My body freed, Hunter massaged my center with an open palm, lighting up all my nerve endings.
“Show me how much you like me,” I demanded, and a pleased grin took over Hunter’s face.
“Trust me. I like you a lot.”
My fingers wrapped around his shaft, eliciting a soft “fuck” from Hunter. I loved the heavy feel of his dick in my hands, and my mouth watered at the thought of sweeping my tongue around its smooth crown, sucking its head, and taking him into the back of my throat, but my selfish, needy side demanded Hunter inside my core, making me cry out his name until my voice was hoarse.
“You make me so fucking hard.” His throaty voice and dirty talk made my toes curl, turning my body into a quivering mess.
“Please get inside of me already.” My tone now was a plea. Hunter’s pupils dilated with hunger. He palmed my neck with gentle pressure but kissed me hard.
“Take off your shirt,” he said against my mouth. “Then get on your hands and knees.”
I pulled the shirt over my head and did what he asked. He folded over me, nudging my legs apart more, his dick hot and stiff against me. His lips trailed kisses at the nape of my neck while his free hand stroked my damp curls.
“I love how wet and slippery you are,” he said, positioning the head of his cock at my entrance and creating a scorching point of contact.
His talented fingers glided down my spine and over my ass, slapping it once lightly, then moving up again, torturing me with anticipation. Before I could beg, he buried himself with one long thrust, filling me completely and making me cry out.
“You feel so good,” Hunter grunted, finding a steady rhythm of slow strokes. I sucked in a breath as Hunter rocked his hips and crashed against me again, his fingers digging into my flesh. Heat gathered at the base of my spine as his fingers found their way down and stimulated my center. Sex with Hunter was so much more than I ever thought it could be. I wanted him to make love to me for the rest of my life. My breathing was frenzied with too much arousal.
“I’m close,” I whisper-moaned, struggling to speak. My hands clutching at the blanket as I bucked, demanding more. “Harder.”
Hunter’s hands took an iron grip on my hips, and he began driving inside me deeper and harder, his movements rough. The slap of his pelvis against my bare ass and sensitive sex made my blood run faster. The crash of waves against the shore mingled with the crash of our bodies against each other as the air around us was filled with greedy noises and growls. Pressure built inside me, and I begged him not to stop. Lightning struck somewhere near, or maybe it was my imagination. I shattered, letting out strangled swearwords punctuated by his name. I saw fireworks instead of bright stars on the canopy of the night’s sky above us.
The guttural sound Hunter made within his throat and the feel of his thickness as the orgasm tore through him could have easily pushed me over the edge one more time. He slumped on top of me, our bodies fused together. His large hands covered mine, that gripped the bunched-up blanket.
Hunter’s heart drummed against my sweaty back, in sync with mine. He pressed his mouth into the nape of my neck, then exhaled a heavy breath, warming my skin.
“Sydney,” he said softly, and there was an unspoken question in my name that released shivers through my humming body.
“Yes?” I turned my face to him.
Hunter’s lips brushed against my temple then the shell of my ear, and he repeated my name in a whisper. I hummed in reply, closing my eyes. My stomach twisted with knots of pleasure, anxiety, and anticipation of what he would say next.
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he said.
Part of me was glad he didn’t say what I hoped and feared he could say, and part of me was disappointed.
“I know.” I smiled the smile I would for the rest of my life each time I thought of him. He huffed a laugh and landed a last kiss on my back.
Later, we rolled into the bed and Hunter pulled me close to his solid body, my butt tight against his crotch, his legs curving under mine. He whispered good night, his lips brushing over my shoulder in a kiss, and the exhaustion quickly overtook him. But not me.
While Hunter was deep asleep, I lay wide awake, staring out of the open window. The area around the hut was tranquil, night birds were silent, and a breeze didn’t play among the trees. Cogs turned in my head as I went over the last two riddles.
Strong but hollow alive but dead inside
When the ocean bows low it exposes Achilles fatal flaw
Sailors liked superstitions. Hunter didn’t strike me as a superstitious person, but Bambi had worn gold hoop earrings because she thought it brought good fortune. So much for that.
What was dead and alive? My mind sifted through different mythical creatures. A harpy was a human vulture who took people to the underworld and tormented them. Mermaids were beautiful monsters, luring sailors with a song to the ocean’s depths. Tritons were fishtailed sea-gods. Why Achilles? He had nothing to do with water. In books and movies, pirates always believed in mythical sea monsters, and ships sailed off the edge of the ocean or were sucked into giant whirlpools, but nothing to do with Greek gods. But Captain William Thompson hadn’t been a pirate. He’d been the commander of a merchant ship who became a criminal.
Achilles’ heel meant weakness, a vulnerable spot. But did it mean literally a spot on a human body, or was it some kind of temptation? The only temptation on the island was Hunter. Maybe I was missing something about Greek mythology. I groaned—quietly so as not to wake up Hunter. Alexa or Siri would’ve been so helpful right now.
I woke up in the middle of the night. Moonlight found its way through open shutters, casting silver shadows across the desk where Monday lay spread out on the journals. Hunter lay on his back asleep, breathing peacefully, his arm dropped over his eyes.
Soundlessly, I slipped into bikini bottoms and the T-shirt I’d thrown on the sofa last night. I tiptoed out of the house, heading for the beach, Monday trailing behind me. After three weeks on the island, the fear of darkness and lurking shadows in the jungle no longer followed me. It was fair to say I’d grown accustomed to this life, yet I missed many things about my life in Miami. I missed Tina, my home, and my Nespresso machine.
