“It’s a broad term.” He smiled at her. “I don’t mean to exclude whipping, caning, spanking or paddling. And it was just an example. Go. Think about it. I’ll be around tomorrow, and if I’m not out and around my door is the second one on the left from the stairs. Knock.”
“What if I’ve made up my mind?” Would he really do all those things to her? She had no reason to think he was bluffing. How would it feel? Would it hurt more than she could stand? Or worse, would it arouse her? The thought of being aroused by something like that was hot, but she wasn’t sure what it meant about her if she was.
“I said go and think. It was an order, Teresa. Dismissed.” And with that, he looked down at his steak.
“But—”
“No buts. Go. Besides, my steak is going to get cold.”
From the look of the inside, it wasn’t all that warm to begin with. She paused for a moment, then headed for her room. It was dark outside and she had a mystery she’d been halfway through for a week. Time to go find out how it turned out, she supposed. Kyle was the most maddening man. What was up with him, anyway?
She realized as she opened her door that she wanted to find out the answer to that a lot more than she wanted to know how her mystery novel ended.
Nearly an hour later, her novel lay facedown on the bed. She’d managed to read about fifteen pages. She had alternated between wondering about him and being pissed at him. She thought about how his muscles would feel under her hands. How his hands would feel clamped on her wrists, holding her against a wall or down on the bed. Would she be facing him or facing away? He could overpower her easily and do whatever he wanted. She didn’t want to be overpowered. Still, it was intoxicating to know that he could. And if she consented, well—then it wouldn’t really be overpowering, exactly, it’d be—well, too damn confusing, that’s what it was.
She’d thought the book would distract her from arousal, but it had worked the other way around. Her libido was distracting her from the book. She opened the drawer in her dresser, the one that held all the toys. She pulled out a flogger, the softer and lighter of the two in the drawer, and set it on the bed. Then a thin bit of wood, maybe a couple of feet long. A cane. It looked as though it would hurt a lot. She didn’t know what she was going to do with them. She didn’t even know what he would do with them. Sailors got lashed on the back, but that didn’t seem all that sexy. He’d go after her ass, she supposed. Or maybe her thighs, or her breasts or her pussy. The thought of that cane on her pussy made her wince. Surely he’d observe some limits.
She got out the big plug-in massager. Now that was what she needed. Something to distract her from thinking about him. She usually didn’t think that much about sex once she came, after all. She got out her own vibrator from her bag—it was smooth, silver and not quite life-sized, but she usually used it on the outside and didn’t care about that. She put it on the bed with everything else and then plugged the massager in.
Quick and dirty and I’m done with it. Fantasies are safer and often sexier than reality, anyway. She gave herself permission to have whatever wicked thoughts she liked, at least for a few minutes.
She lay down on the bed, turned on her vibrator and stuffed it inside her flooded pussy. Maybe it was too long without that made her this turned-on. Kyle happened to get my juices going, nothing special. She turned the massager on and pressed its round head right to her clit. Its humming vibration was much stronger than what she normally got and she nearly jumped.
I wonder if he’s thinking of me. Maybe he’s pumping his cock with his hand. Part of her dismissed that as unlikely. Even if he was jerking off, he was probably thinking of some ideal beauty. But she dismissed that. This was her fantasy, and in her fantasy he was thinking about her. Thinking about coming in her, or on her. If he had his cock in his fist, on might make more sense. She didn’t know why she wanted that, but she did. Wanted to see his pleasure, see him spurt hot cum, and if she needed to be the target she’d be happy to take one for the team.
She hadn’t intended to do anything with the other things on her bed, but she squeezed the vibrator to keep it in her pussy and grabbed the flogger. It was awkward, but she flicked it in the direction of her breasts and was disappointed when it felt more like she’d dropped a pile of clothes on her chest than the sting she’d imagined. She switched the flogger to her right hand and held the massager to her clit with her left. She tried again to flick the flogger and it hurt. That was more like it. It had to be more intense if someone else was doing it. The angle would be less awkward, and she didn’t want it to be all under her control.
She flicked it toward herself again, imagining it was Kyle who held it, and she came as the vibrations inside and outside of her pussy overcame her. The strength and suddenness of it surprised her. She wasn’t sure if it was the implements or the fantasy, but she made a mental note to pick up a big massager when she got home. She slipped the vibe out of her pussy and turned it off.
She didn’t feel like getting up to clean it, although she tried to make it a habit. She set the massager aside and turned it off as well. Lazily, she drew the tails of the flogger across her stomach and her breasts, caressing them. She closed her eyes to focus on the sensation.
