Siren Island: Shipwrecked (An Erotic Adventure Series) (2 page)

Chapter Two

We were reunited with passengers of
The Lady Jane;
among them were several crewmembers, two men, the reverend, Jack, and several women. We were a sorry lot, damp, tired, and thirsty. An industrious passenger cracked open several coconuts, and we drank the sweet nectar and ate the contents.

At the earliest opportunity, I wandered into the palm trees, giving myself the privacy I needed to remove my corset. I was able to untie it without having to take my dress off. The relief I felt was immediate. A branch snapped behind me, and I spun around.

“Oh, my!” It was Jack. He eyed my corset, which I had left on the ground.

“That’s not proper now is it, Miss Wordsworth?”

“Um…it’s impolite to sneak up on people, Mr. Carlyle.” The intense way he looked at me sent little shivers down my spine.

“I’ve been meaning to have a word with you.” The front part of his trousers had grown, the brown material stretching over his unmentionables.

“I’m sure whatever you wish to discuss can be saved for the beach. Excuse me.” I went to pass him, but he grabbed me. “What are you doing?”

“I think we should talk.”

He pressed me to a tree. “Stop it!”

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts about you, Lucy. Since the first day I saw you standing there with your bonnet and parasol, I’ve been wonderin’ what you look like under all those clothes.”

I gasped, “Oh! You should be ashamed of your—”

“I’m not acquainted with that emotion.” His voice was low and husky. “You and I are gonna get to know one another better. A lot better.”

“I know more than I want to, Sir.”

He shook his head, something dark and carnal glinting in his eyes. “I don’t think you do.” His lips descended to mine, but I pushed against him, fleeing, only to be caught in a steely embrace. He picked me up off the ground, my feet kicking. “I like a lively woman,” he chuckled. “I know you won’t disappoint.”

“Stop!”

I was taken to my knees, my hands grasping the trunk of a palm tree while rough hands found their way under my dress. I’d foolishly taken off my stockings and underthings, giving this heathen easy access to my womanly parts. Intrusive fingers slid to my pussy, where he touched me in such a way, I gasped with indignation.

“Help! Somebody help me!”

His hand covered my mouth, while his lips found my neck, kissing hotly, leaving wet spots. I bucked and thrashed, trying to dislodge him, but he seemed intent on seducing me. Lifting my skirt, his cock pressed against my opening, hard and demanding. I’d never experienced anything like this before in my entire life, and I was unprepared for him breaching me, causing pain.

“Ouch! No!”

A persistent finger brushed my sensitive nub, shocking me with strange sensations that were beginning to materialize. His voice was raspy in my ear, the sounds of his pleasure base and shocking.

“It’s so tight,” he breathed. “You’re mine, Lucy.”

“No!”

“You need a real man. Someone who knows what to do with a woman.”

“You bastard! This hardly qualifies.”

His finger refused to let up, rubbing and toying with me, inflaming the sensitive bud. Pleasurable pulses pinged in my tummy. He groaned, enjoying my virginal pussy and thrust into me mercilessly, causing twinges of discomfort. The intrusion was staggering and unexpected. A rough hand cupped my ample breast, tweaking a nipple, sending tiny shockwaves of sensation through me.

“Oh, yeah, you little slut,” he rasped.

I grasped the tree, while he used me from behind, fucking me senseless with a remorseless cock, intent on pleasuring himself, yet I felt pleasure as well, although I didn’t want to. I had to fight the tingly feeling that fanned out to my belly, making me shudder with bliss. His finger continued to rub me, forcing me to clamp my lips together to keep from moaning.

This wasn’t how I thought my first time would be. I had expected to be properly married by a minister in a pretty white church, wearing my mother’s ivory lace wedding gown. I never anticipated losing my virginity on a deserted island to an absolute blackguard against a palm tree! If my mother were still alive, she would collapse in a dead faint.

“No,” I gasped. “No…”

“Oh, God…it’s so good, Lucy. Tell me you like it. Tell me.”

“Go to hell, Mr. Carlyle!”

“Been there.”

He kissed, bit, and sucked the delicate skin on my throat. Harsh breathing filled my ears, pleasure clinging to his every utterance. A remorseless cock plunged deep into my sore pussy. Nothing had ever been in there before, not even my own fingers. The beginning of the end for me was when his mouth met mine. His tongue was eager and demanding, encouraging me to do the same, although I didn’t want to. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. Samuel had kissed me before, delicately and with restraint. He wouldn’t have dared to assault me with his tongue.

