by Joey W. Hill
“So,” she propped her elbows on the wood and ignored the peculiar sinking feeling the idea gave her, “Are white elephants native to this island?”
Josh chuckled. “Here,” he said, “You shouldn’t be standing.”
Lauren caught hold of his shoulders as he lifted her up to sit her on the wide railing. He kept his hand braced against her back, his fingers splayed over the curve of her hip, an automatic gesture to keep her safe that made her stomach flutter in emotional reaction. So much for casual. His posture put his body close to hers, so close she could still smell the scent of herself on his mouth.
“Isabel was in a movie,” Josh said, looking down at the elephant, now stripping a six-foot sapling of leaves. “They injected dye into her skin to turn her white.”
“I remember that movie,” Lauren recalled. “That fantasy thing, like a Conan type…what was the name of it?”
Josh shrugged. “I don’t see many movies. Regardless, when the movie was over, they didn’t need her anymore.” A shadow crossed his face. “The dye poisoned her blood.”
Lauren, dismayed, looked back down at the elephant. Even while eating, Isabel kept one eye on Josh. The eye, clear and bright, nevertheless possessed that ancient look of wisdom and mystery that pachyderms have, a reminder of their existence on the planet significantly earlier than humans.
“They think she has a couple years before organs start shutting down and she’ll be in pain. They were going to go ahead and put her down. I was in a position to take her, and so I brought her here, on a barge.”
He shrugged. “She likes to know where I am. I forgot to tell her I wouldn’t be in the usual places. Of course,” he smiled at Lauren in an open, affectionate way that erased some of her tensions, “I didn’t know I was going to end up staying here at the command of a beautiful woman.”
Lauren looked over the edge, pleased to feel his grip on her tighten. “Seems to me,” she observed, “That you’re at the command of two women. And one of us just decided Lisette’s banana plants are fair game.”
“Hey!” Josh called out sharply. “Isabel, no! Ah…son of a—” with another apologetic look, he scooped Lauren off her seat on the rail and set her down on the bench in a move so effortless it caught her breath. He took the rail himself, swung out to the tree she had used for her descent the day before, and shimmied down the trunk.
Marcus chuckled and set down his coffee cup. “So, beautiful lady, what’s your pleasure today? We can leave you to your own devices, to hobble around the house as best you may, or we can take you on our adventures.”
The idea of being stranded in Lisette’s house held little appeal. Lauren overlooked the fact that she had intended to do just that, nurse her hurts and wallow in dejected solitude for the weekend. Of course, she had put a more positive spin on it than that when she got in the boat yesterday.
Still, she hesitated to answer. Where did the events of the past half hour leave them? Did they just shrug it off, resume their separate schedules, or was there something happening other than a night of sex games?
Stop being a moron. She had never been a woman to doubt her own appeal to the opposite sex. She knew when attraction was there and when it wasn’t. A D/s relationship did not evolve this quickly unless strong desire was driving it. She put a hand on her fluttering stomach. Strong might be an understatement for what she was feeling for Josh. She was shielding herself precisely because she sensed there was far more than the physical involved. She was being a coward.
“I’d love to go with you,” she admitted. “But you’re not here to entertain me. I don’t want to impose. After all, you took care of me all afternoon and evening.” Her cheeks flushed at the double meaning of that remark.
“True,” Marcus quirked a brow at her expression, and laid his hand over where Josh’s had been on her waist, increasing the heat that lingered there. “This morning Josh planned a swim for eight a.m. You’ve put him behind schedule already.”
Lauren chuckled. “I intended to take a nap on the beach about one o’clock,” Marcus continued, “after we checked in to see how the Salerno’s hot water heater is doing. We installed it earlier this week. After that, we usually go sit up on the Knoll, the highest part of the island. Josh brings a book and I do some wishful amateur sketches. We go through a six-pack of Heineken while we watch the sun go down over the waves. And that would be the end of one of our busier days. So you see,” he ran his knuckles down the side of her face in an easy, affectionate gesture, “we asked because we like playing with you, and we don’t want playtime to be over. I would have expected Josh to tell you that, first thing this morning,” he lifted a brow, “but perhaps his mouth was otherwise occupied.”
