by Lucian Bane
To make matters worse, the generous sized stream to our right rolled over small-to-medium boulders, masking our passage, as well as any noise we would need to hear. Everything in this jungle was a double-edged sword, it seemed.
Before long, we reached a somewhat-level area perched above the water a few feet, and to the left, a wall of stone rose just higher than our heads. Preacher stopped. “I scouted around here earlier, looking for the flag.” He paused and scanned the area. “We’re out of daylight. I’ll clear the area over there, and mark a few escape routes in case.” He leveled those serious eyes at me. “You help Tara and Becca get shelter and fire.”
“Not a problem.”
I kept watchful eye as we searched the area for usable firewood and discussed shelter options with the women. I also kept an eye on Preacher, who moved like a precise machine of endless stamina, hacking at various things to prepare a twenty-foot arc at the base of the cliff, looking like a warrior in an intense battle.
Fifteen minutes and he motioned us over. We brought our arm-full of firewood and dumped it where he indicated near the stone wall. We all removed our loads with much groaning and moaning, dropping them and ourselves to the ground in an exhausted heap.
“Becca, I assume you’re still wearing your bra?”
The odd question drew an immediate what the fuck kind of question is that?
Becca smiled. “Of course.” Turning her back, she reached under her shirt, while Tara stared at me in weirded out silence.
Preacher took the frothy bit of lace and ribbon Becca held out. “That’s it Bane,” he muttered with a grin. “Pay close attention.” The multi-tool from his belt opened with a faint snick, and he used a small blade to cut into the fabric and then changed to pliers. In a matter of seconds, he tossed the bra back to Becca, and held up his prize—two narrow, flexible pieces of gleaming metal lay in his palm.
Under-wires? Totally as a loss, I waited while he used the pliers to bend and break the metal into four short pieces then he turned the ends into recognizable shapes. Wow. “Fish hooks.”
He glanced up with a grin. “There’s a still pool right there. We’re having fish for breakfast.”
I held my enthusiasm back, waiting to see what he would use for fishing line and the other necessary components. For all I knew, he might figure we deserved to stand in the pool all night and dangle those little wires for the fish since me and Tara cost him supplies.
“Bane, see if you can stir up a few grubs or something we can use for bait. I’ll have our line ready in a few minutes.”
Grubs, huh? A glance around revealed a half-rotted log at the base of the little cliff, a short distance from camp. The low light forced me to move slowly, wary of possible traps, but I resisted turning on the little LED lamp attached to my cap. Not just to conserve the battery but who knew how far away the little pinpricks of light might be visible to other eyes. I preferred not to paint a target right on my forehead for Jase Duff. No need to make it any easier for the bastard.
One foot on the log, ready to kick it over, I paused. The film we’d been required to watch detailing all the dangerous and venomous creatures lurking on the island rolled through my head until the frame paused on a small brown snake. The reptile’s unpronounceable name was probably longer than a fully grown one. According to the film’s narrator, the name was also longer than a human could move after being bitten by one, before his heart stopped.
The image of that angular little head planted itself firmly in my mind and kept me frozen there, foot on the log, for a very long second. No fucking way I was going to pick around in the dirt under any log without being able to see clearly. Especially not on this island. I bent a little, angling the light on my cap at the log and clicked it on.
My first push just rocked the log a little before it settled back into its original position. I waited motionless for anything to crawl out. I braced my other foot a little better and gave a hard shove with the toe of my boot. The log let go of the ground with a tearing, crunching sound and the scent of damp earth and rotting vegetation filled my lungs and nose.
No snake. I bent close, looking for any recognizable bait that didn’t match any of the deadly insects images I’d memorized. Or tried to. Scales glittered in my light before a small lizard darted away. At the other end of the depression the log had left, a pale fat grub wriggled awkwardly and I grabbed it, only to realize I didn’t have a container of any sort to put the damn thing in. With a hard swallow, I broke down and just kept it in my hand while I searched for more.
