set up the auction, but she restrained herself. "Everything seems in order." Xan grabbed one of the VIP wristbands and set it in the scanner. "Okay, this will give you access to Jay's villa and all of the shared guest facilities. Kitchen hours are limited this week, but Jay should have the times on his room service menu. Any questions?" She passed the wristband across the counter and watched the girl…no, Flavia put it on.

  Flavia shook her head. "Does Mr…does Jay know I'm here?"

  Xan shrugged. "He probably heard the helicopter. I'll call him and let him know." She reached for the reception desk phone, then changed her mind. "I'll be right back." She headed for her office and closed the door before dialling the number for Villa Penguin.

  "Xan. Are you finally asking me on a date?" Jay laughed.

  For once, Xan had one up on him. "No. Your date for tonight just arrived, complete with her clean police clearance. Miss Chastity." She held her breath, waiting for him to confirm her suspicions. Wishing he wouldn't.

  "She's here?"

  Jay Felix, rock star and the biggest idiot this side of the sun, had bought a girl's virginity. Xan's already low opinion of him dropped an extra kilometre.

  "Send her over!"

  And have a repeat of Phuong's flight? Not bloody likely. "I'll bring her to your villa," Xan snapped. "And you'd better have clothes on this time."

  "Aw, c'mon, Xan. Clothes are overrated in this heat."

  Xan didn't deign to reply. Instead, she hung up and headed back to Flavia. "He knows. I'll take you to his place now."

  Flavia gave a curt nod and gestured for Xan to lead the way.

  Xan wondered whether the girl's confidence was faked or whether she had no qualms about selling her body to the highest bidder, whoever he might be. Did she have no conscience or doubts at all? Xan couldn't…wouldn't…ever be able to march so calmly to the house of the man she'd sold herself to. She'd been a ball of nerves on the helicopter here, and her job wasn't half as daunting as prostitution. Or first time sex.

  The rain had stopped, for the moment, though steaming puddles still stood on the paths. Flavia's suitcase wheels hissed as they parted the tiny seas, all the way to Villa Penguin.

  Flavia hesitated at the steps, but Xan kept going, right up to Jay's front door, which she rapped on. "Jay, your visitor's here!" Xan called through the frosted glass.

  The door whirred open and Xan moved aside so that Jay could see Flavia. And so she could see them both. Flavia's eyes grew as round as her open mouth until she swallowed and seemed to get a hold of herself. Shakily, she climbed the steps, bumping her suitcase up behind her.

  Jay's easy smile was already in place. So were his shorts, fortunately, though that's all he wore. Better than nothing, Xan supposed. "Come in," he said, his voice so deep he was almost purring.

  Bloody tomcat, Xan thought.

  "You can go now, Xan," Jay said, making shooing motions.

  Xan's eyes darted to Flavia. Was it safe to leave this inexperienced girl with Romance Island's Romeo?

  "Thank you. It was nice to meet you," Flavia said. Without another glance at Xan or Jay, she headed past him into the house.

  Jay winked at Xan before letting the door close between them.

  Xan debated whether to stick around to make sure the girl was all right, or leave before the sounds of sex started.

  Listening to Jay Felix have sex with a girl he'd paid for the privilege? Ugh, no. Xan headed back to her office. Only a few hours left before her long weekend started and she was still waiting on that film crew. Where were they?

  Fifteen

  Oh God. It really was him. Jay Felix. He was hotter in person than in his pictures. Her mouth watered at the thought of running her fingers down those muscles, before pulling him hard against her for…what? Anything he wanted, she supposed.

  "Come in," he said, his voice deeply emphasising the 'come'.

  Flavia forgot the formidable Ms Lane. She probably forgot her own name as her feet carried her into his house. No, his hotel room, for that's what it was. A big, stark suite with hotel furnishings and nothing personal lying around, like he didn't really live here.

  She stopped in the middle of the floor, wanting to sag onto the couch before her legs gave out, but if she did, she wasn't sure she'd manage to get up again. The dining table might be best. She could sit at the head of the table, place the contract documents at the other end and have the length of wood between them when he sat down to read what he could and couldn't do to her.

