Authors: Cheyenne McCray
Tags: #Romance, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Contemporary, #General, #Adult
Castaways - Cheyenne McCray
Sexual Content: Rated E-rotic
Genre : BDSM
Book Length: .Category
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Castaways
ISBN # 1-4199-0401-9
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Castaways Copyright© 2005 Cheyenne McCray
Edited by Heather Osborn.
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book Publication: October 2005
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers.
Castaways
has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (Sensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.
X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike Erated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
Castaways
Cheyenne McCray
To Mackenzie McKade.
I will always treasure our friendship.
Author’s Note
Castaways incorporates only elements of Domination/submission and BDSM. It is not intended to accurately portray a true BDSM or Dom/sub relationship. In the spirit of sexual fantasy, Castaways is also pure fantasy when it comes to sex. In real life, keep it real and practice safe sex. We’ll keep the fantasies wickedly fun.
The damn things made her look like a bug.
Katie Davis pushed the borrowed, oversized, god-awful sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.
Since she’d forgotten her own, her niece had loaned them to her before they set sail. Somehow Lisa managed to look cute in the damn things, but not Katie.
Her frown deepened as she thought about her niece. Maybe Katie shouldn’t have left Lisa after what had happened. But Lisa had her husband and baby…she’d be all right. Like Katie, Lisa would never fully get over the tragedy, but her niece had a loving spouse and her daughter meant the world to her.
Katie raised the sunglasses slightly with one hand, but the brilliant light reflecting from the crystal waters was too bright for her eyes—even with what looked like a huge storm brewing on the not-too-distant horizon.
With a grimace she lowered the glasses back to rest on the bridge of her petite nose, then braced her arms on the railing of the yacht’s bow. Other passengers drifted around the ship, but Katie intended to keep to herself. This was her trip. All her own. A time for healing.
Yes. She could do this.
Her bravado slipped and she started to tremble. What was she doing? She was scared to death of open water, she couldn’t swim and she was terrified of storms. If it weren’t for her friend Jenise and the refuge she promised, Katie wouldn’t even be here. It had taken everything she had to board the boat. Even though it felt like she had none, she had to have some strength left inside her, didn’t she?
Ahead the storm clouds seemed to be growing larger and larger, making her heart pound harder and harder. The owner of the yacht had promised her that the weather would remain fairly clear, long enough for them to reach the private island and resort in the Bahamas that Jenise owned.
When Katie had asked her friend why she’d named the resort The Playground, Jenise had simply said it would be a terrific place for Katie to rejuvenate and to let go.
To get away from everything that was behind her.
Behind…behind…behind…
Behind her, Katie heard the ever-present chug of the motor, the sound of the boat slicing through the waters and the chatter of other passengers.
Behind her was Florida, and even farther back was Iowa, where she’d been an accountant for the past thirteen years, until she’d been let go only last week.
Behind her—far, far, behind her—was Charles Johansen. The bastard who’d taken her in with his charm, his attention. The man who had emotionally abused her. And when she’d left him, he’d turned to stalking her.
No, he hadn’t tried to kill her, and because he was an “upstanding citizen” in their small town, who happened to be a close friend of the judge, she hadn’t been able to get a restraining order against him. But Charles Johansen had haunted her every step. He had discovered what her new phone number was every time she changed it, and he’d called all hours of the day and night.
He’d show up at her house, knock at her doors, yell at her how much he loved her and that she needed to come back to him. He wouldn’t leave until she’d notify the police. Worse yet, he’d show up at her work, bringing her candy and flowers, his loud voice booming throughout the room so that no one could get any of their work done. She’d had to call the cops to get him removed from the premises time after time. He’d been the reason she’d lost her job.
But worse, much, much worse…
Behind her…she’d lost three of the most important people in her life.
Oh, God.
Mother. Father. Julie.
Katie’s trembling increased. It was just too, too much. She’d always been a strong woman, but there was only so much one person could handle. She pinched the bridge of her nose beneath the sunglasses and fought back angry tears. She could take being laid off, being stalked, but the one thing she couldn’t endure was that her mom, dad and sister had been killed in an automobile accident two months ago.
They were gone.
Gone.
She couldn’t get the images out of her mind of the accident that had taken her family. They’d been on their way to Katie’s house for dinner for her dad’s birthday. Right now she couldn’t remember what she’d fixed. But for some reason she could picture the cake with its thick chocolate frosting—Dad had loved chocolate cake. Across it in white icing had been written
Happy Birthday Dad.
But they didn’t come and they didn’t come. It kept getting later and later and later.
Katie dialed her sister’s cell phone, but all she’d gotten was Julie’s cheerful message. Katie had tried her mom’s cell, then her dad’s. No one had answered, which was completely strange because at least one of them always had their cell phone on. How could all three be off?
Heart pounding and the coppery taste of fear in her mouth, Katie had shrugged into her jacket and slipped into the cool March night. The wind had blown hard and she’d shivered—but it had been more than the chill air. It had been a terrible sense of foreboding.
