In this position, I can’t see him, but the entire backside of my body gets a pretty good representation of what he must look like up close, at least from the neck down.
I feel his mouth glance across my ear as he leans down to whisper.
“Quién eres?”
Thanks to my father, I understand a good deal of Spanish, though I’m not nearly as fluent in it as English.
Who am I? I’m certainly not going to tell him.
My father’s warning rings in my ears even now:
“You’re the last one I can trust with this, Leira. No dices una palabra. Don’t say a word.”
I’ve stuck to that promise, staying perfectly quiet about it. Even the nuns on the island don’t know what Dad entrusted me with.
The second I open my mouth now, who knows what I’ll be giving away? My best plan of action would be to stay silent. My eyes dart to the clothes, now only about ten yards away.
A nun’s clothes, or at least those of a postulant. Mother Agnes refused to allow me to wear the full habit of an actual nun.
For all this man knows, that’s what I am. None of the nuns here have taken a vow of silence. I don’t even think that’s a thing anymore. But I’ll use any ammunition I can to keep myself from suffering the fate of Layla or Lucinda.
Don’t. Say. A. Word.
Chapter Four Enrique
I sensed something was off long before I noticed her hidden in the rocks. I’ve always been one to trust my intuition and, as usual, I wasn’t wrong. As quiet as she was, I heard her in the water, even from the small cabin of my boat. That’s when I made my move to go after her.
Now the only question is, who the fuck is she?
This hidden island cove is supposed to be my secret. It isn’t visible from the other side of these cliffs. Even the opening allowing my boat access is hidden from the casual eye wandering past in the Mediterranean. If any of the sisters at the convent knew about it, they sure as hell wouldn’t bother making the trek through the opening in the cliffs to get to this little bit of paradise, the one I discovered twenty years ago.
These days, I come here long enough to deposit whatever “booty” I’ve claimed from my latest pirating adventure. There’s something amusingly old-fashioned about having my own hidden treasure, one without any paper trail. The only map is in my head. Even my boat is devoid of any GPS or other mapping system. If someone did manage to follow me here, they’d have a hell of a time discovering the cave where my treasure lies.
Until now.
She hasn’t answered my question asking who she is yet, so I repeat it, harsher this time.
“Quién eres?”
Instead of answering, she goes back to struggling. Something about that soft, bare ass and smooth, brown skin slithering against my naked front side allows Mother Nature to take its natural course. I grip tighter and lean down to talk into her ear.
“In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t doing yourself any favors by struggling. Keep it up, and I may find another way to get answers from you, one that’s far more enjoyable—for me at any rate. I doubt you’ll feel the same.”
I’m no rapist, but hopefully the threat will be enough to settle her down. Her struggling has ceased only long enough to listen to me. Then, she starts up again, this time less like a slippery eel and more like an escape artist, testing my grip.
Maybe there’s something lost in translation?
“Do you speak Spanish?” I hiss in English.
She doesn’t look Spanish, at least not fully. The bronze skin and thick, curly hair hint at some kind of mix. From what little I’ve glimpsed of her, it’s one that works well.
The fact that she went perfectly still in response to that question doesn’t tell me much. Either it’s a reaction to me speaking English…or it’s the very pronounced dick now hard and throbbing as it presses into her ass cheek.
“I’ll take that as a yes to English?”
She still doesn’t move a muscle.
I shift my hand so that it cups one of her naked breasts, then I squeeze, just hard enough to elicit a soft mewl from her. I take one of her nipples between my thumb and finger, pinching it lightly, causing it to harden.
Her mewling turns into a moan.
It has the effect of sending the blood rushing to my dick, causing it to press even harder into her ass. Hopefully, that’s enough to add ammunition to my threat.
“Dime! Tell me!” I order, using both languages for good measure.
She wriggles again, trying my patience to the point of anger. One of her arms escapes and she points toward a small clearing by the water. I follow the direction of her arm and notice for the first time the clothes lying there.
Well, that answers one question.
So, she isn’t some mermaid, risen from the sea and transformed into a woman.
I take in enough of the clothes from this distance to recognize the same cloth from my brief stint at the convent.
My adoptive parents were just Catholic enough for me to have gone through confirmation. I haven’t done a good job of keeping up the faith since becoming an adult. But some things are too obvious.
“Una monja? A nun?”
There’s a slight pause before she nods her head in the affirmative. I’m not sure what the pause was for, but at least now I have an idea of how she got here.
My eyes scan the cliff, finding that small opening near the top that the five-year-old me found once upon a time. I laugh as I consider the fact that one of the nuns managed to make it through that hole and down the cliffs.
To swim
