Page 14 of Wild for You
I dive toward him, my face cushioned by lace and silk negligée, which is welcome padding compared to the harsh, scratchy sand, but it’s no use. There, in the light of the midday sun, Jack holds up not one, not two, but three large vibrating dildos for God and everyone to see. “Well, well, well, will you look at that—”
“Will. You. Give. Me. That.” I make a grab for the vibrators, but Jack’s too quick. He holds them above his head, so they’re out of my reach.
“Relax, sunshine. I’m not judging. Hell, I’ve seen the temptress side of you, and I’d expect nothing less,” he teases.
“Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on here!” I huff, blowing my short blonde hair out of my eyes. “Why are you going through my stuff?”
“It’s Survival 101. I’ve got to see what we’re working with, what we can use to make a fire. You know, gather all our resources.”
“Resources?” I blink, trying to process it all. “Survival?” I have so many questions, but I’m hung up on those two words. I look around in every direction, searching for any sign of civilization, but empty beaches and trees are all I see.
As if Jack can see my wheels spinning—although maybe not all in the same direction—he offers me the answer to my question. “If you haven’t gathered, we’re not in Costa Rica.” Turning his attention back to his task, he carefully lines the vibrators up in a neat line. Laying my makeup, curling iron, and toiletries beside them.
“Wh-what do you mean we’re not in Costa Rica?” I stutter. “If we’re not in Costa Rica,” I gesture to the beach around me, “where are we?”
“Once again, I don’t know. If I did, I would’ve told you the first time.” He shakes his head in annoyance as he continues his task. “You can thank your cell phone usage on the flight for our current situation … You know, if you need someone to blame.”
I suck in a gasp as red hot anger rushes to my face. “Excuse me? Did you just insinuate that somehow all of this ismydoing?” I bark.
“No, princess, I didn’t insinuate anything.” He pins me with a stare. “This is one thousand percent your fault.”
Finding words isn’t usually a problem for me, but right now, I’m struggling. “How?” I scream. “How is any of this my fault? You’re the one who crashed the damn plane, and don’t you dare call meprincess!” I hiss.
“And you’re the one whose phone was on, throwing off my coordinates!” he retorts.
“If I wasn’t allowed to use my phone, then why didn’t you say that?”
“I did!”
“I’ve never been on a plane that didn’t have WiFi.” I cross my arms over my chest in a challenge. “So please explain to me how that makes sense!”
“I told you I’m an aviation purist. I like to do things the old-fashioned way. It’s an art—”
“Oh my God! Are you really defending yourself right now?” I heave as my pulse pounds in my neck. “It’s an art—” I mock.
“Are you happy with yourself? Do you feel better now?” He snorts and shakes his head before turning back to the luggage.
I jump in front of him, “No. No, I don’t feel better. Have you tried calling for backup or something? How do we call for rescue?”
This earns me a laugh. “I don’t know. Did you pack your Bat Signal? Because I left mine at home.” He bumps my shoulder with his chest, then crouches back down to dig through my suitcase.
A wave of nausea rises in my chest. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I run for the tree line just in time to heave what little I have in my stomach into the bushes.
“That’s probably the concussion or the shock,” he says, unmoving from his nest in the sand.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. I hate puking. I hate feeling weak. And right now, I’m two for two. I squeeze my eyes shut as I succumb to another wave of nausea.
“You ok back there?” he calls.
I moan in response. Steadying myself on shaking legs, I march back over to him and grab the largest of the vibrators, a giant hot pink number with the bunny ears for extrastimulation,and smack him on the head with it. The silicone phallus connects with his skin in a harsh thwack.
“What the fuck?” Jack leaps to his feet, but I hold my ground wielding the giant pink cock like a sword.
“Stop playing games with me. I’m not afraid to use this.” I warn.
“You’ve made that clear, but I’m starting to wonder how hard you hit your head.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Why don’t you put the cock down, and let’s talk. There’s no need for violence.”
I eye him warily and slowly lower the dildo. “So, what are we going to do? If we’re not in Costa Rica … and you don’t know where we are … can you use your radio or something and call for help?”
