After our meteoric encounter, I marched to her unoccupied suite and sunk under the surface of the crystal blue pool. She’d already scampered off with Sal to clean or do whatever the fuck he had planned for her. As she rounded the decking of the cabana, vanishing from sight, all I could think about was how she’d still be damp in those hideous trousers. I was solely focused on my fingers drying beneath my glove, absorbing her sweet-flavored elixir, and shocked at how incredible it felt when she let go. Even swamped in men’s clothes, she vibrates at a different wavelength to mere mortals.
I pushed her too far. I should’ve held back the desire to punish. Defined lips glistened with a plea to stop, but her soft curves flushed, willing me to continue. When my warped fingers were rewarded with wet folds, it took every ounce of temperance to stay calm and hide the electric commotion unfurling up my arm.
She’ll never learn how my newest obsession is beija flor, the stunning red-haired hummingbird with the power to snatch my logic. The four ill-fated lives have consumed my wretched headspace for years. I’ve planned deaths, then rewritten the plot because it wasn’t harsh enough. What’s deadlier than death? Perhaps an infatuation with a creature so magnificent that I’ll fall for her lies. Or worse still, that she’ll become important.
Sun-drenched water silences the permanent jungle fracas. It’s peaceful below the shimmering surface—a sanctuary for my busy mind. She’s filled the cabin with scents of femininity. Floral and sweet. Seconds turn into hours. Floating stills the fury within me. I should be researching and spying, trawling for a new guest, and hunting a worthy assassin to take out the last life. All the others are lined up, ready and waiting for my order. Instead, I’m surrendering to filthy fantasies encased in azure waters that mirror the sky. With my disguise abandoned at the door, I’m clear to lavish in my liberty—and her cell.
The unyielding grip on my throbbing dick doesn’t excite me as much as her constricting inner walls and fast breathing.
Wading out of the pool, I wrap a towel around my hips and stroll through the expansive cabana. I’m drawn to the immaculately made bed she’s slept in. Dipping my torso, I sniff the trace of vanilla and a unique fusion of female seduction.
She’s definitely been in this bed—I waited until she was sound asleep before skulking back through the forest to my private domain. The power gained from watching her through the window with an inconspicuous hot gaze thrums in my veins every time until I throttle my solid dick for being so deprived. It’s the same routine every evening. Follow. Observe. Shoot my fucking load in the shadows.
Her entire presence threatens everything I own, unless I can prove her worthy of trust. A niggle of doubt skitters under my skin. Could I kill her if it turns out she’s the one thing I hate the most? I’d have to. It wouldn’t be up for debate.
I swipe a hand through dripping hair, ignoring the indecision wringing out my stomach. There isn't a future for any traitor in my kingdom.
Wandering into the shower room, I scoop up the cami top and shorts left in a pile on the floor. The compulsion to bury my face into the fabric wins. I breathe in her natural scent, agreeing with the heady rush of blood rocketing straight to my dick.
It’s heaven.
With her garments seized, I stroke and choke my cursed hard-on. What I miss in fluid female traction, I gain in her fragrance combined with my spittle. Then I mop up the cum with her shorts and crumple the damn things into a ball.
Fuck!
Temporary psychosis pumps through my hard-working veins. A bead of sweat trails the span of my shoulder blades. This intense preoccupation is one-sided. She’ll never bow down to a man who’s keeping her hostage. But it’s that fight, that inner clash that raises my temperature a few degrees higher than normal.
I should stare at my reflection and talk myself out of my next plan, yet my oasis has no place for mirrors. Guests aren’t granted the privilege of mourning the person they once were, only greet the redesigned persona they’ve become. The transformation runs its course, and on the final day, they’re introduced to a new identity.
I’ll never leave. My inner turmoil will never be tamed or modified or even forgotten. There’s no hope for me beyond the realms of my territory. I'm the same man I was the day I landed, perhaps a streak more bitter and a lot more twisted. A reflection won’t show me what I know truly lives beneath my skin.
What I plan to do next is free her deception and cast my little hummingbird to the side.
13
How have I ended up in a man’s world, wearing butch clothes and swilling a mop in a bucket? Beyond the mirage of paradise, lives a network of hardworking serpentine veins leading to the heart of a vision—an ideal.
Not only have I fallen into another dimension, but I’ve also encountered a monster without boundaries, morals, or respect.
My day dwindled from the breaking of day to nightfall, trapped indoors with rags, eucalyptus essential oil, and an assortment of ecologically clean ingredients. It was a surprise to learn the oasis focuses on sustainability, only allowing products that won’t impact the environment. Apparently, el Fantasma gives back more than he takes. I had to bite my tongue when Sal sang his praises. From my experience, he confines and threatens. Takes and keeps on taking.
I considered telling him about the incident outside the staff cabana. Except Sal is loyal to a fault—devoted to my enemy. What would I say exactly? Your boss fingered me against my wishes, made the earth shake and my heart pound. That would really get the defense hackles raised. I bet he’d pat me on the back, wink, and then give me a high five.
Unlocking the door to my suite, I shiver in relief when a fresh lick of invigorating air chills my face. Each slow inhalation offers a reminder that I’m alive, even if I’m traipsing through life without a purpose. It’s an inside joke how this room temporarily snips the nightmare in two. I find comfort in a personal hideout nestled in remoteness and ruled by oppression.
The overhead fan whirs, replacing the tireless rhythm of nature. Momentarily, I pretend this is a swanky eco-village, and Emmie is in the next cabin with my parents. Then I flip off my cap and shake out my curls. Indulging in dreams won’t change reality. The ache in my head intensifies. This isn’t a vacation. It's luxury masking hell.
I pinky swore. I promised Emmie I’d be home in time for her thirteenth birthday. With a decade between us, I adore my parents' late life miracle baby as if she was my daughter. We have a bond. A sisterly love. She doesn’t deserve to live through this crippling misery.
That’s what burns beneath my skin most of all. El Fantasma hasn’t only hurt me, he’s shattered her perfect world. A trembling palm skates to my heart, accepting the agony of breaking a promise.
On the bed, a folded satin nightdress with shoestring straps rests next to several pairs of silky panties rolled up like cigars. Beside them, there is a tray dressed with a cotton napkin, tall glass of sunny juice and a rainbow fruit salad in a coconut bowl.
It’s a pleasant surprise, given my throat is tight from holding in frustration. As usual, I shed the unsightly uniform and mosey into the shower room to wash off the long day. Immersed under the tepid water, I close my eyes. The second they shut, I’m plagued with a peridot gaze and a hot swell between my thighs.
Bastard.
I’m physically held captive, and now thoughts of him harass my privacy, inciting wrongful intrigue and deceitful feelings. He’s a parasite invading a forced host. Underneath our bad blood, an insane spark awakens something reckless in me. I refuse to accept it. I’m not willing to become a mindless female who worships a master. I won’t invent an el Fantasma syndrome where he becomes my everything. I loathe him more than the depleting fires that obliterate the fragile ecosystem and threaten the extinction of rare species.
