Paradise Island

by Charmaine Ross

  Her hand found his erection and cupped it. His clothing was hampering his movements, and she worked his breeches free. His penis sprung proudly stating his desire.

  There was an intense desire to devour him the way he had with her. She wanted to make him as boneless, as abandoned, as rocked as she had been. She moved so that she was astride his knees as she worked his shaft, toyed there, delighted there. The shear enchantment of watching him begin to move with pleasure was also making her spiral into a bubbling pot of unfathomable desire.

  Her body throbbed with unspent need, but still she had to do more for him, wanted to send him freefalling over that indefinable edge, wanted to watch him writhe in ecstasy that she alone created. She bent over him, flicked her tongue over the tip of his shaft.

  His muscles tautened. He went to sit up, but she fattened her hand on his stomach, commanding him to stop. She watched him accept her order. Slowly he lay back, but he never took her eyes from hers. She kept his gaze as she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

  A sharp breath hissed between his teeth. He would have moved, but for her hand splayed on his stomach. She rolled her tongue over the head. He instinctively bucked, driving himself further into her mouth. She kept it there and sucked. She used her tongue to trace the throbbing vein, used her lips to massage the outside of the shaft.

  She let him retreat from her mouth then took him back in. His fists ground into the fronds around him. She realized she had her hands free. She massaged his thigh and cupped the rest of his manhood in her hand. She gently massaged the skin, setting her own rhythm with her hands and her mouth. His shaft bucked and throbbed larger, growing more rigid with every duck of her head. She went faster, manipulating him with her tongue, mouth, fingers, delighting in the effect she had on him.

  He groaned aloud. He grasped the wrist that held his stomach, reached to her hips and pulled her so that she was positioned above his heated member. “Now it is my turn again,” he ground between clenched teeth.

  He lowered her down onto his manhood. She gasped as the tip entered her slick entrance, shuddered as he drove her down, filling her, stretching beyond description until her inner thighs rested on his hips. She was deliciously, completely full with him inside her.

  She moved and an intense tingle zinged through her. He bucked his hips, driving her up. Then he lowered his hips, the movement causing her to rest more fully on him. His hard stomach muscles cushioned her, pressing to cause exquisite, rippling spirals of sensation through her.

  She pressed her hands on his chest, lifted from him and returned so slowly that she felt every ridge on his shaft as it buried so deep into her. She set up a slow rhythm and rode him. Her body absorbed the thrilling embers of sensation that cascaded through her. She tipped her head back, bouncing on him, impaled on a vortex to bliss.

  The sensation built until it filled her to completion. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, was a prisoner to the torrents that sparked every nerve ending into brilliant, multi-colored life. Gregory gripped her hips and with a groan and a final driving thrust, arched his back and ground himself into her. His member throbbed once and there was a heated spill within her as he joined her in pure glory.

  She fell forward, over his chest, too limp and boneless to do anything else. His heart thumped rapidly, as though he had run a mile. She put her hand to where she felt the vibrations the most. He drew his arms about her, pressed her to him and she knew, that together, they had just found true paradise.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “We have to go back to the cave.”

  Her hand had stilled on his chest, her warm palm pressed into his skin. She hadn’t moved from her position tucked into the side of him, one of her legs thrown over the top of his, head resting on his shoulder, her blazing hair spilling over his shoulder, but tension had crept into her body. He felt it in the now taut lines of her back, the stiffness in her shoulders. It spilled from her voice.

  He clasped her arm, the other tightened around her waist. His first reaction was that he didn’t want to. They could just stay here, naked, together. But he knew that they had to end this nightmare.

  His first instinct was to do what he had done before. Leave her and face the danger himself, but he knew how that would end. This time, he had to share the danger, knowing the outcome could be as bad, or worse, than it had. He loved Estelle, and to know that was to let her face danger. The only thing he could do was to face the same with her.

  With a sigh, Estelle raised herself onto her elbow and looked down at him. “I think I know how to overpower this thing.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “When I was lost in that blackness, all I felt was cold and miserable. There was no way out. It fed off my wretchedness. It wanted me to feel that way, like it had me in its power and it was using me somehow. But then, when I felt the warmth, saw the light, there was hope. It was instantaneous and that thing went away. It didn’t like it. I think if we can somehow show those lost men the light you showed me then it will lose its power over them.”

  “That’s near impossible.”

  “I need to connect with them, get into their minds. Use my gift. I can show them the way out of that darkness. Gregory, some of them have been locked in there for years.” Estelle shivered. Her eyes were round and bright. She knew the horror. Relived it as they spoke.

  “I might even be able to save my father,” Estelle whispered. “I have to face that thing by myself, talk to it, fight it. I think then we might have a chance.”

  She would want to rescue them all. It was in her nature to try and save people from suffering despite her own safety. He knew she was right, but hesitancy held him back from concurring. “It’s too risky. I can’t entertain the thought of you doing that,” he said.

