Page 7 of Redemption Island

This was all her fault.

The thought brought me up short. Was it really her fault? Had she put me in that cell? Had she forced me to lay on top of her? Had she handed me the drink I took from Rick that night? My questions didn’t need an answer and didn’t receive one, as the sharp rip of the tent zipper jerked me to the present. The flap was forced back, and she stood before me. I had only a moment to make out her silhouette. In her hand, she held a flashlight, and I pondered the amenity. Intrigue over a flashlight didn’t last long as she straddled my outstretched legs and slapped me hard with the flat of her hand. The sharp crack stung, and my cheek vibrated.

“What the fuck?” I hissed, prepared to grip her wrists, proactive against another attack, when the flashlight went dark, tumbling to the ground and submerging us both in deep black. A second hand came to my face. Not gentle, but not a slap. Rough fingers cupped my jaw and a thumb traveled my cheek before latching onto my lips. In an instant, her mouth was on mine, hard and fast—not a kiss but an assault, that was clumsy and hesitant, yet determined. Her core rested over a slowly growing length, rutting back and forth over my zipper. She pulled back to nip at my lips. She moved downward to bite my jaw. She pulled back as shaky fingers skittered down my bare chest and fumbled for the waist of my shorts.

“What the hell?” I snapped, unable to see her, but feeling her thighs on either side of mine. My hands reached out and found bare legs. Pressing upward over warm skin, the edge of a long shirt tickled the backs of my hands. Her hips rocked aggressively over me, and my body betrayed all sense. This girl was going to kill me any second, and I was going to die with a hard-on.

Her fingers dug into the waist of my shorts, tugging back on the heavy cargo material before the subtle popping sound gave testament to a button released. She scooted back only enough to pull at the sides of my shorts, and I sprang forth into air heavy with heat and the scent of arousal surrounding me.

“What are you doing, Little Mouse?” My voice rumbled, low and rushed.

“I am not a mouse,” she snapped, gripping my dick with a hot palm and tugging aggressively. The pleasure was painful. My little mouse was rough. One hand wrapped over hers, the other clasped her hip and flipped her so I was over her. My hips rocked forward, guiding her hand with mine to slow the pace as she stroked me into a thick, stiff rod.

“No,” she hissed, rough fingers squeezing my hard length. She freed her other hand and pressed back on my chest, intimating she wanted control. I didn’t release her hand that was rapidly jerking over me, but I dug my knee into the mattress and flipped us back over so she could straddle me once more.

“What do you want, Little Mouse?” I chuckled humorlessly. Thoughts of her suddenly stabbing me did not deter me from forcing her to tug my dick. Her tiny fingers encapsulated in mine, working over sensitive skin and a hard shaft was my only focus. Without words, she rocked back and stood my erection upward. The heat of her core balanced on my tip before she forced her body downward, enveloping me inside her wet warmth.

“Ah,” we grunted in unison. Whether the response was the sharp pain of my entrance or the pleasure of filling her to the hilt made no difference to the sensation curling over my toes and down my spine. It’d been months since I entered a woman, and my eyes rolled back at the euphoria. She drew to the tip once again and impaled herself on my hard length, grunting and rutting out of control, animalistic in spite of her tiny frame. A little mouse gyrating over me, nibbling at my essence as she swallowed me intimately inside her, clenching, clutching, squeezing.

“Jesus, fuck.” My fingers dug into her hips, holding her against me as she rode up and down. Her nails crawled down my chest, raking divots into the freshly sun-kissed skin. In the darkness, my eyes adjusted, and I was able to make out the shape of her head, tipped back in ecstasy.

“Do you like this, Mouse?” One hand came for my face again, but I caught her wrist. Tugging her outstretched palm to my lips, I kissed the inside of her flattened hand. “I like this,” I hissed as she worked frantically over my length, ripping from me an orgasm that raced from my lower back and burst forth into her. I clutched her hips, forcing her to hold still as I pulsed into her. Her hips struggled to rock, and I realized she was close but not there yet. She wanted control but I wanted her pleasure.

I slipped my palm over her flat belly and stretched my thumb to find that sensitive nub I thought might set her off. Circling the pad over the tender folds, she screamed. Her fingers dug into my sides, pinching my skin as her head rolled forward. Her hair draped down and tickled my chest. The only sound was the echo of our breaths, ragged and rapid in the heat of a tent filled with the rich aroma of sex.

