Page 12 of Pleasure Island


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I know he’s going to take me. I know he’s going to want to feast on my body and put his cock inside me so he can spill his seed, like Drake did.

I also know it’s very likely that all the men on this island—Drake said there were four others—will put their seed inside me. They’re savages. They’ve been living here alone for years. I’m here, I’m naked, I’m vulnerable and I’m completely at their mercy.

And I like how it feels.

He’s standing in front of me now, looming over me, a hot look in his blue eyes. His dark blond hair has a bleached layer at the top that shines in the sun.

“I’ll come with you,” I say softly. “I’ll do everything you say. Everything. Just—please—don’t hurt me.”

His eyes rove hungrily over my lips, down to the swell of my wet breasts, and lower, where the pink petals of my pussy are bare and visible. His eyes really are a striking shade of blue.

“I’m Evie.”

The man stares at me, then he glances over at Drake’s hut, where it’s quiet and the door is still closed.

Then his gaze returns to my body.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Quade,” he says quietly, scooping me into his arms.

Quade starts carrying me up the beach and into the trees.

Quade carries me up a sandy path through palm trees until we reach a smooth stone cliff. A single, rough-looking rope hangs from a higher point. I can’t see where it leads to.

He sets me onto my feet.

“Climb onto me,” he says. He turns around and crouches down. For a split second, while his back is turned, I think about running.

But I don’t.

I know I wouldn’t get far. And I saw, when he turned, that his cock is now fully, ragingly hard. It’s as big as Drake’s. Also like Drake’s, a seeping bead of moisture is starting to drip from the slit.

I’m sure I’ll go to hell for this … but I’m willing.

Forgive me, I silently pray. But he’s so freaking hot.

If Quade had been groomed and at least partly civilized and sitting across the aisle from me on the airplane, I would have arranged to meet up with him. I would have snuck out of my chaperoned hotel room in the middle of the night to do anything this god-like man asked me to, I know this. He’s that good-looking.

Besides, where would I go?

I could try to run back to Drake.

Drake’s my first. I’ll always have a bond with Drake. My first taste. My first seed. My first pleasure.

But spending time with Quade is bound to happen, sooner or later. I’ve already decided I don’t want them to fight. So I climb onto Quade’s back and wrap my arms and legs around him. He’s warm and hard. His hair brushes against my cheek and it’s coarse and sandy but also silky.

“Hold on tight,” he orders me. Then he starts climbing up the rope. He doesn’t say a lot but I like the sound of his voice. It’s rasped and has a nice, deep tone to it.

He climbs until we’re very high up.

Jesus.

He’s incredibly strong to be able to climb like this, with me on his back. And I’m clinging onto him for dear life, because we’re at least thirty feet off the ground.

He pulls us up onto a flat, level area. It’s a cave.

It’s his house. Like Drake’s hut, it has a fire pit and tools and a bed that sits on the floor, cushioned again with animal hides and leaves.

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