  “It’s the only way. This time I’ll have you to guide me there. Gregory, you showed me what to look for in all that darkness. All I have to do is think of you, and I’ll find my way back. Only blindness keeps you there in the cold and the dark, and you are blind in there if you can’t find love. You know, it’s all you really take with you wherever you go. It’s the one thing that this god does not understand and that is its weakness.”

  “What if you’re not right? What if it happens again and you can’t get back to me.”

  “I have to try,” she said.

  “But what if you can’t? What if you are lost again beyond finding? Are you willing to take that risk?”

  “Then promise me you’ll save Paradise. Tell my friends what became of me,” she said.

  “And what of me?” His voice was low, careful.

  A small smile touched her lips. “You are why I will succeed.”

  He drew her to him and kissed her long, slow and boundlessly. She was right. They had a higher duty than just to themselves, but just for this moment, this one time, he would put all aside and loose himself in her. He knew with all certainty that they would go and try and defeat this monster that had been unearthed, but here, now there were just the two of them and that was all that mattered.

  It would be all that ever mattered. Together, they were worth fighting for.

  It would be the one sure thing on their side. Between the two of them, if anyone had the ability to stop this vile creature, heartbreakingly, it was her. And if anything went wrong and she was taken from him once again, he would thank God that he had known just this little taste of her for this short time.

  If they didn’t do anything Jack Cutlass, General Marcus Worthington and this unearthed god would destroy the world, one little part at a time. And that was too much a tragedy to contemplate. There would be no end until this god was stopped.

  There was a clarity to their situation, a powerful driving between them. With that clarity there was a determination, a resolution to succeed. He saw the same spark in her, the same gutsy tenacity that she wo
uld give it a damn good try.

  “We will do this. Together,” he said.

  “Then we go now.”

  It was dark as they trekked back to the cave. The moon was bright, lending enough light to negotiate the lush bush land. Estelle was quiet and as preoccupied as he, each resigned to their thoughts and purpose. It was the same as entering any battle. He had seen the same with many sailors, knowing that they would have their own part to play, realizing that it might be their life that would end on this day. He was sure Estelle would have seen the same.

  Weariness tugged his muscles, but he strode on, keeping careful pace with Estelle. She was sure to be feeling the same fatigue as he, but she didn’t break her determined stride. Knowing that there was more to this than just the two of them, the fate of her home, her father, kept her fortitude burning.

  It was trepidation kept him alert and the same depth of purpose that kept his strides from slowing. They were close to the cave now. The landscape had lost the protection of closely growing trees and became more barren. It was as if the evil that seeped from the cave had stopped the trees from growing.

  Estelle stopped and withdrew her sword. Adrenaline immediately punched his veins as he unsheathed his sword, his senses jumped as he picked out every shadow.

  “Up there,” she whispered.

  Slowly she pointed to a large boulder that rose above them. A transparent blue mist hovered above the stone. It was in the shape of a woman dressed in a shroud. There were no features, but Estelle felt power pulsing through it. Every sense prickled to attention, building with an intense awareness. The figure extended an arm, pointing in a direction down a rough pathway that was nothing more than an animal track.

  Another blue apparition, a head taller than Gregory appeared in the middle of the pathway. It hovered down the path, stopping for them to follow.

  “We have been shown. Do you think we should follow?” she asked quietly.

  “I think we are receiving more help than we know. I think we should at least see where this track leads,” he said.

  Estelle nodded. “I agree. Let’s go.”

  Gregory brushed aside the leafy twigs. The track was narrow and wound around the saplings and large grey rocks that scattered the ground. Soon the trail, for it was no more than that, rose in an incline that had his attention more on his feet to stop from tripping over.

  They were soon climbing a rough path up larger boulders. Estelle re-sheathed her sword to pick her way up and he did the same, following her along the slowly diminishing trail.

  Estelle paused, panting with exertion. Clearly she was finding the climb as arduous as he was. “I still see a pathway through these rocks. I think we should see where it ends. I have often heard Dalia tell of spirits appearing to help their people. We need to follow it to receive its help.”

  “Even up the face of a cliff?” he asked.

  “She never mentioned that the path would be easy.”

  A twig snapped above them, capturing their attention. The apparition hovered on the top the ridge, before disappearing over the ledge.

  “There is our answer,” she said.

  It took a few moments to reach the ledge, but when they had, Gregory smelt the distinct sharp tang of sea air. He peered over some small bracken low growing shrubs that lined the top of a ridge. “We are back along the coastline,” he said, surprised.

  The ocean spread before him in a dark mass. Moonlight picked up the troughs and highs of massive waves peaked with white foamy caps. Beside him, Estelle peered in the same direction.

  “And it seems as if we are not the only ones here,” she said.

  There was a harsh edge to her voice that was threaded with abjuration and reprisal. Tension recoiled from her so much that he felt it as strongly as she. She indicated below them with a sharp tip of her head and his gaze fell to below them.

