by Selena Kitt
He also knew she loved being spanked. His princess was a naughty girl. She was rebellious and defiant—hated following orders, even if they were for her own good. The one thing he'd reserved to really get through to her had, effectively, turned things upside down. Now Darcy defied him with an evil little grin, daring him to catch her, and when he did—to punish her accordingly.
It was a lovely game—except when it really got dangerous. He'd found her hiding behind a tree, a snake as big around as his wrist wrapped around her waist. He'd had to use his machete to release her, but they'd had a good dinner that night. Darcy said she'd never had snake before—that it tasted like a cross between chicken and fish. She ate even more of it than he did.
But the snake gave him ideas.
He discovered Darcy also liked being lashed to trees and pleasure-tortured until she was panting and desperate for him. He made good use of the rope she made. Very good use of it. By the time he untied her from the tree, she would practically climb him like one, impaling herself on his cock and begging to be fucked. He would oblige, her back against the tree, until she screamed with her orgasm, clutching at him like she was drowning.
Later, he would spread the oil from coconuts on her back where she'd been cut up by the bark on the tree. Darcy said she couldn't feel it when it was happening—she only felt it afterward. She winced when he covered her wounds with salve, but when he suggested they be more careful, she would vehemently object as she turned and tucked herself into his arms.
"I like it," she told him time and again. "Every cut and bruise and handprint. Every time it stings a little when I pee, after you've fucked me into oblivion—I love all of it. It reminds me of this. Of us."
Daniel thought that was when he really fell in love with her.
He slipped an arm around her waist and spooned her like they always did, stroking her from chin to navel again and again. If she'd been a cat, she would have purred. Then he settled his hand low on her belly, between her pussy and her navel, so he could snug her back into the saddle of his hips, a perfect fit.
That's when he knew they had to leave the island.
"But why?" Darcy protested when he told her, frowning at him over a length of homemade rope. "I mean… I don't have anything to go home to. Do… do you?"
It was a question she'd never asked him before. She didn't know much about him at all, really. He was former military. He lived on an island. That was about it.
"I have a home," he reminded her, watching her face. "On the island. It's a little more civilized than this."
"So what do you do all day on that island of yours?" she asked. "Pretty much what you're doing now, I guess, but not so far from other people?"
"There are aren't many people on my island. I see them occasionally, but most days, I don't see anybody."
"So you're a beach bum."
He wasn't sure how to answer that. Up until a year or so ago, he'd been career military. But Navy Seals, due to training alone, were all rather reticent to talk about their work. And Daniel had always been the quiet type. She imagined him a retired soldier, hanging out on the beach and doing a lot of nothing. And that was kind of the truth.
But that was far from who he really was.
It kind of irked him, her dismissal. Darcy, calling him a bum—a woman who hadn't done a day of work in her whole life. At least, until now. She'd lost her last manicured nail two weeks ago, and she hadn't even complained about it. He was kind of proud of how far she'd come in so short a time.
"You're like a guy from a Jimmy Buffett song," she mused, looking over and grinning at him.
"Pretty much," he smiled. What else could he say?
"Your island is better than this one, then?" she asked.
"Yes." It was true. But he didn't tell her, yet, that his island wasn't going to be their last stop. "I have a radio. And a shower."
"A shower!" She gasped. "How?"
"Well, it's rigged up—and I have to heat the water. But yeah, it's a shower."
"Oh, I'd kill for a shower." She looked down at her yellow bikini. "And soap. I miss soap."
"I like the way you smell." He sat beside her in the sand, sliding an arm around her waist and burying his face in her mass of red hair. "You make me feel like an animal. I always want you."
"Well, I'm yours for the taking." She turned her freckled face up to him, smiling. "Don't you like being stranded here together? It's very Blue Lagoon. Except, you know, we're not related."
"Thank God for that." He chuckled. "It's not that I don't like it here with you…"
She looked up at him when he stopped talking and he cleared his throat.
"But seasonally—now would be the time. The wind and tides are perfect. They'd take us back to my island without much help at all from us."
"It's not the only time it will be perfect, though, is it?"
"No. I imagine we'll have other opportunities. But…"
"But?"
He sighed. "But I think we need to get you back to civilization."
"Me?" She frowned. "Why?"
"Because civilization is where we can get you the best medical care."
"But I'm not sick." She tossed the rope aside, turning to put her arms around his neck and smiling. "You're talking in riddles…"
"Darce…" He slid a hand over her belly, looking deep into her eyes. He felt her shiver, in spite of the heat. "I don't know if you really don't know—or you're trying to keep it from me. But I'm not a stupid man."
"I wasn't sure," she whispered. "I missed two periods. Well, now three."
"Yeah, I noticed." He grimaced. "You said you had an IUD. I thought…"
"So did I. They're supposed to be very effective."
"Or not."
"Well… I guess we really are Blue Lagooning then." She gave a little laugh. "But I can have the baby here. He can grow up on the island, playing in the tide, a sweet, brown boy who looks just like you…"
"No, Darce." He shook his head sadly. He'd already run that fantasy scenario through his head and had to come to terms with its demise. He knew better. "We have to go back. You can't have the baby here."
