by JA Huss
I’m pumping my cock into her hard now. It’s the only way to finish off a caveman fuck. Pressing her against a wall. Smothering her with my power and my body. Telling her all the things she wants to hear and all the things she doesn’t, at the same time.
She will never admit it, but she likes my version of her future and that’s why she pushed me away. She wants it. She just won’t admit it.
Chapter Twenty-One - Victoria
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I say, over and over again as West continues to fuck me. Why does he have to say these things?
“I’m gonna put a ring on that finger, Tori. I’m gonna give you the wedding of a lifetime. I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve never fucked you before that night. And then I’m going to take you to an island, just like this one, and rip your clothes off. Make you walk around naked with me for days, and weeks, and maybe forever. I will eat your pussy everywhere we go on that island. On the rocks, in the waves, lying in the hot sun. I will taste you and then I’ll kiss you, just the way you like. Let you taste it too.”
“I’m not marrying you,” I say, almost breathless. His finger in my ass is driving me wild. I just want him to put me down, bend me over, and fuck me from behind. I want to feel the weight of him as he collapses onto my back when we are spent. God, why can’t he just do that instead of all this damn talking? “I’m never getting married, I’ve told you that a hundred—”
But I can’t continue.
Because he’s reading my mind. He’s carrying me back to the couch. He sets me down and I whimper when his cock slips out from inside me. He bends me over the back of it. Not hard and demanding. Just matter-of-factly. Like my wish is his command.
My body is weak and I bend when he tells me to bend. I open my legs when he tells me to open them.
And I wait. The seconds seem like hours as I wait for his dick or his fingers, or his… oh, my God, his tongue.
He licks me. His fingers are inside me. His hands spread my ass cheeks open and his tongue probes my ass, slips down to my pussy, and… holy shit.
“You will marry me,” West says as he thrusts his cock inside me again. I’m so wet, he just slips right in.
But his finger is still playing with my ass and that is what I love. He knows it. I love it, I want him in there too, I want him everywhere, inside me every way. And in that same moment he’s withdrawn and relentless. His cock is painful as he thrusts forward. My back arches and I scream as his dick goes in my ass. His hand is on my hip, and then it’s not, it’s between my legs, strumming my clit.
I throw my head back and see him. Looking down at me. As I come.
There is that moment when we are looking at each other. And then there is that moment when we have to close our eyes and see nothing.
He pulls out and spills his semen all down my back.
And then he completes my fantasy. He bends forward and covers me with his weight. We are breathing hard, almost gasping for air. And he says, “I’m still gonna come inside you, Miss Arias. I’m gonna get what I want from you. But right now, I think we need to sleep.”
West gets off me and I miss him immediately. But he’s only gone a second. He’s got a towel when he stands me up. He cleans off his chest, then my back, and we sink into the couch cushions together.
“I love you, Victoria. I have always loved you.”
“I know,” I whisper back.
“You should rethink your life. You should try to imagine the life I’m offering you. Not as a trap, like you always said. But as a… a sanctuary. From all the bad, and all the stress, and all the worries that come with being alone. You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be in charge. You don’t have to be in control. It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.”
I can see his point. I hate to admit it, but all these years later, after being in charge, and being in control, and being single… I can see it.
I’m lonely, and scared, and stressed out. I am on the brink of losing everything. People are counting on me and I’m about to let them all down. I am in a bad, dark place.
But I am also wrapped up tight in Weston Conrad’s arms.
And I can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like for real.
If I was his good little wife.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Weston
“Wake up, Tori.” I give her a little nudge and go back to packing the dry bag I found in the closet with the snorkeling gear.
“What?” she asks, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her hair is wild, her face is flushed from the humidity and heat that is making this place feel like a hothouse, and she’s still naked from last night.
Jesus fucking Christ. I should not have done any of that yesterday. It’s going to be so hard to walk away from her again. But I can’t help myself. She’s so familiar. So easy to fall into. So… perfect. It really sucks that we can’t get along. That we have almost nothing in common when it comes to future plans. That we are both so stubborn.
She agrees with me during sex sometimes. She slows down and gives it some thought, at least. But I know it’s just the sex talking. She’s in a state where she has to give in. But the next morning she’s always back to her old self.
We just don’t want the same things in life.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?”
She’s so goddamned cute when she wakes up. All confused and innocent. It’s the only time of the day that she lets her guard down.
“We’re gonna leave,” I say, grabbing her bra and panties and throwing them to her. “Get dressed. I washed your panties, so put them on. I’ve got your skirt and blouse in the bag with my stuff so we’ll have dry clothes once we get there.”
“Get where?” She’s irritated now. “Where the hell are we going? Is the storm over? Did the pilot come back?”
“No. But there’s a lull in the storm so we’re going to try to swim over to another island. I saw it when we landed. There’s a building over there. Maybe they have a radio.”
