Unbelievable

by Callie Harper

  “But wait, that’s not the best of it.” He moved over to his suitcase, fighting with the zipper to get it fully open.

  “You found a working cell phone?”

  “Better.” He pulled out a bottle of champagne.

  “Oh my God.”

  “It’s an excellent vintage,” he assured me.

  “I expect nothing less.” I assumed a haughty tone.

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.” He came to sit next to me, treasure in hand. “Expect the best and you’ll get it.” He displayed the champagne, sexy as a pirate king in his tux with his roughed-up hair and stubble.

  “You’re unbelievable,” I murmured. And I meant it in the very best way.

  CHAPTER 15

  Colt

  The process of making fire felt both all-consuming and meditative. It required concentration and precision, an art and a science. Taking nothing and making it something, it felt so primal, so powerful. Two pieces of wood formed curls of smoke, an ember, smoldering into life-sustaining flame. I’d never felt prouder of any of my accomplishments.

  Caroline kneeled over by a low, flat rock preparing the fish I’d caught. She did it well, efficient, effective, meticulous in cleaning her work surface with sea water and the cup she’d found in our cave. We made a good team, the two of us. Back in real life we’d been pitted against each other, adversaries with opposing goals. But here on the island our true selves came to play and we fit together perfectly.

  Earlier in the afternoon I’d taken her rough, standing up against the wall of our cave. It had felt so raw, so real, pinning her wrists above her head onto the smooth stone. Pounding into her, her legs locked around my waist, her mouth open in frenzied cries. I’d lost myself in it, the smell of her, the sounds of our fucking. The way it looked right where our bodies met, my hands splayed along her generous ass, cupping her cheeks, angling her just right with every thrust, so slick and tight around me.

  I’d bathed her afterwards in the lagoon, massaging her hair, loving every curve and crevice of her body. Taking care of my woman in every possible way. I’d never felt anything remotely near this with any other partner. With Caroline, it was so much more than amazing sex. It was a deep craving, a bottomless need to possess and satisfy. Mine, I felt it when I thrust into her. Mine.

  She belonged with me, and I her. I could feel it with certainty. I didn’t know if she felt it, too. And in the dim recess of my brain I remembered—we’d only known each other a couple of weeks. But getting stranded on a deserted island had a way of stripping away all of the bullshit. What was left once you removed all the trappings, all the labels that described our backgrounds and families and jobs? The perfect click that happened once in a lifetime.

  “This is going to be so good!” Caroline called over to me, holding up a big, fat fish I’d caught us earlier.

  “Yes, it is.” I wasn’t looking at the fish. She was back in that pink ruffled bikini, driving me crazy, looking like a pinup from the 60s, all flirt and bodacious curves. Her breasts were a work of art, rounded, luscious, creamy softness with those nipples like cherries on top of mounds of whipped cream. That bikini top was coming off soon. And when our rescue came, as I knew it would, I’d have to continue to create opportunities to fully enjoy her plentiful assets.

  I could use “CB” to block off time on my calendar. Caroline’s Breasts. I’d need hours devoted to that task every day.

  The fire roared before me. I stood back and surveyed it, tempted to beat my chest and roar with triumph. Man vs. elements. Man wins.

  “Oh! I just remembered!” Caroline’s eyes flashed with excitement as she took off toward our cave. I watched her go, enjoying the sight of her going as much as her coming. In both senses of the word.

  She returned several minutes later with something wrapped in foil. Approaching me, she held it between her two upturned palms like an offering for the gods.

  “It’s chocolate!” she declared.

  “No.” It couldn’t be.

  “Yes! In the side pocket in my backpack! I’m sure it’s all melted and gooey—”

  “My favorite kind. All the better to lick and suck.”

  She returned my smile. That dimple really killed me. We set the chocolate to the side, right next to the champagne, and went to work cooking our fish.

