The Erotic Expeditions - Complete Collection (56 page)

“What are we doing?” Mel whispered at his side.

Though the thought of revenge ran briefly through his mind and an image of a pistol-whipped Seydou on the ground almost made him grin, Mel was with him. Seydou and possibly Jaston would be armed. He couldn’t risk a gunfight or putting Mel in danger.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”

“Seydou!” came Emile’s voice.

“Uh oh,” Mel said.

“
Run
,” Kirk said.

Kirk steered them both into the darkest shadows in the already dark street as they ran for the coast. Behind them, Emile’s voice screamed a word in Creole that could only mean help. Despite the dark of the night, Mel’s pink body suit stood out like a lantern.

“Stay in front of me!” Kirk said, taking hold of her arm. He pulled her forward and fell in behind her. “Head for the dinghy.” Although they were growing fainter, other voices joined Emile’s. They’d be coming soon. “Hurry!” said Kirk.
 

In under a minute, they’d sprinted the five hundred feet to the end of the town and then down the narrow path to the beach below. Mel still had the keys and Kirk didn’t know if Seydou had spares to release Emile but it didn’t matter. If it were him, he’d leave Emile and run for the beach. Especially if he knew what Kirk had in mind.

“There it is!” Mel said.

The orange rubber dinghy was beached on the sandy shore. Kirk’s deck shoes dug into the sand and he passed Mel, heading to the bow of the boat. He grabbed the tow rope as he passed and pulled. The dinghy bottom scraped behind him, turning around, as he tugged it to the water. Unfortunately, it was low tide. He felt Mel’s help as she pushed from behind. And then gravity began to help as they angled down to the waves. A gun shot rang out.
 

“Get in!” Kirk yelled behind him.

“But we’re–”

“
Get in!
” he screamed, as another shot rang out. His feet pounded into the water and the rope tugged in his hand. But as every muscle in his arm, back, hips, and legs screamed in protest, he leaned forward and hauled. The dinghy splashed into the waves. “Start the engine,” he yelled, tugging the dinghy past him. “And stay down!”

Apparently Mel had already thought of the engine. It flared to life immediately and he heard the props land in the water. The dinghy picked up speed.

“Kirk!” Mel yelled.

He dove at the midsection, hands first. Though he’d landed half-in, half-out, jackknifed over the round edge, he grabbed the middle seat with one hand, making sure not to lose the gun in the other.

“Go!” he yelled. “Full throttle!”

He looked back to the shore just as another shot was fired. It had come from the pathway on the cliffs. They hadn’t even reached the shore.

“Mel,” Kirk breathed as he pulled himself the rest of the way into the boat. “Are you okay?”

She was crouching in the boat bottom, behind the outboard motor, her hand on the till.

“Are
you
okay?” she said.

“
Good
,” he said. Then he became aware of a hissing sound. “But I think the boat was hit.” He checked in front of him. His boat lay at anchor, just past the pirate boat. “Head for their boat and pass it,” he said. “But don’t slow down.”
 

As he positioned himself, knees on the bottom of the dinghy, he felt a couple inches of water.

“Come on baby,” he muttered, as he aimed the pistol. “Stay afloat.”

He aimed at the water line and, as they came astern, he fired. One shot after another hit the hull and, though he’d been high to begin with, the last four shots had definitely hit just below water. Kirk didn’t know how many rounds were in the clip but he emptied it into the hull. There’d been at least another ten shots. Then he tossed the gun into the ocean. Gurgling bubbles erupted from the pirate boat below the waterline.

There’d been no more activity from shore. At this distance, they had to be out of range. Mel was still crouched down though and he did the same.

“The motor can’t keep up!” she yelled.

Kirk’s boat was still about twenty yards away.

“Go as far as you can!” he yelled.

The dinghy had taken on nearly half a foot of water. The bullet must have passed through in more than one spot or maybe more than one bullet had landed. The inflatable was also starting to lose rigidity. Kirk looked back to his boat.

Ten more yards.

“Don’t kill the engine yet,” he yelled.

“We’re gonna ram the diving deck,” Mel yelled back.

