Marooned with the Rock Star (A Crazily Sensual Rock Star Romance, with Humor) (14 page)

As he escalates his bucking, I raise my hips
to meet each thrust – elevating myself further and further into
pleasurable delirium. I grind my loins into his, coring into his
writhing flesh as if I am a mortar to his pestle.

I arch my back.
Ohhhhh
. And as the
orgasm crashes through me, my mind explodes with it. White sparks
dance within the fevered cavern of my brain, sending paroxysms and
paroxysms of relentless pleasure through me, as if I am a conduit
of fiery tingles and explosive shudders.

I am such a molten smorgasbord of sensations
and delights that I almost fail to register the fact that he is
pulling his cock out of me.

He cries out. I open my eyes. His face is
contorted in ecstasy, a most beatific sight, and I feel a hot spurt
of fluid spatter the inside of my right thigh. He groans heavily as
his semen continues to mark me.

I am hot and sticky and sweaty, but I have
never felt so right in my life.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly once we both have
recovered. He rubs his sap into the flesh of my thigh.

“No, it was amazing.”

“You thought so?” He is pleased. A smile is
plastered on his flushed face.

“Yes, it was.” I stroke his cheek with the
palm of my hand. “Kiss me, Kurt.”

He obliges, and we descend into another long,
loving kiss.

KURT

I never thought making love to Rebecca would
affect me so profoundly, but it did. As we lie sleeping next to
each other by the fire, I gaze at her. OK, I am pretending to be
asleep, but she is soundly in dreamland. She has always snored
mildly, and I enjoy watching her pretty mouth open and close as her
eyeballs twitch beneath their lids in the rapid eye movement of
dreams.

Her red hair sprawls across the ground,
spilling over her crooked arm, which she uses as a pillow. I take a
tendril of this and finger it, careful not to wake her.

Something in my heart twists painfully.

I swallow and turn away. The feelings that
consume me are like a vortex, restlessly churning. I have never
felt this way about anyone before. Not even Adeline. I realize that
my relationship with Adeline now was a schoolboy crush compared to
this. Only I never understood it at the time.

What I have with Rebecca now is more adult –
as though we have both been through the hardships of real life and
surreal life, like what we are having now. And we have both made
the best of it up till now. It’s kind of like a relationship that
has survived through the most intense of circumstances, forged
through fire and starvation and steel.

Rebecca stops snoring and stirs in her sleep.
I hold my breath, not wanting to disturb her. I like watching her
sleep. There’s something very peaceful about her when she sleeps.
Her entire face goes into repose like a marble cherub on an
ornately decorated church ceiling. When she is awake, a
concentrated furrow comes to her forehead, and she always looks
extremely intense, as if she is hell bent on achieving something
significant before the year is up.

She murmurs something.

I think it’s an almost inaudible: “Kurt.”

I can’t help smiling. So she’s dreaming of me
too. I wonder what she’s dreaming of. Of having her legs entwined
around my waist, driving me further inside her? Or are her dreams
of me more pensive, like holding hands as we walk down the deserted
beach – knowing that a cruise ship awaits us a mile out, of
course?

Rebecca’s eyes flutter open.

Ooops. I have woken her somehow. Maybe it was
the dream ‘me’ who had woken her up and not the ‘me’ outside.

She smiles up at me, and her expression is so
full of love that my heart twinges with a pang.

“Happy dreams?” I ask.

“More than happy.”

She reaches out with her arms to me again,
and I go to them gladly. We kiss again, exploring each other’s
mouths. My cock stirs again, and within seconds, I am as hard as I
can be. Rebecca does that to me.

She gazes down at it and grins.

“Ready for another round?” I ask.

“Wait. I’ve wanted to do something to it from
the very first time I saw it.”

“You want to do something to my cock?” I
raise my eyebrows in mock horror. “I hope you’re not thinking of
hanging your newly laundered underwear on it.”

She giggles. Coming from her, it is such a
delightful, girlish sound. Rebecca sometimes acts too much older
for her age.

