Paradise Island

by Charmaine Ross

  He ran the pad of his finger on her mouth and drew in a sharp breath. It was definitely warm. ‘Estelle. Can you hear me?” he whispered.

  He cupped her face with his hands, tracing her cheeks, brushing her hair from her face. Touched his lips on hers. Wanting her to breathe the life from him to her. Willing her to feel, to respond. He moved his lips, wanting to stimulate a response, needing beyond anything that she may feel him here with her.

  Her lips thawed. She put her fingertips to her mouth. There was a pressure there that was beyond her fingers, a sensation that exceeded force. It was a stirring of something more powerful than this black void, it took her far beyond thought.

  There was only one that could initiate such a response in her. And she knew without a doubt that it was Gregory that was there, by her side wherever that was, helping her however he could.

  She was not alone.

  “There is more than you know about in this life,” Estelle shouted to the dark. “More than you’ll ever be capable of understanding. You can’t keep me here, because light will always overpower the dark.”

  She closed her eyes and concentrated. Let the feeling from her lips wash through her, let it stir within, let it soar. The dark, heavy weight shifted, set offside like an iceberg lifted in a swelling ocean.

  She pushed her mind further, seeking that link that bound both Gregory and herself. She remembered how it was to be in his arms, how it felt when he kissed her, touched her. He gave without taking, without selfishness. It was mutual, without egotism, or conceited. She wanted the same for him. All that she could give, she would.

  She sought the warmth, the closeness that had been so lacking in her life. She hadn’t even known it until Gregory had shown her. He had never wanted to change her, never had told her how to act, or what to say, but seemed to be as challenged, and as delighted in her as she was in him.

  Together, they could be true to themselves.

  Together they could be as one.

  She knew that with all certainty.

  There was pressure on her lips, as though she were being kissed. She felt her mouth touched in that rare way that would sent her soaring, pushing her higher, searching for that illusive ecstasy that only one had given her.

  Gregory.

  She knew there was a way out from this bitter bleakness. If she could think, could feel, could remember what it was like being with him then she was not trapped. Excitement flushed her veins. She concentrated harder, rode the feeling on her mouth and let it swamp through her mind and fill every pore in her body. She held a picture of him in her mind, how he looked at her when he told her he loved her. The drilling intensity in his eyes.

  There was a heat on her hair that flowed into her skin, as though she stood in a circle of sunshine. She opened her eyes, and gasped. There was a pinprick of light that shone like a beacon through the dark. She blinked. And it was still there.

  “Gregory!” she called. “Can you hear me?”

  • • •

  A sigh fell from her lips. There was the whisper of his name on a soft breath. She said it only once, but she had said it nonetheless. He touched his forehead to hers. Held there, unable to move for not wanting to miss another sign.

  A gut wrenching groan that went from the pit of his stomach, exploded from his mouth. “Estelle. You can hear me. I know you can. Come back to me. See me, hear me, feel me. I’m here always for you,” he said.

  • • •

  She heard the desperate whispering. It fell like a soft cloak around her shoulders. Hear me. Feel me. She knew it was Gregory who spoke those words. She opened her arms, spread them wide, turned a circle beneath the light. Willed herself go to there. To go to him.

  The light spread, the warmth continued to thaw her frozen limbs. “I heard you. Keep talking to me,” she cried.

  • • •

  She whispered. He couldn’t hear exactly what she said, but she responded more fully now. It was as though she were waking from the deepest of sleeps. “I am here, waiting for you. Find me, Estelle. Look and find. Hear me. You have to. There is no other way.”

  He cupped her face, kissed her more soundly, kissed her with everything he had, clasped her face in the palms of his hands, molded his lips to hers and poured everything he had into that kiss, every fiber, every ounce of himself.

  He realized what he was doing. He was fighting. This time it was something worth fighting for. Not just for duty, or for honor, or for the Navy. It was for both Estelle and himself. This time, he could not loose.

  Would not loose.

  He broke from their kiss. “I am here, Estelle, find me. Please, find your way back to me,” he said.

  • • •

  She’d been kissed. She felt it on her mouth. Felt the heat, felt his mouth joining hers, savored the sweet taste of him. The bite of hot tears stung the inside of her eyelids. “Gregory!” she cried.

  The light became multi-colored, as though she were staring at dappled sunlight through the moving leaves of a tree. There was movement, a head above hers peering down at her with eyes so dark and bright at the same time they reminded her of the dazzling show of stars in a midnight sky. “It is you!” she said.

  Her eyes felt so very heavy, as though they were weighted. She struggled to keep them open, concentrating on Gregory’s face. Her vision cleared enough to see the concern etched onto the planes of his features.

  • • •

  Her eyes locked on his with such a concentrated intensity that there was no other way to describe it than knowing she was coming back. Gone was the blankness in her eyes. She was there, watching him, dragging herself back from wherever it was.

  He kept her gaze, bonding her eyes with his, trying to draw her further up towards him. “That’s my girl. Keep coming up. Keep coming to me. You can beat it,” he whispered.

