South Seas Seduction

By Anita Kidesu

Sheltered all her life as the daughter of an ambassador, Emma Labonte boards a small plane on a trip from Australia. One hijacking and a plane crash later, she finds herself on a deserted island and stranded with three different yet equally sexy men. With no hope for rescue, the four begin to carve a semblance of a life in their tropical setting. Closeness breeds curiosity, and naive Emma begins to wonder what it would be like to be loved by these three men. The adventurer Jack, Toby the intelligent doctor, and shy English professor Steve--each carve a special place in her heart. When her three men launch seduction in the South Seas, how can she resist?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Mar 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781628308594

Anita Kidesu

Anita has been writing for years and finally decided to try her hand at erotica. She found that writing "romance with an edge" an enjoyable genre. Anita is married and lives in Northwestern Wisconsin. You can follow her blog at anitakidesu.wordpress.com

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Chapter One

Emma LaBonte jumped down from the sea plane and into warm, shallow water, sighing in delight as fine, soft sand seeped between her toes. Her diamond and gold bracelet glittered in the tropical sun as she turned to the open door.

She caught a small duffel bag dropped down to her by the pilot and tossed it to the beach. A second bag quickly followed the first. Hand over hand, he lowered a wooden crate, letting the attached rope slip through his fingers until the box splashed into the water. He threw the rope to her.

Seven days, Emma called up to him.

He shook his head and checked out the beach that rose to a lush green jungle. Emma tried to view it through his eyes, but it was etched into her brain—white sand, palm trees, lush flowers. No buildings, cars, people, or noise. She curled her toes beneath the clear water, her expensive slacks rolled up to her knees. She needed this like a person walking through a desert needs water.

For the life of me, Emma, I don’t see why you come to this God-forsaken island every year. Just like clockwork, same time, same place, and my flying you here. He pulled off his cap and scratched his balding head. You sure?

Emma shaded her eyes at him. We’ve gone through this every year for the last four years, Sam. She slung the crate’s rope over her shoulder. And every year I tell you the same thing—I’ll be fine. Now please take off before the tide goes out and you’re stuck here. You wouldn’t like that. At any rate, she wouldn’t like it.

He shrugged. If you say so. He sighed, giving her a quick salute. Be back in a week.

The engine of the plane droned as she trudged through the warm, salty ocean toward the beach, dragging the crate behind her. She figured he would give anything to know why a woman like herself spent one week a year on a seemingly deserted island.

Nobody knew where she went except the pilot—not her best friends and especially not her parents. Every time someone asked about her vacation, she said, Someplace where there’s nothing but peace and quiet. No phones, no people, no parties, nothing.

If they knew the real reason, the shock would carry them into the next century. Prim, properly bred Emma LaBonte didn’t usually do what she did every year. Hell, she was pretty sure even the most adventurous woman didn’t do what she did.

She dragged the crate to the shoreline and left it next to her bags, rolled down her pant legs, and sank her toes into the warm sand. Oh, how she had missed this. Each year, at the end of the week, she questioned her sanity in returning to civilization. She picked up the bags, and slinging one over each shoulder, walked across the beach to a grove of tall palm trees to set them down. A bubble of joy popped beneath her breasts. Everything was the same—calm, peaceful, serene.

By the time she tugged and pulled the crate over the sand to the trees, Emma was puffing and sweating in what her mother called a most un-ladylike way.

A deep breath mixed with the warm salty air, the heavy, sweet scent of wild orchids washing over her. She grinned in anticipation and reached into one of the bags for something more appropriate for tropical weather.

Sure in the knowledge that no one was watching, Emma unbuttoned her light blue blouse, letting it flow over her shoulders, down her arms, and onto the sand. She unhooked her bra and let out a sigh of pure joy when the despised garment landed on the ground. She resisted the temptation to grind it into the sand with the heel of her foot or start a fire and burn it like those feminists back in the sixties.

Instead, she shimmied out of her linen slacks, hooked her fingers into the waistband of the prim and proper white underpants, and like a dancer doing a strip tease for a room full of anxious men, eased them down her legs.

She savored each step closer to freedom as piece by piece she stripped away what represented her other life. Soon she would be totally free. The matching gold Gucci necklace, bracelet, and earrings her parents had bought her four years ago to celebrate her return dropped into the bag. Three rings—a diamond, ruby, and emerald—quickly followed. Next she pulled pins from the carefully arranged bun at the base of her neck and let her hair fall, the silkiness of it brushing against her lower back, releasing the last of society’s strict rules.

Gone were the stuffy state dinners and fundraisers full of inane conversations with self-important officials. Gone were the long, white gloves, sleeveless dresses, nylons, and painful heels. Most of all, no more tight restrictions put on a woman in her position as daughter of an ambassador.