Lauren punched his stomach. “Worm.”
“Regardless,” he caught her fist, raised it to his lips, “We’re three children on a deserted island, and we’ve designated you queen. Josh wants you to keep holding the High Card as long as you wish to play.”
“It doesn’t feel like a game to me, Marcus,” Lauren said, loosing her hand from his grasp and hooking her fingers under her legs. The rough wood of the bench rasped against her skin. “Sometimes it is just playing, and that’s okay. But this doesn’t feel that way.” She drew a deep breath, let it out. “And I don’t want it to be just a game. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it? I just met him what, less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“No. I’m glad to hear it.” All teasing left Marcus’s emerald eyes. “It’s not a game to him, either. You’re the first thing that’s gotten a rise out of him, physically or emotionally, for months.”
“You’re putting a lot on me,” she said, staring down at the subject of the discussion.
“I’m putting nothing on you,” Marcus responded; with a trace of flint that jerked her attention back to him. “I’m trying to tell you as subtly as possible without abusing Josh’s trust that you’re dealing with someone who has locked himself in a cage, as if he’s afraid he’s a danger to others.”
“So you won’t tell me what happened to him?” she said.
He shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell. And,” he admitted, frustration tensing his angelic features, “he hasn’t told me all of it. I know about his divorce, but something happened, something more. He was always very private about his life with Winona, everything, even sex, but I sensed something was wrong in that department, in a lot of departments. There was an unhealthy energy between them and…” Marcus stopped himself. “Regardless. Whatever happened, he’s got it jammed up his ass like a railroad spike.”
Lauren winced. “Visual.”
Marcus lifted a shoulder. “I’ve got good intuition about people, Lauren. I have to know when a talented artist has more temperament than commitment. I have to know when one is close to the breaking point and needs breathing room, and when one needs stroking versus goading. I like you, very much. You’re strong.”
“We’re all Sampson,” she murmured. “Find our weakness and we’ll shatter.”
“Only if you happen to hook yourself up with Delilah, instead of the faithful and loving Ruth. On the other hand,” the corner of his mouth tugged up, “Sometimes shattering is the best excuse to rebuild yourself on a better foundation.”
He shrugged at the surprise on her face. “I think you and Josh have a gift to give to each other. It may be a small gift, just a step in the right direction, a couple days of simple pleasures and reminding each other what that feels like. Or, it may be a gift of life altering size. Either way, if you lose courage for it or the pleasure to pursue it, know what you’re dealing with and don’t crush him with your pain. I love Josh, very much. He is my friend, he is a brother, and he has a beautiful, intelligent spirit that is struggling to heal itself despite his best efforts keep the wounds open.”
She nodded. Marcus’s love for Josh as a friend, combined with his nature as a Master, would make him automatically protective. Hence, the frequent trips to the island to check on his well-being. She felt her regard for Marc
us grow. Not all Masters were like that. But it was also the kind of Mistress she was.
“Marcus!” Josh called, holding onto Isabel’s trunk like a harried parent trying to keep hold of a child on the verge of a tantrum. “Stop trying to impress Lauren with your jaded New Yorker routine and toss out a handful of peanuts.”
“I’m actually trying to convince her that you would like her to spend the day with us, despite your dark, brooding personality. Perhaps you could take some pains to reassure her.” Marcus shot her a look that seemed to say, “Ball’s in your court, darling,” and stepped back through the sliding glass door.
Lauren peered down as Isabel jerked Josh several feet sideways and he grunted, a sound of discomfort. “Everything okay down there?”
“Nothing that a 2x4 wouldn’t cure,” he muttered as she wrapped her trunk around his waist and whuffled at his palm, trying to get past him to the banana plants.
Lauren chuckled. “Doesn’t she realize she could just stomp over you?”
