Once in a while you write something totally bizarre on a dare, and the response is beyond anything you can imagine… that’s what happened with this short story that is really not like anything else I’ve ever written, or will write again. I call it my foray into total fantasy smut… In a weird twist of surprised beyond reason, this little tale of being stranded on an island became not only one of my best-selling titles, it’s also the first one to have been chosen for translation into two foreign languages so far. The European reviews are generally better than the American ones, but all in all, it’s been a baffling and funny experience for me… anyhow, here’s the oddity…
What begins as an idyllic cruise for four friends quickly becomes a nightmare… the pleasant afternoon has had its tense moments as personalities clash. Iris is the newest member of the quartet, married to Dale Montgomery for a short time, she is reserved and elegant–a direct contrast to the earthy sexuality and eroticism of Giselle Jordan–the woman who has been Dale's closest friend for many years. When their boat is caught in the crush of a tidal wave near sunset, the four are swept into the ocean. Hours after the capsize, Giselle awakens on a stretch of beach, a short distance away is Iris, bleeding and terrified. When Iris dies, Giselle is left stranded on an island with the two men she loves. How long will it be before passion take them into the dangerous realm that is the uncharted territory of the heart?
Giselle floundered, no longer even remotely doubtful that she was dying. The sound of the waves pounded in her ears and she was aching and broken in every molecule of her being. As she lay face down in darkness and misery, her senses slowly started to wake and she realized she wasn’t dead after all. The sand under her cheek was cold and wet, and the water she heard was the rumbling thunder of surf heard at ground level.
She concentrated, then dared to turn her head. It was almost dark, and a long stretch of beach stretched before her. Something bumped insistently at her side and she reached out, pulling back with a yelp when she encountered a warm body. Forcing herself into motion, she sat up and looked at who was next to her, praying it would be Blake, then trying not to be angry when it wasn’t her husband, but Iris Montgomery.
She reached out a shaking hand and touched Iris’s shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge.
There was no motion or sound from the other woman and Giselle tasted fresh panic in her throat while she shook Iris. Pushing into a sitting position, she strained to see the prone figure next to her. As her eyes adjusted and the moon began to glow, casting chill silver rays over them, she spotted the bleeding gash along Iris’s side. The water was inching inward, too, covering them a little more with each lapping wave.
Biting back a scream, Giselle rose to her feet, bent, and started dragging Iris up onto the dry sand of the beach. Once there, she plopped to the fine, warm sand and leaned forward, head on her drawn up knees. As she tried to calm her terror and push it into the back of her mind, she prayed that Blake and Dale were still alive and close by.
A low, agonized moan made her shudder against a raw cold that was purely internal in origin, and she bent to touch Iris’s shoulder as the other woman fought to focus on her.
“What… what happened?”
There was a world of pain in the shaken words, and Giselle knew she was seeing the first signs of trauma and shock—what she could do about it wasn’t worth considering.
“We were hit by a wave,” she said, stroking Iris’s hair. “I don’t know where we are, Iris.”
Giselle’s smile deepened when she saw Blake watching her. She twisted onto her back, fully aware that he was now more interested in her than the direction they were moving. She closed her eyes and resisted the desire to slip off the bikini top that barely covered her ample breasts. As she created the image of Blake’s tongue laving her nipples, she felt them tighten against the thin material. She held the image in her mind, and absently caressed a circle of touch around one of the rigid tips.
The muffled slam of a book told her Iris had spotted her action. She tried not to laugh when footsteps told her she was now alone on the deck. She heard Dale being summoned and cracked open one eye to see if Blake was alone at the other end of the deck. He was leaning on the wheel, his grin inviting her to continue. Instead, she climbed to her feet, grabbed a wraparound skirt, and padded down to the other end of the boat.
“Why don’t you put us on auto-pilot?” She suggested. He leaned on the wheel and smiled. “Why would I do that?” “Well,” she reached back and slipped the knot that held her top in place and peeled away the silky nylon from her skin. She dropped the top on the deck and began to squeeze her breasts and tug on the ripe, aching buds of her nipples. “I was hoping you might like to put your beautiful big dick in my very wet pussy, sweetheart.” She slipped between him and the ship’s wheel as she spoke and reached out to grip the outer edges of the wheel, pushing her tits toward him further. She laughed and tossed back her hair when he started to fondle her lush breasts.
“Suck them, Blake,” she whispered. “I want you to suck my tits, baby.”
He obliged her with a soft chuckle. She was squirming against the wheel in minutes as he licked and sucked one breast then the other, leaving her gasping for air that didn’t seem to ever reach her lungs. She was dimly aware of the sound of a zipper, followed by the side string of her bikini bottom being tugged. A moment later, Blake lifted her suddenly and she was impaled on the solid length of his cock. He pushed so deep so fast that she choked on the moan that crested in her throat.
“God!” Blake moaned against her shoulder, “I love your cunt, baby.”
He drove upward and Giselle shuddered and clung to him. She laughed when he pulled out of her a moment later and whirled her around so her back was to him. He positioned her hands on the ship’s wheel and bent her forward a little before covering her fingers with his, and then he slid into her again, driving deep. Giselle pushed back against him, taking his full length with each frantic thrust of his hips.
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