Page 46 of Promise Not To Fall

That answers one of my questions, doesn’t it?

Jake moves quickly, and within a minute, my legs are draped over his shoulders, his hands on my upper thighs, forcing me into his movements. Each one is harder, stronger, more feverish than before. With his head bent forward, he watches himself, sliding in and out of me, his brow scrunched as his bottom lip draws in his mouth and then he bites down on it. “Fuck….” He grunts.

Rolling my hips, I cry out, unsure if it’s pain or pleasure, or maybe both when he switches positions and has me lying with my back up against a rock, the blazing sun beating down on my overheated skin. It’s like I’m on fire, all over, inside and out.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me.” Amusement touches his lips when I start to squirm, my hands on his wrists as he drives into me relentlessly.

“Don’t fucking stop,” is my only reply, my fingers digging into his hands on my hips, my tits bouncing in the warm Bahamian sun.

Tossing his head back, Jake lets out the hottest groan, his chest straining. Everything’s heightened when I see his face contorted in pleasure. I come crashing down around him, which sparks his release. Only he doesn’t come inside me. Instead, he pulls out and finishes in the water, his head resting against my stomach.

Taking in a deep breath, I attempt to calm my rapid breathing and peel myself off the rock. Giving up, I take a moment and stare up at the sky, closing my eyes to block out all the blue. How am I going to survive leaving my Island Boy?

All afternoon Jake shows me what it’s like to experience the gorgeous blue waters of the Caribbean on a jet ski. His jet ski. He says it’s his only other toy besides the house he lives in with Nash and Zain. Though he claims the house isn’t a toy—he owns it. Or at least, he’s making payments on it. Since he’s only twenty-four, having a house is a huge accomplishment in my eyes. I’m twenty-seven and still live in an apartment.

I’ve never been on a jet ski until today, and after ten minutes of skimming over the gentle waves, I’m sure I never will again. Much like the experience on his street bike, Jake thinks it’s hilarious to dump me off the back when I think I see a shark.

It’s not a shark, but a dolphin, but still, I don’t exactly want to be in the water with it.

“Even the sharks won’t hurt you,” he says, still laughing as I cling to his back, fearing for my life.

“The fuck you say,” I wail, refusing to even look at the playful dolphin nudging the side of the jet ski. “Where I come from, sharks bite.”

Jake ignores me and reaches down, running his hand over the dolphin’s nose. “He’s just curious about you.”

I’m not so sure about it, but when we get to the swimming pigs, I have another momentary freak out. “Holy Jesus, are those pigs?” I’m practically standing on the jet ski trying to distance myself from them.

Jake smiles, treading water with them. “What do they look like?”

“Pigs.”

“Well, I suppose they’re pigs then.” He rubs the top of a gray and black one’s head. “Jump in.” He nods to me, the pigs all around him now, like they are old friends. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

I’m horrified. “No. Pigs shouldn’t swim.”

“Says who?”

“Me. I say that.”

He rolls his eyes so dramatically he tosses his head back. “Don’t be a pussy. It’s a fucking pig. They ain’t gonna bite.”

“Are you sure?”

Jake wouldn’t lie to me, would he? Ha.

“No. They won’t.” His eyes wander over my body, lingering on my legs. “I might.”

“I’m counting on it,” I tell him, gingerly slipping off the jet ski and into the water.

Pigs apparently don’t bite. Well, at least they don’t bite me. They sniff me and invade my space, but no biting.

Being out in the water this way offers some sights you wouldn’t usually see on the beach. I saw pigs swimming, tasted a fresh pineapple, went through a secret canyon, kissed under another waterfall, and ran my hands over a stingray. Best experiences of my life.

“I can’t believe how blue the water is,” I voice, my chin resting on Jake’s shoulder when we stop about a half mile from the beach.

“It’s the way the light reflects off the water that gives it that clear blue appearance.”

My favorite part, maybe the most memorable? Straddling Jake on his sun-drenched jet ski, when his palm meets my breasts over my bikini and I know where it’s heading again. His thumb grazes my nipple, his other hand brushing over my sun-sizzling skin until it’s wrapped around my neck and pulling my mouth to his. My lashes flutter closed. His lips are so soft and tender, pouring emotions and sweet desperation into his touch… something you wouldn’t think someone having just a short-lived island romance would do.

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