Desert Island

My heart is pounding as my lungs expand, taking in deep, satisfying breaths. I did it. I fucking did it.

There are a gazillion challenges ahead of me, but I’m taking the win for now. I survived a plane crash. I survived being lost at sea. I didn’t get eaten by a shark. I rock.

“Thanks, Jeffrey,” I say as I turn to my half-deflated naked friend. He’s looking back at me with the same seductive cartoon grin he had on his face before we crashed. “You really did me a solid back there.”

Speaking of solid… Yup. Jeffrey is still aroused.

I toss him onto the sand and climb onto my knees, giggling deliriously as I look around.

Maybe I drank some saltwater… I’m feeling drunk… I’m feeling high… I’m feeling—

Who the hell is that?!?

I gasp and recoil in shock when I see him.

I’m exhausted, but the last of my adrenaline rockets through my veins, perking me up. I jump to my feet and hold Jeffrey in front of me like a shield.

I peek out from behind him with my heart racing.

There’s a man leaning against a palm tree watching me. He looks like a wild man with a long brown beard, matching long hair, and eyes as blue as the water behind me. He’s gorgeous, but terrifying at the same time.

His body is enormous. Not only is he tall, but he’s wide and thick too. It’s all round hard muscle everywhere I look. His shoulders, his chest, his shredded abs… even his thighs are thick with—is he wearing a loincloth?!

Oh my god, he is. It looks like it’s made out of animal skin and it hangs low around his waist, showing off his hard pelvis that’s carved into a muscular V shape.

The horrifying thought enters my brain and I can’t shake it.

He’s a cannibal.

He’s a wild savage cannibal and he’s going to eat me.

He’s going to tie me to a spit and roast me over a fire.

“Stay back!” I shout as I brandish Jeffrey in front of me like a weapon.

The man just stands there, arms crossed, leaning against a palm tree, watching me curiously.

I look behind me—ocean. To the left—beach, trees. To the right—more beach, more trees.

There’s no getting away. There’s nothing I can do.

I’m helpless out here. I’m exhausted and hungry and vulnerable in every single way.

Jeffrey can’t help me anymore. I drop him onto the sand and start walking forward.

Maybe this guy will eat me. Maybe he won’t.

But either way, I just need to get out of the hot sun.

His insanely blue eyes are fixated on me as I approach him. My shoes are somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, making nice homes for two hermit crabs. I had to kick them off in order to swim. My shorts are stuck to my legs and my work shirt is plastered against my body as I shuffle forward.

“Can you point me to the nearest McDonald’s?”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Nothing. It was a joke.”

His back straightens as I walk up to him.

I stare at him. He stares back.

He tilts his head a little.

“So, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d check out this island…”

He looks me up and down and my whole body reacts with warm shivers. This man is seriously hot. In a wild primal way, if that’s what you’re into. I’m not by the way. Not even close.

His big chest is level with my head. I tear my eyes away from his perfect pink nipples and crane my head back to look at his face. He’s gigantic.

“Shipwreck?” he asks in a deep rumbling voice that warms my cold body up.

“Plane crash.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

“My yacht sunk.”

“Oh.”

I get lost in those deep blue eyes for a few seconds and then shake my head to clear the dazed feelings in my mind.

“So, how can I get off the island?” I ask with my pulse racing.

“There is no getting off.”

My mouth falls open. My heart stops. My stomach drops.

“But… I mean… There’s got to be a way off!”

“Did you bring your plane with you?”

“No.”

“Then, there’s no way off.”

I look at him in a new light… The long hair, the thick beard, the tanned skin…

“Wait. How long have you been stranded here?”

He takes a deep breath and I can’t help but notice how his chest expands.

“I don’t know. A while.”

“You don’t know how long you’ve been here?”

Crap. This keeps going from bad to worse.

“What year is it?” he asks.

“Two-thousand and twenty-two.”

His face drops. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

That’s not a good sign. Now, I feel like I’m going to be sick!

“How long have you been here?!” I ask again, this time in a shrieking voice.

I’m not sure if I want to know the answer to that. If this manly man can’t get off the island, then what hope do I have?

“Since two thousand fourteen.”