What’s a girl to do when she’s stranded on a remote tropical island with a savage tribe of hot, feral men?

  Evie’s plane crashes into the ocean and, by some miracle, she’s the sole survivor. Her raft drifts for days, until she’s washed up on the shore of a remote, deserted island.

  Or is it?

  It turns out the island isn’t deserted at all. It’s home to a tribe of wild, ruthless men, whose plane crashed many years earlier, when the men were just boys.

  They’re not boys anymore.

  Evie is caught, taken and fought over. She is at their mercy, but Evie soon learns she has a weapon of her own. She discovers what each of her savages craves … until her brutal lovers are on their knees to give her anything she desires.

  **This book is totally taboo and extremely dirty. It contains explicit forbidden love scenes, adult language and possible triggers. For readers who enjoy exceptionally erotic OTT forced-pleasure reverse harem romance that borders on fantasy, here’s a fun quickie to ignite your kindle. 18+

  Copyright © 2020 by Indie LaRue

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For permission requests, email the author at indielarue@gmail.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Stalk Indie

  Chapter One: Daddy’s Girl

  Chapter One: Kidnapped by the Mountain Man

  Coming Soon: Snowed In With My Stepdaddy

  “Happy birthday, dear Eeevieeee, happy birthday to you,” my classmates sing to me, along with a lot of the other people on our plane. It’s a very long flight from San Francisco to Sydney. You can’t help but sort of get to know some of the people in the seats around you. We’ve already been travelling for nine and a half hours. By now I’m on a first name basis with the guy across the aisle from me. His name is Chad and he keeps flirting with me.

  We’re seniors at a strict all-girls boarding school, on a trip to Australia for two weeks before we graduate next month, when we’ll all finally be venturing out into the great unknown of college, jobs and adulthood. There are twenty of us and we’re dressed in our school uniforms, so we’ve attracted a certain amount of attention.

  “Evie, you can blow out your candles when we get you a real cake in Sydney,” says Clara, who’s sitting next to me.

  The number 18 has been drawn with frosting on top of the cupcake the flight attendant places on my tray table.

  “I guess that makes you legal,” says Chad, winking.

  Very funny.

  “Give me your number,” he says. “We can get together once we get to Sydney.”

  As if. We’re chaperoned by nuns 24/7. They’ll never let me out of their sight. Besides, Chad isn’t really my type. Not that I know what my type is, exactly. I’ve never dated because we’re not allowed to. But I think I’ll go for someone a little more … manly, once I do start dating. Chad’s extreme boyishness isn’t really doing him any favors.

  Why am I even thinking like this? Maybe turning eighteen means you start noticing things like hot masculine men are. How broad their shoulders are and how deep their voices are.

  Chad’s voice isn’t very deep.

  Anyway, I can’t wait to start living a little. All the strict rules are starting to feel confining, like an invisible cage. I have an unfamiliar urge to break free for the first time in my life.

  Chad is starting to annoy me a little. He keeps staring at me. He’s trying to be subtle about it, but it isn’t working. He keeps looking at my thighs under the hem of my school uniform skirt. I’ve grown two inches this year and my skirt is pretty short now. He’s also staring at my breasts. I didn’t wear a bra just because it’s such a long trip and I thought I might be more comfortable without one. My breasts are a lot bigger now than they used to be. He’s making me feel self-conscious. I hope my nipples aren’t visible, poking at the thin fabric of my white shirt. This shirt has been washed so many times it’s getting sort of threadbare. If Chad keeps staring I’ll have to put my cardigan back on.

  There’s a sudden bright flash of lightning outside the windows of the plane. Everyone gasps.

  “Fuck,” says Chad. Sister Eloise gives him a dirty look. “That was so close to us.”

  That’s when the entire plan jolts, violently. My cupcake goes flying, hitting the ceiling. So do some of the people. I get jerked against my seatbelt painfully.

  People start screaming.

  The plane lurches again and there’s a terrible, terrifying sound. Of the engines whining.

  Then there’s an even more terrifying sound. Of an engine exploding.

  Clara screams, along with a lot of other people. She’s holding on to me.

  “This isn’t just turbulence, Evie!” she cries. “We’re freefalling!”

  It’s hard to even comprehend what’s happening. Everything goes dark inside the plane and it’s windy. Like there’s a hole. A big one. People are making noises of terror. Crying. Praying. Whimpering. Yelling.

  Holy hell. We’re going to crash!

  A lot of people are getting out of their seats, I don’t know why. They’re panicking. They’re pleading and scared and angry, even.

  I keep my seatbelt fastened, I lean into the brace position and I start praying.

  The whole thing is happening so fast but at the same time slowly.

  I think of my parents, back in Georgia. They’ll be so upset. My cat, Snowball. Christmas and my cousins and our summer trips to the beach.

  My life is literally flashing before my eyes.

  The noises are loud and insanely horrifying.

  We’re falling fast. So, so fast. It’s so windy.

