P.J. wouldn’t think twice about announcing her darkest sexual desires. She did harbor one secret the guys hadn’t a clue about, but it stemmed from the who, rather than what. She was hopelessly, madly in love with Morgan. P.J. had sworn Heather to secrecy after getting a bit too hammered and spilling the beans. Wild and carefree and most reminiscent of a hippie’s flower child, P.J. sunk every dime she had into the coffeehouse and didn’t want to take a chance on not only ruining her friendship with Morgan, but also making her workplace a living hell. Heather had kept P.J.’s secret, though she’d urged her friend to discuss her feelings with Morgan, as she suspected Morgan might feel the same way. He’d never said anything, but she’d caught Morgan staring at P.J. on more than one occasion with a starry-eyed expression. P.J. could do far worse than Morgan. Oh, Morgan liked to play Joe Cool. Love ’em, leave ’em—but it was an act. They all knew he was a big softy who volunteered with little kids and stopped for every stray animal that crossed his path.
“No, I’m cool. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.” She brushed dirt off her knees, flipped the guys the bird, and limped along behind them all.
“Well, hey, hey, lookie here,” J.D. announced a few steps later.
They all stopped to catch their breath and take in the gorgeous sight before them. Three amazing, tropical-appearing huts.
“Wow, think they might be ours?” she whispered to P.J.
“I sure as hell hope so. How’re your knees?”
“Fine. My pride’s more bruised than anything,” she admitted, still in awe and praying the luxurious appearing huts before her were theirs.
“Hello and welcome to paradise,” a sultry voice seemed to whisper from out of nowhere.
All heads pivoted at the same time, and jaws dropped in accordance.
Before them stood a woman of Asian descent. She was wrapped seductively in a thin white sari, her head slightly bowed as if in submissive posture, yet somehow an aura of great strength arose from her. Her dark areolas visible beneath the white material and her feet bare, she was the epitome of sexy.
“I am Khara, and I bid you welcome.”
Heather nearly laughed as the guys seemed to lose their voices and instead stood drooling like two undersexed college frat boys.
As if on some magical cue, Khara’s nipples beaded under the intense stares from the guys…only making them freeze up even more. If Khara noticed the awkward gawking of Heather’s companions, she didn’t let it show.
“Welcome, friends, and please excuse our tardiness in our greetings and in escorting you to your accommodations.”
Heather and P.J. turned their heads at the sound of the new masculine voice.
“Yowza!” P.J. leaned toward her and muttered in appreciation.
“Please allow me to introduce myself. They call me the Marquis, and I will be your host during your time with us here at the island.”
“Marquis?” P.J. all but squeaked. ”He did say Marquis, right? Like the Marquis de Sade?” P.J. whispered in her ear. “You do know who he was?”
“Duh. I’m vanilla, not stupid,” Heather snapped irritably.
“I think someone just got wet,” J.D. blurted rather crudely, overhearing P.J.
“Shuddup,” P.J. hissed under her breath.
Heather would admit, the Marquis was built like an exotic god of myth.
The man stood well over six feet three and probably weighed in around a heavily muscled 275. Wrapped in what she assumed was the male version of a sari, his golden skinned shimmered against the sun’s waning rays. Abs that dared one to try to wash clothes on them and pecs that no doubt would lift her with ease. Images of him acting in her fantasy hit, and she prayed the blush she suspected rosied her cheeks would be written off as a result of the late-afternoon heat rather than the dirty thoughts springing to mind.
His hair reached nearly to his ass, though he wore the thick mass tied back with a leather strip. And his eyes, Lord help her, were the darkest of hot chocolates yet blazed with fire. Her gaze dipped to take in the long, muscled legs. Bared from the knees down, they too had seen many a sunray. Even the hairs had sun-kissed glints in them.
“
Ahem
.” P.J. nudged her. “Dibs, and don’t bother denying where your thoughts went. I caught exactly where, girlfriend.” P.J. winked at her and waggled her brows when the Marquis leaned over to say something to Khara.
A movement to her right, and she caught something flash in Morgan’s eyes as he attempted to gain P.J.’s attention, but whatever was in his gaze vanished before she could identify it A flash of jealousy, perhaps? Maybe this trip would finally force the two to come to terms with their feelings for each other.
