We distributed the chocolates, drank ice-cold beer, and ate fish grilled with curry and rice. Then they turned the music up loud and some of them danced around the fire. Ivan and I didn't dance. We sat close to each other and just listened to the others. Their stories.
All I knew was that I was happy. Ecstatically so.
By nine the bonfire was put out and everybody left. Part of the group went to bed to prepare for the second shift of the night. The others went to the different locations on the island to guard the nest eggs. They made nightly patrols around the island to check for evidence of sea turtles. If they found any nests they collected the eggs and took them to the incubation center.
Ivan and I walked back. I was feeling pleasantly tipsy, happier than I had ever felt in my life. I looked up at him hardly able to hide the way I felt about him.
As we walked into our house all the lights suddenly went out and all the big fans stopped blowing.
'What the hell?' Ivan said.
'Oh, darn it,' I said. 'The generator has stopped working and it gets hotter than hell at night around here.'
'Where is it? Let me have a look.'
'Let me get a torch,' I said. It was a moonlit night so I quickly found my way to the kitchen drawer, fumbling around before I found one.
Carrying it we went out behind the house to have a look, but there is nothing to see. Just a massive, ominously still, silent, locked, grey container.
'We can go back to the volunteers' hall and sleep with them tonight. Rosli will call someone to come and repair it tomorrow,' I suggested unhappily.
'Er … no.'
I bit my lip and thought of what else we could do. 'There is another generator that keeps the fridge working. Maybe we can keep the fridge door open and sleep in front of it.'
He grinned, his teeth gleaming whitely in the dark. 'Sure, I can have sex in front of an open fridge.'
'You want to have sex in this heat? I don't think you know how hot it can get without the giant fans.'
'I haven't given up on the idea yet.'
We went back into the house and lit some storm lanterns. The white nets surrounding us billowed in the gentle breeze giving the scene a hazy, unreal atmosphere.
'God, it's so damn hot. I'm having a cold beer. You want one?' I asked.
'Sure,' he said.
I opened the fridge door, took one out and rolled it along my neck. The bottle was wonderfully cold and I sighed with pleasure. I turned around to find Ivan looking at me.
'Mmmm … ' I gave him a sultry look. I reached for the bottle opener that was hanging by a string next to the fridge and removed the top. It clattered on the stone.
He said nothing, just stared at me.
Then I knew what I wanted to do. I'd seen this in a Tarantino movie once. She had given the killer a lap dance. I would improvise and use my bottle instead.
I arched my neck and dragged the bottle down to my chest. I pulled the neckline of my T-shirt and stroked the heated skin on my shoulder with the bottle. I let the cool glass travel slowly down to my cleavage.
The dark lust in his eyes made my breath come in short gasps.
I grasped the edge of my T-shirt, lifted it as I rubbed the bottle on my stomach. It was no longer ice-cold, but since I was not actually doing it to cool myself … Slowly gyrating my hips I threw my head back and poured the cold frothy liquid onto my chest.
That did it. He began to peel the clothes off his spectacular body. He walked over to one of the low sofas and sat with his knees spread wide apart and his cock pointing up.
'Come here,' he said, his voice thick and full of wanting.
I put the bottle on the table before walking up to him and, putting my bare foot between his legs, almost touch his balls.
'Talk dirty to me,' he invited, his eyes half-hooded.
I had never talked dirty with anyone, but I didn't want to spoil the mood. In the sexiest voice I could manage, I said, 'Mmm … when you say talk dirty what do you actually mean?'
Something flickered in his eyes as if he had expected a totally different reaction from me. 'Do you like my cock? Tell me what you see. Talk about it. Describe it. Go a little over the top,' he encouraged.
'OK,' I said slowly. Describe his cock. I decoded that as praise my cock. Mama used to say all men are in love with their own cocks. That should be easy enough. In fact, I could be great at going over the top.
He fisted his beloved cock and waited expectantly.
I took a deep breath. 'Your cock,' I said in a grandiose voice, 'is an exquisite work of art. It is so beautiful and so distinctive it should be hung in the portrait gallery.'
