Unseen Messages

by Pepper Winters

  His gaze turned heavy-lidded as I pressed more of myself into his touch. His hair hung around his face, looking piquantly provocative and as wild as the island that’d become our home.

  The longer I stared, the more I noticed the shadows in his eyes had faded. Whatever haunted him couldn’t find him here...with me. I would protect him from his pain.

  “God, I want you.”

  I placed my hands above my head, offering myself to him. “So take me.”

  “How can I get used to this?” His fingers twisted my nipples before cascading down my noticeable ribcage. “How can I hope to breathe after inhaling you? How can I hope to taste after licking you?” His nose nuzzled my throat. “How am I supposed to live after having you love me?”

  I trembled with the weight of his admission.

  Sex had never been so potently heavy for me before. So intrinsically weaved with emotion as well as bodily satisfaction.

  This wasn’t sex.

  This was love.

  Pure, untainted love.

  “You’ll never have to find out.” I licked my lips. “Galloway...I need you.”

  “You want me inside you?”

  My body quickened. “Yes, please.” I opened my legs, readjusting our bodies so his hips slotted perfectly between them.

  “How do you want me?” His face tightened with concentration as I fisted the base of his erection and guided him to my entrance.

  I wriggled as he denied my manipulation, panting as his crown smeared my wetness. “No...tell me what you want first.”

  “I want you.”

  “How do you want me?”

  I frowned. “Stop teasing me, for one.”

  He chuckled, sliding an inch inside me.

  I moaned.

  Loudly.

  “Do you want it like this?” He pushed possessively into me, sheathing himself with the sweetest claiming I’d endured.

  “Or do you want me like this?” He pulled out, only to thrust back with fierce tenacity.

  “Both. I want both.”

  He rolled his hips, brushing my swollen clit, sinking entirely inside me. “Whatever you want...I’ll give you.”

  “Oh...please...” My eyes flickered closed as he thrust slowly, quickly, deep and shallow.

  The flax below my spine cradled me from the rough ground, but it didn’t stop the hardness keeping me in place beneath him. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I was his to take and control.

  My body revved to life, my heart racing, my sex clenching. “Give me everything.”

  Grasping my wrists, he kept them pinioned above my head, clutching me with white-knuckled force. “I’ll give you everything. I’ll never stop giving you everything.”

  His hips thrust fast and hard, relinquishing the slowness for an inexhaustible pace. Biting pleasure and pure indulgence washed with every rock.

  I loved every exquisite sensation. Every fullness of him inside me. Every exhale of his restrained desire.

  I was so turned on; I couldn’t control my whimpers.

  His fingers never loosened on my wrists and his lips devoured mine only to nip and bite at my throat the faster he drove into me.

  I loved how he’d taken me with tenderness but swiftly lost control, growing rougher and meaner the more lust consumed.

  Visible veins coursed in his arms as he held me prisoner. My legs spread for his pleasure and his cock swelled larger inside me until I bruised with delectable pain.

  We were stripped to a level of basest needs. We left the human race and became beasts.

  “Christ, Estelle.” His groan was guttural in my ear. “Come. I need you to come.” Letting my wrists go, his hand shot between us, his fingers pinching my clit.

  The climax he’d given me made me extra sensitive and slightly sore, but I couldn’t avoid his orders.

  He pressed me hard, thrusting in time with the swirling circles.

  I lifted my hips to meet his.

  “That’s it.” He stretched me, filled me. “I want to feel you come, Estelle. I need to feel you come.”

  He fit me so perfectly. So completely.

  Oh, yes. There, there, there.

  “G...” I gasped. “Don’t stop...don’t stop.”

  “I’ll never stop.” He gripped my nape with one hand and clamped the other on my hip. “You’re so damn sexy. So sexy. I’m going to come soon. You need to, so I can.”

  Fear tried to yank my fuzzy mind back from the precipice.

  He couldn’t come.

  Not inside me.

  But it was too late.

  He shoved me off the cliff, catching me as I plummeted with rhythmic waves and crashing bliss. The moment I peaked and crested, he pulled out.

  Sitting on his knees, he fisted his cock and thrust. “This is what you do to me, Stel.” Mindless in his desire, Galloway grunted as every ridge in his stomach danced with firelight. The muscles in his neck stood out as his head tossed back and he came.

  Spurts of white. Spurts of pleasure. They arced through the air and splattered on my lower belly.

  I moaned as my body clenched, completely bewitched as he flinched and jerked, milking the dregs of his orgasm.

  Slowly, he began to breathe again, piecing himself back together.

  It was a wondrous thing, witnessing the true man behind the mask. He was stripped and naked in every sense, but breath by breath, he hid his secrets once again.

  Collapsing to his side, he tugged me close. Our sweat-sticky bodies moulded together as he pressed his lips to my brow. “Thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”

  Hot island air lapped around us as the residual liquid of his orgasm glittered on my stomach. I had trusted him. And he hadn’t broken that trust.

  I kissed the small coin shaped birthmark on his chest. “Thank you for keeping your promises.”

  His arm tightened. “Always.”

