Home > Royally Crushed(38)

Royally Crushed(38)
Author: Melanie Summers

“I’m okay with that, Will,” she says with a grin that I have to say looks enticingly naughty. “I came out here looking for adventure. Believe me when I say, I want to try it all.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it would be disrespectful of me not to … get in and let you try it all.”

It takes me all of two seconds to strip down and jump in. Arabella covers her mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh at my overly enthusiastic entry. I stay a few feet away from her, treading water, waiting for her to make the next move.

She swims over to the rock and lifts some soap out of the container, then swims back to me. “What can’t you reach?”

“Anything. I’m so buff, I have no flexibility anymore.”

“Tragic really,” she says, rubbing the soap shavings over my skin, starting with my shoulders and down my arms. Her touch stirs something inside me I’ve never felt before and a desperation to have her takes over every thought. She smiles as she moves her hands over my chest and abs until the soap has dissolved. “I’ll go get some more.”

I reach around behind her and pull her to me, unable to stand the torture of not holding her for even a second longer. She looks up, her expression filled with lust as she wraps her arms around my neck and presses herself against me. She brushes her lips against mine, and oh, do those ever feel soft and perfect. Closing her eyes, she does it again, and I respond with a gentle kiss, slow and cautious to make sure it’s what she wants.

I move my hands down to her waist and pull her closer, then let my lips hover over hers. “You are just so damn gorgeous.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“No, but I mean, you are stunning. Just like this. With no makeup and wet hair. Just you.”

“You’re the only person who will ever see me like this.”

“In that case, I’ll have to burn the memory of you into my brain on behalf of everyone who doesn’t get to see this for themselves.” I nip at her bottom lip with my teeth, then kiss her again, gripping her hips with both hands.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and I let my hands slide around to her bottom to hold her up. Oh, we are so doing this …

 

 

Wow, so lagoon sex turned into up-against-a-tree-in-the-rain-on-the-way-back-to-camp sex, which lead to tent sex, and now we’ve just finished by-the-fire sex (which got started when we were waiting for some water to boil). And now, we’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, panting and recovering while the rain falls.

“That was … quite nice,” Arabella says.

“Oh, quite nice, was it? Like a mincemeat tart or a Christmas card from an elderly auntie.”

“Well, not that nice. But lovely, all the same,” she says with a wicked grin.

I lift my head off the ground and narrow my eyes at her. “So, how loud do you scream when you open your Christmas cards?”

“Much, much louder.” Arabella laughs, tucking her face into my chest.

I laugh, then say, “In that case, I should scarf down a few bananas. I’ll need my potassium if I’m going to truly satisfy you.”

“Yes, you will,” she answers, giving me a lingering kiss that wakes me up out of my post-sex haze.

I lay my head back down and snuggle her close to me, caressing the length of her arm with my fingertips.

“I want to stay here forever,” she whispers, closing her eyes.

“Me too,” I say, kissing her on the forehead and inhaling the scent of her skin.

“I know we can’t, but maybe … could we stay for a few days?” she asks, and there’s something so vulnerable about her voice I can’t bring myself to say no, but I know I can’t say yes either.

“I know we can’t stay long,” she says. “And I’d never want to cost you your chance at getting your brother’s boat back. I was just thinking maybe because we made up some time using the raft, we could give ourselves this little break from the world.”

I prop my head up on one arm and look into her impossibly blue eyes. “Is that what you need, Arabella?”

She nods. “Desperately.”

My brain tells me to say no, but my mouth ignores it. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

 

 

21

 

 

Deliciously Scandalous Outdoor Nude Activities

 

 

Arabella – Three Days Later


I pray for rain before I open my eyes. More rain means more sexy sex with the sexiest sex god of all of Sexlandia. That’s what I’ve secretly named this entire area of the jungle. Sexlandia. A fitting name for it because between us and those dirty bonobos on the other side of the river, there’s a whole lot of fooling around happening day and night. It stopped raining yesterday morning, and when Will suggested that the smart thing to do would be to get back on the river, I talked him into staying for one more day. Well, I didn’t so much as talk him into it, but rather showed him several fun reasons to put off leaving. After a quick look at the map and some calculations, he decided we could risk another day and still make it back in time.

Speaking of time, the first time we you-know-what in the lagoon was a-MAZ-ing with a capital amazing. Like mind-blowingly wonderful, multi-orgasmic, wet and wild and free. There’s something about being in the great outdoors that really heightened the experience for me. Or maybe it’s him and his huge … personality and the way he touches me. It’s like he’s gentle and generous and in control the whole time. He’s like a competitive sexlete (which is similar to an athlete or a mathlete, but for sex, obviously). He makes sure I ‘enjoy’ myself at least twice for every one time he has a happy ending. Before Will, I could add up the number of orgasms I’d had with a partner on one hand. But in four days of Wild World sex, I’ve had … well, I’ve lost count already. I honestly don’t know where this is going, but I do know I’m desperate for more. I want us to forget the show all together and just … live right here eating berries and fish and having sex morning, noon, and night.

Although I suppose that’s not an option because they’ll come looking for us. But what if they couldn’t find us? Hmmm … the jungle is a very big place. Maybe the bonobos would accept us into their clan and help us hide out for the next several years.

Okay, even the fact that I’m thinking that is bad. Really very bad indeed, because we definitely should not be doing this. I mean, there is literally no future for the two of us. Out in the real world, we have basically nothing in common. Whereas out here, we connect on such a primal level. We’re like two ultra-horny chimps just doing it everywhere we can.

Maybe, as a society, we've got it all wrong. Maybe this is what life is supposed to be like—just two people foraging for food, building shelter, and enjoying each other. No thinking about status or money or any other type of obligations of any sort. No letting anybody else decide who you are or what you should do with your days. We wake up and eat and talk and talk and talk and have sex and swim in that beautiful lagoon. Then we eat some more, and have more sex, have a little campfire and we laugh and tell each other everything and have more sex and it's all so amazing.

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