“Should any of you be in need of anything during your retreat with us, please don’t hesitate to make your request with myself or Khara. There is nothing too extreme here on the Island of Inhibition-X.”
“Lawdy, does he know what he just said? The ramifications of such a statement with these two horndogs?” P.J. whispered, nodding toward Morgan and J.D.
Heather burst out laughing in agreement but stopped quickly when both the Marquis and Khara stared at her. “Sorry, private joke.” Yeah, probably wasn’t the best offer to be suggested in front of either of her male buddies.
“Don’t ever apologize for laughing. When you laugh, you light up from within.” The Marquis’s stare sent shivers of need through her. She bit her lip in nervous reaction to his sudden attention. Right when the gaze went from inquisitive, likely over her sudden laughter, to something deeper, he continued.
“Please allow us to show you to your bungalow.” The Marquis turned toward another trail, one that led them away from the buildings before them.
After a delightful walk through more exotic, fragrant foliage, they came upon a gorgeous waterfall. She stopped to take in the sight. The water fed a nice-sized lagoon, which begged for diving in. Though not uncomfortably hot, her clothes now stuck to her from the rising humidity.
“Let’s go. We’ll come back and check this out later,” P.J. urged, tugging her arm.
Minutes from the waterfall, the Marquis and Khara came to a stop in front of something that could only be described as a tropical paradise…and she hadn’t even seen the interior yet.
The hut was enormous, and when they walked through the door…
Oh my goodness
.
The floor had been built entirely over an aquarium of some sort. Visible were blue waters and vibrantly colorful tropical fish. Truthfully, it was almost scary to walk across, as Heather felt with each step she was about to fall in. They discovered a sitting room with bamboo-cushioned furniture and wicker shades rolled high. Oh thank you Lord Jesus, she thought, noting the mosquito netting in place.
Nothing like blowing a dream trip due to constant scratching from annoying mosquitoes, or having red bumps all over your bikini-clad body.
She caught the guys shooting each other peculiar glances, but though she didn’t understand why, the Marquis had.
“Should you wish for more privacy during your time with us, you will find assorted private rooms about the island. Each is themed to help expand the adventure we try to maintain.”
“Themed?” both Morgan and J.D. asked.
“Yes. We understand each of our guests may have different tastes in life,” Khara answered, as if her statement cleared things up. It didn’t. Tastes? As in sexual? Damn, Heather’s courage fled, and she had no intention of asking them to clarify. She’d talk to P.J. in private later and verify her summation of Khara’s answer.
Again, as if he’d read her mind, the Marquis went into detail, all while locking gazes with her, and damned if her insides didn’t fire all up under his exotic eyes.
Chapter Five
“Tastes, as in explorations of one’s fantasies. Some may wish to explore the darker side of love, while others may wish for something lighter, like role-playing or multiple partners perhaps.”
Multiple partners is paired with lighter? Uh, okay.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught J.D. raising his arm.
“About the private quarters, how will we tell which ones are private guests’ rooms versus the themed rooms?”
“Good question, bro.” Morgan nodded in agreement. Her mind hadn’t even caught up from all the “oh my God” moments to consider such.
“In the front of the themed rooms, or open rooms as we will call them, are black X’s. Any structure that features one is open to the guests’ use. If a building is lacking an X, the room is private.”
The guys nodded in understanding.
“We will allow you some privacy to explore your new domain and become settled. Should you have an immediate need or have a pressing question, simply pull this handle, and either I or Khara will answer.”
“You are shitting me,” P.J. blurted as she took in the silken rope hanging by the front door.
“I assure you, I am not, as you say, shitting.” Though stated a bit dry, even she didn’t miss the slight twitch in The Marquis’s lips. He liked P.J.’s honesty, and probably everything else about her too. P.J. was built like Barbie, and Heather had secretly wanted to hate her, but she just couldn’t. The bitch ate like a damn horse, avoided the gym like the plague, and never gained even one pound.