  And then we hit. The impact is unreal. It jars the whole world and all of us along with it.

  I black out.

  When I come to, I think my feet might be on fire.

  But, no, it’s cold. It’s water.

  The plane is filling with water.

  There’s smoke, too, and I can see that there’s a fire at the back of the plane.

  Clara’s slumped next to me. “Clara,” I manage to gasp. I touch her shoulder but she flops sideways. There’s blood all over her head and her eyes are open, just blank and glassy.

  Oh my God. Oh, no.

  I glance over at Chad. And Sister Eloise.

  Chad’s neck is broken, his body completely lifeless. Sister Eloise is covered in blood.

  No. No.

  I can vaguely hear a few people moaning.

  The water is up to my waist now. I unfasten my seatbelt and I start half-walking and half-swimming towards the front of the plane … the water is so cold … but there is no front of the plane. It’s just gone. It’s a gaping, open hole into a watery darkness.

  My shirt rips on the sharp edge of something as I try to get out. I hardly notice.

  There’s a yellow raft, bobbing next to the hole. A miracle? I don’t know. I climb onto it. I call out. I want to help the others, but my head is spinning. I touch my hair and see there’s blood on my fingers.

  Everything starts to spin.

  And the world goes black.

  I’m so thirsty.

  I open my eyes.

  Where am I?

  I blink my eyes. It’s so bright. There are bright colors.

  Yellow.

  And blue.

  I blink again.

  Oh my God.

  The plane!

  Was that real?

  I sit up a little, but my head spins.

  Holy shit.

  I’m in a raft.

  My plane crashed and I’m in a raft.

  I peer over the edge of the raft.

  Jesus!

  I’m in the middle of the ocean.

  In a tiny yellow raft.

  Oh my God. Clara. Sister Eloise. Chad. All of them. Did any of them survive? I have no way of knowing. My raft doesn’t even have oars. Or water. Or food. Or anything.

  Shit.

  I don’t even have a shirt on. At all. It ripped, I vaguely remember. It must have been ripped completely off. And I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

  My short skirt is also ripped, gaping open at one side, held only by a button. I don’t have any shoes on, just my little white socks. I took my shoes off, I remember, on the plane, thinking I might sleep.

  The sun is harsh overhead. I can already feel that I’m getting burnt. I take off what’s left of my skirt and use it as a hood, to shield my face from the bright sun. So all I’m wearing now is a tiny pair of white panties. Even those are ripped and are hanging off me.

  Even if I do get rescued, this is how they’ll find me.

  Will they be searching for us?

  How long have I been drifting? It’s impossible to kn

ow.

  I feel the bump on my head. It’s stopped bleeding now and doesn’t feel like it’s too bad.

  I’m sunburned and insanely thirsty. I’m guessing I’ve been floating maybe for a day. Maybe two.

  My eyes well up a little but I scold myself. I’ll get even more dehydrated if I start crying. I need that moisture.

  The ocean water is so blue. A bright, clear turquoise. Which makes me wonder. Maybe I’m not way out in the middle of the sea, where the water might be darker. Maybe I’m closer to land.

  I scan the horizon, but I can’t see any shapes rising up. Just smooth, rippling water. As far as the eye can see.

  I lay back in my raft, keeping my hood over my head, and I pray.

  Please let me float close to land. I’m a good swimmer. I can swim for it if I see something. Please.

  I’m so incredibly thirsty. And hungry. I didn’t even get to eat my cupcake.

  Happy birthday to me.

  Ha.

  I let my eyes close and I sleep a little, dozing. I stare at the sky for hours on end.

  Time passes. I’m dying of thirst.

  This is how I’m going to die. Here, in this raft. No one will ever find me. I’m all alone in this world and I’m dying.

  I cry a little more. Fuck it. If a girl can’t cry when she’s about to die, then fuck it all.

  Swearing is a sin, of course. I silently apologize.

  I apologize for everything bad I’ve ever done. Not wearing a bra when I should have. Thinking about kissing Chad, even though he wasn’t very attractive. It’s funny to have boys notice you. We’re never allowed out when school is in session, so I’m not really used to it. It was kind of fun, smiling at him and watching his fascinated reaction. Almost like I had a power over him I wasn’t expecting.

  I cry some more. I guess I’ll never know what it’s like. To kiss someone. My friend Leah kissed me once. She wanted to experiment, she said. Her lips were soft. It felt naughty but also tame. But what would it be like to kiss a man? My friends and I talk about it sometimes, whispering at night. Leah had a photo, from a magazine. Of a naked man. His whole body was hairy. And his thing was hanging down between his legs. She called it his cock. It was the strangest sight I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t stop staring at it. There was something so fascinating about it. What would it feel like? To touch it. It looked hard. How does it even … ? How do a man and a woman … ?

  I silently apologize again, staring up at the blue, blue sky.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about sex. Not that I even know how it works.

  It’s a sin.

