Pleasure Cruise Trilogy (Box Set)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Christian closed the distance between them and she knew this was where she wanted to be—in his arms for all eternity.

  “Mm, oh, speaking of eternity,” Christian said, pulling back. Winter stared at him, somehow not surprised he’d read her mind. She felt him in her and felt herself in him. “You and I shall complete what we discussed—you becoming immortal not only through the Powers’ wishes but my way as well, just after you give birth to our son.”

  He touched her stomach.

  “Pregnant?” Anna asked from across the table, her eyes wide. “Winter, you’re pregnant?”

  For once Winter was a little shocked as she looked down at her stomach. “Wow, I… Um, wow.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Anna said in surprise.

  “Oh, did I forget to mention that part of it? Once you have my son, you too will become immortal,” Andre said. Anna was about to speak when he silenced her with his mouth.

  Winter smiled. The man really did know how to handle her friend perfectly. Then, turning back to her own new husband, she asked, “A baby? Really?”

  Christian nodded. “Are you upset?”

  “I’m surprised,” she admitted, letting the idea sink in a little. “But I guess parenthood could be a groovy adventure. So—I have the perfect name for a boy. What do you think of Tree? Or Stone? Or Tuesday? I’ve always loved the days of the week. Do we have to stop at one child? What about a tribe? We could name them Monday, Tuesday, Bob, Wednes—”

  Christian moaned, pulling her to his mouth once more to stop her babbling. Against her lips, he said, “We’ll discuss it later, mon sucré. Much, much later.”

  The End

  Pleasure Island (Pleasure Cruise)

  Michelle M. Pillow & Mandy M. Roth

  Pleasure Island (Pleasure Cruise)

  © Copyright 2009 - 2013, Michelle M. Pillow & Mandy M. Roth

  Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2011 - 2013

  Box Set Electronic Printing November 2013

  Revised Second Electronic Printing, April 2012 The Raven Books

  First Electronic Printing January 2009

  Box Set ISBN-10:1625010745

  Box Set ISBN-13: 978-1-62501-074-2

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the authors, Michelle M. Pillow and Mandy M. Roth.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence. Novel intended for adults only. Must be 18 years or older to read.

  The Raven Books

  Published by The Raven Books

  www.ravenhappyhour.com ~ www.theravenbooks.com

  Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2013

  Pleasure Island (Pleasure Cruise)

  Revised, Expanded Second Edition

  Michelle M. Pillow & Mandy M. Roth

  This Second Edition Includes bonus expanded scenes!

  Pleasure Island

  Pleasure Cruise Book Three

  Paranormal Erotic Romance

  A tropical island that’s seen better days. A downed plane. A marooned boat. And two gorgeous supernaturals who’ll stop at nothing to claim their mates.

  Jurgen wants Annette in the worst—or best—way, and he intends to make her his. Finding a way to get off the island can wait until he’s shown her all the pleasures to be found with a shapeshifter mate who’ll stop at nothing to ensure she’s his—forever.

  Keoni thinks all his fantasies have come true when a half-naked Christy flounders in the water beside his boat. Being unexpectedly marooned on a sinking island in the middle of nowhere gives him the perfect opportunity to get down and dirty with the sexy lady of his dreams.

  Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, adult language, and violence.

  Dedication

  To our Bahamas’ tour guide who showed us through historical city of Nassau on the island of New Providence, and who answered our endless questions about what it is like to live on a tropical island all year round. Your information on everything from downtown Nassau’s colonial-style architecture to the rich culture of your country was wonderful. To the romancing reading staff of Fort Fincastle, the “unofficial” tour guide at the Queens Staircase, and the entertaining guy running through traffic—who was clipped by another vehicle but didn’t seem to slow an ounce. Thank you all for sharing your wonderful city and culture with us. To Alice at Freeport, your no-nonsense style was so refreshing. Thank you so much for all your help and for allowing us to ask as many questions as we could think of.

  And to the Pleasure Cruise fans who clamored for more. It was your emails and support that inspired us to write this third book in the Pleasure Cruise world.

  Interoffice Memo

  From: The Powers That Be

  URGENT!

  TOP SECRET

  First, the Pleasure Cruise Supernatural Repopulation Program is under way and on track. Fifteen couples have been settled. We will be expanding operation to include Pleasure Train as of next week.

  Unfortunately, there is another matter than demands our attention at the moment. Bogdan, the keeper of the records, has brought a discrepancy to our attention. Someone has been overusing their power allotment. Many of you heard of how Zeus was forced to get his mead from a dark blonde when he failed to materialize a servant with the exact shade of medium blonde that he wanted. This is not acceptable. Power allotments are put into place for a reason.

  We will find who is responsible. Such insolence and arrogance will not be tolerated. We are reallocating resources to get to the bottom of this very serious matter. If you have any information as to the theft, please report immediately to Bogdan. He is in charge of the investigation.