Finally, I clutched enough wriggly, slimy things in my hand to bait the hooks Preacher had made. Heading back, I found Preacher working at something beside the quiet pool. A glance at the women’s progress impressed me. Tara and Becca had created a small shelter a couple feet off the ground, barely high enough for us to all crawl under, but there must be a reason for that. A tiny fire glowed up against the base of the little cliff, and a small metal pot sat in the edge of the fire, presumably boiling water since that’s all we had.
Beside the water, Preacher squatted over whatever he worked on, his own LED headlamp emitting several points of bright light. He looked up as I approached. “About time, Bane,” he said lowly, “I was starting to think I was going to have to get the bait, too. What’d you get?”
I stretched my hand out to reveal the nasty, barely squirming things in my palm. I’d had to half strangle them to keep them from worming their way to freedom. “You said grubs. Hopefully this is the kind you want.”
He grinned and plucked one from my hand and held it up for inspection. “Doesn’t he just look delicious?” He promptly popped the fucking thing into his mouth and ate it.
“Seriously, man?” I dumped the remaining grubs on the ground. “The fish that grub didn’t catch? Yours. Not mine.”
Humored low laughter rumbled around us as he threaded the rest of the grubs onto the four makeshift hooks suspended on a length of paracord. Of course. I’d forgot about that handy stuff. We’d kept our empty water bottles to refill when we found drinkable water, and he had a couple secured to the line. I followed the line to a boulder on the other side of the little pool and spied a wooden spike at his feet, driven into the dirt. “We’ll check the line when we change watch, who knows, we might have fish for supper and breakfast. We’ll cook all of it and take it with us.” He hooked the end of the paracord to the stick at his feet. “Let’s check and see if the ladies need any help.”
Back by the fire, I could see Becca and Tara working at something over the shelter, but I couldn’t tell what in the settling darkness. Heading their way, I took the time to gather any firewood that presented itself. I hurried to the fire with the awkward armload of broken branches and fallen limbs that were no doubt crawling with all sorts of nasty creatures, and dropped it all to the ground.
“Lucian, could you give us a hand?” Tara sounded as if she spoke through gritted teeth and I hurried to help. She held out a length of rope. “Pull this tight so I can tie it off. We want to stretch the tarp over the sleeping platform in case it rains.”
Sleeping platform? I realized what I’d thought was the shelter was actually something else. I got to work following orders, worried about the flimsy-looking framework above to support the tarp. “Why a sleeping platform?”
Without pausing, Becca answered, “Sleeping on the ground or even just sitting on it, is inviting every bug on the island to visit the buffet. I painted sticky sap around the supports, so all we have to worry about are the flying variety.” Becca gave more directions for the rope tying. “Mosquito netting would have been a grand luxury.”
Working quickly, we finished suspending the tarp about the time Preacher returned from the stream, dripping wet and carrying most of his clothes. “I suggest everyone visit the stream and rinse off, and wear only the minimum of clothing for the night. This humidity and heavy clothing can lead to some uncomfortable rashes and fungal conditions.”
“What about bug repellent conser
vation?” I wondered. Even though his idea made sense to me, the idea of running out of it could prove to the biggest misery ever.
“There’s always mud if we run out of bug repellent,” Preacher said. “But I’ve calculated, we have enough. Worst case scenario, we somehow lose the repellent, which makes conservation moot at that point.”
Good by me. I preferred being cool and comfortable. I led Tara to the stream, as far from where the fishing line was anchored as we could. “And be careful where you put everything,” Preacher called. “We can’t afford to lose one single thing.”
“Roger that.” Once I was sure we were out of sight, we stripped off our clothes and stacked everything carefully on the bank.