Like a goddess worshiping the heavens, Emma raised her arms and twirled in circles. Warm air caressed her skin like heated massage oil. Breasts full and nipples tight, her pussy swelled and became wet in anticipation of the week’s adventures. The last of her inhibitions floated away like a bird feather whispering back and forth through the air. Anything seemed possible with the weight of guilt and sin gone.

As she did every year, Emma pulled a towel from a bag, smoothed it out in the shade of the palm trees, and lay down. She roamed her hands over her breasts, enjoying the soft swells, tweaking her nipples into hard pebbles. With one hand toying with them, she ran the other into her auburn pubic hair. Imagining other hands skimming over her sensitive skin, her body quivered.

It had been far too long since a man had come close to touching her, and when her fingers contacted her clit, needles of electricity raced through her body. Blood roared in her ears blocking out the sound of the ocean’s waves. A moan escaped her lips as she rode the tide to fulfillment. She threw an arm over her eyes and let the tropical breezes cool the perspiration as her body slowed down. Man, she was easy.

Preparation for the trip, the long flight from the states, a sleepless night at the hotel in Sydney, and then coming to the island finally caught up with Emma. Before sleep overtook her, she slipped on a bikini top and a pair of shorts. As much as she’d like to stay au natural, greeting the coming guests naked was still a bit beyond her flight from the strictures of her straight-laced up-bringing.

As she drifted to sleep, their faces floated through her mind. They would come. They always did. Her men would be together again for her favorite week of the year.

****

Jack Delaney pulled back on the controls, cut the engine, and let his sea plane glide silently to the coast. A breeze swayed through a grove of palm trees. A sea turtle, lying in the sand, basked in the sun. Waves broke at the beach and rolled back to meet the ocean. He searched the area for any sign of movement.

There she was, lying beneath the trees. His heart skipped a beat. Looking over at his passenger, Steve Farr, he placed a finger against his lips and pointed toward the tree line. Steve nodded. They eased open their doors, slipped down into the water, anchored the plane, and waded to the shore.

Emma must be tired to not have heard the plane’s approach. The sand buried the sounds of their footsteps as they moved stealthily toward Emma. Jack’s heart raced faster the closer they came. God, she was beautiful. In all his years and all the women he’d been with in his travels, he’d never come across anyone so innocent, yet so sensuous.

Maybe she sensed his and Steve’s combined testosterone levels floating through the air, but Emma awakened. Jack held out his hand to halt Steve’s progress. She rose up on her elbows and looked through groggy eyes. The instant she spotted the men, she smiled and jumped to her feet.

Jack’s heart hiccoughed.

Jack, Steve, she yelled, sprinting across the sand toward them.

He took his eyes from her radiant face and watched her breasts sway in her tiny top. Her long legs brought her closer. She was amazing. How the hell did he manage to stay away from her each year? Although a few pounds heavier than when they first met five years ago, her build was still slim and trim.

She stopped before them, her light blue eyes gazing into his as she reached out to gently caress the side of his face. He turned his mouth into her cupped hand and kissed her palm. Suddenly she squealed and jumped into his arms. Jack’s hands spanned her waist as she wove them around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Oh, God, I missed you, she said against his neck, breathing in his scent. I was so afraid you wouldn’t come this year.

He hugged her hard, grabbed her ass, squeezed her cheeks, and slid her body down his full length. His engorged cock bumped hello against her bare midriff. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.

She turned toward Steve, her movements slow, tentative, as if not sure how to greet the more somber man.

Relief swept over Jack when a smile crept across his friend’s face. Steve spread out his arms and she flew into them. He bent down and kissed Emma lightly on the lips. She reached up and caressed his cheek as if to re-familiarize herself with its curves and creases.

How ya doing, baby? he asked, pushing up his glasses, his deep voice quiet.

I’m fine, now that you guys are here. Emma rubbed her pelvis against Steve.

When she stepped away, Steve’s hard-on was evident.

Emma glanced back and forth between their crotches. Well, it’s obvious you’re both happy to be here. Haven’t gotten any lately?

Steve’s face turned red, and he stared at his feet. Jack’s heart dropped. Jack knew he had issues with coming to the island this time, but what was going on with Steve? Could something have happened in the last year?

Oh, come on, you two, Emma said, taking an arm in each of hers and turning them to head for the plane. Whatever the past year brought, we’re here now and that’s all that matters. This is nothing but fun for one week. So what did you bring for our little party, Jack?

Jack grinned at Emma’s smiling face, then her swaying breasts and the way their rosy nipples wanted to spring out of her top. It was going to be one hell of a rock-hard week. Steve’s gaze was firmly planted on the same bouncing orbs. Steve looked up, smiled at Jack, and winked. Yep, it was going to be quite a week.