Josh looked pained. “Now that you’ve told her.”
Lauren giggled and a smile crossed his face, so shy and hopeful it wrenched her heart. “You will spend the day with us, won’t you? I mean,” he grimaced, “I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m sure you have your reasons for being here, and they don’t necessarily include company. We shouldn’t be—”
“Why don’t you let me decide what you should and shouldn’t do for me, Josh?” she said, her decision made in that moment.
She pitched her tone low, but her direct, imperious gaze made the implication clear. She felt the air between them heat and her lips curved. “Didn’t we get that straight, earlier this morning?”
He gazed up at her. The shy smile was gone, but what replaced it was no less potent. “Yes, you did,” he murmured.
She nodded, and lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, then,” he played with Isabel’s trunk and slanted a look up at her, the expression of a mischievous boy. “If it pleases you, I’d very much like it if you joined us today.”
“It pleases me,” she said, and let it be at that.
Chapter Eleven
While she cleaned up and changed, Marcus put together a packed lunch. Josh left them to go to his home and get the two men a change of clothes, which she discovered meant a pair of clean cut-off shorts and an extra shirt in case the day turned colder.
Gauging the day and where they might go, she changed into a sapphire blue bikini and a pair of shorts. She had expected to be quite alone on the island, and so the bikini allowed for maximum tanning area. She didn’t care to bake bronze like some women did. She had no desire to resemble a Shar-pei pug by age forty. However, she did like to maintain a light golden coloring. The bikini top was a shelf bra style that raised her breasts up and together with padding beneath and on the sides. Besides displaying the generous rounded tops of her breasts and giving great play to their movement, the stretch of the garment molded over the jut of her nipples. The bikini’s blue material had a sheen caused from sparkling threads in the weave, and was sheer enough that if a man tried to focus past the subdued glitter, he could see the dusky shadow of the aureoles. She expected at least one man would be trying.
Lauren brushed back her hair into a twisted chignon that exposed her delicate neck and would keep her cool. Right. Like that was possible with Josh around.
She put in a pair of silver hoops, and allowed herself the vanity of pale pink lipstick. She looked delicate; something a man would ache to touch. If she let him. Her lips curved. Therein lay the fun, seeing how long her mastery could hold out, how he would connive to get around it.
Playfulness mingled with healthy lust had never been part of her life with Jonathan. Was she rewriting history to help her heal? She frowned. Maybe, but there was more to it. Josh made it more.
Good God, she was beating this to death. She adjusted the strap to give her breasts an extra lift, turned from side to side to admire how the suit showcased them, and then headed up the hallway. Her ankle was feeling better, enough that she could give her hips a slight swing to offset the distraction of the limp.
Marcus lounged on the couch with a breakfast Bloody Mary. Josh sat restlessly on the counter, his bare feet just above the floor. His gray eyes ran over her soft pink lips, the exposed column of her throat, and down to her breasts. She managed to control a blush, just barely, as she felt the nipples peak against the material, a shiver of reaction that ran across the exposed tops of her breasts, down to the lower extremities beneath the shorts. His gaze seemed to follow her reaction, all the way down the lean muscles of her long thighs, to her toes, curling inside loose canvas sneakers with no laces. His eyes alighted on the ace bandage she had rewrapped.
His expression shifted from blatant male appreciation to a protective evaluation of her self-nursing. It caused an emotional tug on what lay beneath her breast, and that mental twinge plucked at the physical.
“So, I’m yours, gentlemen,” she managed, looking between them. “Where do we go first?”
Josh slid off the counter and came toward her as Marcus gave a mysterious grin and slipped out the back door, Bloody Mary still in hand.
Lauren’s gaze shifted to make her own thorough appraisal as Josh approached. She appreciated to the point of an audible purr the bare chest, the way the shorts cradled his half erect cock, the way the waistband of his cut off shorts slid along his deltoids, much the way she might like to slide her hands over them. She tilted her head back as he got to her, and gave him a raised brow and slight smile.
