Page 60 of Wild Idol
“Anything is possible.”
“Now, if you’re done talking, I’ll go back to being a ditsy blonde without a care in the world, and you can treat me like a blow-up doll. How does that sound?”
“That sounds pretty damn good.”
“I thought you’d see it that way.”
She pressed her full lips against mine again. Our tongues danced, and she got this train back on track. My hands found her full peaks, and I caressed her smooth skin. Soon,our hips collided, and we worked up a hell of a sweat. She was smart, sexy, and insatiable.
I did my best to satisfy her appetites.
The raised bungalow creaked and groaned, rocking back-and-forth with our escapades. We tried to keep it down to a dull roar, but I suspected the entire village could figure out what was going on.
She was soft and firm and slick in all the right places.
Whatever tension I was holding onto, I let go of rather quickly. Our passion erupted in a tempestuous storm that would make the local volcano envious.
We collapsed beside each other, steamy and sweaty, basking in the bliss of the afterglow. Sunshine snuggled close and caressed my chest with her soft fingers. Her breathy voice whispered in my ear, “I’m so glad you stopped talking.”
“Me too,” I replied with a chuckle.
“Rest up. Because we’re going to do that again and again, and again, and again,” she said, her voice like satin.
Sunshine was the kind of girl I wouldn’t mind having a repeat performance with. Or perhaps a dozen. Dare I say, I might never get bored of such a thing. She definitely made a compelling argument for giving up your worldly possessions and living an idyllic life off-grid.
But I knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.
34
Iwoke with the morning sun when a subtle rumbling, like an 18-wheeler passing by at 80 miles an hour, shook and rattled the cabana.
The delicious blonde snuggled beside me. She peeled open her sleepy eyes. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. What the hell was that?” I asked, already knowing.
She yawned, unconcerned. “Tremor. We get them all the time.”
“The volcano?”
She nodded and teased, “Unless you make the gods angry, we’re fine.”
“And what makes the gods angry?” I asked, playing along.
“Not satisfying my every desire,” she said with smoldering eyes.
“Well, I don’t want to make the gods angry.” I smiled and kissed her to appease the volcanic spirits.
Needless to say, Sunshine was good at inspiring morning aerobics. We went at it, hot and heavy, rumbling the bungalow all on our own. By the end of it, I was pretty sure the spirits had been appeased, and that volcano would never erupt.
We showered, dressed, and made our way to the pavilion for breakfast.
Everything ran on a pretty tight schedule around here.
JD and Whisper joined us.
We feasted like kings on avocado toast on wood-fired bread. We ate fresh papaya, mango, and passionfruit. We drank chilled mango and pineapple juice with a splash of vanilla bean and a twist of fresh lime. We ate fried plantains and fluffy omelettes with goat cheese, caramelized onions, and grilled chorizo, served with a side of black beans. We had jerk shrimp and crispy pork bellies with sweet potato hash.
We guzzled down dark roast coffee, grown on the island in the thick, volcanic soil, served with a cinnamon-infused cream. We filled our bellies under the thatched roof of the pavilion while the birds sang and the distant sound of the waves crashed against the shore.