As the threesome walked arm-in-arm back to his plane, Jack thought about the sexually charged woman walking next to him. Right now no one would ever believe who she was in her other life.

After a little research on a visit to his family in the States, Jack found out she was Emmaline Josephine Rose Cristina Galloway LaBonte, former wife to Jean Paul LaBonte and the over-protected, prim and proper, only daughter of an esteemed ambassador. Her mother came from old money, a distinguished, upper-crust, la-di-da family. Emma had one older brother being groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Jack doubted her parents knew where their daughter went every year and why.

Earth to Jack. Earth to Jack, Emma said, pulling on his arm. Hey, what’s up? Besides the obvious, she added, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

So deep in his thoughts, which was happening a lot lately, he didn’t realize they were already at his plane. He smiled down at her. Nothing, Emma-girl.

He picked her up and twirled her in a circle, then planted a kiss in the middle of her chest before setting her down. Any more than that would be breaking the rules. Let’s get this junk-heap unloaded, he said, entering his three-seater double prop cargo plane. Have you seen Toby, yet?

No. Emma climbed in behind him. But then, you know Toby. Last to arrive, first to leave.

Maybe it’ll be different this time, Steve said, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun off the plane.

Emma sat on a crate and sighed. I doubt it.

Jack hated to see Emma so grim. He leaned over and took her chin between his fingers. Steve’s right. Things’ll be different this time.

Jack planted a quick kiss on her lips and then started tossing gear down to Steve. Let’s get this stuff unloaded, anchor the plane down more securely, and wait for him, just like always.

****

Jack wondered where Toby was hiding. He watched Steve scanning the brush, probably wondering the same thing. It was great seeing Steve. He loved those two guys like brothers and missed them when he left the island. He saw Toby several times a year when he came to the island with fresh supplies, books, medicine, and food. He looked forward to the visits and seeing how Toby improved the life of the islanders.

Jack threw his head back and roared at something Emma said. Steve, the quiet professor, looked down at the ground, and shook his head in mirth. He and Steve were both thirty-two, a year older than Toby. They were nearly the same height, a shade over six-one.

Jack was proud their bodies were still in good shape, his from loading and unloading cargo to various islands. Steve came from a naturally thin family, although Jack figured he must work out, too, because muscles like his didn’t come from lifting books.

He knew from his last visit to the island that Toby kept in shape through hard work with the natives. Toby believed in the adage show, don’t tell and worked side-by-side with the tribe.

Where Jack had dark hair and was bronzed from being in the sun, Steve’s light hair was starting to thin and turn white at the temples. His dark-framed glasses, so different from the wire rims he wore before, gave Steve the look of a distinguished professor.

Arm-in-arm, the trio strolled to the palm tree they’d seen Emma sleeping under. She sat down on the towel, her back against the tree. He and Steve removed their shirts against the heat, spread out towels on either side of Emma and lay down, resting their heads in her lap.

Steve sighed, reflecting his own satisfaction of being exactly where he wanted to be as Emma ran her fingers through their hair.

Jack closed his eyes. He let each part of his body relax to the tender, hypnotic movements of Emma’s fingers massaging his scalp. Her legs, warm and soft against the back of his neck, had him drifting into memories nearly five years old.

Chapter Two

Five years ago.

A distant drum of thunder rumbled. The wings of the plane wobbled as a gust of wind pummeled the plane. Fuck. A storm. Nothing had shown up on his radar, and there had been no reports before clearance for take-off.

Now, not only did Jack have to worry about keeping his plane in the air, but three of the five passengers had guns, the barrel of one pressed under his ear lobe.

Keep flying, jerk-off, or I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off. The hijacker’s shoulder-length, dark hair hung limply beneath a baseball hat worn backwards. Dark stains grew under the arms of the man’s camo T-shirt.

Jack tried not to recoil at the scent of the man’s unwashed body. He nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man check the plane’s gauges before yanking out the radio wires.

Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole? Jack yelled.

When I tell you, change to these coordinates. He shoved a piece of paper under Jack’s nose. For all his bravado, the man’s hands still shook.

Jack grabbed the note. What the hell is going on?

Shut the fuck up, fly the damn plane, and no one will get hurt. Now change the direction of this shit bucket.

Yeah, like Jack was going to argue with a pistol rammed in his ear, but the man calling his prize airplane—one he worked so hard to acquire—a shit bucket had him reaching for his seatbelt. Since the gun was jammed harder and he enjoyed the land of the living, he changed the coordinates and glanced over his shoulder.