  I sank into relaxation, boneless and sated. “Always?”

  He chuckled, the sound bouncing around my chest. “You think I’ll be able to leave you alone now? After that?” He looked at the stars through the canopy. “No way. I’ve been addicted to you since we got here. Now that I’ve been allowed to have you, there’s no way I’m letting you go.”

  I shivered with happiness. I hadn’t allowed myself to notice just how deviously charismatic Galloway was. How his moods affected my moods. How his charm was dark and sharp but his will to please took over his own desires.

  I love him.

  So much.

  Unable to hide the chasming depths of emotion, I teased, “It sounds like I’m going to be busy.”

  He smirked. “Does that bother you?”

  “Not at all.”

  His knuckles brushed aside the hair stuck to my cheek. “I’ve been hard for you for so long, Estelle. Half-crazy, no, that’s a lie, totally crazy with wanting you.” His turbulent eyes turned a deeper darker blue. “I know I can’t lose control with you. That I’ll never come inside you. But being with you is the best place on earth for me.”

  I removed his hand from my cheek, guiding him seductively down my body.

  He sucked in breath as I splayed his touch over my breast.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Again?”

  I nodded.

  My fingers explored between us, finding his warm cock. Already, he was semi-hard, reacting to my demands for a second course.

  His lips twitched as he rolled my nipple. My hips rocked without my permission, seeking something, seeking him.

  “Where have you been all my life?” He kissed me softly.

  “Waiting.”

  “Waiting?”

  “Waiting for this.” Stretching, I gave him everything I was. “Waiting for you to find me.”

  “And now that I’ve found you?”

  “You’re mine.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forever.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ...............................................

  G A L L O W
A Y

  ......

  FEBRUARY

  ESTELLE was a sorceress.

  Pure and simple.

  Being with her tamed the tempest in my soul, while life deleted my past and skewed all conception of normal.

  What was conceived right, suddenly became wrong.

  What was wrong, miraculously became right.

  And where danger and death used to reign, now happiness and hope became stronger.

  That was the island for us.

  That was Estelle for me.

  After the most insanely incredible night in the bamboo grove, life sped up. Without thinking, we all slotted into our place in this new world and stopped fighting it. And once we did...we no longer struggled as much.

  Sure, there were days when loneliness became overwhelming.

  When the drizzle became depressing.

  When the constant heat became debilitating.

  Some nights, we still stared out to sea, begging for a plane to pass. Some mornings, it was hard to get out of bed, faced with yet another day of momentous gathering, hunting, and island living.

  But for every dark day, there were bright ones.

  For every tear, there were smiles.

  For every argument, there was laughter.

  We used our time wisely, slowly increasing our skills and building bigger and better things. We educated ourselves not by text books and professors but through nature and trees. And slowly, our mental and physical capabilities adapted to our new place.

  I would never admit out loud that I’d accepted this as my home, but in my heart, I couldn’t deny it.

  This was my place. My safety. My chosen sanctuary.

  And it filled my soul with gratefulness that I’d somehow found it.

  After I’d admitted to Estelle that I needed her as much as we needed the rain to survive, and she’d admitted that she was in love with me, our sexual tension only increased rather than dispersed.

  I took her often.

  She took me often.

  And in each other’s arms, we found paradise.

  As my body slipped into hers, and her breath entered my lungs, and her kisses captured my lips, I healed more than I thought possible.

  Somehow, she gave me the permission to release the hate for the past I’d suffered, she granted forgiveness for what I’d done and soothed every screwed-up emotion I had left from the trial.

  My ankle might never heal completely but with Estelle in my world...I began to think my soul just might.

  .............................

  MARCH

  The marine debris that’d blown into our lives, thanks to the major monsoon, slowly became fundamental to our existence.

  We’d repaired the deck chair with sticks to replace its broken frame and the barnacles were chipped off to reveal a sad, rusted chair that was just as abandoned as us.

  The plastic bags added to our tree-water collection, and we now had multiple funnels keeping us hydrated even if the rain was sparse. Even the green fishing net had been repaired and untangled, cutting our spear fishing time in half.

  Conner was the one who wielded the net, wading out to the reef and dragging it behind him as he swam for shore. Sometimes, he failed to catch anything, but most of the time, he scooped up enough fish, an occasional handful of prawns or a squid or two, that we never went to bed hungry and even had leftovers to salt and preserve.

  Estelle continued to sample leaves, seeds, and the occasional beach nut for allergic reactions, and she and Pippa slowly built our larder to resemble a fully stocked pantry rather than a sparse island habitat.

  Some nights, we’d even vary our seafood diet with an occasional lizard. However, nothing could beat the beauty of figuring out how versatile ash was.

  Ash from our constant fire dotted the campsite from popping wood and swirling winds. Slowly, we noticed ants stopped claiming our food as often. Before, we’d leave an open coconut or fish ready to smoke by the fire, and within minutes, it would be black with damn ants. However, with the white ash sprinkled around, they avoided the temptation.

  I had no idea why.

