Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Ashton’s stomach rumbles. “Want to have dinner?” he asks lazily.
I do, so we munch on the trail mix and talk, getting to know each other even better—which is probably a bad idea, but I just can’t help myself. Despite the messiness of whatever this is between us and my conflicting feelings, I’m hungry for every detail about him, no matter how trivial.
I think the reverse is true as well because he doesn’t stop peppering me with questions. By now, he may know more about me than all of my previous boyfriends combined—not that I’m saying he’s my boyfriend, of course.
“Want to play ‘Two Truths and a Lie?’” Ashton asks after we finish eating.
“Is that to spruce up the ‘get-to-know-you?’”
He shrugs. “What else is there to do?”
“All right. Want to go first?”
He shakes his head. “You go. I’m very good at this game, so you need all the help you can get.”
How is going first going to help me? Also… “Should we do random facts or have a theme?”
His eyes heat up. “How about we make it dirty?”
“Huh.” I think for a couple of seconds. “I haven’t had sex for three years. I once showed up on a date wearing an anal plug. I liked giving you that foot job.”
Ashton’s nostrils flare. “The anal plug?”
“Damn it,” I say.
“But… three years?” he says. “Are you some sort of camel when it comes to orgasms? Got enough that one night with me?”
“Please.” I scoff. “I simply haven’t been dating much. Because of too much work and bad luck. It had zero to do with you.”
“Sure. Sure.”
“Your turn,” I say grumpily.
He purses his lips. “Your pussy tastes like apples. Your nipples taste like hibiscus. And your mouth tastes like vanilla.”
Hmm. “They all sound like lies.”
“Does that mean you give up?”
“No. I think the nipple thing is a lie.”
“Nope,” he says. “Your mouth doesn’t taste like vanilla.”
I know he wants me to ask what it does taste like, so I don’t give him the satisfaction. “That was cheating,” I say instead. “My pussy doesn’t taste like apples.”
“Oh.” He walks up to me and licks his finger. “Care to put that to the test?”
If I weren’t so sore, I’d be dying to have those fingers inside me. Even as is, the proposition is too tempting.
“I’ve tasted myself before.” Granted, it’s been a while. “I didn’t taste any apples.” Then again, I do like those apple strudels they sell at the bakery near my house. And I’ve been drinking plenty of fresh-squeezed juice made from apples and carrots, so if you are what you eat…
“Does anything of mine taste like a carrot?” I ask.
He shakes his head, grinning. “But hey, taste is a very subjective experience.”
I roll my eyes. “I think I want to play something else.”
“Sore loser much?”
Loser, no. Sore—very much so.
“How about a round of ‘would you rather?’” I suggest.
He agrees, and we play that for a while. Among other things, I learn that Ashton would rather explore the deep sea than go into space, and he learns that if a time machine existed, I’d rather meet my ancestors than my descendants.
“Is it getting cooler, or is it just me?” Ashton asks after I admit that I’d rather speak like Yoda than breathe like Darth Vader.
“Yeah.” I walk up to the window and raise the makeshift curtains. “I think the sun is setting.”
Ashton leaps to his feet. “Want to go for a stroll?”
“Sure. We can play ‘I spy’ as we do.”
* * *
I enjoy circling the island a lot, and as it turns out, I’m much better than Ashton at “I spy.”
“My turn,” he says after it takes him five questions to zero in on the cypress tree. “I spy with my little eye something small.”
I grin. “So… not your cock?”
He chuckles. “Unlike my cock, this thing can fly.”
“Don’t sell your cock short. It made me feel like I could fly.”
“This thing can buzz too.”
I grin. “So… a tiny vibrator?”
He looks around. “How would I spy that?”
“Sheesh, touchy. You’re obviously talking about a mosquito.”
“Finally.” He slaps his forearm. “I think now that the sun is setting, they’re out for a meal.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Let’s hide.”
He points to the cabin nearer the water. “Want to see if your bed is now usable?”
Shit. It probably is. I can see that the water has receded, and we left the door open, so the smell must have cleared out. The problem is, I don’t like the idea of not sharing a bed anymore. If we ever get off this island, then sure. But as is…
“You’re not going to kick me out of yours so easily,” I say. “But if you want to go to that cabin yourself and—”
“Nope. You’re not going to kick me out of ‘mine’ either.”
We hide out for a couple of hours, then come out when it’s completely dark and the mosquitoes are less active. However, the temperature has dropped so much that we have to return, remove our clothes from the window, and put them all on.