  I should be thinking pure thoughts, about finding water and living a pure life.

  I’m jolted by the bump of my raft into … something.

  I look over the edge.

  OH MY GOD.

  Thank you.

  I’ve drifted onto a beach!

  It’s the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen, with white sand and that turquoise-colored water. There are palm trees. A whole forest of them, leading deeper into the island.

  THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

  Maybe there are people on this island.

  MAYBE THERE’S WATER. There must be water.

  I sit up.

  I’m dizzy. My balance feels off. I try to climb out of the raft and my panties catch on one of the plastic loops where a small rope is attached.

  Shit.

  I try to salvage my panties but it’s no use. They’re beyond repair. The tiny shred of cotton falls off.

  Oh, that’s just great.

  Now I’m completely naked.

  Except for my socks. I take them off, too, because who wants to walk along the beach in only a pair of socks?

  I don’t actually care about what I’m wearing. Or not wearing. The only thing I care about is finding water.

  I pull my raft further up the beach to make sure it doesn’t float away.

  I look around tentatively. I can’t see any signs of civilization. At all. But it’s a tropical island, so there must be fresh water somewhere. Maybe inland.

  I walk down the beach, looking for a path or a stream or anything that might look promising.

  That’s when I see something. It almost looks like a small hut, with palm fronds as its roof. Am I imagining things?

  But, no. As I walk a little closer, I can see that rocks have been put in a circle. There are a few charred logs inside the circle. Someone had a campfire.

  But then I stop in my tracks.

  Because someone steps out from behind the hut.

  A man.

  A huge, muscular man. Very huge. And very muscular. He’s deeply tanned and his dark hair is unruly. He has dark hair on his chest. The only thing he’s wearing is a rough-sewn cloth, wrapped around his lean waist. Almost like a loin cloth. Across his chest is a leather strap with knives and primitive-looking rock and bone tools strung to it.

  He’s the meanest, strongest, toughest-looking man I have ever seen in my life.

  Behind my fear, I can admit he’s also … handsome. Like, insanely good-looking, in a wild, savage kind of a way.

  He’s also dangerous, I can immediately sense this.

  Holy shit.

  I don’t think he’s seen me. He’s carrying wood, like he might start his fire again.

  I take a step back.

  I need to hide.

  But he detects my movement.

  His head jerks up.

  He sees me.

  His eyes are wild. More than wild. Feral.

  Oh my God!

  He stares, and blinks, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

  Then he drops the wood he’s carrying and starts walking towards me in ground-eating strides.

  He’s coming for me.

  After a split second of sheer, frozen terror, I turn and I run for my life.

  I scream when he catches me but his huge hand covers my mouth before the sound can carry.

  I struggle for my life! But he’s so strong. He lays me down in the sand and puts his full weight on top of me, keeping his hand over my mouth. He easily takes both of my wrists in his other fist and holds my arms secure above my head.

  Help me! I’m trying to scream but it comes out more as a muted whisper. I try to punch him and kick him! I can’t. I’m pinned so securely I can’t even move.

  I writhe underneath him to try to get loose but he’s incredibly heavy. As I squirm, my bare skin rubs against his bare skin. He’s hairy and hard all over.

  Something against my thigh is very, very hard. Like he’s holding a stone column.

  Oh my God. Is that … ?

  I stop struggling. I lay there, staring up at his face. His eyes are dark. So are his eyelashes. Dark and thick, almost like he’s wearing eyeliner. Which I know he isn’t. My terror is taking my thoughts in strange directions. He’s a big, strong, hairy, handsome man. Not like Chad, I can’t help thinking. He looks like a hot … caveman.

  His eyes rove over my face as he takes in every detail of me. The look in his eyes is equal parts scarily possessive and absolutely fascinated. I don’t like either.

  “Water,” I try to whisper. “Please.” Maybe if I can distract him, he’ll take me somewhere, and I can run.

  He lifts his weight off me, moving my arms so he can pin them with his knees.

  “Ow!” I protest, but his hand is still over my mouth. He takes something from the strap over his chest.

  It’s a piece of cloth.

  He fits it over my mouth, lifting my head to tie it. It’s a gag.

  I thrash underneath him again, trying to scream, but it’s no use. I’m gagged and pinned.

  And his hands are free.

  This is not a good thing.

  He touches my face. My cheeks. My neck.

  He runs his rough hands over my breasts, like he’s curious about how they might feel.

  “Hey!” I try to protest and squirm again but it comes out sounding more like hmph and then I look down to notice … oh Lord. Oh, God. Oh, help.

  It’s his thing! His … cock. It’s jutting out from under his leather loin cloth, which doesn’t actually cover much at all.

  I whimper.

  It’s freaking enormous! And hard. Much bigger than the man in Leah’s photo. Like, twice as big. It has veins on it and is engorged-looking. I’m shocked to see a drop of liquid gathering at an opening at the broad end of it.

 

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