“Why can’t we just stay here?”
I ignore her and just continue packing the bag. I’ve already got the handguns in the bottom. I don’t want her to know I’m taking them. And I’ve got two towels, because I have no clue if that other building even has necessities.
“West? What’s going on?”
“We just can’t stay here. I have a feeling that storm yesterday was only the beginning. The purple mess is still off in the distance. Like it’s hovering or moving very slowly. But it’s even bigger than it was yesterday. I think it’s a hurricane.”
“Hurricane? For real?”
“Yeah, this place is no good, Tori. We need to leave. It’s low, only like thirty feet above sea level. This house will probably flood. That other island was bigger. Higher up. We need to make for it while the break in the storm lasts.”
“But what if—”
“It’s not far, Tori. We made it to the sandbar yesterday, right? Well, I know it’s a neap tide right now. The full moon was last week. So even though the water level is higher because of the storm, it’s lower than it should be because of the alignment of the moon and the sun. I think that sandbar is probably submerged a few feet at most. We should still be able to walk on it. I’m betting all those sandbars are like that. We won’t have to swim far. Think of it like a causeway.”
Tori sits up, looks around, then stands and plants her hands on her hips. “You’re serious? I’m not going in that ocean.”
“You are. You don’t have a choice.”
“I have plenty of choices. I think that if there’s a lull in the storm they will be looking for us. We should wait here and—”
“No one is looking for anyone until that hurricane passes. Don’t you get it? We’re fucked.” I didn’t want to scare her, but I have no choice. We don’t have time for a fight. People could come back. And I’m pretty sure that’s the worst possible thing that could happen. There’s a reason we’re here. And there’s a reason that closet was packed full of guns.
I’m trying not to think too hard about it yet, because I don’t want to face some inevitable facts. But none of this is good. It’s bad. Far worse than I first thought before we found those guns.
“You don’t know that,” she says, still defiant.
“Do you want to stay here alone?” I don’t want to threaten her with that, either. It’s a low blow and she feels it immediately, because she recoils. But I have no other option. We need to get the fuck off this island. “Because I’m leaving. So if you’d like to stay behind all by yourself, that’s your choice.”
Tori huffs out some air, silent, but defiant. I let her stew. She’s coming. I know she’s coming. She won’t stay here alone.
“What if they come looking for us and we’re gone? I think we should leave a note.”
“We’ll deal with that later. And no,” I stress. “We’re not leaving a note. Just do what I say and things will be fine.”
“What do you mean, later? And why no note? No. No, no, no. That makes no sense.”
“It does make sense, Tori. You just don’t have all the information.”
“Then tell me,” she growls. “What are you keeping from me?”
“I’m making a decision and that’s the end of it. We’re leaving. So put on your bra and panties and let’s go. The low tide will be here in like an hour. We don’t have much time if we want to take advantage of that.”
“How do you know all this shit anyway? Since when are you an expert on tides?”
“I told you,” I say, starting to lose my patience. “I worked on a boat for seven years. This is common knowledge for sailors. The pilot said it was low tide when we landed yesterday, and the tides are regular. They come at regular intervals each day. Can’t you just do what you’re told for once? I mean, unless you’ve got some secret tidal training I don’t know about. But I’m guessing not, because if you did, you’d know I was right and we wouldn’t have to argue about it.”
I stuff the last of the gear into the bag and seal it up.
“You’re taking one of those knives?”
“All of them,” I say. “We need to hunt, right?”
She huffs out more air and rolls her eyes. “You’re some kind of survivalist now? Please.”
“Yeah, well,” I say under my breath. “I’ve been in survival mode since I was seven. It’s nothing new for me. Now let’s go.”
I’m only half right about everything I told Tori, but it’s enough. The trek from our island to the new island takes four hours. It’s not more than two miles away and it takes four hours. She balked at the edge of the beach. So I pointed to the storm, still stirring in the northern sky, and threatened her with a high tide if she didn’t get her South American ass in the water.
She swam to the first sandbar, which was more than a couple feet submerged, so I was wrong about that. But she was still able to touch the bottom for about two hundred yards, so the part I was right about was the only thing that counted.
It kept her going, and that’s all that matters.
But once we got to the edge of that sandbar and she realized the moment of truth was upon her, she panicked. I’m talking full-on panic attack with hyperventilating and fearful eyes, and claims that she was going to die.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her this way.
I hate it.
I’d rather see her with another man than see her so scared.
We had to stand there on the edge of the ocean, the water swelling higher and higher as we waited for the episode to pass. I had to coach her constantly while we swam to the second island, which still had land above water, but the low tide was over by then and the ocean was rising fast. When I pointed back to our island she was shocked that so much of it was hidden under the waves.
“See,” I said. “We would’ve died over there.”