“Oh…no…Jack!”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me,” he breathed in my ear, gasping and moaning.

“No. I hate you.” This declaration sounded hollow to me. “Don’t.” That damnable finger was my undoing. Although my pussy smarted and stung, my body responded to the constant friction on my clitoris. He knew exactly how to bring me to the edge. As sensation hit, I cried out, “Ooohh…ooohhh…God…in heaven!” I shuddered helplessly, my muscles contracting around him, pulsing over and over in blissful repletion.

He pulled me from the tree. “Get on your hands and knees.” He lifted my dress, exposing my pale bottom, and drove into me, his balls slapping against my pussy. I gritted my teeth, while he used me like a common street whore. “God-fucking-dammit!” He plunged deep and stiffened, squirting my insides with cream. “You little bitch…aaahhh…” He thrust over and over, taking what he wanted, while I bore it as stoically as I could. The ground blurred before my eyes, a wash of plants and grasses. He smacked my ass, which was stunning. “I knew you’d be good.” His hand drifted between my legs, dipping into my wetness. He examined his blood-tinged finger. “Samuel’s a fool. He should’ve had you first.”

I stared at my seducer, anger blazing. “This is for Samuel.” I slapped him. “This is for me.” I slapped him again. “You’re a…a horrible person.” Tears filled my eyes.

He smiled crookedly. “Aw now, come on.”

“I hate you!”

“Not five minutes ago. You were lovin’ everything I was doing to you.”

I staggered to my feet, leaves and twigs clinging to my dress. “Never speak to me again, Mr. Carlyle.” I stomped towards the beach to find my chaperone, who had failed me today on several levels.

Pricilla and I sat in the shade with the other women while the men gathered coconuts and strange looking island fruit. Jack had wandered off to search for a water source.
I hope he drowns in it.
Feeling worthless and bored, I cut away palm fronds from a nearby tree with a knife a sailor had given me. Georgette Lumley, a young, plain looking woman with curly brown hair, and I weaved the fronds together. A crude shelter had been erected, with bits and pieces of ship wreckage. Blonde and able, Constance Pickering had found a crate filled with bolts of fabric. After prying it open, we had taken the cloth and draped it over anything that stood still, in a bid to dry out the material. The men would be pleased to know that bottles of wine had also washed ashore, the corks still firmly in place. In addition to the usable items, dead bodies also appeared, bloated, eaten by fish and decomposing. We had to figure out what we were going to do with them…and soon.

I pondered the loss of my virginity. There had been wetness and blood between my thighs. I refused to mention what had happened to Pricilla. It was something I had to keep to myself. I felt shame when I thought of my reactions and how I should have fought harder against my attacker. Jack Carlyle was a horrible man to be avoided at all cost.

That evening, as we sat around the fire, I gazed at the man who had so brutally deflowered me. He seemed to relish being shipwrecked, the smile never leaving his face. His glossy brown hair blew in his forehead. He was handsome, to be sure, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His slightly crooked nose had been broken a time or two. A scar blemished his forehead; the offending mark appeared to have happened recently because the outlines were still pink. I would never admit it, but he had fascinated me from the first moment I’d set eyes on him. Samuel had warned me about his dastardly brother, reporting his faults in vague detail. After the fight with Samuel aboard
The Lady Jane
, he disappeared, preferring to drink and gamble with the crew rather than mingle with the passengers. I hadn’t seen him for weeks until this morning.

You liked what he did to you. Admit it, Lucy.

No!

The men had buried the corpses in shallow pits yards away. Water had been stored in empty wine bottles, and someone had caught fish, which were gutted and grilled. We had eaten surprisingly well, and the wine flowed freely. My hair was loose and tangled around me. It was usually done up with pins and combs, which gave me a cracking headache. What had happened to my maid? The poor thing more than likely perished in the ocean.

We arranged ourselves on the sleeping platform, with the women on one end and the men on the other. I was near the edge, next to Pricilla. The reverend slept already, his robust snoring filling the air.

“Scoot on over, little lady.”

“What?” Jack stared at me, the moon hanging over his head, like a wicked halo.

“I’m gettin’ in.”

“You most certainly are not, Mr. Carlyle,” objected Pricilla. “The men are on the end.”