“No.” She flips me onto my back and makes
sure I am grounded. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

‘This’ involves the descent of her head onto
my cock. She takes the whole thing into her mouth, and I am in
bliss. Her sucking ability is just like everything she does –
intense. She swallows me almost whole, and I almost come in her
mouth then and there.

‘God,” I groan, “that is so good. If you
don’t want me to come in your mouth, you have to quit doing
that.”

She nibbles at my shaft and her tongue takes
a long, loving swipe around my crown. She comes up for air for a
moment and smiles at me slyly.

“Maybe I want you to come in my mouth.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I warn
her.

She swallows me again, and this time, she
stubs the tip of her tongue into my ultra-sensitive slit. That’s
it. She has done it. I climax violently. My balls contract and my
semen spurts out in a geyser deep into her throat.

Oh, oh, oh, oh!

“Fuck,” I say when I manage to catch my
breath.

She seems to relish the taste of my sperm,
and she swallows every drop of it, refusing to let my still hard
cock abate in her mouth. Soon, I feel my sap pouring from my balls
into my penis again, making it semi-turgid.

“I don’t believe it,” I say with a laugh,
“but I think I’m hard again.”

“Mmmmm.”

She continues to suck and lick my head and my
shaft, until my cock becomes rock solid for the third time in less
than eight hours. Only then does she pause to admire what she has
created.

I stare down at my saliva-slicked cock.

“What do you want to do with it, missy?” I
tease.

She smiles as she raises her hips and
straddles me. As my cock goes into her tight, sweet pussy, I allow
myself another groan of immense pleasure. I love the way her pussy
circles around my hot flesh like a vise, gripping it. Her vaginal
muscles knead me and stroke me and squeeze me into oblivion. I am
profoundly shaken by the pleasure she is giving me. But I must make
myself last until she is pleasured first.

It is difficult. Boy, you have no idea how
difficult. I have to rein in every ounce of strength in my body to
hold back that threshold . . . until I open my eyes and see her
pretty face convulse into a paroxysm of sheer bliss.

She arches her back and cries out – an
ululating sound in the stillness of the night. The cicadas stop
chirping to listen to our weird animal sounds.

“Get off,” I say in a ragged voice before I
can lose control. “Get off me.”

She lifts her hips. My cock slips out of her
pussy, and not a moment too soon. I climax again, shooting my sperm
upwards in impressive arcs. The whitish liquid lands on my stomach,
thighs and part of her breasts.

She collapses onto me, heaving. I hold her
until both our gasps subside and we are able to breathe normally
without hurting our sides.

I stroke her hair, and she entwines her
fingers with mine.

“That was so good,” she says.

“I know.”

“I can stay like this forever with you beside
me.”

I am tempted to say ‘Ditto’, but that’s not
really where I want to be.

“I’d rather we be on an inhabited beach
somewhere, with chilled pina coladas waiting for us on a side table
under an umbrella.”

“I know what you mean.” She sighs. She
fingers my navel. “Do you think we’ll ever get off this island? Or
are we doomed to grow old here and die?”

“We’ll get off eventually.” I sound more
confident than I feel. “Rebecca? I need to talk to you about
Adeline.”

She tenses against me. I can feel her
shoulder blades bunching and her jaw gritting against my body.

“It’s not what you think,” I say. “I need to
get this off my chest. I need to tell you why I left her . . . and
why she left me.”

Rebecca does not say anything, and so I plow
on.

“I was young. I wouldn’t say foolish. But I
knew what I wanted. As bad as this sounds, I have got to say it,
because it’s the truth. I left Adeline – a mutual parting decision
– because I didn’t want to be saddled with someone crippled . . .
someone I had to look after for the rest of my life . . . when I
didn’t even know what I wanted in
my
own life.”

I pause as I swallow, my mind churning. I was
selfish, yes. Regrettably.

And yet it was something I had to do.

“I was only her boyfriend. I wasn’t her
parents. I wasn’t a blood relative. I had the option to walk out of
the door. I could stay . . . and we’d hate each other for the rest
of our lives, or at least for a couple of years. Or I could walk.
It was my choice. A choice she gave me.