  We also noticed (completely by accident—thanks to the kids rolling around in a game of wrestle) that smearing ourselves with ash at night kept the mosquitoes away.

  Estelle became obsessed with finding other uses. Trial and error showed if she steeped and strained the ash, it became a natural laundry and stain detergent. She used the liquid to wash her and Pippa’s hair and even sprinkled the stuff in our home to prevent as many creepy crawlies as possible.

  And it worked.

  The bugs had been a constant pain in the ass, but who knew ash was a natural repellent?

  Along with nature slowly giving up her secrets, the imminent scare of not having enough to eat faded. Our injuries were no longer a detrimental deterrent, and being free from such a harsh master like hunger meant our time was free to try other things.

  Things we hadn’t dared attempt because of injury, uncertainty, and frankly...the impossibility of such a task.

  A life raft.

  Estelle and I had had many conversations about what was attemptable and what was not. Estelle played the Devil’s Advocate—pointing out how suicidal it would be to bob around with no compass or destination. She pointed out lack of water and food and shade. She layered complication upon complication:

  We weren’t just two people; we were four.

  The raft would have to float securely with no chance of tipping over.

  The children could swim, but if we capsized, the life-jackets had holes and wouldn’t inflate.

  What would we do if we were washed out farther to sea with no islands to cling to?

  There were so many unknowns.

  It terrified both of us.

  But on the other hand, I played Promoter of the Cause:

  We weren’t two people; we were four. Therefore, we had more hands to paddle, more chance at travelling farther, more hope at finding civilisation.

  The raft would have to float securely, and I wouldn’t leave our island until I was sure it was seaworthy. I would create storage for food and water. I would build a canopy for shade. (I didn’t utter how heavy such a vessel would be or that I had doubts it would float).

  As for not having life-jackets—that was a drawback but not a deal breaker.

  The only thing that sat in my gut like undigested rocks was the thought of losing against the tropical currents and being claimed by the ocean just as Estelle said.

  If a rip took us, we wouldn’t be strong enough to stay in the archipelago of Fiji. However, that chance only existed if we lived on the outskirts of the three hundred plus islands and weren’t (by some slim chance) slap-bang in the middle of other inhabited homes.

  Despite our many discussions, the drive to protect my family never left, and one day, I couldn’t wait any longer.

  I enlisted Conner’s help, and together, we hacked as much bamboo as we dared (leaving plenty to regrow) and spent our time shredding the stringy bark found on the creeping yellow flowers by the beach line and knotting vine and flax rope to build with.

  I was an architect not a boat engineer. I didn’t know buoyancy requirements or how to make wood watertight. As much as I hated to admit it, I wouldn’t be able to build a yacht. But I could build a floating platform. And with transportation, we might be able to unlock the vast prison gates keeping us stranded and find something that could save us.

  Conner and I worked steadily but not stupidly.

  Some days, we worked from sunup to sundown. But some days, we took off, swimming in the ocean, indulging in naps beneath our umbrella tree. And not once did anyone mention the unmentionable that if we did this; if we willingly sailed away from our island, we would never come back.

  If we found rescue, we wouldn’t know the coordinates to return to. If we didn’t find rescue...we’d die a lot sooner than we would if we stayed.

  Those thoughts kept me up far too many nights.

  .......
......................

  “They’re hatching! Come quick!”

  My head wrenched up from Conner’s excited shout. I placed the Swiss Army knife on the log I was leaning against while doing my best to carve a plaque to hang above our bungalow.

  I’d taken the day off from raft building to spend the day doing odd jobs around our home. The roof needed an extra flax or two, the flooring a replaced panel, and our hut still needed an official title.

  Pippa tore after her brother, sand flying like smoke from her fast feet. All day, the sun had played peek-a-boo with the clouds, granting us some much-needed shade and the freedom to work outside—to air our bedding, take stock of our salty reserves, and swim without fear of our skin peeling off our faces from sunburn.

  However, it also meant that Estelle’s phone hadn’t charged, which apparently wasn’t a good thing the way she yelled in despair and tossed the dead device onto the flax blanket beneath the umbrella tree.

  Jogging to catch up with her as she sprinted after Pippa and Conner, I asked, “What the hell is going on?”

  “Didn’t you hear him? They’re hatching.”

  “What’s hatching?”

  She threw me an incredulous look. “Seriously? You’ve forgotten already? Even with what we did after we watched the turtles lay their eggs?”

  My body warmed.

  I flashed her a smug smile. “When you put it like that, I completely remember.” I tried to grab her mid-jog, but she shied away. “We can relive that night if you’re up for it. Minus the bad ending, of course.”

  Ever since that night, she’d trusted me. I’d been inside her more times than I could count and not once had I come in her body.

  I wanted to more than anything.

  I wanted to finish while feeling her clench around me.

  But I also didn’t want to get her pregnant.

  Not because I didn’t want a baby (my ideals on children had changed drastically in the past few months), but because I was bloody terrified of Estelle going through that with no medical assistance or specialist care.

  She swatted my hand away, changing direction to the vegetation where the turtles had chosen for their nests. “Do you always think with that part of your anatomy?”