“Somebody’s gotta cover each side, Miss Mayfair.”

“That’s bologna!”

“Call it what you will.” He slid next to me; his arm went around my midsection.

“I strongly object to this, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Object all you want. Just do it quietly. I gotta sleep.”

“Ouf! You rascal. Trade places with me, Lucy. Right now. I’ll sleep next to the blackguard.”

I didn’t mind the proximity to Jack, even though he had behaved deplorably in the jungle today. “It’s all right, Pricilla. Let’s go to sleep. We’ll make our own accommodations tomorrow.”

“You bet we will.” She grasped his hand and threw it away from my hip. “Don’t you touch her!”

“I’m gonna deck you one, if you don’t shut up, Miss Mayfair,” warned Jack in a steely tone. “Go to sleep, woman.”

She huffed indignantly, shifting on the wooden beams. The braided fronds only cushioned the wood slightly. Jack’s arm went around me again, his lengthy body pressing into my backside. I felt utterly comfortable being this close to him, although I shouldn’t. I’d never slept with a man before. I enjoyed the warmth of him and the sound of his breathing, which mingled with croaking toads in the foliage behind us.

Chapter Three

It wasn’t the noisy seagull that woke me the next morning. It was the feel of a hand, under my dress, touching my body in a way no hand should, unless it belonged to my lawfully wedded husband. While the sky became steel gray in color, the sun not quite over the horizon yet, Jack explored me in a lazy, unimpeded manner. I wore only a shift beneath the dress and nothing else. His lips were on the back of my neck, while his hand kneaded my tummy, massaging and drifting lower by the second. He encountered a thatch of pubic hair and then, he dipped into my snatch, coating himself in my wetness.

I had washed in the ocean yesterday to remove the blood from my thighs and the traces of his seed. His explorations revealed my wetness, the creamy residue making his finger slick and easy to maneuver. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I feared waking Pricilla. She lay on her back with her fingers enfolded over her chest, softly snoring.

Jack kissed my neck, chin, and face, coaxing me to give him my mouth. Our tongues met for a lengthy kiss that robbed me of my senses, leading me down the slippery road of sin. I thoroughly enjoyed kissing; the intimacy of exploring another person’s mouth left me yearning for more, my body heated to the core.

“Oh…”

His finger was thick yet abrasive and determined to please. I could hardly move being wedged between him and Pricilla. I lay on my side with Jack’s finger exploring deep within my sore pussy. It had not yet fully recovered from yesterday. Pleasure began to flare that I could not deny. He knew me well, thrusting further and rubbing something extraordinarily wicked. I had to clamp my lips together to keep from crying out.

Over and over he drove into me, wetting his entire hand with my juices. His hardness pressed against my bottom, demanding entrance. I wanted to cry out with disappointment when he withdrew suddenly, leaving me unsatisfied. Instead, I felt the rounded tip of him pressing, sinking. Jack’s raspy breathing was in my ear, his teeth grazing my lobes, biting gently. This sent little flutters of sensation straight into my cunt. Tingles stole up and down my back, bursting from of my nerve endings like fireworks out of control.

How no one perceived what we were doing was a mystery.
My would-be brother-in-law was defiling me on a communal bed. His cock slid in and out far too easily. I should have been ashamed, truly. It had hurt in the jungle yesterday, but now…it was delightfully pleasurable. He struggled to keep from groaning, his body straining to work me, carefully, quietly, so as to not wake anyone. His movements were gentle and persistent, filling me to my womb with each plunge.

“Oomm…” He toyed with my nub, teasing it to respond, thereby fanning the flames of arousal in me even further. With each thrust, I knew my body would shiver with release…soon. “Oohh…”

“Sheee...” he warned.

His hand gripped my hip as he increased the tempo, his cock slick with my satiny fluids. His groans were deeper now, more ragged around the edges. I clamped my lips together as sensation washed over me, making my stomach convulse and my pussy clench around him.

“Oh, yes…” he whispered.

He knew I had reached orgasm, because he grunted then and stiffened, filling me with semen. He took his time enjoying the hospitality of my orifice, reaming me gently for long minutes until his softened phallus slid free.

I pushed him, trying to get up. “You’re no gentleman.”

“No, I’m not.” Amusement lit his eyes.

