Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance Savannah Rose (readnow TXT) 📖

Sofia thrust the knife directly in between my legs, into the sand.

“Hah-hah,” she winked. “Gotcha.”

I started breathing again. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath this entire time. I wanted to take in more air, but the gag didn't allow for such. It tasted of sea salt, there was sand in it, and it stank with the smell of my own saliva. I struggled to swallow over the grit in my throat. It was as if I'd been eating nail files all night.

“Tell ya what,” Sofia said, tapping the tip of the knife against her nose. “I've got something for you, okay? Something I'm sure you're going to like.”

She crawled over to a cache of camping equipment.

Where did she get all that stuff?

What the hell?

I watched her rummage through it, a sea green canvas bag with the word “Insatiable” embroidered on its side. Oh. Oh, okay. It was an emergency kit, in case of shipwreck, break glass. The boys at Atlantic Charter certainly thought of everything. Everything except a functioning GPS system in their god damn dinghy.

Sofia found what she was looking for and I had no idea what it was. She pulled out a cylindrical tube about the size of a paper towel roll, with plastic tubing attached to it. A straw, I think.

She took the straw from the cylinder and stuck it into a half-full bottle of Arrowhead. Then made her way back to me, on her knees, holding the bottle with one hand and her fucking boa knife in the other.

“Here we go,” she sang, put the tip of the knife on the top of my gag, and brought it down just enough to expose my lips. She aimed the straw at my mouth.

The sneer came back to her expression – this time with what I could only describe as lunatic happiness.

“Suck it,” she said.

“You th–” I started to say, but the words wouldn't come out. My voice was stuck somewhere in my larynx. It couldn't make it up and over the cotton field my throat had become. I wanted to tell her – you think you’re so cute. And you are cute, Sofee. Just not very smart. I know what you’re trying to do. And I’ve got something you can suck on.

“Not thirsty?” Sofia asked, cocking her head to the side. She wrapped her lips around the straw, slowly, and took a dainty sip.

I watched the water – the cool, wonderful water – travel up the straw and into her mouth.

She watched me watching. Swallowed. Took the straw away, and waved it at me.

“It's really good,” she continued. “So, so wet. You like it wet, don't you?”

I could try to best her, make her believe I didn't want it. What would that prove, though? Succumbing to massive dehydration wouldn't get me out of here. Well, it would, but in a body bag. I saw myself laid out on a Coast Guard stretcher, and the zipper sealing me safely inside. My lips were blue, drawn back. I was sure I looked a heck of a lot like a corpse right now. I shook the image away, and opened my mouth.

Sofia set the straw on my tongue.

“...suck it...” she whispered.

As I drank, as the life giving liquid trickled down my throat, she kept whispering. Kept telling me to suck it. Suck it deep. Suck it hard. Suck it all the way down, which I did, until the bottle was empty. Not because she was telling me to. I was drinking because I wanted to.

She set the straw and bottle aside, rose up on her knees, and began to reinsert the gag.

I threw my head to the side. I didn't want that back in my mouth. It was dirty, and disgusting, full of sand and bugs.

“What's the matter?” she asked, gripping the rag with both hands and jamming it in between my teeth. It tasted and smelled twice as awful as before, and as she tightened its knot behind my head, she straddled me, her knees on either side of my hips.

“I thought you liked stuff like this.”

I glared at her. She needed to knock this shit off. I wasn't a plaything. Nobody, allow me to reiterate, nobody fucked with me like this. The loca señorita was really, really pushing her limits. And as we were going to be stuck here for God knew how long, keeping the stronger sex, the more powerful sex, locked to a god damn palm tree was a stupid fucking move to make.

She eased herself down on my pelvis and brought her hands to her shirt – my shirt, god damn it – and began unbuttoning it, smiling as she did so.

“Yeah, Maddy likes the dirty stuff. The naughty stuff. He's a bad, bad man.” She undid the rest of the clasps, and spread the shirt open. Just enough to reveal the cusps of her breasts. “He likes these, too” she said. “Maybe a little too much.”

She pulled the shirt down from her shoulders, cupped her breasts, and leaned forward.

I had no idea what she was doing, what she had in mind. All I knew was throughout this entire ordeal – the shock of the crash, the absurd reality of being marooned on a deserted island with a crazy woman, the dehydration, hunger, all those factors – did nothing to sway my carnal desire. The twitch I felt below my waist surprised even me.

“That,” she said. “Is like a super power.” She lifted her hips slightly away from mine, giving me an even better view of her expansive, and God save me, beautiful chest. “You're a mutant, aren't you, Maddy?”

Stop calling me 'Maddy', I thought, looking at nothing else but her toned, naturally brown skin. Her nipples were softly erect… between her fingers. They grew harder at her touch, my groin doing the same. Her fingertips brushed their pink tips.

“They're so pretty, don't you think?”

A slight, gravelly moan escaped me. Her crotch