Page 89 of Stains of Desire

I obey and fall asleep for the next few hours in his arms. When it's still dark out, he wakes me with kisses. "We need to go soon. Let's shower quickly."

His idea of a quick shower involves giving me several orgasms with his fingers then fucking me against the shower wall. When we finish, we get dressed and sneak out of the house.

The jet ski is still on the shore. There's a light mist but nothing like the night before. Axel brings a can of gas he found in the garage and fills it up.

It's a rockier ride than the previous day. Every bump creates a new spike of painful sensations from my bruised ass and thighs, as well as Axel's bag on my back. But I welcome them. It pauses the spinning I usually feel about Millie, giving me a break from the mental anguish.

The sun rises, and the sky clears up. Axel idles the jet ski and has me hand him the backpack. He pulls out a macro bar and we each eat half.

"I think we're getting closer to Honduras," Axel says. The phone book in the house said Guatemala and was in Spanish, so we assumed he made it that far the previous night.

We drive for another hour then Axel slows down. "What is that?"

Trash floats so far and wide in front of us, we could be in a garbage dump. Every type of waste product imaginable fills this section of the ocean.

"How did this happen?" I ask.

Axel points to the river that connects to the sea. "It must be coming from there."

We ride closer, and a foul, rotting smell fills the air. I cough.

"Hold on, green eyes. We need to go out further, and it might be choppier."

I tighten my arms around him. He picks up my hand, kisses it, then places it back on his torso.

A big wave causes the jet ski to slam down hard, and a sharp pain shoots through my swollen skin. "Ow."

"You okay?" he shouts.

"Yes. Keep going."

It seems to take forever until we get past the trash island. Every bounce hurts, and I suffer in silence. When we finally get around it, tears are falling down my face.

Axel steers closer to shore and finally turns to face me. Worry fills his features. "Green eyes, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

He beaches the watercraft and gets off. "Tell me what is wrong."

"It just hurt. I'm okay now."

His glances down at my legs, and his eyes widen in horror. "Oh God. Penelope, I'm so sorry."

My inner thighs are bright red. When we left, there were little bruises. They've grown into bigger marks. "You didn't. It's from the waves."

Color drains from his face.

"You couldn't have done anything. It's not your fault."

His face hardens. "I was too rough with you last night."

I cup his cheeks. "No. You weren't. I needed it."

He continues to look as if he doesn't believe me.

"I did. I asked for it and wanted it. You gave me exactly what I needed. This helps me not feel the pain in my heart."

He slides his hands into my hair. "My pain is to give you pleasure—"