Marooned with the Rock Star (A Crazily Sensual Rock Star Romance, with Humor) by Dawn Steele

paw paws.
Luckily, these trees are not as tall as the coconut ones.
    Armed with my treasures, I return to where I
left Kurt sleeping. Only he isn’t where he is anymore.
    I turn to the sounds of splashing. Kurt is
swimming in the stream. Or rather, he is bobbing about, prancing on
his feet. I know Kurt must be a master swimmer because he dived in
to save me without another thought.
    My face burns when I remember how I treated
him yesterday. He had saved my life, and all I did was to berate
him.
    God, what a bitch I am!
    An object strikes my vision. I turn to look
at it. And then at Kurt. And back to it again. Kurt’s underwear
lies there on the ground where he had lain, drying in the rising
heat.
    If Kurt is not wearing his underwear, then .
. . uh, what is he wearing?
    Right.
    My cheeks flame.
    He waves at me. “Good morning. The water’s
brilliant. Come in!”
    Uh, not with you starkers.
    “It’s all right,” I call back. I unload my
treasure trove, taking care to show my back to him when I’m taking
out the eggs from my brassiere, which is now stiff with laundered
seawater abuse. “I’ve got us breakfast. When you come out of there,
you can make us a fire because I don’t have any matches!”
    “Why don’t you come in, Rebecca?”
    “You know why.”
    “Aw, come on. Don’t be a prude. We’re stuck
out here in this godforsaken island. Sooner or later, we’re gonna
have to see each other naked.”
    “No thanks!” I shout back.
    “If it’s any comfort to you, I don’t really
want to see you naked.”
    Uh . . . thanks a lot.
    “And I certainly don’t want to see you naked
either.”
    I whip my head around. And almost have to
cover my eyes in shock.
    Kurt Taylor is standing in the shallows now.
Naked. Water drips from his body in silvery rivulets and droplets.
His genitals are every bit as huge as his earlier covered package
in his underwear suggests. His penis is luscious and long and thick
and semi-hard. His balls dangle beneath, shrunk by the cool
water.
    He literally wears nothing but a broad grin
on his handsome face.
    I let out an outraged yell and immediately
cover my eyes with my hands. But my fingers allow slits for me to
peek through. Not that I’m admiring his cock, mind you, but I just
need to see what he would do next. My heart is thumping very loudly
against my ribs.
    “Kurt! Cover yourself!” I say, aggrieved.
    He laughs as he strides out of the water. He
is quite the exhibitionist.
    “With what? Fig leaves? Why don’t you chill
out, Rebecca? I need to dry my clothes, and frankly, yours need a
wash too.”
    I know he’s right. I wave at the spread of
food.
    “Know how to start a fire?” I say.
    He comes right up to me, defiantly parading
his wobbling genitals. Something about his cock is so sexy that I
can feel a twitch of desire shooting right through my loins.
    No. No. Mustn’t find him sexy.
    “I can try.” He bends down to take two pieces
of rock. I avert my eyes. I must stop roaming my eyes over his
naked and very magnificent body. “But maybe not here. The stones
here are too wet. And I need dry kindling. I’ll do it in the
forest.”
    He straightens and looks me up and down.
    “You’re very industrious, Rebecca,” he says
admiringly, indicating the eggs and the paw paws. “Where did you
find these?”
    I launch into telling him about the events of
the morning. I keep my eyes at the level of his face as I do so,
refusing to give in to his obvious bait. But his dick keeps drawing
me to it, especially since it seems to get harder as I chatter on.
It rises ever so slowly, filled with life-giving sap.
    It is Kurt’s turn to flush.
    “Uh,” he interrupts me and indicates his
dick, “don’t think this is because of you. It’s my usual morning
chubby.”
    I am suddenly speechless.
    We both realize at the same time that we are
in a very awkward situation. There’s a long pause where neither of
us does anything but stare at each other. (At least, I’m trying to
stare