  • • •

  She felt the weight of her arm. It was a normal feeling, like she was joining back with her body, gaining some control over it. She tensed her arms, felt her muscles pull and tighten, lifted them and felt the hard chords of his arms knot beneath her grip. But she felt them. Felt him in her grasp.

  Her hands lifted to cup just above his elbows. Her touch was light, but it was there. Her skin was warm, not as warm as it should be, but not a frozen cadaver. Her fingers gripped his shirt, gaining strength with every passing second.

  Then her curved mouth contorted and drew back into a nondescript line. The brightness of her eyes became stricken and dulled. The embrace of her fingers loosened and sank to the ground. He clasped either side of her head, panic a bitter tasting lump in his mouth. Something was wrong, she was sinking back, he was losing her all over again, the worst kind of torture. “Estelle, what’s wrong. What’s happening? Don’t go back! You mustn’t go back!” he cried. He picked up her hand, drew it to his lips. “You … you can’t. You just can’t.”

  But she sank further. He could do nothing but sit and helplessly watch the light bleed from her eyes as she sank back to the depths of a living death.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The light dimmed. The cold and the dark blurred around her, threatening to take her back into the lost abyss she had woken to. She couldn’t see Gregory’s face above hers; the lights were now shadowed and dim. The cold bit into her fingers, viciously attacking any warmth that was there.

  The heaviness fell from her limbs as though she were devoid of hands, and arms and a body. Her body. She lifted her hand to see if she had truly lost the ability to move her own limbs, but she couldn’t tell if she had moved or not. There was no sensation of touch to judge it by.

  She was retreating, barreling back to be lost in the obscene dark. Something was taking her back. She felt it, a dankness that invaded her mind, drawing all the good and sucking it from her as though it was a food. An insidious shiver stole
through her. She couldn’t let herself fall prey to this malicious power. It would be so simple to let the despair wash her away.

  Anger welled within. But it was a good anger. The best kind. The one that had driven her most of her life. The type that didn’t let her lie in a miserable heap of wallowing self-pity.

  It was the give-a-damn type. The kind that had you striving for everything you were worth, for everything you held dear. And she had found that one person bigger than herself that was worth giving it everything she had. Gregory was fighting for her and she would damn well fight back.

  “You will not take me!” she screamed.

  She stared at the pinprick of light and willed herself towards it. She imagined herself surrounded by light, by Gregory, by love. Let herself acknowledge that greatest of joy that she had only so recently found, protecting it like the very precious thing that it was. Nothing was going to stand in the way of something that was so supreme.

  She let herself feel it so that it soaked all the way through her, shone into each and every pore in her body. She felt the dark hover, back away and stumble backwards, terrified by the power of the light. She felt herself tumble and jerk backwards, felt the ground beneath her back, the prickle of twigs scratching her skin and she cracked her eyes open.

  “Gregory,” she whispered and drew him into her arms.

  She soaked in the look of surprise and then total relief that washed his features. He groaned and tucked his cheek against hers, drew his arms beneath her and locked her tight against him.

  “I didn’t come back just so that you could knock the breath back out of me,” she said.

  He pulled back, eyes roaming her face just so that he could make sure she was actually in his arms. “How … ?” his voice cracked.

  She laughed. The absolute joy that welled was too much for her not to. “You led me. You helped me find the light. Without you, I would be stumbling around in the dark for who knows how long.” She shivered, thinking about the others who this entity still had control over. Some of those men had been lost there for years.

  “This was my fault. If I had only woken you before I … ” Gregory said.

  She took his face between her hands and shook her head. “It was the fault of no one but that evil god that does this to people. It was not you. Those words I said to you. They were not me. I was in the grip of the terrible rage that kept on sucking me in and taking me down with it. If anyone was to blame for being caught by this thing, it was me for being so distrustful.”

  She looked into his eyes, locked their gazes, sank into them. “If there is anyone who should be seeking exoneration, it should be me. Gregory, can you ever forgive me?”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered. His voice was heavy, sandpapery. Heated.

  With a groan he pressed his lips to hers, massaged her lips with his. She closed her eyes and let the sensation wrap around her, tasting him, invited him into her mouth, reveling in this intimacy.

  She wound her arms around his neck, splayed her fingers though his hair, let the silky strands fall between her fingers. She was fully alive and now she knew what it was to drink in every second of it. Her senses were heightened beyond what she before had taken for granted. The weight of his body pressing on hers, his muscles that unwound and bunched with his movements beneath her fingers, the rough stubble on his cheeks as he pressed against her skin, the softness of his lips on hers, his unadulterated taste. The way her body melted with her own rising passion. Her bones were warm honey, her blood soaked with molten desire, seeking a need that could only peak between the two of them.

  Her passion ignited like a gunpowder spark and she welcomed it. Sought it. Needed it.

  Fed from it.

  His response was immediate. His kiss grew harder, more needy. Purposeful. His tongue delved into her mouth, sweeping, dancing, stroking. She responded completely. She gave herself freely, letting all else disintegrate from her mind until she was all response, inflamed.

  Awakened.

  His hand skimmed to her front and her shirt was opened, baring her breasts that were so sensitized that she felt the very air touch them. His hand found them, fondled the heavy flesh, delightedly weighted with her building passion. Her nipples hardened, pulled into tight nubs. His palm skimmed over them and she shuddered. He massaged it with the pad of his thumb, pressing, swirling, teasing.