  Also, the trickster lesser god Vaclar is wanted for questioning. If you see him please inform him he is to report to the palace immediately or we will cut off his power rations. Our seers keep repeating the words Pleasure Island. If anyone knows more about this, contact us at once.

  Power stores and allocations are now our top priority.

  Chapter One

  City of Nassau on the Island of New Providence, Bahamas

  “Lady,” Jurgen Cuyper said, gritting his teeth as his cock dug at the confines of his jeans. Music pumped from the old jukebox in the corner of the bar. It was a song that had been made before he was born and it was one of the most recent songs the thing had to offer. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but I’m trying to enjoy a drink and your yapping is makin’ that damn hard to do.”

  The woman gasped. She pushed her strawberry-blonde hair back into the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Tiny wisps of it had come free and he knew it was long and slightly curly in the tropical humidity. His fingers itched to run through it.

  Her blue eyes reeled with astonishment and her tongue darted out and over her lips. “My yapping?”

  He palmed his dick through his jeans, staring her over. She’d be a sweet fuck. He was sure of that. He could almost taste her cream on his lips as he brought his glass to his mouth. The whiskey had a slight bite, nowhere as sharp as his could be. He glanced at his buddy, a fellow private pilot, and grinned. “Think she’d look good on me? Looks about my size, doesn’t she?”

  His friend laughed, lifting his drink and slamming it down. “Hell, yeah. If she doesn’t fit you, man, I’ll take her for a spin or two. You know me, I don’t mind the tourists.”

  Pure animalistic rage ripped through him and his eyes burned with the need to shift. His voice deepened in warning. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Putting his hands up to signal surrender, his friend hurried away, knowing better than to chance Jurgen’s wrath. He had no reason to stake a claim on the woman but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. His supernatural blood tended to control his moods more than he liked but i
t had never done so to this extent before.

  “Why you want to go, darling?” one of the locals said. He was half entrepreneur and half opportunist. “It sounds like you haven’t seen all Nassau has to offer. I’m not talking about those fancy hotels and casinos. How about some real Bahamas cuisine, eh? My cousin has this place you can stay. Really nice. Clean. And tomorrow, I’ll take you through a tour of downtown. Do you like architecture? We have some nice colonial-style buildings built by the rich landowners before they went back home. Or if you like history, I’ll take you to Fort Fincastle. It was built in 1793 on top of Bennet's Hill. You can see a great view of the city from the top. They built it and never even fired a shot there. You can tour it really cheap. Only one dollar. And after that it’s a very short walk to the Queen’s Staircase. It was built of out limestone that had been cut to form the fort by slaves in honor of Queen Victoria. Or if you like food—”

  “Jon, back off,” Jurgen snapped. “The lady is just about to leave. Besides, you’re not even a registered licensed tour guide.”

  Jon laughed. “I printed a license. It’s around here somewhere.”

  “It’s clear she’s not here for the culture,” Jurgen said.

  Jon gave a slightly seedy grin as he let his eyes roam over the American tourist. It was not what Jurgen had meant.

  “Ah!” The woman huffed, lifted the bottle of whiskey and poured it directly onto his lap. Jurgen shot up and out of the chair, sending it crashing to the ground. Disbelief shot through him. The woman actually wasted perfectly good liquor. He was about to tell her exactly what he thought of that when he noticed the moisture in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled and dammit if his chest didn’t get all tight.

  Fuck.

  He ran a hand over his shorn hair and glanced to the side to find most of the bar staring at him. The place was a dive but it was a dive he knew well. He'd picked it because it was off the main tourist areas, away from the marketplaces, and far from the fancy sea-themed hotels that cost more for one night than most people on the island made in a year. At night the bar was nothing but locals. During the day tourists sometimes wandered in when they wanted see something “authentically Bahamas” instead of the cruise line-owned bar down at the end of the beach. He glared at the regulars and they looked away.

  Putting his hand out, Jurgen sighed. “Don’t do that.”

  She held the empty bottle out to him, her chin wobbling.

  “For Christ’s sake, lady, don’t do that.”

  She burst into tears and he growled, bending and scooping her up. He tossed her over one shoulder and stalked toward the back of the bar. She slapped at his back but he ignored her. His jeans rubbed him the wrong way and chafing was a real threat.

  The nearby beach was busy during the day when the cruise ships docked, but after they left port, the area calmed and cleared. His boots crunched the semi-sandy soil as he headed straight for one of the many tiny cabins that ran along the backside of the bar.

  “Put me down!” the pistol of a woman over his shoulder yelled, hitting at his back again.

  “I will.” He flashed a wicked grin. “Then I’m stripping these wet jeans off and I’m going to make you lick every drop of whiskey from my body.”

  She froze and it took all he had not to laugh. As much as he wanted that pretty pink tongue running over the head of his cock, he’d never force a woman to do anything she didn’t want to do. That wasn’t his way. Though he had to admit he’d considered whisking away the livid li’l thing. He’d caught her engaging scent before she’d even entered the bar. His cock responded first, which wasn’t surprising. The thing did tend to have a mind of its own. The beast he carried within was next in line to acknowledge that she stirred something in him.