Tara stood before me naked, and I wasn’t about to pass up the chance to touch her. I drew her into my arms and just held her for a moment, my pores sucking in the orgasmic feeling of flesh to flesh contact. The vastness of the wilderness around us, compared to our insignificance within it, prompted me to say a little prayer that we make it through this Round safe and whole. It was challenge enough without the danger of Jase Duff waiting around every tree. For a long time we clung together, and like any other time I touched Tara, or thought of her, my body reacted in need.
She pulled back a little. “We’d better get cleaned up.”
“Yeah.” I sighed and released her, and we made our way into surprisingly cool water, stopping at waist deep. The sight of her there, nude, breasts glowing, created a longing in me I couldn’t resist. I removed the black bandana-sized cotton square I’d tied over my head to catch sweat, and rinsed it thoroughly as she splashed her arms with water.
“Let me wash you,” I whispered.
Looking up at me, she stared into my gaze and slowly lowered her hands. Moving exactly next to her, I washed every inch of her arms and shoulders, down her back and chest, slow and deliberate. By the time I reached her nipples, we were both breathing hard. I gave in to the temptation to tease, and worked my way slowly around each nipple, avoiding touching them, then lowered the cloth to wash her belly. “Raise your right foot.”
She followed directions and I bent to slip my arm behind her knee and support her while I carefully washed and massaged her foot and calf, then switched to the other side and did the same. When both her feet were firmly back on the smooth sandy bottom of the pool, I leaned to catch one nipple in my mouth while I slid the cloth softly over her mound.
Her surprised hissed echoed loud across the water, but I didn’t relent, moving the cloth to her ass while parting her folds with my other hand for gentle strokes on her hard clit. A frustrated whimper drew me closer, and I lifted her astride my waist.
The head of my cock pressing against the heat of her entrance drew a choked groan from me. “I love you Tara.” My hips rocked to slide me inside her heat while her legs tightened around me, drawing me deeper.
Moving carefully, I took us to water that came up on my chest, where I could use her buoyancy to help her rise and lower herself on me. It wasn’t all that easy to maintain my balance and keep us upright, but the need for caution only added to our desperation. Frantic, I increased our tempo for a few strokes, until she clenched around me and she muffled her low cry against my neck. Several more thrusts and I emptied into her with one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever experienced.
We held each other until the storm passed and managed to breathe again. Our washing up finished, I kissed her, sorry that the intimacy was over already. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop kissing, every taste demanding more until I was fucking hard again. With Tara unsatisfied still, it made a second round imminent. “Back on my cock, love. Play with your pretty clit this time. You need to have an orgasm.”
The whimper she gave screamed yes, yes. With my first orgasm down, a second would be easy to pace. “Take your sweet fucking time, I want you to have a good one.”
She panted, already well on the way, moving up and down with her eyes closed, one hand on her clit, the other clawing at my shoulder. “They’re always good,” she whispered.
“Mmmm, is your clit hard sweetheart?”
She opened her eyes halfway and nodded, biting on her lower lip.
I reached a hand behind her and stroked my finger on her puckered ass. She gave a sharp cry.
“Look at you how beautiful you are.” I kissed at her parted lips, working the tip of my finger inside her until her cries sharpened and her nails dug into my shoulder. I kissed her faster, her approaching orgasm gripping my cock till I growled. “I love how you want my finger in your ass, you know that?” Her body locked up with the first explosion of climax and she choked on cry after cry as she rode it with her head thrown back. The fucking amazing sight hurled me into that dimension of us, always and forever, untouchable and complete. Locked in its embrace, I held her close to me, letting my soul take in the precious gift, knowing that in ten seconds, it was over, like the end of the fucking world.
She kissed me softly after, and I moved us in the cool water, the tendrils of that amazing moment, licking in the air around us still. She smiled against my lips. “Now I’m hungry.”
I gave a light gasp of pretend shock. “Whaaaaat? I thought I satisfied your every waking need?” I slid my lips and nose along hers laughing with her. “Okay, fine. We get dressed and go see if there’s any fried fish and chips waiting for us.”
