What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [93]
And then—hell, he knew he shouldn’t do it, shouldn’t respond at all, but she had opened herself to him, so much, so completely. She’d put herself out there in a way that . . . well, it had to be scary for her, and he was so enormously proud of her for pushing her fears aside time after time. So he sent her a simple text message:
Thank U, baby
I just came with U
Goodnight
But this had to be the end of the personal stuff between them. It had to.
You Are Invited to a Fantasy
Where: Castaway Beach (map included)
When: Today, 4:00 p.m.—but the year is 1715.
You are the only survivor of a shipwreck and are stranded on a desert island.
Fortunately, a trunk of clothing has washed up on the beach with you,
and you’ve found ample fruit to eat.
Rescue is imminent—if you are agreeable.
Ultimate pleasure and freedom will soon be at hand
for a woman bold enough to accept the price.
(Your safeword is Cleopatra.)
Jenna sat on the isolated beach at the far end of the island, her pussy humming with anticipation. Wearing the emerald green colonial-style dress she’d found in the trunk, she pulled up the skirt to keep from getting too hot, then glanced back down at the invitation she’d received earlier. She wasn’t exactly sure what would happen here, but she was already entranced. This was the first fantasy she’d faced without fear—only excitement. The eighteenth-century was one of her favorite time periods, and she was particularly immersed in the era right now—back in real life—while she penned her pirate anthology. Had Brent planned something piratical for her? She didn’t know—but couldn’t wait to find out.
And she also just plain couldn’t wait to see him. For hours last night she’d worried he wasn’t going to respond to her naughty video and she’d even begun to regret how audacious she’d been. But then her phone had finally rung, and she’d gotten that delicious text that had made her hot and wet all over again.
She really felt a bit like a colonial castaway in her fancy frock. Although no underwear other than a corset had been provided, she was well able to imagine that if she were shipwrecked, she’d quickly abandon most of the heavy undergarments of the period anyway. The antique-looking corset shoved her breasts upward, but didn’t cover them, leaving deep cleavage atop the dress’s low-cut bodice. Trimmed in white lace, the dress wasn’t completely accurate for the time, but close enough, with a black ribbon crisscrossing down the front. Buttons spanned the back seam of the dress and she’d been unable to do them all the way up, but the dress still held together well enough, albeit loosely at the shoulders. Narrow sleeves extended just past her elbows, from which several inches of white lace drooped prettily.
It felt odd but somehow exotic to be wearing such a formal gown while barefoot, digging her toes into the sand. Sitting in the shade of a large banyan tree, she reached for a banana from the pile of fruit next to the trunk, also containing plums, mangoes, and oranges, along with a knife—which made her grin, wondering if she’d also been so fortunate to have that wash up onto shore with her. Her convenient shipwreck luck had also provided an open, corked bottle of wine, so she washed down her banana with it.
It was as she took a last sip that she glanced up to see the most amazing vision—a dark wooden pirate ship had just come into view in the distance, complete with the Jolly Roger flying high! The sight sent chills skittering up her arms and down her spine—this suddenly felt much more real, as if she’d truly stepped back in time.
As the pirate ship slowly neared the shore, her heartbeat kicked up—she wasn’t sure if it was due to seeing pirates or . . . seeing Brent. Not being with him—really being with him—for two days had felt like an eternity. Even if last night had helped. She bit her lip, remembering his message and picturing him getting himself off while watching her. The emotions that had rushed