  Hell, that was sight unseen.

  Watching her sexy body sashay into the bar, as she’d asked for a pilot and a plane to take her off the island, did something to him he couldn’t explain. For a minute, the pulsing in his cock seemed to reach his head, beating, pounding out something that sounded remarkably like “claim her”.

  A shudder raced through him at the thought of tying himself to any one woman, let alone the one he held now. She was demanding, prissy, too proper, too wiggling on his shoulder.

  Her arousal assailed his senses. Inhaling deeply, Jurgen groaned, the tip of his dick leaking pre-cum. “Woman, be still or you will be fucked good and hard. Am I clear?”

  “Y-yes,” she whispered.

  He entered the end cabin and kicked the door shut behind him. She gasped as he deposited her on the bed. It squeaked. So did she. A pale hand clasped her throat as she stared up at him.

  “I-I just needed to find someone to fly me back the United States tonight. There are no flights scheduled out of the Lynden Pindling International Airport. For some reason the flights were all canceled due to a freak accident on the runway and they said you had a plane and would…”

  Her fear cooled his ragging hard-on. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Why did you bring me here then?”

  “One—” He palmed his cock again. “—I’m soaked. Someone here lost their temper and dumped a bottle of whiskey on me.”

  She blushed and he wanted to kiss every spot that turned red. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not, but good effort to make me think so. The second reason you’re here is half the bar heard you say you didn’t have any place to stay tonight. Rather than leave you to the wolves...” He paused, chuckling to himself. “I thought it safer to bring you here. We’re flying out together, it only makes sense you stay nearby.” He went to the brown army bag laying on the floor in the corner of the room. He tended to just sleep here rather than go to his place. It was close to the bar and near the private airstrip he used. He pulled out a clean, dry pair of jeans. “Want to tell me why you were about to cry in there?”

  “I came here to surprise my boyfriend, Frank,” she confessed, and from the expression on her face, she was the one who had ended up surprised.

  “And?” he prompted, already wanting to kill the asshole who had dared to hurt her.

  “Turns out he was otherwise occupied with another woman.”

  He stilled. “Give me his full name and I can promise to make him suffer.” He was only half joking. Something about the woman drove him wild.

  Her lips curved upward slightly. “Only if you promise to let me watch.”

  Jurgen unsnapped his jeans, trying not to let his eagerness show any more than it obviously was. At this point, nothing was going to hide the fact his compass pointed a very due north. “Got a name?”

  “Annette Rowe,” she said, her gaze going to his groin. She paled. “You’re not going to strip right here and now, are you?”

  Hooking his thumbs in his jean loops, Jurgen pushed them down, baring himself to her. “Yep. I’m not going to do it on the beach. Tried that once. Ended up in jail.”

  She slapped her hands over her eyes and he couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted over the room. The sound of his amusement only caused the pink in her cheeks to deepen. She didn’t move her hand and her fingers twitched almost nervously against her forehead. He approached the bed slowly, leaning over her so he could place his lips close to her ear. “You know you want to peek.”

  She stiffened, her hands falling slightly to reveal her wide eyes peeking at him. He laughed harder. “Tell me where exactly you want me to fly you and I will.”

  “You’re drunk,” she stressed, looking at him and then putting her hands over her eyes again when she saw just how happy his cock was to be close to her. “And naked.”

  “I call that a good night, sweetheart.” What happened to the woman who just a few seconds ago said she wanted to watch? For a second, he had thought he saw a break in her prim mystique.

  “You. Are. A. Pig.”

  Nope. Nothing but propriety from this one. He was a fool to be swept away by her smell. Even now it clouded his head and made him act rather than think. “Nope. Wrong animal. Try a
gain, Miss Rowe.”

  She crawled backward on the bed. “You can’t fly a plane tonight. It’s not safe.”

  “Think it’s any safer here?” A feral smile touched his lips. “Alone with me?”

  Gods curse him, he couldn’t stop. The beast inside him wanted to play.

  She jutted her chin out. “Yes, because you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Dammit. She had him there.

  He was about to comment when the keen awareness of how exhausted she was, both mentally and physically, came over him. He had about a half a second to reflect on the knowledge he was picking up on her emotions before he found himself crawling up and over her on the bed, still completely naked.

  “I-I should go.” Annette went ramrod stiff and didn’t make a move to leave his bed.

  Jerking on the blanket beneath them, he pulled it over his exposed cock. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said, yanking her into his embrace.

  She resisted at first but then molded against his frame like she was made to be there. “I’m not having sex with you.”

  “I know.”

  “And I don’t like being called sweetheart.”

  “I know,” he said, still holding her.

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “I thought that was obvious,” he countered. “I’m giving in to those feminine wiles of yours and holding you.”