  He released her mouth and found her breast. She arched her back as his warm wetness suckled. He used his tongue as he had had fingers, only his mouth could suck, his teeth could nip. His hand trailed over her stomach and undid her breeches. She helped him undo the ties and draw them from her legs until she lay beneath him dressed only in her open shirt.

  He didn’t wait. She didn’t think she could either. His hand covered her intimately. His finger found her soft folds and slipped between them. She threw back her head. A soft gasp tumbled from her open mouth. The bones in her legs liquefied with his stroking touch. He nudged them open and she willingly obeyed. He caressed her there, lovingly attending to every sleek, wet curve. His finger slipped into her entrance, retreating and entering again. His mouth was hot on her breast. Internal flames licked higher, igniting her body so that the want, the need, the desire was almost overwhelming.

  Her fingers slipped down his nape. His skin was slick and hot beneath her touch. Her thumb stroked the soft area behind his ear and he groaned with that simple of caresses.

  To know that she could initiate the same response as he did with her immediately heightened her awareness. She had his whole body to discover, an intimate world literally at her fingertips. Her hand slipped down his arm. His muscles rippled beneath the rough material of his shirt. She needed to feel more of him, wanted his skin to feel the heat, the silkiness, wanted to touch the exquisiteness of his body. Needed him to respond.

  Needed to set him on fire and he was with her.

  Her shaky fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. She only had two undone when he uttered a monotone syllable and drew it up and over his head. And she let her eyes feast. He stilled to let her.

  She touched his chest. The taunt muscles looked so chiseled, so hard, so different to her softness, but when her fingers found his skin, she discovered it was smooth and velvety. The hardness lay beneath. She traced the line between his chest, over the hardened mounds of his stomach, sketching the undulating ripples until she reached his waistband. She hooked her finger around it and let her gaze rise to his eyes.

  She uttered a gasp. There was a burning intensity in the depths, a directness that left her with no misunderstanding of his own needs, his own passion. He didn’t hide it, but let her see it, let her know it. It was possession, passion, desire. It branded her as his. It was ownership, domination. It was knowing that she was his. All-powerful. All-consuming, All-knowing. It was total belief, total dedication, adoration, devotion. A keen unsaid commitment. A pledge that it would always be so, a promise that he would always be by her side, an assurance that this was not the end, but the beginning of something far greater than they had ever had on their own or could ever knew even now, having come so far.

  A guarantee of a life together. Of tenderness. Caring. An assurance that this was something that would never end, that it would grow with them. It could not be changed, turned against them. It was theirs to own, enjoy, nurture. It was a statement of completeness that was theirs and theirs alone. Unselfish, binding, fervent. There was only one word that could be the sum of the look that shone from the depths of his eyes.

  It was love in its purest sense.

  It was breathtaking, intense, fierce.

  It was hers.

  Given freely. Not with a want of anything in return. A quiet acknowledgement of how he felt about her, that he would be by her side as long as she would have him. Recognition, acceptance, understanding. He offered himself to her, had stripped hims
elf bare to her alone. This was him in the purest of forms, simply laid out in a simple question.

  The answer was unequivocally yes.

  She wanted to tell him, yell it for the world to hear. But her throat had clogged and her eyes had filled with the stinging heat of tears. She went to speak, but there were no words.

  He simply smiled. A small curve of his very masculine lips that stated his answer. Together they were beyond words. He cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand and bent to take her mouth in his. Her passion ignited immediately. Completely.

  She undid his breeches and worked his waistband down. The heavy head of his erection, full and hard jutted up from his clothing. She touched the head in wonder. It was only a soft touch, but one that made him move back a little. So much she could do with one finger.

  She traced the end with her finger tip, around the groove of the head and up the sleek underside to the end. The skin was so very soft, but was heated. A large vein rose up the shaft to the head, throbbing with every beat of his heart.

  She shifted, taking the weight of his penis fully onto her hand. She wrapped her fingers about the shaft, absorbed in the weight and texture of it. Although she had long fingers, the body of it still took up her palm. She moved her hand up and down along the shaft, watching the color change from a deep red to an almost purple. When she reached the tip, she swirled the pad of her thumb over the tip.

  He hissed and she jumped, realizing the effect she had on him was the same as she had when his hands touched her so intimately. Her gaze flew to his eyes that were intensely bright. Purposeful. Intent. She couldn’t help the knowing smile that reached her mouth.

  He moved to kiss her, but she held onto his shoulders, stopping him. If she let him to that to her then she wouldn’t be able to explore the way she wanted. She shook her head a little, twisted him around to lie where she had just been. Her eyes devoured him, as he lay revealed and open. She wondered if that was how she appeared to him in such a position.

  She touched his chest, felt his heart hammering, his irregular breathing. His gaze never left her face as he waited for her move. She delighted in knowing that she held the same magnetic power as he did with her. She flattened the palm of her hand across his stomach, feeling the hardness rippling beneath her touch, reveling that he was so different to her in so many physical ways.