  From the shadows merged a cluster of black ships that had sunk anchor in the quiet bay. Several long boats lined the black shore. Empty. He leaned through the shrubs to see where the occupants were and quickly ducked back, taking Estelle to the ground with him.

  “Did you see the flags on those ships?” she asked breathlessly.

  He nodded. “Cutlass,” he said, grimness hanging on his voice. “They’re here. Jack’s crew. All of them.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “We must get to the cave before them, defeat it before the crew has a chance to try to stop us,” she said. Her voice was steel-edged, determination ringing from each syllable. It had seemed as though the spirit had summoned its disciples. She only hoped that she had bought Paradise some time, and that Dalia had been able to hide their village long enough to keep Jack Cutlass from destroying it.

  Gregory looked around from their high perch. His mouth had flattened into a determined line, his brows set straight over an intent, bright gaze. The breeze from the ocean whipped his raven hair across his brow. His shirt billowed, revealing his broad toned chest, darkened with the night. He was every inch the pirate she knew was hidden beneath the gentleman’s veneer. There was an unyielding quality to him, a sense of personal purpose, a complete ungentlemanly resolution that would have the Navy thinking twice about his current post.

  It was this raw edge to him that had her breath caught in her throat. There was a sense of complete satisfaction seeing it on full display. Despite the danger and the precariousness of their position, she knew that this freshly honed side to him was unerringly fitting. This was the true Gregory Marshall.

  He nodded and pointed to a nearly overgrown scrubby trail that continued beyond their ledge. “We’ll go this way. We’ll have to keep quiet. Sound travels far in the night and those men have help from otherworld forces.”

  Estelle consented and followed Gregory along the narrow pathway. Occasionally he would peer over the edge to look for any sign of the men on the opposite side of the cliff they trekked along, but there was nothing to see. The men had seemed to have melted into the night. That was not a good sign. Estelle always liked to know the whereabouts of the men she was about to fight.

  She constantly looked behind and around her, noting shadows that moved or noises that cracked the silence, ignoring her burning muscles as she walked on tiptoe as she picked her way over the small, rocky trail. Twigs brushed her arms and shrubs scratched her legs, catching and tugging her clothing. There was a rip as a twig caught her sleeve and refused to dislodge. The sound seemed to ricochet through the silence. She stopped on bent knees, swiveling on the balls of her feet, aiming her vision with the tip of her sword as she scanned the shadows. In front of her, Gregory did the same.

  After a few moments, Gregory nodded towards her. She answered with a silent indication of her head and they continued down the path, pausing now and then. There was nothing, no noise, no movement. Tension built with every passing step. It grew with her rasping breath, the sweat that heated her skin and the drops of perspiration that trickled down her back.

  She was always aware of the pre-battle tension. Always felt it spark the very air around her as though it was a living energy. It made her ready for battle and had saved her life many times in the past. But that was when she fought other pirates. This time there was an unknown factor. Even though she had tasted a little of it, she knew there was a depth that she could not know about until the heat of battle was upon her, when this god was fighting for its own preservation against possible destruction. Who knew what she would be up against then? She had seen men and women attack from their sick beds when they faced a life and death situation. Self-preservation was a powerful force indeed and this god had worked continuously to ensure its own survival over many years.

  Gregory stilled and hunched onto bended knee. He turned to show his finger across his mouth indicating to keep silent. She nodded, hunching down beside him and looked over his shoulder. Below the track they perched on was
the clear area of the cave. The way they were positioned on the track, the cave entrance was directly below them. She recognized the expanse of barren dirt, and the large grey boulders that were scattered over the barren ground. Estelle stifled a chill that crawled through her belly.

  The apparition had taken them to the cave. They held their position, becoming part of the shadows, watching for any trace of the phantom crew, but there was nothing save a forlorn birdcall. It was time to move.

  She clasped Gregory’s shoulder, firming her fingers on his sinewy muscles. She stepped around him. He grabbed her hand, stopping her just as she was about to walk down a trailing path that would take her to the entrance of the cave.

  He pulled her gently towards him, until his arms were wrapped around her and his mouth was pressing against hers. She melted against his solid frame, entwined her arms around his neck and met his kiss with her own. This was not a kiss of building passion, but of one lover knowing what the other must now go and do. It was a kiss of mutual understanding, working together for a composite benefit, the blending of two into one. It was a kiss of trust, succor and refuge. The knowledge that one could only exist because of the other, whatever the outcome might be.

  Estelle broke the kiss, pulled back and gazed into Gregory’s bright onyx eyes. There were no words. She didn’t need to find any. She read all she needed to know in the intensity of that one look.

  “Whatever happens, we do it together,” she said.

  Gregory nodded, relinquishing her so that they would follow the path that lead to the dusty plain before the entrance of the cave. They hid behind a sparse shrub, apprehension and doubt chipping her reserve. Gregory took her hand, warming her fingers with his own.