She got her fear under control after that and swam to the third island without comment, even though it was a struggle from start to finish. I was actually scared that time. She’s not a strong swimmer. Nothing like me. I know what to do with an angry sea.
I wasn’t sure she could do it. I really had doubts. All I thought about as we swam, the waves tossing us and pulling on us, was that I would never be able to live with myself if something happened to her. But there was an inflatable floatation belt in with the scuba gear, so I put it on her, tethered us together, and pulled her to the last island.
So here we are.
“Where’s the building?” Victoria asks. It’s raining again. Really starting to come down hard, but we’re soaked anyway, so it hardly matters.
“It’s in the middle of the island.” We’re sprawled out on the beach waiting for our heavy breathing to even out. “I’ll go look first. You stay here and then when I know it’s safe I’ll come back for you.”
“Like hell,” Tori says, standing up. “I’m not staying here. And if you try to make me, I’ll follow you into those trees. I do not care what danger is in there. I’m not staying here on this deserted beach alone. Fuck that.”
I have to laugh at her defiance. Even though I want to get to the building first so I can try to figure this shit out, I know she’s firm on this. So I just say, “Suit yourself. But when the natives attack, don’t blame me.”
Tori grabs my arm, squeezing tight. “Do you think there are people here? That we’re… like… trespassing?” Her eyes search mine, looking for reassurance.
“No. I don’t. I think whoever owns this place has a lot more sense than we do. This hurricane has to have been on the news. People who own islands keep track of that shit. No one wants to be stuck out here during a hurricane.”
She lets out a long breath. “Yes. That’s probably true.”
I hold out my hand and Tori looks at it for a second. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go together then.”
She smiles, rolls her eyes. But she does take my hand. We walk the beach in the worsening storm looking for a footpath. The trees and brush are thick, so there’s no real chance of making a new path. Not with the mud and the rain, and the gusting wind.
We find one a little way down the beach, half hidden in the blowing palm trees. And once we get in under the windbreak canopy of leaves, we follow the narrow trail in silence. It leads to a lagoon with an empty boathouse, and from there we find the path to the main house.
Which is a lot nicer than the piece of one-room shit we just came from.
And the power works.
“Why does the power work here?”
“People with money, Tori. They can do whatever they want.”
“Must be nice,” she says, irritated. “But that’s not an answer.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
But I’m humoring her. The power is on because a motion sensor porch light activates when we come up to the front door. Which means people were here not too long ago. They have a sturdier system than the last island, that’s all. It lasted a little longer.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
“There’s a radio!” Tori says, her voice excited after many hours of sadness and fear. “Look!”
And yes, there is a radio right there in the mud room. I scan the area for leftover shoes or coats. Something, anything to tell me if people are here or not.
But I see no signs.
Tori runs over to it and is about to turn it on when I grab her hand away. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“We don’t need to call now. They can’t help us and it will just make people worry.”
“You’re crazy. People are looking for us, West. We need to let them know we’re OK.”
“We will,” I say. “But not yet. Let’s just check this place out first.”
She huffs some air and squints her eyes at me. But I didn’t say it as a command. It was a suggestion. So she’s not mad. I think I just set all her little alarm bells off though.
“It’s pretty nice, right?” I say, trying to get her mind off my new anti-radio stance.
Tori look
s around and takes a few steps towards the great room.
It’s like any well-furnished room you’d find in a vacation home. High-beamed ceilings, dark wood tables, built-in cabinetry, and dark marble-tiled floors. There’s even a flatscreen TV, for fuck’s sake.
I look around, warily. Something is very, very wrong with this trip. Why was Victoria brought in for this contract? Was Liam behind this? Is he getting even for some old wound between him and my father? Was it the pilot? Who does he work for? Mysterious?
This is where the panic starts to take hold of me. I’ve had that thought in the back of my head since yesterday and I’ve been pushing it down and pushing it down.
But there it is.
Mr. Mysterious.
I think this is about him. Maybe even worse than that. Maybe he’s the one behind all this bullshit. He did refer me to that pilot. He did give me that tip about Wallace. The house back on that island had Paxton Vance written all over it. The set-up, the seclusion, the guns.
I look over at the dry bag on the floor and wonder if I should get rid of them. What if he’s used them in some crime? What if they are murder weapons? I mean, all us Misters play it cool about him. Oh, he’s so mysterious. Like we’re rolling our eyes about his quirky eccentricities and not wondering how many people he’s killed since college.
But I know what I’m thinking every time Mysterious shows up, so I know Nolan has to be thinking the same thing. He’s a suspicious bastard. Even more than me. Something is off about Pax and we all know it. I would not put it past him to sell us out.
Hell, maybe he did rape that girl back in college? Maybe it was him all along. And then when the arrest warrant came who was there? Match and his stupid friend Five. Is it a coincidence that Match and Mysterious are the best of friends these days? Really? Pax has always been a man who hates people, but now he and Oliver are BFFs?