Mack (King #4) by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Read Free Book Online

which meant I had to attempt to return to Minoa. My redemption was counting on it, as was the soul of my brother, whose tortured spirit now wandered aimlessly between this world and the heavens. Unless I returned the stone to Mia, my brother would remain that way for eternity. I couldn’t allow that. As long as it takes, whatever I must do, I will bring my brother back and return all that I robbed him of . Yes, I’d killed him because he’d demanded it. But I should’ve said no. I should’ve told him to fight Hagne’s family and that I would’ve stood by him in battle. But no, like a fool, the fool I’d always been, I’d let my brother do the thinking for me.
    On the eve of the twentieth day, my beautiful companion sat next to me on a little stool beside the hammock I lay on.
    She held out a bowl of food, offering it with her usual smile.
    “No food,” I said, gently pushing her hand away. “I need a boat.”
    She looked at me quizzically.
    “Boat,” I repeated and rose from the hammock. She took the opportunity to steal a glimpse at my manhood as the small cloth tied around my waist slipped off.
    I won’t lie, she looked pleased, and my ego felt the same.
    I resecured the cloth and plucked a small twig from the ground, drawing a boat in the dirt. Around it, I drew little waves and the symbol of a fish.
    When she realized what I meant, I could see the disappointment in her eyes.
    “Boat,” she repeated the word.
    I nodded. “Yes, boat. I need to go home.” I drew another symbol on the floor of an island with a house. Inside, I drew little figures of people. “Home.”
    A look of deep turmoil reflected in her eyes. More than ever I wished I could explain how grateful I felt for her help, how special she was to me. She’d saved my life and asked for nothing in return.
    When she stood, I assumed she was going to go speak with her elders in the village, but she did not leave.
    She untied the colorful piece of woven cloth around her waist and dropped it onto the floor.
    With a hard breath, I took in the sight of her soft curves and the patch of dark hair between her legs, knowing that I shouldn’t dare touch her. I knew nothing about these people or their customs.
    But when she slid her hands underneath the piece of cloth I wore around my own waist and began stroking my cock just aching to burrow deep inside her, my manly needs took over.
    I reached for the back of her head and kissed her soft lips with a roughness I didn’t know I’d be capable of in my still-weakened state. But this kiss, like the woman, was nothing ordinary. As I tasted her on my tongue and pulled her sweet scent into my lungs, something deep inside me burst, like a light flooding my entire soul and blocking out the entire world. There was only her and me, and nothing else seemed to matter.
    Where had she been all my life? Because she was the meaning I’d been searching for without ever knowing it. And I believed she felt the same for me.
    Our gentle kiss quickly turned into a wild flurry of touching—our bodies grinding, our hands exploring.
    Dear gods, could her breasts be any softer? Every part of her I touched—ass, hips, and the soft folds between her legs—was sinful perfection.
    She broke away and began to kneel, clearly intent on getting my cock into her mouth, something I would normally not refuse from a woman. But that was not at all what I wanted. I needed to be inside her, to feel our bodies connected.
    I gently grabbed her shoulders to raise her up. “A woman like you should never kneel before a man like me.” I knew she did not understand the words, but I hoped she’d sense how I truly felt.
    I guided her into the hammock and then laid myself between her thighs, not wasting a moment’s time to position my cock at her entrance, testing her readiness.
    Gods, was she ready—warm and wet with eager hips.
    With our mouths once again locked in a flurry of frantic kisses, I thrust myself into her and she let out a yelp. I