  What he could do to her…

  Flavia just made it to the table before her wobbly legs refused to hold her any more. She was in way over her head.

  "Can I get you a drink?" Jay stood in the kitchen, one hand on the fridge door.

  Yes, please. A glass of the strongest stuff you have, and make it a double, Flavia thought but didn't say. Instead, she quavered, "No, thank you." She stared at him and felt a blush heating her cheeks. To cover her discomfiture, she lifted her bag onto her lap and rifled through it for the folder of documents. When she found it, she held it up as a shield between her and the abs that were taunting her to taste them.

  "You want to get the paperwork sorted first? Good idea. Then we're free to enjoy ourselves as much as we like." Jay moved to the table and sat on the chair closest to her, stretching his legs beneath the table until his knee bumped hers.

  The contact sent a jolt that travelled right up to her heart, which did jumping jacks until it lodged in her throat as she realised that his leg remained right beside hers. Skin on skin, heating her more than she thought humanly possible.

  "Mr Felix." It came out as a squeak, so she started again. "Mr Felix, I've prepared a list of acceptable conduct for you, both during and after our contract. I'm sure you were already aware of the condition that there will be no further contact between us once the transaction is complete, but there are other things that…" She watched in horror as Jay plucked the folder from her fingers and scanned the first page. He flipped to the next…and the next, until he came to the signature page. He couldn't have read them that quickly. No one read that quickly.

  Jay produced a pen from his pocket and winked at her. His eyes never leaving hers, he signed the last page with a flourish and pushed the folder across the table to her. "Are we done with the boring stuff?"

  Flavia stared at his signature. He'd agreed to…everything? Without even reading it? "I thought you might want to discuss…"

  His finger touched her lips, effectively silencing her. "What's there to discuss? You're here because you want your first time to be with me. You tell me what you want, what you need, and I'll make sure you never forget your first time, because no one else will ever measure up." He set an envelope on top of the signed contract. "The details of a numbered Swiss account with my bid amount as the balance are in there. It's yours."

  Not yet, it wasn't. First she had to…he had to… "Where would you like to do it?" Flavia choked out.

  Jay chuckled. "You're eager to get my clothes off, aren't you? I figured we'd take it slowly, but it's really not up to me. When our bodies unite in shared passion for the first time and you cry out in ecstasy, everything should be just the way you like it." He leaned over the table so that his face was centimetres away from hers. "In your dreams, the wild fantasies you've woven as you wondered what it would be like with me, where did you want me to worship you?"

  She was drowning in his eyes, glowing like the water of the Avon River when the sun shone just right. Drowning so deeply she'd never reach shore on her own. But in his arms…ohhhh…

  "The shore," she blurted out, then added, "I mean, the beach. Ssss…sss-sex on the beach." Sand cradling her body as the warm water caressed her and Jay…he…

  His leaned forward and his lips grazed hers, breaking the spell.

  Flavia leaped backwards, chair and all. "No kissing! It's in the contract you just
signed!"

  Annoyance creased his perfect brow. "What? You can't be serious."

  Flavia tried to slow her racing heart. "Read it if you don't believe me. No kissing, no kinky stuff, no – "

  Jay burst out laughing. "Whatever you say, baby. How about we head out to my private beach where it'll just be you and me? Then you can decide what you want and what you don't. I'll make sure it's better than your wildest dreams."

  Flavia swallowed. She believed him. And in a dream, she followed him out of the villa and onto the warm sand. Waves licked languorously at the beach, waiting for her and Jay to join them.

  Sixteen

  Xan thought she caught the sound of thumping helicopter blades, but when she walked outside to check, the sky was disappointingly clear. It was only the jet boat's throbbing engines, as Baz brought the last supply run before the weekend.

  He waved from the wheelhouse and she waved back, wishing she had time to go for a spin in the Sound with him. It'd been weeks since she'd had time for a rollercoaster ride through the whirlpools, but she was dying to do it again. Soon, she promised herself. When the boat came back from dry dock next week. The freshly painted hull would slide across the surface better than the hydrofoil that belonged to one of the tour companies in town.

