Page 49 of The Champion
The boat jolted forward and then slammed to a stopthrowing us against the seats.
“What if it’s Moby Dick? Or another shark?” I asked shylycovering the funbags that were still playing in the rain.
“It’s not...MobyDick. And let me tell you something,” he glared. “if it’s a shark, I’m feedingyou to him.” He moved me off him and peeked over the side of the boat. “It’sshore!”
The relief I felt was hard to describe. I wondered ifthat was how the pilgrims felt when they made it to North America. I resistedthe urge to say “Land-ho!” If that’s what they said.
I should have paid better attention in history class andthen maybe I’d know the correct terms.
“Really?” I peeked over the edge as well to make sure hewasn’t joking. I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up. I was already picturing thisturning into the movieCast Awayand having to make my water bottle myown personalWilson.
“Yes really.” Jameson said. “Get your ass out. I’m donewith this fucking rain and this boat.”
I slapped his wet shoulder. The sound echoed throughoutthe boat.
Walking forward, his jeans clung to him but I was moredistracted with the fact that he had no shirt on and the water gliding off hischest was creating a waterfall effect over his abdominal muscles.
With the breaks in the clouds, the moonlight reflectedoff the white sand glowing against his skin.
“Stop gawking at me and get out of the boat.” He clippedsmacking my wet ass as he helped me out. “With our luck, this thing will carry usto China.”
I stopped, my feet sinking into the warm wet sand.
“Where the hell were you in history class? China is onthe other side of the world.”
It’s not like you’re any better dumb-shit. Youcouldn’t figure out what they said when they discovered land.
“No it’s not...”without looking back at me he kept walking toward the trees. “It’s that way.”He pointed at the ocean behind us.
“No...it’s not.That’s Africa.”
Jameson stopped suddenly and spun around to face me, his breathtickling my damp neck. He leaned forward, his lips gliding across my jaw.
“Stop arguing with me, wife.” His hands moved to pick meup bridal style. “I’m soaking wet, I’mextremelyhorny, and the lastthing I want to be doing right now is arguing about Moby Dick or where the fuckChina is at or talk about whatisorisn’ta fucking scratch. Iwant to have sex with my wife.Right now.”
I giggled the entire way to the bungalow he rented.
The secluded house was situated in amongst the trees, setback away from the ocean by about a hundred yards or so. It was beautiful,dark, but beautiful. I assumed with the hurricane the wind had knocked out anypower this place might have had and did I mention it was still raining andstill blowing like a motherfucker outside.
Once we made our way through the dark vegetation and upthe few stairs that led to the front door, I heard Jameson groan. “Damn it.It’s locked.”
“Huh?”
“It’s locked, the door...it’slocked.”
“Seriously?”
“Do you really think I’d be lying at a time like this?”he challenged.
“Now wha—” Before I could even finish my sentence Jamesonkicked in the door, the sound deafening as hefty wood splintered crashing tothe ground.
Jameson stood beside me all hulking looking, staring atthe door. He probably couldn’t believe he’d gotten it down.
“Was that really necessary?” my eyes focused on him andnot his insanely hot body. “I’m sure we could have called someone.”
“Apparently it was. Did you see any other boats out therein the ocean?” He asked with a sly grin. “It’s the only way onto this island.”He then winked and lunged for me.
My head tipped back, giving his lips access to my neckand when he gently bit, I whore-moaned louder than I think I ever had. “JesusChrist!”
