The Billionaire and His Castaway

I paddle us between two large rocks that open into the lagoon area. When the tide is low, it’s easy to maneuver around them, but when the tide comes in all the way, it’s too high to allow passage. If we’re inside the lagoon before the tide rises, we’ll be stuck in here.

“Wow,” I hear Madeline whisper as it opens up and reveals a pristine beach, worthy of a postcard. “I’ve never seen something so beautiful.”

“Neither have I,” I say, watching her.

When I’d told her on the boat that she had no reason to be jealous and I had every right to be, I don’t think she understood my meaning.

She can’t possibly be jealous because I’ve belonged to her since the moment I first saw her. There was never a second when I wasn’t completely hers, and I’d not so much as had a thought of anyone else since then. I couldn’t stand the thought of another woman besides my Madeline.

But I have every right to be jealous. She doesn’t belong to me. I’ve seen the internal struggle she has with herself about giving in or not. At least some part of Madeline wants me, but she fights it. I have to worry about every other man that comes in contact with her while she’s doing battle with her body. I want to own every part of her, and I’m prepared to take drastic measures to do so.

After I paddle to shore, I get out and pull her onto dry land. Her eyes travel over my shirtless body, and I hope she likes what she sees. I’m not a trim guy or one that spends hours in the gym. I’d rather spend my time worshiping her body than working on my shape. I’m thick, but I’m strong, and if the look on her face is any indication, she’s okay with that.

I reach out a hand, and after just a second of hesitation, she places her palm in mine. She misses a step on the way off, her foot sinking into the wet sand. Her curvy body falls flush against mine, and I feel every soft inch of her molding to me.

I stare down into her brown eyes, and for a split second the heat sears between us. I start to lean down, wanting to feel my lips on hers, but she blinks her eyes, breaking the spell. She clears her throat and looks away, and it’s all I can do not to dig my hands into the span of her hips to keep her from moving away from me.

“Thank you. Um, so what do we do now?”

I’d like to tell her I’d throw her down and fuck her right here on the shoreline, but instead I let her go and grab one of the bags.

“Let’s go snorkeling,” I say, holding up the mesh bag with the equipment. “So I can cool down.”

I mumble the last part, giving her my back and trying like fuck to hide my growing erection. Once I’ve had a few breaths, I think I’m under control. I turn back around to see Madeline pull her cover-up off and toss it onto the kayak.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” My voice is deeper than I intend it to be, and I swallow, trying to gain some composure. “You’ll burn quickly out here.”

She bites her lip and shakes her head, and I reach into my backpack and pull out a bottle.

“I can do that,” she nearly shouts, thrusting her hand out to me.

“Unless you’re far more flexible than the average person, I think you’ll need a little help,” I say, running my eyes up and down her unholy body. “But if you can, then please, Madeline, enlighten me.”

Even in the bright sunlight, I can see the blush hit her cheeks, so instead of handing her the bottle, I squeeze some of the lotion onto my hands and walk behind her.

“Lift up your hair for me, sweets.”

She lets out a little huff, but reaches behind her and holds her hair up for me. I have to bite my tongue to keep from groaning at the feel of her soft skin under my hands. I run the lotion along her shoulder, massaging it as I go. This should be innocent, but it’s anything but. My hands on her, in any way, feels sexual, and my body responds. Glancing down, I see my cock has made a sizeable tent in my swim trunks, and there is absolutely no way of hiding it. I’m nearly poking her ass, and if she rocks back even a fraction, she’ll know exactly how much I’m enjoying this.

Unable to stop myself, I push my lotion-covered hands around her sides and to the top of her bathing suit. My fingertips just brush the sides of her breasts that are exposed from the triangle top, and I can see a shiver pass through her body.

I lean down and whisper against her ear, “Just making sure you’re protected.”

Then I run my hands down her back and brush my fingers just on the inside of her bathing suit bottoms. Rubbing the lotion along the lower region, I dip inside them with every pass. I could stop there, but I’m a selfish bastard and I don’t. I want as much of her as I can get, and this is too good of an excuse.

Kneeling down behind her, I put more lotion on my hand, and then I start to rub the back of her thighs. She flinches at the touch at first, but then relaxes into the massage.

From what I’ve heard, most women are so self-conscious about this part of their body. The dimples make them feel like they’re somehow unattractive. I’m not sure about other women, but Madeline is exquisite everywhere. All her dips and curves are absolute perfection, and I can’t stop touching her.

I take my time, and when I know I can’t put it off any longer, I stop. But instead of standing up, I go for broke.

“Turn around.”

Slowly, she does as I ask, and she watches me as I’m kneeling before her, putting more lotion in my hands.

“I can do that, Kenton,” she says, hardly above a whisper.