I had to take care of personal business. There was wetness sliding down my inner thighs. I crawled over him and got to my feet, smoothing down the wrinkled material of the dress. The humidity was considerable this morning, the moisture hanging in the air like a soggy blanket. How I wished I didn’t have to wear this heavy brocade gown. We had been preparing for dinner before the storm had tossed the ship onto the reef. Now I was trapped in a stifling dress that the dictates of etiquette would not release me from.

As I wandered down the beach, I came upon pieces of wreckage along with crates of cargo. With any luck, they might contain useful things such as clothing and preserved meat. I was short a pair of shoes, having lost them in the bid to stay afloat in the churning ocean.

When I was safely away from camp, I worked the tiny buttons on the front of my dress and removed it. I wore a white cotton shift, which I considered leaving on, but…there was no one here, so I lifted it over my head, exposing myself to the world. I’d never gone naked in the outdoors before, and how freeing it was! I luxuriated in the feel of the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair, and the relief from all constriction. Wading into the water, I marveled at the clearness of the ocean, being able to see my toes under the water. I bathed in solitude, scrubbing, rinsing, and floating in utter bliss.

“Miss Wordsworth!” Pricilla stood on the shore with her hands on her hips. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her brows were drawn together. “Are you naked?”

“Why, yes, I am.” I stood chest deep in the warm water. “It’s marvelous. You should get in.”

“Come out now, Lucy, before someone sees you.”

“There’s no one here.”

“I’m here! I could’ve been that horrible man, Mr. Carlyle. What would Samuel say about you traipsing around nude? If your mother, God rest her soul, saw you like this, she’d send you to a convent. Get out now!”

The mention of Samuel dampened the pleasure of the morning. I was a horrible fiancé for not searching for him. Worse, the ocean had claimed the engagement ring he had given me, because it was a size too big. Memories of the jungle and the liberties Jack had taken tinged my cheeks red with shame. Pricilla was right. I had to remember my duties and moral obligations, even in times of shipwreck. The Lord was testing me, and I had failed.

“I’m coming.”

“Quick, girl! Before they see you!”

I strode towards her proudly, my hair down my back, water pouring from me. I felt like a sea goddess emerging from Poseidon’s lair, my breasts firm and high, nipples hardened by the cooling wind. It was marvelous to be clean.

“You should bathe, Pricilla.”

“Heaven’s not.” She eyed my chest. “Put this on right now.” She held my shift.

“I’m going to find Samuel today.”

“Of course you are, my dear.”

I rung out my hair. “I know he’s alive.”

“That’s enough now. You can do that later. Get dressed this instant!”

“Yes, Pricilla.”

Back at camp, a fire had been lit, and fish grilled over a sheath of metal. The occupants had awoken, looking bedraggled and smelling pungent, the men with sweat stains under their arms and the women in a similar condition.

Jack threw a pair of shoes at me. “Try ‘em on.”

“Good morning, Mr. Carlyle.”

He grinned wickedly. “It sure is.”

I tingled in my tummy and cursed him at the same time. “Where’d you find them?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

He’d taken them from a dead body. I shivered at the thought, but I needed shoes badly. They were a size too big, but I was grateful for them, nonetheless.

“Have you found Samuel?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m searching for him today.”

He eyed me, squinting in the sun. “We can do that.”

“I’m searching for him.”

“Not alone you’re not.”

“I’ll be escorting Miss Wordsworth, Mr. Carlyle,” said Pricilla primly. “We shall find Samuel, Lucy. You mustn’t fret about it.”

“Glory be!” shouted a crewmember. “We got tobacco! It’s still dry!” He held up a package.

“It certainly is turnin’ out to be a good day,” commented Jack.

“There’s more crates down the beach, boys. We got us some supplies!”

Constance handed me a halved coconut. “Thank you, Miss Pickering.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” She sat next to me. “I’m searching for my husband today. He’s here; I know he is.” Sadness glimmered in her eyes.

I hugged her briefly. “Of course he is. It’s a big island. We’ve only seen a tiny part of it. I’m sure there are survivors on the other side. We’ll find him. I’ll find Samuel.”

Jack stared at me with an unreadable expression. There was something in that look that had my insides flipping over and tingling. I hated feeling attracted to a total scoundrel. He was the type of man my mother had warned me about. I’d been protected from his ilk since the day I was born, and now, here I was exposed and vulnerable. It was imperative that I find Samuel. He would protect me. He would keep me safe.