  The tide was in, so when Baz tied up the Argo, he only had to heft the boxes from the deck to the jetty instead of winching them ashore. Not that he liked using it – he usually complained that the winch was too slow and he'd rather lift the boxes himself. Xan didn't mind if it was the laundry bags – those were easy to toss to the deck, no matter how low the tide. A three-metre drop didn't damage the dirty linen. But when it was a crate of milk that were all the dairy they'd have for a week, or a case of expensive spirits in glass bottles, Xan drew the line. She'd seen Baz drag the milk crates up the ladder, canted at an angle so precarious she couldn't understand how he'd managed to stop the milk bottles from tumbling into the water below.

  The sound of trundling trolley wheels behind Xan told her that she wasn't the only one waiting for the supply boat – Patel and Lee headed down the jetty to collect the food so they could safely stash it in the cool room.

  "Don't forget your beer, boys," Baz said, clunking a box to the boards that Xan knew wasn't on the resort's manifest.

  "Remember you're both on call for the Easter weekend," she warned them.

  Patel waved away her worries. "We won't forget, Ms Lane. Besides, the bar isn't open until next week. This is all the beer we have for a whole week!"

  Put like that, a case wasn't likely to go very far between the two men. Xan let it go.

  "No bar. But we heard the hotel bar here was one of the main attractions. Best beer in the Kimberley on tap, the website said!"

  Xan whirled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Baz had a passenger – two, actually. Two scruffy-looking men in cargo pants and t-shirts started unloading a stack of Pelican cases that didn't look like anything the resort had ordered, either.

  One of them extended a large hand. "I'm Simon and this is Tim. We spoke on the phone last week. We're here to film your island in all its glory. But without the bar, I guess."

  Xan accepted the handshake, her mind trying to fill in details and coming up blank. "You were supposed to be here hours ago. I had the helicopter pilot on standby."

  Tim and Simon exchanged glances. "We had so much gear, it was too much for one trip. We hired a car instead and took the boat over," Tim said loudly. Simon nodded and clambered over the seats to get another case. Tim dropped his voice to a carrying whisper, "Simmo used to work on the oil and gas rigs. Only way on and off was by helicopter. One day, the pilot was so high on drugs he decided his helicopter was a dragonfly and tried to skim across the top of the waves. A big wave washed over the top of it and Simmo and the others had to swim for their lives or sink to the bottom. Then he was stuck on a life raft with the puking pilot for two days before a survey ship picked them up. The pilot had dried out by then – no trace of the drugs in his system, so he's still licensed to fly. Simmo won't go back after that. He won't get in another helicopter, he says."

  Xan nodded, though she didn't entirely believe him. Surely she'd have heard of a helicopter crash if it had almost claimed lives. She considered for a moment. Actually, she probably wouldn't. If it was the oil and gas company's helicopter, not a commercial charter, and the drilling platform was far enough offshore, it would be outside Australian jurisdiction. They wouldn't have to report the incident to anyone. It really was the edge of civilisation out here.

  "Well, you're here now. I'm Xan Lane, the manager of the resort, as you've probably already guessed. We only have a skeleton staff with no guests on the island, so I've arranged to put you up in the staff accommodation. If you'll come with me, I'll get your wristbands and you'll be good to get settled in." Xan led the way to land.

  "Um, Ms Lane? What about our gear? These are specialist cameras and lenses. What if someone tries to steal it?"

  Xan laughed. "Guys, welcome to Romance Island Resort. Now you're here, there are exactly ten people on the island. The only way on or off it is via that boat – " She pointed at Baz, motoring slowly away from the jetty. " – or by helicopter, which is currently on the mainland. Unless we have a new species of shutterbug seagull, your gear will either be right here or on a trolley outside your rooms, depending on how long it takes the boys to unload the catering supplies."

  The thump of twin pairs of footsteps on the jetty told her they were following, so she continued toward the main building.

  She took a deep breath. "All meals are served in the staff dining room, starting with dinner tonight at seven. I'll point that out to you on the way to your accommodation. We'll meet at nine tomorrow morning to discuss your filming schedule so we can make sure you're familiar with safety at a site like this. You can ask any questions you have then, too."