  Sitting together on a blanket, Dom Perignon Rose straight from the bottle, fire crackling before us, sun setting over the perfect aqua blue ocean, the level of fulfillment and satisfaction broke all previous records. Fresh fish so tender and light, falling apart in our hands as we licked our fingers. Juicy pineapple, so flavorful and sweet. And chocolate, dark chocolate, half melted and sinfully decadent as we fed it to each other piece by piece. I licked it off her lips, her fingers as she sighed with pleasure.

  “I think I’m going to have to bathe you again.” I licked a trail of pineapple juice from her chin, continuing on down her throat to my favorite playground below.

  “I wouldn’t say no to that.” She wound her hands around my neck and I picked her up in my arms. Looking up at me, dreamy and relaxed, happy and satisfied, I knew I’d never seen a woman more beautiful.

  The water was warm, as always, and calm in the shallow lagoon. I waded in, chest deep, letting the gentle water cradle us as we embraced. Kissing her slowly with no clocks, no deadlines, no pressing next engagements. We existed out of time, only for each other.

  She let her fingers, her lips and tongue play along my shoulders, my neck, my chest, exploring every inch. When she came to the scar on my right shoulder, she stopped, lightly running the pad of her index finger along it. It had long since stopped hurting, but her touch brought back memories.

  “How did you get this?” she asked, pressing a soothing kiss to it.

  “A knife,” I answered honestly. Exactly three people knew the story behind it, and one of them was dead. It wasn’t something I shared. But with Caroline, I already felt like an open book. There was no making up another story or deflecting her attention, as I’d done in the past when asked. It wasn’t a large or ugly scar, only a couple inches long and well healed. But the attacker had almost killed me.

  “Someone stabbed you?” She looked up at me, wide-eyed with concern.

  “It could have been a lot worse,” I assured her, and I wasn’t just saying it. He’d been aiming for my neck. Had he hit my carotid artery I could have died in under 60 seconds.

  “What happened?”

  I held her and told her, sharing a story I hadn’t shared with another living soul. Four years ago during the summer my younger sister was 18, she’d had a stalker. I hadn’t taken it seriously.

  “He was from a family like ours. Had a house nearby in the Hamptons.” I shook my head, still hating myself for not having clued in to how unhinged the young man had been, or how much danger Gigi had faced.

  “One night, he broke into our house.” I could still remember every detail, how I’d been standing in the kitchen in the early morning hours, still slightly drunk from a night out and about. My senses dulled, I hadn’t heard him break the small pane of glass above the doorknob of a side entrance. He’d disabled our alarm system.

  I had no warning before I saw him, all in black, creeping in the shadows toward the base of the stairs leading up to Gigi’s bedroom. I’d shouted and run over, stupidly trying to land a punch before I’d seen that he wielded a long, sharp knife. What he’d been planning to do with that knife to my sister, I thankfully never discovered.

  “If it weren’t for Dom, I don’t know what would have happened.” I told Caroline about how Dominic had come out of nowhere, somehow managing to leap into the fray and deflect the path of the knife down to my shoulder. He’d handled everything with precision and expertise, stopping the bleeding from my wound as he called in the paramedics. What he hadn’t been able to do, though, was save Gigi’s stalker. After a hard punch from Dom, he’d collapsed onto his own knife.

  “Thank God Dominic was there!” she exclaimed. “
Who is he?”

  “A good friend of the family.” Or at least of mine. My father and his mother had met that summer and married, briefly, before my father’s death. No one thought much of his fortune-hunting mom, 21 years younger than my dad with the biggest, raunchiest fake boobs you’d ever seen. But Dom would always be all right in my book. We didn’t legally have a family bond anymore, but he’d always be like a brother to me. A brother who’d saved my life, and possibly that of my sister as well.

  “I should have taken the threat more seriously.” I hated thinking about it. Twenty-six when it happened, I’d been fresh out of Harvard business school, devoting my weekends in the Hamptons to networking and partying, too pumped up with seizing my own destiny to stop and pay attention. I’d dismissed Gigi’s concerns, making assumptions about the stalker’s sanity based solely on his background and family connections. Turned out that Dom, covered in tattoos and muscles like a maximum-security prison inmate, was the good guy, while the one in the collared shirt and khakis was the villain.