"Why?" She wrinkled her freckled nose and climbed into his lap. "Don't you know nothing' bout birthin' no babies? You know about everything else."
"It's not that." His hands went to her hips. "Darcy, I can't have a baby."
"Of course not." She rolled her eyes. "I'm having it."
"Listen to me." His hands tightened at her waist and she frowned at him, looking confused. Just the look in her eyes made his heart ache. "We have to get you back so you can take care of this as soon as possible."
"Take care…" Her words trailed off as his meaning sank in. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "You want me to get rid of it?"
Miserable, he nodded. "You have to."
He was going to have to tell her—explain that, in spite of how very much he would love to have a child with her, his genes made that impossible. He couldn't go through it again, like he had with Lindsay. The silent ultrasound, the nurse rushing out to get the doctor, the sit-down with the genetic counselor. Then came the hand-pats and the apologies, as if that could make up for his failure.
Lindsay had been too far along when they found out. She'd given birth early—his son wouldn't have lived, even if he'd been full-term. That's what the doctors told them, as if that somehow made such news more palatable. She'd left him after that. And it wasn't long before he'd found himself living on an island in the South Pacific.
"I have to." Her lips compressed into a thin, white line and she narrowed her glittering green eyes at him. "I don't have to do anything. Who do you think you are?"
"I'm your lover, Darcy." He held onto her when she tried to scramble off his lap. "And I'm that baby's father. Trust me when I tell you—this has to be done. We are leaving this island, and I'm taking you to a hospital."
"You're not my lover," she snapped, eyes blazing as she twisted out of his hold.
He let her go,
feeling as if his insides were being scraped out with a razor sharp blade as she turned on him, her words shattering him.
"You're my… my… my fucking captor." She railed at him, out of control, out of her mind. He couldn't believe the things she was saying. "You rowed me to this island and kept me as your captive for months. You beat me. You raped me. You impregnated me."
He gaped at her, every word a knife to his heart.
He couldn't even say anything in response.
"Well, no worries." She waved him away, just like royalty dismissing a peon. "I don't want to have anything more to do with you. Did you really think any of this was real?"
"Darcy…" He found his voice, but it was just a hoarse croak.
"Did you really think that I wanted this… you?" She gave a vicious laugh. "You're a fucking beach bum. My father wouldn't let me have anything to do with someone like you."
"Darcy…" He rose, reaching for her, but she yanked away when he touched her arm.
"No. Don't touch me," she said through gritted teeth. She backed away from him, hands on her hips. "Let me know what I need to do to get off this fucking island. That's all I want. Then, don't worry—I'll abort this baby so fast it will make your head spin."
"Jesus, Darcy." He sat back down on the log, head in his hands.
"That's what you want, isn't it?"
"No." He croaked, so stunned by her attack he could barely think. "Yes. Fuck. Listen…"
He lifted his head to try to explain, one more time…
"I've heard enough." She held a haughty hand out, palm up, stopping him. "All I need to know is what you need from me—to get off this Godforsaken island and back to my real life."
"All right, princess." Daniel squared his shoulders and stood, meeting her glaring gaze. "All I need from you is your dress."
Chapter 5
He knew it was time to leave. He just wished they didn't have to.
"You know that's a Halston dress," Darcy informed him as he painstakingly stitched the sail together. "It retails for thirty-five-hundred dollars."
"I'll pay you back." He had her dress, as well as some bits of canvas. He used a great deal of their rope material—before braiding—as thread.
He wasn't entirely sure they were going to make it. Going out onto the ocean was always risky. It could mean their death—a protracted death, lingering on a little boat on the open ocean.
"I don't want your money." She flounced down onto the sand, looking as miserable as he felt. "I have my own. And don't expect that reward from my father, not anymore. Not after what you've done to me."
Daniel bit off a bit of the 'thread' with his teeth. "And what about what you've done to me?"
"To you?" She gaped at him. "What have I done to you?"
"No, you're right." He shook his head, knowing it was true. "My bad. I never should have let myself…"
"What?" she asked when he didn't finish his sentence. "Let yourself what?"
"Hey, listen. I have something for you." He went over to the boat and brought back a wetsuit, tossing it at her feet. "This is my spare suit. It might be a bit big for you."
"Ugh." She made a face. "This is no Halston."
"No, but it will keep you warm out there. Try it on."
She glared at him—that was pretty much all she'd done this week, when she wasn't walking away from him or making sarcastic comments. There'd been no opportunity to have any real conversation. She'd made up her mind.
Darcy started pulling on the suit over her bikini.
He watched her struggle with it. The suit was big, but it still caught at her hips. Those had already widened, and she had the tiniest bit of a belly showing under her navel. Daniel watched her as she pulled the suit up, putting her arms in.
Then she turned, looking back at him.
"I'll need you to do the zipper."
Darcy didn't know how to say 'please'.
Daniel stood and went to help her, sliding the zipper all the way up. She looked back over her shoulder at him for a moment and then stepped away to test out her suit.
Darcy also didn't know how to say 'thank you'.
She paced the beach in her wetsuit, back and forth, trying it out.