Slowly, her hands released me to lay flat on my stomach. She pushed back her hair and I felt the weight of her eyes on me, despite the darkness. I could only feel her features, not see them. I wanted to read her face but it was shielded from my vision. Our chests still rose and fell in unison, the excursion settling slowly. My eyes closed with exhaustion, but a smile crossed my face. Languid and drained, I sighed as I slipped out of her, semi-hard, but needing a moment before I could take her again. My hands slid down her bare thighs and brushed her knees on either side of my hips.

“Mouse,” I whispered before I fell into the deepest sleep I’ve had in months.

8

Day 20 - Juliet

The sound of water falling flowed behind me as I soaked in the pond. Nature’s lullaby surrounded me with the chorus of birds and the rustle of a breeze. Lillian had warned me the fresh water would be cold, but emptying my mind would change the temperature.

“Become one with nature. Free yourself,” she told me after she first brought me to the island. “The power to change lies within you.”

On her most recent visit, she mentioned that I’d lost weight. She looked concerned, but I assured her I was fine. I wasn’t giving up on the experiment. I wasn’t ready to return home. I had more to learn about the island and myself. I don’t know why, but I didn’t mention my island neighbor.

Have you experienced anything unusual on the island?

I should have told her, so when she appeared one visit and I was dead, she’d know who’d done it. Cupping water in my hands, I poured it over my head, hoping to rid my thoughts of him. He had stared at me with venom in those eyes. I’d had the strength to kill once before, but I lost my willpower the night I hoped to take him. Kill me. His tone reeked with a hint of desire for the deed to be done. Something in his stance expressed his hope to be finished. But finished from what?

I suspected a boat came for him, and I was surprised he hadn’t left. Maybe he was in the same social experiment as me, but I doubted he’d volunteered. I knew of him only from the club. Some billionaire playboy—Daddy’s protégé—entitlement and money. Things I didn’t care one lick about in the grand scheme of life, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from him then. I only wanted a fresh start for myself and had every intention of fulfilling that goal until that night.

I closed my eyes as I settled into the cool liquid. I would not think of such things as that night, Rick Fontaine, or Tack Corbin. While his eyes haunted me behind my lids, I emptied my mind of all other things related to him. I would not think of his firm thighs. I refused to give into the pressure of his hands that lingered on my hips. I rejected the hungry taste of his lips.

My body eased into the watery haven as I inhaled deeply and released slowly. Letting my arms drift caused subtle ripples and I willed the tension of my body to dissipate. My arms floated before falling to dead weights and coming to rest next to my sides. I sat on a natural ledge within the pond and my legs flexed before unknotting the tension in them. I became one with my surroundings and aware of my breathing.

Not certain how long I stayed in this state, my mind flipped through memories like a picture book. Each negative thought turned over like an unread page. A snapshot of my parent’s two caskets. An image of the sinister smile on my uncle’s face. A photograph of Rick’s body draining of blood. A video of me withering from the intrusion of his body. I did not wish to review my life. I just wanted to sit. I longed for peace.

I might have dozed. And then I felt a presence—the weight of being watched. My lids lazily opened, revealing my predator on the rocky cliff above me. He stood as he had the first time I saw him, but this time I did not scream. The coldness of the water rushed over me as the connection with nature was broken, but I did not flinch in the chilly pond.

The power rests in me, I told myself.

He didn’t speak, only stared, our eyes connecting over the valley of space. The rush of water from the fall behind me softened, slowly slipping away. The brightness of the day heightened, illuminating him. My body felt so tranquil, even his domineering stance would not rouse me from my calm. I stood slowly, letting the water cascade down my shoulders and over my breasts, dripping off the sharp, cold peaks. As I stood, he lowered to a crouch. He appeared perched to pounce, but I reminded myself I was in control. His eyes remained on me. I told myself he was bowing to a queen.

My hands rose to swipe back my damp hair, the movement accentuating my breasts, forcing them forward. More water rippled off of them and his eyes didn’t leave the display. I slipped my fingers across my chest, reaching for each opposite shoulder in preparation to cover myself and then decided against it. He would not control me. A sense of empowerment flooded through me, and I lowered my palms, allowing each to caress a breast. Cupping myself, the weight of heavy globes filled with achy need, peaked by the heated desire in his eyes. The subtle roll of his throat alerted me to his struggle. He hungered for me.