“No we won’t,” he yelled.

Though the rubber gave way easily under his weight, Kirk got off his knees and put his feet down. The water was up to his shins.
 

Two more yards.

“Cut the engine!” he yelled.
 

As the motor abruptly died, the dinghy began to collapse. Kirk leaned forward, still moving toward the deck, as the inflatable sank around him. As the water reached his waist, his hands landed on the ladder rails.

“Got it!” he yelled, and hauled himself up.

“Give me your hand,” he said as he turned on the ladder.
 

As he spun, Mel stretched out her hand but suddenly seemed to be moving away from him. Water swirled around her waist like a funnel and Kirk realized that the motor was dragging down the back of the dinghy, and sucking Mel in with it.
 

“No you don’t!” he yelled, as he lunged for her, falling into the water himself, but grasping the ladder by the lowest rung. As his head submerged, he felt her hand in his and pulled. To his relief, there was no resistance, other than her weight, which he easily pulled up beside him. In the next moment, they were both holding on to the ladder, heads above water, breathing hard.

“You okay?” he panted.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Good,” he said. “Time to go.”

He quickly climbed the ladder and turned to help Mel. As though they’d come up from a dive, they plodded wetly onto the deck.

“The anchor,” he said as he climbed the stairs to the helm.

As he’d seen them do every day, they’d left the key in the ignition. Apparently pirates didn’t fear attacks from other pirates. Not that it would have mattered. He’d never told them about his safety key. He heard the winch for the anchor and then the roar of the engines drowned it out. As the boat began to move, he took a moment to glance back at the shore. It was completely black. Not a boat light, flashlight, or anything else was visible, as though it were uninhabited.

Kirk checked the gauges. Fuel was down about forty percent. There was plenty to get back to Jamaica though they’d be making one stop before that.
 

He flicked on the power button on the single side band radio. Authorities in Guantanamo would want to know about the criminals occupying U.S. territory, albeit a tiny island. Then he needed to contact Flo. He’d call in every favor and connection to get supplies, gear, and divers delivered but there was no way he’d leave the wreck abandoned.

He felt Mel beside him as he eased the throttle higher.

“The wreck?” she asked, putting her arm around his waist.

“Is there any doubt?” he replied, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

When Mel came back into the control room after dropping anchor, Kirk was walking through a touch-screen menu on the radar.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

He smiled a little, his face awash in the green glow but he kept pressing buttons on the screen.

“I’m making sure that we’ll hear an alarm if a boat is on a collision course,” he said. “I won’t be caught off guard like that again.” He punched the last few buttons and a small red LED began to pulse on the dash. “Okay,” he said. “That’s it.”
 

Then he doused the external lights on the boat and in the control room.

The only light remaining was that of a three-quarter moon. She was a moment letting her eyes adjust as Kirk turned to her. Though his face was in shadow, his hands quickly found her waist.
 

“Kidnapped, black magic, and the bends,” he said lowly. “Never let it be said that I don’t know how to show a girl a good time.” Though the words might have been humorous, Kirk’s voice was tense.

“Kirk, I–”

Suddenly, his lips were on hers.
 

Her tiny cry of surprise was quickly muffled as Kirk’s mouth immediately enveloped hers. Then, just as quickly, he released her lips and put his forehead to hers.

“Never again,” he whispered hoarsely and then he captured her lips again, pressing into them, kneading them with a hungry urgency. His fingers tightened around her waist.
 

But just as she began to kiss him back, he stopped again.

“I can’t have you be in danger,” he said. “Do you understand?”

The urgency in his voice bordered on anger.

“Yes,” she gasped. “I do. I–”

He kissed her savagely then, hard and long. His mouth engulfed hers, as though he fed from it, tilting his head one way and then the other. Their lips merged and then parted and then merged again.

As his flood of passion mounted and swept over her, Mel’s heart jumped into her throat. It was like a flood gate opening as the pent-up emotion of everything that had happened to them was released all at once.

