“Don’t you trust me?”
He aimed his cock in a wicked push upward that caused her to gasp and she laughed. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be letting you do this.”
“Then tell me who you are.”
She hugged him closer. “Who do you want me to be?”
“Mine,” he muttered, his hand moving to one cheek of her bottom, on the side where she had already lifted her leg, so that he went even more impossibly deep.
“I am yours, Evan.” She was pretty sure that was in English, but she belatedly, halfheartedly, wished it hadn’t been.
“When was your last period?”
Not exactly a respondent declaration if she’d ever heard one.
“What?”
His cock went deeper still. Incredibly pleasurably deep. And he began to move fast now instead of at that slow, languid pace. Faster with each thrust until he was panting with it, both his hands underneath her now, cradling him up to her. And she had made love with this man enough to know what that signaled.
“When?” he gasped urgently and she ignored it, wrapping both of her legs fully around his taut behind, a signal of her own.
She pulled his head to hers to kiss him fully and when he would have pulled away, to further grill her undoubtedly, she wouldn’t let him, instead giving herself over to the most powerful force in the world as it pulled them both over the edge.
He groaned into her mouth and then came inside her strongly, wrenchingly, as her inner muscles clamped down to deliver the same ultimate pleasure.
He continued to shudder inside her another minute, and finally she put him out of his misery. “Almost four weeks ago by now.” She nipped his ear. “And don’t worry. I’m very regular.”
He kissed her neck. “Thank God. You’re kind of a bitch, though, to make me do it without giving me that reassurance first.”
“To make you do it? You cad you!”
She rolled him over, coming on top of him, both of them laughing.
“Don’t start hitting me again!” he teased and she wondered if she truly had lost her mind to be able to be so free as to joke with him about something as painful as her meltdown earlier today.
Later, when they were snuggled up together and she had almost drifted off to sleep, he said, “I have to leave for a little while tomorrow. I’m not sure whether I’ll be back before dark, but I’ll try.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want to know what I have to do?”
“No.”
It was enough to know what she had to do. If not tomorrow, eventually.
* * * * *
Evan had a boathouse in a sheltered cove of the island, with two sailboats and two motorboats, one of the latter of which he used to leave the island. As she saw him off, she noticed the mark all four boats bore, an “ER” in a fancy scrawl of some kind, and asked him about it.
He grinned. “Just a little vanity on my part. I mark all the boats I build.”
“You built these?” she asked, astonished, and he shrugged.
“I have a lot of excess energy.” Then the grin again. “Though you’re helping me a lot with that. I swear I never had so much trouble getting out of bed in the morning. You’re wearing me out.”
Fighting down the impulse to ask him to stay then, to go back to bed with her, she just kissed him on the cheek and watched with a wave as he sped away.
Once he had left the island, there were still three boats remaining in the boathouse for her to do the same, furtively, if she wanted to. But she wouldn’t stoop so low as to “borrow” one of his boats without his permission. She would swim the distance to the mainland first, if she had to. She probably could do it in calm weather, as there was today. But she didn’t need to make the decision just yet.
A big believer in fate, she would let the decision be made for her if it happened that way.
Moseying down the beach, Bingo frolicking beside her, she finally ended up in one of Evan’s beautifully crafted wooden and padded beach chairs. The sun lulled her to sleep—she wasn’t sure if she was wearing Evan out or vice versa—when a voice startled her awake.
“Who the hell are you?”
Struggling to sit up—and not inconsequentially unnerved that someone could sneak up on her like that—she glanced down the beach to see Bingo running in and out of the waves, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging as the speaker cast her shadow over the beach chair. She could almost hear Evan’s “some guard dog” lament.
“So? I said who are you?” It was the beautiful blonde girl who brought Evan supplies the previous day.
Andrea came to her feet, intent on getting on more of an even keel, only to discover that this young girl was easily as tall as she was. “I’m a friend of Evan’s.”