Page 26 of Etched In Stone
She winked and replied, “You’ll see.”
The anticipation radiating from her was almost tangible, and her excitement was utterly contagious. Despite my natural inclination toward control and advanced planning, I found myself genuinely eager to discover whatever scheme she’d concocted.
“Lead the way, Mrs. Stone,” I said, gesturing toward the dinghy that would carry us back to our private island paradise one final time.
The journey to shore was brief but filled with the kind of anticipatory tension that made every moment feel charged with significance. Krystina sat opposite me in the small tender, her tool bag clutched protectively in her lap, her eyes fixed on the approaching shoreline. When we arrived on the beach, the water gave way to the soft, powdery sand that stretched endlessly before us. The salty breeze tousled Krystina’s hair as I took her hand and helped her out of the small boat.
“Now, tell me what this is all about,” I demanded, but my words carried no heat. She had my complete attention now.
“Do you remember the first day you brought me to this island?”
“Of course.” The corners of my mouth tilted up from the memory. “We arrived in the morning and had a picnic breakfast that we never finished because I decided a nearby boulder was the perfect place to give you a spanking.”
“Exactly.” She flushed, her memory obviously matching mine, but her eyes held mine steadily. “That boulder—it’s where we christened this island as ours. It’s where our story on Enchanted Isle began. And I need to find it again.”
My brows raised, and I lashed her a devilish grin as my imagination immediately conjured several interesting possibilities for why she might want to revisit that particular location.
“Are you perhaps hoping for a repeat performance, Mrs. Stone?”
Her laughter rang out across the empty beach, pure and joyful.
“No! Well, not right now, anyway. I have something else in mind. Something that will last long after we’re gone from here. Do you recall the location?”
“I do. It’s this way.”
With her hand firmly clasped in mine, I led her down the shore toward the secluded area she was referring to.
“Look, there it is!” The energy in her voice matched the sparkle in her eyes.
I followed her gaze and saw the massive boulder standing sentinel on the beach, bathed in the shadows of the surrounding palm trees. Looking at it now, I could almost feel the phantom sting in my palm from the morning when I’d reddened her perfect bottom until she’d begged me to stop. The memory sent a familiar surge of heat through me, along with a dozen other recollections of the ways we’d claimed this space as our own over the weeks that followed.
I’d picked this location deliberately, far out of sight from any crew member on The Lucy, knowing I could strip Krystina bare and fuck her into oblivion.
And that was exactly what I’d done.
“Yes, Krystina. That’s the place. Now, I’ve been patient with this unexpected excursion so far. It’s time for you to tell me why you dragged us back here,” I demanded, my voice laced with authority. If she held out much longer, she would be getting that spanking whether she wanted it or not.
She closed the remaining distance to the boulder, her steps purposeful.
“I want to leave our mark here,” she said, setting down her tool bag and reaching inside. “Something permanent.”
When she procured chiseling tools, I raised a curious brow.
“Do I dare ask what those are for?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she approached the boulder’s smoothest face, running her hands over the granite surface with the concentration of a sculptor selecting marble. When she found the spot that satisfied her artistic vision, she positioned the chisel with mathematical precision and raised the hammer.
The first strike rang out across the empty beach like a bell, the metallic percussion echoing, cutting through the calls of seagulls flying overhead and the distant crash of waves. Then another strike, and another, as she began working with a determination that was both impressive and profoundly moving.
I watched, transfixed, as her intentions became clear. She was etching our initials into the hard surface. I brought my attention back to her face, a slight smile forming when I saw the determined set to her jaw. Her movements were deliberate, the stone seeming to surrender willingly to her efforts.
A profound sense of longing washed over me as I watched her. At that moment, I yearned to be closer to her, to somehow share in this intimate act of creation. She was a vision, a woman who commanded both admiration and desire, not only for her physical beauty but also for the depth of her character. The grace with which she etched our love made my heart constrict.
“You are incredible, angel. Do you know that?”
She paused her chiseling, frowning as she studied the carving thus far.
“Incredible isn’t how I would describe this. I’m just hoping for legible,” Krystina said with a laugh.
