Her Very Strict Captain, Carpenter, Maggie [top 50 books to read TXT] 📗

she paused her step and impatiently ripped at the fabric, tearing it away to leave only shreds hanging around her pantaloons. The air on her bare legs below them was such a welcome relief, she unlaced her bodice and pulled it down to hang around her waist.

“There you are!”

Startled and pivoting on her toes, she found the captain striding toward her.

“Foolish little wench. These tropical forests may look pretty, but they can be deadly. Where are you going?”

“To find the hut. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

“I ordered you to stay by the fire.”

“But I—”

“And look at the state of you,” he exclaimed, eyeing her up and down. “If I wasn’t so fond of you I’d leave you to your own devices. As I punish you, remember that.” Grabbing her by the elbow and jerking her forward, he circled her waist with his arm and ran his large, rough hand over the thin underwear. “It’s been too long since your last walloping. That’s the problem, you forgot your place. I won’t let that happen again.”

“But, Captain—”

A solid smack from his hard hand cut her off.

“Please, Captain, I’m sorry.”

“Of course you are, but sorry you were caught, not sorry you disobeyed me,” he scolded, raining his flattened palm in an endless volley of hot, stinging smacks.

Though she squirmed and begged, he remained unmoved, continuing to reprimand her as he delivered his discipline. Finally removing the blousy underwear, he pushed her to her knees, placed his rampant manhood at her entrance, and plunged forward.

There was no escape and no stopping him, nor could she control her body’s response to his erotic attack. As he gripped her waist in a fierce grasp and rammed his rod with robust strokes, she let out howl after howl. In spite of her protestations, his fervent pumping was hurtling her into a powerful orgasm. As if sensing her looming climax, his groans and grunts grew louder and his pace quickened.

“That’s it, little wench, you will scream loudly as you yield to me,” he growled. “I gladly accept your surrender.”

Wailing out as the spasms rocketed through her body, his words rang in her ears, an unexpected epiphany washed over her. That’s what she did every time she climaxed at his hands… she surrendered…

Her eyes popped open.

Her body tingling and limp, her fingers were against her clit and her pussy was soaked.

She’d just rubbed herself to climax during the decadent dream.

Sinking into the mattress and savoring the post-orgasmic bliss, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The bright red digits read 8:03 a.m. She’d slept ten hours.

Slipping from the bed and ambling to the bathroom, she showered and dressed, then grabbing her phone, she wandered off to the kitchen and munched down a bowl of cereal. Disappointed there was no word from Scott, she made a cup of tea, carried it into the security room, opened the cabinet on the wall and pressed the purple button. The metal window coverings moved away to reveal a pristine morning.

But drinking her tea and gazing down at the sparkling aqua water, she spied three departing speedboats. A frown crossing her brow, she placed the cup on the desk and moved quickly to the telescope. Zeroing in on the fast-moving vessels, she watched them veer to the left and disappear, but not before she caught sight of one of them sporting a black streak running along the side.

An inspired thought floated through her mind.

Working undercover in L.A., she’d vowed to bring Conchello down.

Her mission would continue.

Just as she’d hunted for the treasure in her dream, she’d hunt out his new base on the island. Even if she stumbled across one of Conchello’s men, she’d appear to be an average tourist out for a stroll. No one would suspect she was a DEA agent.

Sending a short text to Scott saying she was off for a walk, she hurried into the bedroom, slipped her camera into her bag, and headed for the front door, but as she passed the security room, she paused.

She was used to walking into situations carrying.

Though she didn’t think the scouting trip held any real threat, she felt unprepared without her gun.

It was a safehouse.

There were bound to be weapons in the security room.

Punching in the code and walking back in, she placed her phone and bag on the desk and opened the folding plantation doors. Rows of drawers and closed cupboards reminded her of an old-fashioned secretary. Pulling out drawer after drawer, she was beginning to think it was a fruitless search, until opening a cabinet, she recognized a handgun case. Lifting it out and popping the lid, she broke into a smile.

The sub-compact double action pistol was exactly what she needed. Checking the magazine and finding it loaded, she slipped the weapon into her bag, left the room, and marched down the hall to the front door.

But as she stepped outside, her heart sank.

Palm fronds and bits of foliage were scattered everywhere. The storm had made any hope of finding plowed vegetation leading off the trail virtually impossible.

Then it hit her.

The speedboats had just left.

The men’s footprints in the sand would be fresh.

If she went down to the beach and followed them, she might get lucky. Buoyed by the brilliant idea, she set off.

In spite of the abundance of debris on the trail, she was able to keep a decent pace, and accompanied by myriad bird calls and unidentifiable noises that were slightly unnerving, the time quickly passed.

Reaching the pristine sand, she stopped and stared at the inviting water. The idea of a swim was immensely appealing, but spying footprints, her mind swiftly returned to the task at hand.

They didn’t lead from the water’s edge to the trail, but off to her right. Hastily following them, she discovered they stopped in front of a dense forest. Carefully pushing aside a tall, flowering plant with huge leaves, she found herself staring at a wide path.

“Don’t move.”

Though the voice behind her had been soft and feminine, she froze.

“That’s good, now