Chapter Thirty-Two
Isla
“Last warning,” he ground out, low and so threatening that every inch of my body hummed in anticipation.
Skirting a line of danger that made my core weep and mouth water, I didn’t retreat.
I ran my fingers up the hard muscles of his thigh.
Faster than I could blink, his huge hand wrapped around my wrist in a vise grip.
Then he yanked me to my feet.
The boat rocked, and he pulled.
My breasts smashed into his chest, his other hand fisted in my hair, and his voice coated me in wanton need. “Did I give you permission to touch me?”
Permission. The word, the act, the implication of formal consent needed—it all vibrated through my muscles like an electric shock. “No.”
Swift and without hesitation he let go of my hair, gripped the long end of my lariat necklace, and yanked it.
The gold heart that usually dangled between my breasts was suddenly pressed against the base of my throat, and I couldn’t stop it. A moan escaped.
His hand gripped my wrist harder. “Who cuffed you, little intruse?”
Oh God. “That’s not what—”
He pulled the necklace tighter.
A new debasement unlocked, and my breath went short. The patchy kind of shortness that had nothing to do with the thin gold digging into my throat, or his deft fingers now skimming between my breasts, and everything to do with his cold, pervasive dominance.
“It’s not what? Making your breath hitch?” His gaze dropped to my neck for a mere fraction of a second. “Making your cunt constrict?”
Oh, his filthy mouth. And oh my God, yes. “No.”
His thumb dragged across the inside of my wrist. “Do you know the difference between mediocre sex and a shattering orgasm you had to beg me for?”
Wet. I was so wet. “I’m not going to beg.” I wanted to do exactly that—on my knees.
Ignoring my pitiful lie, he pulled the gold chain even tighter. “Excellence comes at your most vulnerable depths.”
Then he let go of the necklace, whipped me around, and pushed me onto the bed face-first.
I gasped.
He gripped my hair again. “Do you feel vulnerable now?”
“No.” I felt like liquid fire.
“Did you think those hard nipples would entice me?”
I hadn’t noticed them any more than the already incessant, pounding desire cramping my core and crawling through my veins, but oh God, now I did.
Using his grip in my hair and on my wrist—which was now firmly pressed against my lower back as he bent my arm at an angle intended to incapacitate—the man who was ironically named after the very symbol of rebirth was shoving me harder into the mattress.
My nipples scraped against the suddenly uncomfortable top of my bikini, and the ignited desires I’d tried to keep buried deep bled out, but my attitude didn’t completely forsake me. “I didn’t think anything would entice you.”
In response, he kicked my feet apart as my legs hung off the bed.
Cool air brushed past my ass.
He stepped between my thighs.
Then he yanked my hair out of the way, and his warm breath—all mint and hot sinfulness—landed on the back of my neck. “You want to be fucked, woman?”
My toes curled, desperation rioted low in my belly, and my aching core pulsed.
But I fought against all of it because this was my true depravity.
“That depends. Are you any good?” It was criminal to ask.
This man wouldn’t simply give me a shattering orgasm.
He would destroy me, and he would enjoy it.
But I still asked because the firm grip he was exerting hadn’t taken me there. I wasn’t at the depths of my—
“Who said I was going to do the fucking?”
Fear hit my body like an ice-cold plunge, and that did it. I sank. Full depth. “You’re not?”
“How wet is your cunt?” Pressure tugged on my right hip as the tie on the left side of my bikini bottoms was pulled.
I needed to ask what the hell he meant about him not doing the fucking, but a sudden sting pierced my hip, and a moan chased my shiver.
“Are you using your teeth?” Is that how he was taking my bikini off?
Is that why he had my hair pulled tight, and my head locked in the opposite direction?
So I couldn’t see what he was doing with his mouth?
“You like to be bitten, ma petite intruse.”
“I’m not a girl or little.” Nor was I his.
“You’re small to me, intruse.” Releasing my hair, he pulled the tie on the other side of my hip.
Then that familiar touch ghosted down my spine.
“You didn’t answer my question.” The pressure on my wrist increased, heat covered my back, and his lips brushed against my ear right before his lethally quiet voice came back to dominate. “Are you greenlighting this?”
Everything I thought I knew about men and sex, about my own desires and my body, all scrambled.
Then my clenching pussy betrayed me, and I arched my ass up as my mind groaned out the last remaining ounce of sense I had left. “Condom.”
“Tell me you consent.”
Oh God. “I consent.” His breath on me, his strong legs between mine, his dominance raining down with that voice, I consented a million times over. “Condom.”
“No.” His heat left my back, and my bikini bottom was stripped away.
Then the boat rocked hard enough to shove me a foot up the mattress, and reality came crashing down. “No condom, no sex.”
Two large hands gripped my ankles and yanked.
I screamed.