“Thank you for your warm welcome, and I’m sure we’ll manage just fine,” she answered when her friends took off in different directions, exploring their new abode.
The Marquis and Khara made a quick exit as she turned to find her buddies.
“Hey, where did you guys go?”
“In here… Wait till you get a load of what we found!” J.D. shouted with far too much glee in his voice.
She entered the largest room in the place, and…
holy shit.
Before her hung a round bed so massive several people at once would be able to sleep—or play, she presumed—on the thing. Loose, swaying sheer curtains wound round its exterior sides as well as top. Rather oddly located, the bed sat positioned, or hung, in the dead center of the room. The golden, silk cover screamed luxury and softness. The sucker was like a giant, hanging swing. Visions of sexual play drifted to her mind. Would the bed actually sway with motion, or were the mattresses so heavy, the bed would remain immobile regardless of movements?
“Looks fun.” Morgan elbowed her out of her lusty thoughts.
“No, odd. Very, very odd.” Lie. But if the others ever discovered where her thoughts had gone, they’d never let her live them down. Thoughts like the Marquis, sans sarong, smelling like coconuts and lying with her across the golden silk. Would the Marquis be as his namesake, into rough play, or would he take her gently? Did she even want gentle? She’d come to explore. Well, not originally, but now? Hell yeah. This might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She still didn’t want the others to know of her desires. They might be okay with sharing such information, but she wasn’t.
“So beautiful,” P.J. whispered, running her hands across the cream-colored, suede chaise longue that sat in one corner of the room.
In another part of the room, a swatch of leather ran down a body’s length of the wall, which also jutted out a good bit from the rest of the area. Black leather cuffs adorned two high spots on either side of the area. Way up, about where one’s arms would be if they were to be stretched above their head. Matching cuffs were at floor level, set wide apart, where she supposed one’s feet would be. The position, while secured, would force one’s breasts and hips forward.
Heat flooded in areas she wished weren’t awakening at this exact moment.
Unsure of what to say, she opted for nothing and turned to check out what her friends were doing. J.D. stood staring at the wall with a wicked grin, while Morgan was shooting another odd glance at P.J., who stood, mouth gaping and head cocked to one side.
Okay, so she wasn’t the only one left speechless. Strike one for her. She might be vanilla, but even they weren’t quite rocky road.
Yet.
Over against the far wall, almost demurely placed, stood the most intricately carved chifforobe she’d ever seen. Ornate carvings of exotic flowers were everywhere on its rich, wooden surface. She ran her fingertips down the many delicate grooves of petals.
What seemed so innocent turned out not so innocent after all. Held within the disarming wooden furniture were things she’d never even seen. Oh, she had plenty of ideas of what they were for, but naming them? Nope. No clue.
Any and every sexual toy ever created filled the shelves.
“Uh, guys. You might wanna check this out.” Curiosity weaseled through her.
The gang gathered around her. Each became lost in his or her own thoughts, and standing so close she could feel their body heat against her own. Morgan leaned over her shoulder for a better view of the back shelf, and his hot breath against her ear caused an involuntarily shiver. His closeness in such proximity of the naughty toys unnerved her. The last thing she wanted to do was check out such intimate items with her buddies so close.
J.D. belted out a “Hell yeah” as he reached in and pulled out a whippy thing with tails on the end. P.J. squeaked in delight as she reached into the treasure trove and pulled out a large, neon-green, silicone dildo.
“Hee, a big, green, mean machine,” she gasped between giggles as she wobbled the thing right in front of them and made both guys jump back as if it would bite.
Backing away, Heather shook her head as her now hyped-up friends tore through the cabinet faster than eight-year-olds on Christmas morning.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. They had reception way the hell out here? As she dug her cell out, the phone flashed the notification of a new text.
Hey hot stuff, how’s the trip going?
Her mystery man, Erix.
With her friends preoccupied with rummaging through the toy closet, she slipped away to the lounge.
Unique
, she typed.
Hmm, unique can be good. Explain
, Erix typed back.
Eccentric, wild, and…
She hit Send and peeped back in the room when more squealing erupted and caught P.J. whirling a whip in the air, toward Morgan.
A
buzz-buzz
signaled more texts.