“You wore that swimsuit to torture me,” he accused.
“Did I?” she arched her brow higher, considering, then nodded. “Maybe I did. Maybe I want you to be hard for me. Are you hard for me, Josh?” She kept her eyes on his, but as he leaned forward, she leaned back.
“That wasn’t an answer, Josh,” she reproved gently. “Put your hand on your cock, over your jeans, and show me how hard you are.”
“Lauren,” he said, a flush creeping up his neck.
She took another step back. “Do I hold the cards or not, Josh?” she asked. “Show me,” she murmured. “I want to know how hard looking at my breasts makes you.”
He swallowed and then, with a quick look toward the door, lowered his hand and cupped himself. Lauren followed the line of sight and smiled at the outline of his bulging groin cradled in his hand. The discomfort of it crept higher up his neck. She stepped closer to him, marveling at how much taller he was than she, how much more physically powerful.
She put her one hand behind his neck and her other hand over his on the source of his discomfort, keeping it there as she raised up on her toes. She pressed her breasts into his chest, shifting slightly to ensure the stiffened nipples would drag over his skin, and kissed him, a light brushing of lips, a brief touch of her tongue to his teeth. His other hand rose to her hip and held there, an anchor against the need that quivered through his muscles and communicated how much he ached to use that power advantage to crush her to him. But he didn’t.
“I’m glad you wanted me to be with you today,” she said, needing to give something to him. She needed to let him know she wanted him, too, to keep his discontent based in banked lust and not the brooding unhappiness that seemed to be waiting, simmering behind his extraordinarily beautiful eyes. “Show me your island.”
He raised his hand, his fingers twitching once as they passed the side of her breast, but he kept the movement going until he rested his knuckles along her cheekbone, a feather of contact. She tilted her head toward the touch, then caught her breath as he scooped her up, taking her off her feet.
“You might get tired, transporting me this way,” she teased, proud that her voice cracked only on the first note before she regained her composure. “I’m really fine to walk, just not fast.”
“Not as far as we’re going.” He took her out the back door and down the steps. “We’ve got you a ride.”
The light fresh breeze of morning in the islands touched her skin
, bringing her the smell and sound of the ocean. Sunlight filtered over the tree tops, lighting the activities of the many island bird species. It was going to be a beautiful day, and her heart swelled with hope for new beginnings, cleansing, and forgiveness. Her grip tightened on Josh’s neck, reflecting the sudden constriction in her throat, her reaction to the abrupt touch of happiness.
They turned the corner, and Lauren saw Marcus standing with Isabel. An oversized beach towel had been doubled and laid across the white elephant’s shoulders to form a sitting area. Lauren grinned with pure delight, a reaction that dimmed somewhat as Josh carried her toward the elephant. Isabel eyed Lauren with at least a degree of the apprehension Lauren was beginning to feel as they approached and Isabel’s much greater size became apparent.
“Now,” Josh said smoothly, “she’s a lot like a New York taxi driver. You can tell her where you want to go, and she’ll eventually get you there, but she may take the circuitous route to get a better fare.”
They reached the elephant and Lauren shrank back against Josh as the large pachyderm raised her head to give her a better inspection.
“Isabel, this is Lauren,” Josh said seriously. “I’m supposed to take care of her, which means you have to help me.”
“Josh, I don’t know—”
“It’s okay, Lauren,” he looked down at her, tightened his hold. “You can trust Isabel.”
He held her gaze for a moment more, and Lauren felt an unexpected peace steal through her. He wouldn’t let anything hurt her. It was a dangerous, naive thought, one she was far too experienced to be having, but there it was, filling her, calming her.
Marcus stepped on Isabel’s offered knee and swung up. Josh set Lauren with her weight on her one good foot on the elephant’s provided step. He set his shoulder behind her knee, told her to reach up to Marcus, and then he laid his hand on her thigh, pressed on it to get her to sit on his shoulder. He straightened, and a gasp and a moment of weightlessness and she was there, seated before Marcus.