She got into her car and took the way her parents normally drove to come to her house. The only way, really. Her heart started to race faster as she saw something that looked like flashing lights just over the rise. Yellow, red, blue, white. And sirens. She heard sirens. Traffic was at a complete stop, a line of cars in front of her that wasn’t budging even a fraction of an inch.
Blood had rushed in Katie’s ears. She abandoned her car, just left it running in the line of cars, and ran the rest of the way up the hill.
She crested the rise, and then her heart had come to a complete stop.
At least ten police cars, two fire trucks and four ambulances had been surrounding the scene.
Flares were lit everywhere.
There’d been a huge accident, a pileup of at least four vehicles. And at the very bottom of the tangle of metal had been a white sedan, smashed so flat it was nearly unrecognizable. But the insignia on the door told her exactly what car it was. It was her father’s company car. He’d owned his own business and he’d been driving the car that night.
It had all been so surreal. She’d screamed. She didn’t know how she was heard over the sirens, but a police officer had looked directly at her. She ran down toward the pileup, screaming and screaming, tears pouring down her face. Before she reached the car the police officer had caught her by the shoulders. She hadn’t been able to hear a word he said. All she could hear was her own voice screaming, “My mom and dad, my sister—they’re in that car. I’ve got to get to them.” She’d fought to get to them, to help Julie and her parents. It had taken two police officers to hold her down while an EMT sedated her.
The next morning she’d woken to learn that they were dead.
And now she was on a boat, heading away from a life that had devastated her emotionally and physically.
Maybe she should be moving on, but felt like the world was crushing down on her and there was no escape.
Katie’s head ached so badly that for a moment her mind went blank, and she couldn’t even think.
She let herself slip, imagining she was someone else, someone whose entire life hadn’t been shattered beyond recognition.
* * * * *
It was a good hour after the boat set sail, and the storm was worsening. Katie clung to the railing, having forced herself to remain above board. Downstairs in the cabin it was only worse, like the walls were closing in. She’d begun to feel claustrophobic, and needed to be outside. At least up here she didn’t feel like throwing up with every toss of the waves.
A movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and she turned her head just enough to see that she was being watched. Her cheeks heated at the sight of the gorgeous man looking at her. No, he more than made her face hot. Just looking at him actually pushed away thoughts of the storm, made her entire body flush with fire.
She sized him up with a quick sweep of her eyes, still hidden behind those buggy sunglasses.
The man had one shoulder hitched against the cabin as he looked her way, his arms folded across his broad chest. At least six-two, he had black hair that ruffled in the strong breeze, tanned features with a cleft chin and a strong jawline, and a body that would make a woman drop to her knees and thank God for his creation. A short-sleeved blue t-shirt clung to his muscular chest and his faded jeans molded to his athletic thighs.
From behind his dark sunglasses, even though she couldn’t see his eyes, his obvious stare gave off heat. Her body flushed again, this time with embarrassment at being caught watching him so blatantly.
Before she turned away, another man came up behind the first, and
Oh, yes
. Now she was drooling over the two of them.
Who knew it would be so easy to forget a storm? She wasn’t even sure she was seasick anymore.
The second man had eyes so sinfully dark they made her stomach clench. His skin was the color of black silk and his body was to die for—definite bodybuilder material with all those sculpted muscles. He was soooo sexy, his bald head gleaming in what light made it through the clouds.
Katie forced her eyes back to the aquamarine water and the dark skyline ahead, but still felt the fire of both men’s gazes. The way she was dressed, she didn’t know why they were looking at her anyway. Maybe they wondered who the plain Jane was. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a tight and very unflattering ponytail, a loose shirt with pirate sleeves covered her full curves, a pair of baggy capris and chunky sandals—and don’t forget those horrid sunglasses.
Katie gave an involuntary grimace. She hadn’t wanted to attract attention of any kind. This was her voyage of escape. Escape from everything.
Everything.
The corner of Den Johansen’s mouth tipped up into a smile as the frumpy-looking woman turned her gaze away from him. She’d caught him checking her out, and he’d watched her do the same to him.
Hell if he knew why he found her fascinating. Her face was hidden behind the biggest, ugliest sunglasses he’d ever seen. He couldn’t see much of her beneath those baggy clothes, but her ankles—damn, the woman had the sexiest ankles he’d ever seen.
For one hot moment he visualized stripping her out of those clothes until her body was naked beneath his, slick skin against skin, and those ankles up around his neck—
“Not much of a looker.” Mike came up beside Den, jolting him from his fantasy. “But I bet we could have a little fun with her when we arrive at The Playground,” he added in his strong English accent. “A born submissive, that one.”
Den turned his gaze on his friend. “
That one’s
mine.” Den didn’t know where the hell that had come from, but he knew he had to have the woman.
Mike stuck his hands in his front pockets and gave a quick grin, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “If you say so, mate.”
Den merely grunted. He and Mike had shared women before at The Playground, but he wasn’t sure about this one.
And he had no doubt that one way or another, he
would
have her once they arrived at the island resort.
He turned his attention to the oncoming storm. Looked like they were in for a good blow.
Thomas, the owner of the yacht, had better get them to an island fast, or there was no telling what the power of nature could do to the damned boat.