“And so I walked. I think she was hoping I’d
do the honorable thing and stay with her, and yet she didn’t want
me to. She was a mess. I was a mess. But things weren’t the same
between us anymore, and I couldn’t be the person everyone except my
mother wanted me to be and stick with her no matter what. Like I
said, I’m not proud of myself – the person I was back then.

“But what happened happened . . . and I don’t
regret what I’d done. If I hadn’t done what I did, then none of
what followed would have happened to me. I wouldn’t have realized
my dreams. Dreams I didn’t know I had.”

I halt again, well aware that I sounded
selfish and small. But that was the way it was. I can’t change the
past. I made a choice, and now I’m explaining myself. My motives
were extremely self-centered.

But what would any eighteen-year-old boy have
done in the same situation? What would you have done if you were in
my position?

I keep stroking Rebecca’s hair, the hair I
have always found so glorious. She has gone very still against my
body, and my anxiety mounts.

I pull in a sharp breath.

“Rebecca? Are you all right?”

She must hate me now. More than she has ever
hated me before. I have affirmed all her opinions of me. I am scum.
Every bit the dirt bag she had always reckoned I was.

Her shoulders start quaking, and I become
alarmed.

“Rebecca?”

I turn her to gaze at her face, and I am
surprised to see tears staining her cheeks.

“Rebecca?” I cry, anguished. “What’s wrong?
What did I do?”

She shakes her head. “It isn’t you. It’s me.
You were honest enough to tell me the truth.” Her breath is coming
out in sobs now. “I’ve been blaming you all my life because you
were a convenient scapegoat. But in truth, I was finding excuses
not to see her too . . . because I couldn’t bear to see her like
that.”

“Rebecca.” I get up on my elbows to hold
her.

“I went to college, and when I came back
home, we had grown apart as well. And I was relieved. Some sort of
best friend I was . . . when my visits to her home were getting
less and less. And all because we couldn’t do the things we used to
do so much anymore. Things had changed, and I didn’t want to push
her wheelchair around all the time either.”

She is tumbling over her words, swallowing
half of them. She is so upset.

“So it’s not just you, Kurt. It’s me too. And
I took out my anger at myself on you, because you walked first. And
I was going through the motions. I am such a terrible, terrible
person for feeling the way I do, and I’m not surprised that God
decided to punish the two of us now by stranding us on this island.
It’s our Purgatory, I tell you. We are being punished.”

I let her cry into my shoulder and my hair. I
completely understand her guilt. I feel it every single day of my
life too.

“I know,” I keep saying. “I know what it’s
like. We can’t turn anything back. It’s not our fault it happened
to her. But we have to go on. We have to survive this.”

Our catharsis out in the open, we hold each
other long into the night until the fire dies down in flickering
flames and the darkness drowns out our shame.

KURT

We have to go on, we decide, and so we pack
up the dead guy’s things and trek up the contour of the coast. I
can’t even call it a beach anymore because there is no sand, merely
rocky ground that plunges steeply into the sea.

We make love often, sometimes three times a
day during our rest stops. We figured that if we were going to die
out here, we might as well make the most of our time.

Then on the fifth day during our sojourn out,
we hear the sounds of the motorboat.

A motorboat!

I know. We have been attuned to ‘not’ hear it
for so long that when we actually hear it, it’s as if we don’t
really believe we are hearing it.

Rebecca turns to me in amazement.

“Am I dreaming this?”

“No.” I rush to the shore, or at least, the
edge of the high ground that overlooks the sea.

The motorboat is there all right, combing the
island from where we stand.

“Hail it!” Rebecca is so excited that she
almost loses her footing and slides off the ground.

“Wait,” I caution. “It could be the people
who murdered the man. Don’t forget he hasn’t been dead for
long.”

I can’t forget the face of the dead guy. In
my inexpert opinion, he could only have been dead for a couple of
weeks, judging from his state of decomposition – which I won’t go
into detail here.

“Right,” Rebecca breathes. “But it might
not
be the killers, and it might be the only chance we have
of getting out of here.”

I am thinking furiously. But a motorboat
means that we can’t be very far away from human habitation.
Motorboats are not exactly designed for going long distances from
shore. This means we are very near civilization.