She moaned in longing for what we would definitely not have as I made my way to the bank with her.
Tara put on her black sports bra and matching briefs which was far from decent in my mind. I used my belt to make a skirt with my t-shirt and grudgingly called it modest. When I suggested I wear only my briefs she furiously refused. “So you want to prance around with your dick sculpted in black spandex?” she’d asked, totally pissed.
I fucking loved that she was so possessive and jealous. Exactly the way I wanted her. Forever in constant need of me and only me.
We headed back up the incline to the camp. Preacher’s teeth glinted a little in the firelight as we approached and he offered Tara the plate filled with beef stew from the cans we’d carried from the beach. “Probably rice and beans from here on out, so enjoy it. The water cold?”
I grinned, imagining Tara’s blush. “Not too cold.”
“Good to know.” He took Becca’s hand and started to lead her toward the stream, then paused and turned back for a moment. “Don’t forget, drink all you can. We’ll refill the bottles in the morning.”
I hung our clothes near the fire while Tara ate from the single plate, then she sat with me while I wolfed down the food. Finished, I wiped the plate clean with a few leaves, since I had no intention of going back to the stream.
Preacher and Becca came back from the stream finally and my guess was, he’d done exactly what I had. Taken an opportunity we might not get again. “We need to keep watch through the night. I don’t like the idea of that sadist out there sneaking around. I’ll go first, Bane you get the second watch.”
I nodded. “In that case, I’m going to turn in and get some rest.”
“When do I get to stand guard?” Tara looked from Preacher to me. I looked at him with a raised brow, glad it was him who had to talk his way of this one.
“You won’t tonight, Tara. We need you and Becca strong and rested tomorrow in case we run into trouble.”
Tara looked at him for a long moment. “Right. In other words, you don’t think women are strong enough to stay up half the night for guard duty, and still be able to keep up the next day.”
“If that’s what I meant, that’s what I would say. No. We need you and Becca strong and rested. The two of you will have the heaviest packs, since I’m moving all around and covering far more ground, and Bane is chopping the underbrush away to clear something like a path. The two of you will have the majority of our supplies to keep safe.”
“Hm. Ok.” The smallness of Tara’s voice said she was embarrassed for doubting Preacher.
I stood and drew her up to stand. “Come on, let�
�s get some rest while we can.”
Chapter Four
I jolted awake and Tara shot up with me. “Wha-what, what is it, a spider?” She whacked at her hair, hurrying to stand.
“No, no, sorry.” I stood and embraced her. “Sorry, I was dreaming and freaked you out I think.” I gazed around at the eerily quiet forest, the dream I’d had making it feel like that moment in a horror movie where you just knew shit was about to go down.
She sighed and sagged against my chest a few seconds after, mumbling, “I was dreaming we were at the mansion. In the shower. Showering. With soap. And shampoo.”
I stroked her hair and smiled in the early dawn. “It’s only the second day love, you’re fine. Your hair still smells amazing.” I eyed the tree with the flag as Preacher and Becca sat up. I was ready to get it and go.
Preacher seemed to think the same and walked to the tree.
“Lucian,” Tara hissed as I followed.
I turned to find her waving me to her, distressed. “What?” I whispered, reaching her.
“I need the damn bathroom.” She angled her head to look behind me. “The number one.”
Phew. I knew that the dreaded other number would eventually come up and dreaded when it did. Not for me but for her and how that would make her feel. I turned to Preacher. “Bathroom.”
“Oh,” Becca waved her hand with wide eyes. “Me too.”
Preacher looked around then pointed to a set of bushes. “There.”
“What?” Tara said, “We need privacy!” “Squat!” Preacher said, angling that black gaze at her. “You’re not getting lost first thing in the morning when we need to get a head start. This jungle is begging to swallow us the second twenty feet separates us. So…” He pointed to the bushes a few yards away. “Squat. We’ll be getting this flag while you do. We won’t peek.”