  “That’s so scary,” she murmured. “I’m so glad you and your sister are all right.”

  I hugged her, appreciating her concern. But I didn’t want old, dark memories to cloud our current, blissful Eden.

  “Enough about all that.” I ran my hands up and down her back, pressing her to me. “That’s ancient history. I’m more interested in now.”

  I leaned down and kissed her deeply, cupping my hands underneath her ass. She wiggled against me and I revelled in the uniquely perfect fit between our bodies, her curves against my solid muscle. Slowly, I carried her out of the water and brought us over to the long, flat rock she’d used earlier to prepare our dinner.

  “So glad you cleaned your work surface.” I smiled, sitting us down on it.

  “I’m a professional chef,” she informed me. “Or at least I want to be. If you could get a diploma from watching YouTube videos, I’d have, like ten. I know all about mise en place. Clean up as you go.”

  “I don’t know about mise en place, but clean up as you go makes sense. And now we can use this surface.” I kissed her lips, her cheek, her ear, my hands lightly circling her waist.

  “Exactly,” she agreed, kissing my neck, her hands wandering down my chest. “You chop carrots on a cutting board. You wash it off, then you can chop your mushrooms.”

  “Just what I’m talking about,” I agreed. “You prep dinner on a rock. You wash it off, then you can fuck your woman on it.” I untied the neck of her bikini top and let it fall down around her waist.

  She laughed, full and throaty, then sighed with pleasure as I caressed her breasts. “What do you think, Caroline?” I asked as she pressed against me, her legs straddling me on either side. “How would you like it?” I rocked my cock against her and she moaned, bucking against me as I rolled her nipples between my fingers.

  “I have all kinds of ideas.” I watched her as she swayed against me, her head tilting back, her mouth opening in desire. That gave me a good one.

  “I want you to get down on your knees,” I murmured, pulling her off my waist. She whimpered in disappointment over our separation, and I instantly missed the connection, too. But all good things came to those who waited.

  She kneeled before me, her gorgeous breasts splayed out naked, her hair wet and winding down her back. Just the sight of her kneeling before me, looking up eager and adoring, had me rock hard. I brought my hand to my shaft, pressing against the cotton of my briefs, and gave it a squeeze. She followed my movement, her eyes fixed on the growing bulge, and she licked her lips.

  “Take off everything,” I ordered, my voice already thick with need. She did as she was told, untying the rest of her top and her bottoms. String bikinis looked so good on and came off so nice and fast. And they had so many different uses. I slid down my briefs, tossing them to the side. Then I picked up her bikini top and walked around behind her.

  Grasping her wrists in my hand, I pulled them behind her back, crossing them at the top of her ass. Improvising, without any of my usual restraints, I took the bikini and began winding it around her wrists. It would do.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, twisting a bit in my grasp. Not struggling, exactly, but she sounded slightly nervous and unsure. My cock ached at her inexperience, her newness to it all. I bet no one had ever bound her before.

  “I’m binding your wrists behind your back,” I whispered in her ear, leaning over her as I tied her tight. “How does that feel?”

  “Um…” She pulled a bit at her ties. “I’m not sure.”

  I walked around, watching her there before me kneeling and bound, her back slightly arched, her tits thrust up as she strained and wiggled against her restraints. Cock in my hand, I began to stroke it, relishing the sight of her displayed like that.

  “Spread your legs for me,” I commanded, standing directly before her. She looked up, eyes wide, struggling with mixed emotions, confused and unsure. Then she locked in on my cock, hard and huge in my palm. And her lips parted, an instinctual response, a slight moan coming from deep inside her.

  I sat back down on the rock before her, my cock now level with her mouth, and I stroked it in front of her. She watched, mesmerized, as I ran my hand along its length.

  “I told you to spread for me. Do it.” I spoke to her low, level and authoritative. She moved at my command, inching one knee to the side, then the other until she kneeled before me as I wanted.

  “Good,” I praised her, hand working my cock. “Now tell me how you like being naked and tied up on your knees? Are you wet from the feel of serving me?”