Her arms finally wound around his neck and he inhaled deeply, almost taking the oxygen from her lungs. His hands quickly slid up her back, then around her sides, and then down her buttocks, searching, massaging and pressing their bodies even closer. His lips worked just as fast, constantly moving, demanding that hers respond but then moving on before she could. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, then her upper, and then his tongue pressed inward. Though she opened her mouth to him, his tongue was gone, and suddenly he nibbled at her jaw.

She sucked in a breath at the sudden sensation of his moist breath on her, his soft lips gnawing at her skin. Then his mouth covered hers again.
 

As though a tidal wave swirled over her head, her heart began to hammer and she fought for breath. And then, as she clung to his neck, his hands moved to the front of her abdomen and slowly began to slide up. Each thumb dipped into her belly button and the warmth of his hands slowly rode up onto her ribs. Over her rib cage, his hands pressed higher, as his tongue pushed between her lips. Finally his palms were under her breasts and his tongue speared into her but then he paused.
 

Her body tensed in anticipation, her nipples already aching for his touch.
 

Then, as he deepened the kiss, his fingers slowly closed. As if she could urge him on, her hips tilted up to his and she hugged his neck even harder. Her lips clamped his tongue as the heat of his closing hands began to build. Her nipples pulsed with the pounding of her heart and, at last, he squeezed her breasts.

Though his tongue still thrust into her, a groan was wrenched from her throat. Her nipples tightened and pushed hard against her suit, swollen and rubbing, already rigid with desire.

But Kirk’s touch was gentle–too gentle. She wanted to tell him, say something, do something that would let him know but her body was no longer hers to control. She convulsed in a long shudder and her hips began to pulse into him.

Kirk took her by the hand as her eyes fluttered open.

“I need you out of that suit,” he said, thickly, and then he led her down below.

• • • • •

As Kirk led her into his stateroom, he punched a small cabin light on with his thumb. The toggle switch cracked. Fueled by a brush with death, the elation of escape, and the feel of Mel’s body, he was awash in adrenalin. And though he recognized the rush, it made no difference.

With a single sweep of his arm, he shoved everything off the bed. The pirates had tossed the room, probably looking for more treasure. That didn’t matter. Behind him, he heard Mel unzip her suit. Though his arousal had begun the moment he’d held her, it pulsed as though it had heard the zipper as well.

As he turned back, he watched as she peeled the pink lycra off her shoulders and arms. He unzipped his suit as she peeled hers quickly down her body. He freed his arms and tugged the fabric down to his waist as she pulled her long legs free of hers. No sooner had her pink suit landed on the floor, than his landed on top of it.
 

“I wanted you from the moment I saw you on the sidewalk,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her and spun her back toward the bed. “Before I even knew who you were.”

A puzzled expression flitted across her face and then a smile began.

“But now,” he said, as he walked her backward.
 

The back of her thighs pressed against the mattress.

“Now?” she breathed.

He stared down at her plump, pink lips and then the beautifully formed roundness of her breasts. Her sinuous torso, with its long clean lines, led to a perfectly flat tummy. Her diaphragm curved in and out with the rhythm of her heavy breaths.

“Tonight’s the night,” he said, as he leaned in.

His arms clamped tightly around her slim waist as he captured a stiff nipple in his mouth. Mel’s back arched as she inhaled sharply. Though her breast tried to tug away, Kirk sucked hard. Like a swollen, ripe plum, his mouth devoured it. His teeth grazed her, his lips gnawed her, and his tongue lapped at her sea-salt taste. He swirled his tongue around the stiff bud, brushing across it. Then he quickly flicked his tongue at it. Mel gasped, a harsh and raspy breath, but suddenly it caught in her throat as his tongue lashed into the hardness. Her body jerked and his arousal pulsed. He lashed into the tortured peak again and, again, she jerked.

Without warning, he bit her with his lips, tilted his head, and felt the soft flesh in his mouth twist.

“Yes,” Mel whimpered, as her hands landed on the mattress behind her. Her head rolled back and her back arched even farther. “
Yes
.”

He sucked furiously, tugging her taut, clamping the soft flesh tight with his lips as her lungs heaved. His tongue pressed down on the rigid nub, pushing it, and then he sucked furiously again.