Two of the men were gagged and tied to their seats. The blond’s glasses had slipped to the end of his nose. Steve something or other, if Jack recalled. The other, Toby, tall with curly brown hair, struggled against his restraints. Both had guns at their heads.

A woman, a fortyish, bleached-out blonde, held a gun to a second woman’s temple. Sebastian, she yelled, He’s followed your orders, now get your ass back here.

At a nudge from the gun-wielding man at his side, Jack went back to the controls, but when he heard the younger woman whimper, he turned around again. One of the male hijackers switched places with the female. The woman ran her pistol up and down Steve’s inside leg as he jerked and struggled against his bindings. His glasses fell to the floor.

The young woman tugged against the ropes her captor used to tie her hands behind the seat. Strands of her long, reddish hair clung to the tears running down her face. He took his time wrapping the length of rope under her breasts, her unbuttoned blouse gave him access as he copped a feel along the way. The man unbuckled her, hiked up her skirt and took the excess rope, running it up under her seat between her legs. The rope cut into her pussy, her red pubic hair sticking out on either side of her underwear. He tied off the remaining rope behind her back, leaving her legs spread. Her bra was raised, exposing her breasts.

Adrenaline rushed through Jack’s veins. He grabbed for his seatbelt, but his guard jammed the gun against his head hard enough to make him see stars. He shook off the pain. The young woman let out a scream, and Jack turned again and clenched his teeth.

The woman’s captor ran a gun along the insides of her legs toward her pussy. The older woman unzipped Steve’s pants. What the hell? Was this some kind of kinky sex hijacking?

Enough, Jack’s hijacker yelled, cutting off their laughter. There’ll be time for that later. Right now we have work to do. He tapped his gun on the back of Jack’s head. Fly, asshole.

Jack concentrated on the plane while listening to one of the scumbags murmur, Hear that, bitch? We get to play with you later. Keep thinking of our hot cocks, shoved up your sweet pussy. The guy made slurping sounds. See this big ol’ cock? It’s all for you. Oh, yeah, baby, we’re gonna have us a real good time.

The plane wrenched upward, yanking the yoke from Jack’s hands. Gauges spun around like a child’s toy top. Heavy, black clouds loomed before them. Orange and pink lightning bolts jigged-jagged across the sky. Fuck. The storm was getting worse. Obviously no one had bothered to check weather patterns during the planning of their hijacking.

Unable to change the coordinates to avoid the wind and lightning, Jack could only watch the mass of dark, evil-looking clouds loom closer. He grabbed the yoke and held on as the plane bounced and tossed like a prized toy for Godzilla. The hijackers, no longer in the safety of their seats, were thrown against each other as if they were in a pinball machine, with thunder and lightning providing sound effects.

A gust of wind dropped the plane, and Jack’s white-knuckle grip slipped from the controls. By the time they realized they were going down, it was too late for the hijackers to reach their seats. Passengers screamed. Engines whined. Water slammed into the windshield as the plane hit the ocean. Everything went black.

****

Bit-by-bit, Jack moved his right arm. The pounding in his head reminded him of a truck changing gears. He opened first one eye, then the other, and groaned not so much from pain but from the sight of his plane.

Blood splattered across the shattered windshield as if a paint brush had flicked its bristles. One of the hijackers hung through the broken right windshield, his head stuck through the glass, his body lying on the dashboard. Branches and leaves shimmered in the sunlight, swaying the man’s head up and down like a fishing bobber. Another hijacker’s body lay crumpled in the co-pilot’s seat, his legs and head bent in directions not designed by God. These two wouldn’t be wielding guns anymore. No sound came from the cabin.

Jack unbuckled his lap belt, hoping the click of its release didn’t wake the remaining hijackers. His chest hurt like hell from the impact against the restraint. He rested between movements, taking in painful breaths of air. Having had his share of broken ribs from numerous bar fights, he thought nothing was broken, only bruised.

He turned around and swore both from pain and the sight before him. The two restrained men were still in their seats, unconscious. The older woman lay grotesquely at Steve’s feet, her head turned sideways, her blonde hair turning red from blood flowing from her ears and mouth. Nothing could be done for the bitch, but he had to check on the others.

As he eased himself between the two cockpit seats, his foot hit one of the pistols the highjackers dropped, sending it across the floor. Another lay at Steve’s feet. A check on the neck of one of the restrained men—Toby, if he remembered correctly—showed a steady pulse drumming against his fingers. Jack held his breath and then let it out when Toby’s chest rose and fell rhythmically.

The other tied-up man, Steve, moaned.

Jack cut both men’s restraints with his jackknife.

Sonofabitch, Jack murmured as he went to the young woman’s seat. Her torturer’s body lay twisted, khaki shorts and dingy underwear down around his ankles. His penis, once probably the only source of the man’s brain power, now lay against the