Mack (King #4)(13)

On the eve of the twentieth day, my beautiful companion sat next to me on a little stool beside the hammock I lay on.

She held out a bowl of food, offering it with her usual smile.

“No food,” I said, gently pushing her hand away. “I need a boat.”

She looked at me quizzically.

“Boat,” I repeated and rose from the hammock. She took the opportunity to steal a glimpse at my manhood as the small cloth tied around my waist slipped off.

I won’t lie, she looked pleased, and my ego felt the same.

I resecured the cloth and plucked a small twig from the ground, drawing a boat in the dirt. Around it, I drew little waves and the symbol of a fish.

When she realized what I meant, I could see the disappointment in her eyes.

“Boat,” she repeated the word.

I nodded. “Yes, boat. I need to go home.” I drew another symbol on the floor of an island with a house. Inside, I drew little figures of people. “Home.”

A look of deep turmoil reflected in her eyes. More than ever I wished I could explain how grateful I felt for her help, how special she was to me. She’d saved my life and asked for nothing in return.

When she stood, I assumed she was going to go speak with her elders in the village, but she did not leave.

She untied the colorful piece of woven cloth around her waist and dropped it onto the floor.

With a hard breath, I took in the sight of her soft curves and the patch of dark hair between her legs, knowing that I shouldn’t dare touch her. I knew nothing about these people or their customs.

But when she slid her hands underneath the piece of cloth I wore around my own waist and began stroking my cock just aching to burrow deep inside her, my manly needs took over.

I reached for the back of her head and kissed her soft lips with a roughness I didn’t know I’d be capable of in my still-weakened state. But this kiss, like the woman, was nothing ordinary. As I tasted her on my tongue and pulled her sweet scent into my lungs, something deep inside me burst, like a light flooding my entire soul and blocking out the entire world. There was only her and me, and nothing else seemed to matter.

Where had she been all my life? Because she was the meaning I’d been searching for without ever knowing it. And I believed she felt the same for me.

Our gentle kiss quickly turned into a wild flurry of touching—our bodies grinding, our hands exploring.

Dear gods, could her breasts be any softer? Every part of her I touched—ass, hips, and the soft folds between her legs—was sinful perfection.

She broke away and began to kneel, clearly intent on getting my cock into her mouth, something I would normally not refuse from a woman. But that was not at all what I wanted. I needed to be inside her, to feel our bodies connected.

I gently grabbed her shoulders to raise her up. “A woman like you should never kneel before a man like me.” I knew she did not understand the words, but I hoped she’d sense how I truly felt.

I guided her into the hammock and then laid myself between her thighs, not wasting a moment’s time to position my cock at her entrance, testing her readiness.

Gods, was she ready—warm and wet with eager hips.

With our mouths once again locked in a flurry of frantic kisses, I thrust myself into her and she let out a yelp. I immediately realized why. Virgin?

“I am sorry,” I said, pulling back. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. She wasn’t young. In fact, I guessed she might be five or six years older than myself. On my island, a woman of her age had already had two or three lovers and several children.

Staring deeply into my eyes, she slid her soft hands around my ass and urged me back.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I hoped she might understand. My size wasn’t something a woman would enjoy her first time.

She gave me a tender smile, as if to tell me it was what she truly wanted. And me, being who I was, could not resist the invitation. I sank into her, slowly driving in my cock, inch by inch. She moaned gently into my ear, tilting her hips to help me slide deeper.

She pulled her head back and stared at me with those intense eyes, and I wondered what she was thinking. What did she see in a man like me who had washed up on the shore, his body shattered and emaciated, nearly dead?

I didn’t know the answer to that question. All I knew was how she made me feel, like there was a goodness inside me—something worth wanting.

Slowly, we began moving together, our eyes locked, our souls touching. It was like magic the way our spirits and bodies mingled and drew from each other. My heart began to tingle, as if pulling the light from within her. Meanwhile, I felt her pulling a piece of my soul into her.

There were no words to explain other than she was pure ecstasy, pure light, pure sinful pleasure and joy.

With what felt like only seconds of thrusting and sliding my shaft into her willing but tight body, I felt the eruption coming. I quickened my pace, our hips colliding, her pants coaxing me to take more, to move faster, to drive harder. I exploded inside her, feeling my seed pouring over the tip of my cock, bathing the entrance to her womb while she dug her soft fingertips into my ass, pushing me as deeply as I could go. She let out a cry of ecstasy, and I forced myself to continue, drawing the pleasure from her body.

Finally, after several long moments of lying together joined, sweaty, and spent, I opened my eyes to find it was no longer morning, but nighttime. What seemed like minutes had really been an entire day.