  "Ms Lane, we'd like to spend a few hours surveying the territory before we start filming tomorrow. Take some pictures, maybe some video, so we can decide what parts of the island will work best. Will that be a problem?"

  She wasn't sure which of the men had spoken, but it didn't matter.

  "Of course not," Xan replied. "Go wherever you like. With the hotel closed and no guests, it won't matter where you film, as long as you keep your cameras out of the staff bathrooms." She couldn't keep the darkness from seeping into her tone for that last part. Cameras in the women's bathroom had been an ongoing problem at the backpackers hostel she used to manage. She'd never had that problem at the resort, though maybe that was because of the extra-friendly frog population here.

  Seventeen

  "My beach has the best view of sunset over the lagoon. When you've had your fill of me, we can take a break, and lie on the beach, watching the sunset, before we do it all over again," Jay said as he led the way between the palm trees.

  Alarm bells sliced through the lusty fog in Flavia's head as she squinted up at the sun, still high in the sky. "Once only," she croaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. "That's in the papers you signed, too. The deal was to have sex once and that's all. Not all afternoon and evening, as many times as you want. That's not part of the deal."

  Jay stopped so suddenly she almost ran into his back. Her nose came dangerously close to the dip between his shoulder blades before she reared back to maintain her distance.

  He turned and stared at her. "You know your first time might hurt a bit, right? And that it's better the second and maybe even the third time? You seriously think you'll only want to sleep with me once?"

  No, her brain whimpered, as Flavia managed to say aloud, "That's the deal."

  Honey-gold eyes held hers for what seemed like an eternity. "I don't think you know what you're getting into," he said softly. "But if you want more…when you want more, just say so. It's your deal and you set the terms. If you want something to dream about later, you won't want to just remember the pain."

  Flavia swallowed as icy-cold fingers closed over her
heart. Yes, of course she knew her first time would hurt. She'd been trying not to think about it, but Jay's insistence meant now she could think of nothing else. Not his hands on her or the erotic dreams that had fuelled her courage the last week. The thought of pain as he penetrated her and…would she scream? Cry? Oh God, what if she cried? She didn't want him to see her cry.

  A white, sandy beach spread out before her, edged by palm trees. Flavia forced her breathing to slow. This wasn't so bad. Sex on the beach in paradise, with a rock god who had a body to match. She could do this. Just as long as he didn't see her cry.

  Flavia stripped off her clothes with shaking hands and draped them over the sign confirming that this was, indeed, a private beach. Once naked, she didn't dare glance down or she'd lose her nerve. She didn't even want to meet Jay's eyes. Instead, she turned her back on him and walked toward the water. A warm wave caressed her toes, teasing her, before it retreated, tempting her to come in deeper. Here would do. The sand was soft and Flavia could fix her eyes on the horizon as he…

  She dropped to her knees in the water, then leaned forward so she was on all fours. She had to swallow three times before her voice could actually form the words. "Here. I want you to do me right here. Doggy style. Now." She forced her body to stay still, instead of shaking to pieces like she felt it wanted to.

  A soft splash told her Jay was right behind her. Lightly, he touched her backside.

  Flavia jerked away. "You don't get to touch my arse. That's off limits!" she barked.

  "What do you want?" He ran a finger up her spine, until his hand rested on the back of her neck. "You don't want kisses. You don't want me to touch you. You seriously want me to fuck you, right here and now, without any foreplay? That's fucked up. It's not how I do things." His fingers traced circles at the nape of her neck, tickling the skin of her back as the circles grew wider. "Tell me what you want, baby."

  She'd never felt so vulnerable. So small. Naked on a beach with a man behind her who she couldn't see. Flavia tensed and edged her knees wider apart on the sand. "I want you to…ffff-fuck me right here. Right now." Where had she picked up a stutter? Damn it, why was he drawing this out? Something sharp dug into her knee and Flavia focussed on the pain, which would distract her from the rising panic of anticipation of worse pain when he…