An odd expression crossed his face and was quickly gone. He was definitely … surprised, or probably even disappointed. Obviously, I needed to up the ante.
'They should pen poems and songs about the fabulousness of your cock. Why, it should be considered one of the wonders of the world. They should name universities after it and … and … build, yes,' I said warming to my theme, 'they should build a monument to it.' I raised my hand and flashed it in the air on top of my head. 'Greystoke's Amazing Cock.'
He blinked.
'People should come to pay homage to this cock that can stay titanium hard for hours. It's like a Special Ops soldier: sleek, dangerous, and as strong as a charging bull. As a matter of fact, it is so lethal it should be given a medal. Or an award of excellence. Wars should be fought over it.'
I looked at him. He did not look too happy. 'What's the matter?'
'Are you fucking taking the piss?'
'No.' I frowned. 'You said to talk about your cock. Obviously you didn't mean for me to say bad things.'
He gave me a slow motion assed stare. 'That's not how you talk dirty to a man.'
'No? All right, give me an example.'
'Fill me up, daddy, fuck my tight cunt! Make me scream with that big dick of yours.'
I grinned. 'Where I come from you got your mouth washed out with soap for using words like that.'
'What's going to win, upbringing or me?'
'Fuck me,' I breathed almost inaudibly, watching the excitement on his face as he waited to hear me talk dirty. I let the words fall out of my mouth. 'Fuck my cunt hard with that dirty big cock of yours.'
'That'll do,' he said. Reaching forward, he grabbed me around my waist, then set me on my hands and knees on the big sofa. He yanked my shorts down, tore my little bikini bottoms from my body and flung them into the darkness.
His hands were on my hips and, snarling like a wolf, he slammed his full length deep into me. I let out a sharp gasp and arched back and up. He grabbed my hair, forcing me to keep that impossibly twisted position as he pounded me mercilessly. With every thrust, my juices spurted around his cock and ran down my thighs. His grip hurt and his cock was too deep for comfort, but that didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was the way my slick, hungry pussy welcomed his bull-like thrusts.
'You're mine,' he snarled.
'Yes,' I gasped eagerly. I cannot explain what it felt like to be called his while being possessed and fucked in that primal way. It was indescribable. I was as God made me. I was his cunt.
Underneath us the river rushed.
CHAPTER 32
Tawny Greystoke
"It is the hardest thing in the world – to do what we want.
And it takes the greatest kind of courage"
– Ayn Rand
One of the activities the Foundation undertook was to rebuild the reefs destroyed by illegal cyanide fishing, so there were three or four dives per day by the volunteers who were helping to rebuild them by transplanting prepared samples from the ocean nursery to the reef. There were unlimited snorkeling opportunities so we spent our entire morning snorkeling and viewing the new reefs. Some of the newly transferred coral was already the size of dinner plates.
Later I took Ivan to watch the volunteers mix the concrete to produce the bases for the hard and soft coral plantings that would later be attached to the reefs. It was interesting, and I knew that Ivan was impressed with the conservation center's efforts to return the reef to its natural glory.
We shared a simple lunch of rice, chicken and vegetables with the volunteers. By the time we got back Rosli had already sorted out the generator so Ivan immediately opened his laptop and started work. I spent the afternoon on the beach. As I was about to go back for a shower, Rosli arrived on the beach with a durian. He had knocked it off a tree in the jungle.
'Want to share?' he asked, tapping the thorny fruit with his knife. He knew I couldn't bear the smell and he took great pleasure in tormenting me with it.
'Nooooo,' I said, crinkling my nose and pulling a face.
'Hello,' Ivan called out from the steps.
I grinned at Rosli. 'You know what, open the fruit. Let Ivan smell it.'
'You sure?'
'Absolutely.'
Immediately Rosli squatted down and started hacking away at the fruit. Slipping his fingers into the cut at the top of the fruit. he pulled it apart until it separated into two pieces. Instantly the disgusting reek hit me. He picked up a golden bit of flesh and started eating it.