"I feel ridiculous," she announced, stretching her arms over her head. "I wish I had a mirror. No—never mind. No, I don't."
"You look fine, Darce." Jesus, she was as sleek as a seal. The suit was too long but it was tight at her hips—and her breasts. She made his mouth water. Still.
"Just fine?" She tilted her head at him, hand on her cocked hip, and he took advantage of the momentary break in her hard shell.
"Delicious," he admitted with a sigh.
He stood, reaching for his own wetsuit. He felt her gaze on him as he pulled it on, up over thickly muscled thighs, well-defined abs, and finally, he shoved his arms in, his biceps rippling under the material as he tried working the zipper up in back.
"Oh, here." Darcy came over, zipping him up. Feeling her breath on his skin made his cock jump. "Why are we dressing up like Sea World instructors anyway? It's not time… is it?"
There was hesitation in her voice. Along with fear—and regret. He couldn't blame her. He wanted to talk to her, to explain, but she wouldn't hear it. Literally—every time he'd tried, she clapped her hands over her ears like a five-year-old and said, 'lalalalalala' until he stopped. Either that, or she ran away. So, he'd stopped trying.
"We're going fishing."
"Fishing?" She raised her eyebrows at him, doubtful.
"Here." He handed her one of his makeshift spears. "Let's have one last good seafood meal on our island."
He saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes at his words.
"Come on."
Quick little Darcy caught a fish right off, spearing it neatly through the body and tossing it on shore.
"Well done!" He praised her and she preened, all proud. He loved seeing her like that.
"Look!" She pointed into the water. "What's that kind of fish? That's not the poisonous one you were talking about, is it?"
"No."
She lunged at the fish, but it scuttled away.
Daniel should have been fishing, but he was having too much fun watching her.
"Ooh another one!" Excited, Darcy pointed it out to him. "Is that one poisonous? Or electric? Or whatever?"
"No." He chuckled, wondering if she was going to ask if every fish in the sea was poisonous or electric. He turned to focus on the hunt, readying his own spear. Fishing this way required patience.
"What about this one?" Darcy called. "Ohh it's on top of the water. It's—is that a fish? Is it a poisonous one?"
Daniel glanced over and his eyes widened.
There was a poisonous sea snake headed right for her.
"Yes!" he shouted. "Darcy! Get out of there!"
But they were already in water up to their chests and there was no way she could outrun or outswim the snake.
Even as Daniel pulled his arm back to make a throw of his spear—a desperate gesture at this distance—he saw a steely look in her eyes as she pulled her own arm back and then lunged with her spear.
Grinning, she pulled the speared, wriggling snake out of the sea.
But then she didn't have a clue what to do with it.
It wriggled wildly on the end of her spear, still quite alive, and Darcy screamed.
He called after her, but she ran out of the water, holding the snake out in front of her. Once she reached land, she cast the spear—and the snake—down onto the sand. It was still writhing, but weakly. Daniel caught up, grabbing the machete and neatly chopping its head off.
"Well, there's dinner." He grinned, looking up from the snake, and saw her staring at him.
They looked into each other's eyes. It was actually the first time they had done so in any sustained way since he'd told her they had to leave.
Darcy went to him and put her arms around his neck. There were no words—Darcy didn't know how to say 'I'm sorry' either—but they didn'
t need them. He didn't need to hear her say it to know what she was feeling.
She tried awkwardly to unzip her suit, but Daniel was already there. He pulled it down slowly, kissing her deeply. When the zipper was all the way down, he reached in and cupped her ass with his hands, squeezing gently.
She pressed more closely to him, and he pulled his hands out and reached for the shoulders of her suit, peeling it down. This action pinned her arms at her sides and Darcy became limp in his arms. He could see she was aroused by her own helplessness—and so was he.
Her head fell back and he ravenously devoured the skin of her neck, leaving bite marks and bruises, unable to help the voracious nature of his hunger. Darcy moaned her encouragement, giving in to his attention.
"Guess I was any port in a storm, huh, sailor?" Darcy murmured sadly, as he continued to peel off her wetsuit.
Daniel was squatting down, pulling her suit down her hips, and he looked up at her, pained. She was so far off the mark it hurt.
"You are the storm, Darcy," he told her. "And I love you."
It was true.
His whole life had been a storm. From his time in the Navy, to the women—one in particular—he had loved, and the precious things he had lost along the way. He'd been battered about by life, navigating the best he possibly could in the midst of the thunder, lightning and what felt like constant rain.
This past year, he had taken refuge. He had found land and crawled into a cave where he could recover. Or at least, get his bearings again.
And just when he was starting to feel that his life on the island was lacking—not quite enough—Darcy had come along and brought the storm back with her.
But now it was raging inside of him. And it needed to take its course.
He peeled the wetsuit down, turning it inside out in his impatience. Darcy wiggled, helping him, and Daniel quickly stripped his own suit off as she fumbled to get out of hers.
Stumbling about in her pile of neoprene, Darcy managed at last to pop one hand free of its sleeve. Then another. She turned just in time to see him step out of his wetsuit, his cock standing fully erect.
"Darcy." He held a hand out to her. She took it, but she didn't step into his arms.