  She moaned, her eyelids flickering half closed, and I saw her hips move in a sensual undulation. I bet she wished she had her hands free so she could touch herself.

  “If I untied you, would you touch yourself for me?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Yes,” she answered instantly, eager, needy.

  I chuckled. “But I’m enjoying the sight of you with your wrists bound behind your back.” I brought my hands to her bare breasts, caressing her lightly, tracing the outline of her mounds, brushing against her nipples. “You’re so vulnerable like this.” I stroked her with my voice, too, coaxing out her desire, getting her to surrender to it, to me. “I can do anything I want with you.”

  She moaned, her head tilted back, eyes fully closed. But I wanted her to watch. “Eyes open!” I commanded and she quickly snapped her head up, opening them wide. “Look at how I play with you.”

  We both watched as my large hands cupped her breasts, squeezing. Then I bent down and sucked, taking her nipples into my hot, demanding mouth.

  “Colt!” she gasped as I pinched, then licked and sucked her fat nipples.

  “Are you wet?” I asked, sitting back up, slowly trailing my hand down to her pussy. Sliding my fingers along her dripping, slippery heat, I groaned in satisfaction. She liked the feel of restraint, of having her wrists tied behind her, kneeling before me. I’d known she would.

  “I’ve wanted to see you like this from the moment I first saw you.”

  “I did have my wrists bound when we met,” she recalled, breathlessly.

  “Yes, you did. I knew I had to get you like that for me again so I could play with you.”

  “You really went to extremes with the plane crash.”

  “Just my dumb luck that I now have you all to myself on a deserted tropical island.” Pressing against her clit, working my fingers up inside her, I licked her breasts. “I remember seeing your nipples pressing through your T-shirt. It made me want to do this.” I sucked on her nipple, groaning, circling it with my tongue as I did the same on her throbbing clit with my thumb.

  She pushed against me, arching into it, an orgasm building, growing inside of her. But not yet. I sat back, taking my hands away. She looked up, disappointed, slightly pouty. I grasped my thick cock in my hands and her pout went away as she watched me stroke it.

  “You’re going to get to come, baby. Don’t worry. But first I want you to su
ck my cock.”

  “Yes,” she exhaled, seeming to really like the idea.

  “You want this?” I asked, angling it toward her, the thick crown glistening with arousal. She licked her lips, looking hungry. “Come here and show me.”

  She closed the small space between us, leaning forward, her pretty mouth open, and she started with her tongue, giving my tip a long, slow, savoring lick. She groaned with pleasure at my taste, then took in more, wet and sucking. The sight of her opening wide, working to suck my cock, got me even harder.

  “Yes, like that,” I praised her as she started moving along my shaft, taking me down her throat. I brought my hand to the back of her neck and guided her on my cock, showing her how I wanted it, teaching her the rhythm. The sounds she made as she sucked me, deep satisfaction, moans of desire, wet and needy, nearly made me come. But I held back, enjoying the ride way too much to get off just yet.

  Watching her suck me so good, her wrists tied at her back, I started thrusting down her throat. She took it all, eagerly. Her eyes widened and I could tell it was a lot of effort, but she wanted it.

  “So good,” I groaned, bringing my hand down to her pussy. Dripping wet, she moaned on my cock as I started finger-fucking her in rhythm with my thrusts.

  But then it was too much. I had to be inside of her, had to fill her with my come. I pulled her off and there was that look again of pouty disappointment. She’d wanted to swallow my come, and I’d make sure she’d get the chance sometime soon. But now I pulled off the ties from her wrists and guided her down onto all fours.

  “I need to come inside you,” I grunted as I kneeled behind her and grabbed her hips.

  “Yes!” she cried out as I entered her in one long, powerful thrust.

  “Fuck!” I slammed into her hard, ramming my cock into her pussy, so wet, so hot, so tight around me it nearly made me blackout. I knew I was being rough with her, as I had been earlier that day against the wall of the cave, but I couldn’t hold back. She was mine, my woman, and I needed to mark her, fuck her, fill her with my seed.