* * * * *
Kyle grunted as his cock pulsed in his fist. That woman had gotten to him in a way he hadn’t expected. Maybe it was that he’d been alone for weeks and she was the first woman he’d seen for a while, but the same was often true when the girls got off the plane for a couple of weeks of submission, and those girls he knew wanted what he had to offer. He never jerked off thinking about any of them. And definitely not twice. He’d come last night thinking about having Teresa suck his cock. He was about to come again this morning, imagining slamming into her pussy even though he’d never seen it. Fuck.
An image flashed of what her face might look like contorted by orgasm and he had to move his left hand to catch as he shot his load. He stood there in his room, pumping his cock with his hand. He hadn’t masturbated twice in twenty-four hours since he was a teenager. Hopefully the sexual tension he felt would ease now and he’d be calm, cool and collected. He went to the bathroom to wash up. He needed to shave, anyway.
There is no way I’m letting Roger touch her. The thought surprised him. His logic the evening before had been sound. Roger was a much better introductory top. He was more patient. He was a better mind reader. He enjoyed playing soft and slow—in fact, Roger liked the psychological side of Dominance and submission far more than the physical. There had never been any jealousy between them—they wanted different kinds of women and they had always managed to sort it out. If a woman wanted some pain, she was sent to Kyle. If she simply wanted to submit, then Roger or Carter or Tom would have her. It had always worked before. But he knew now that if Roger and Teresa started screwing, he wouldn’t want to be on the same island with them.
So much for calm, cool and collected.
He finished scraping a razor across his face and pulled on swim trunks. He went downstairs and grabbed some breakfast. The Americans weren’t up yet, which was fine with him. He had his bacon and eggs in peace and went out to the pool. He wanted to clean the area around it before the sun got too bright, take a swim, then work on sweeping the deck out front where it was shaded before noon.
He used a pressure washer to clean the tile and concrete around the swimming pool, and had finished when he heard footsteps behind him. They were too light to be Gallagher. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“You know, it’s all horribly sexist, when you think about it,” she said.
He turned anyway, because he wanted to look. She was wearing jeans and a tight brown shirt with a deep V-neck that would have revealed a healthy amount of cleavage had she not been wearing a cream-colored chemise under it. Even so, there was a hint. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m guessing your referring to the fact that I won’t have a relationship with a
woman that isn’t willing to follow orders?”
She frowned. “I was referring to the fact that you won’t do anything with me unless I’m willing to follow orders, yes, but now that you’ve extended it to women in general, you’ve sharpened my point.”
He wasn’t worried about sharpening her point. What he noticed was the way she reacted to the idea of him with another woman. I guess I’m not the only one with issues. Fine. He smiled. “You know, if I had a daughter I’d want her to be able to be anything she wanted. We’ve got a woman prime minister, and I don’t always agree with her but I’m fine with that. I have a sister who is a barrister in Melbourne and another who is a doctor in Sydney, and no one is going to tell me they aren’t as capable because they aren’t men.”
“Some of your best friends are women,” she mocked.
“No. None of my best friends are women.”
That left her speechless, at least for a moment. He savored it, waited until she started to open her mouth, and dove in. “I’m a man and I know what I like. A woman who is willing to be used for my pleasure. Who wants to suffer for my entertainment, if it comes to that. Takes a spanking with grace if she disobeys. And who accepts that I will decide when and how she gets to come.”
“Or what?”
“I leave you alone to do your job. Which, by the way, I assume you’re competent at, and undoubtedly do a hell of a lot better than I do. Because I couldn’t imagine a trireme docking on this island if my life depended on it. It’s absurd.”
“I think the idea is to use a penteconter, actually. One row of oars. Biremes and triremes came later than the Trojan War, which is our way of placing Odysseus in historical time.”
“Now how can a girl like you wrap her head around all that stuff?” asked Kyle, although he knew better.
Her fists clenched. “You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”
“Good. I don’t accept being second rate at anything I do. I’m going to have a swim. Want to join me?”
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. I’d heard about the jellyfish, and didn’t know there’d be a pool.”
He grinned. “That’s your only reason?”
She nodded.
“Not a problem,” he said. He took a step toward her. The chemise was on the outside of her jeans and extended lower than her shirt. It was easy to get the bottom of both of them in his hands at once. He moved without hurry—he didn’t want her to think he was hesitating, but he wanted her to have a moment to object if she wanted to. She was thinking about it, he could tell, but she knew what he was going to do too. Good enough. He lifted both up and over her head and tossed them to the side. She wore a lacy bra underneath, the same creamy color as the chemise. It was transparent where her nipples poked into it.
She didn’t say anything. Which meant she didn’t say no. “Your safe word is pineapple. You understand?”
“Yes.” Her chest rose and fell with her breath, which seemed frantic. He was used to women reacting that way when he pulled out a cane, but not from having their tops off. He’d expected the bra to be fairly decent. He wasn’t exactly disappointed to find out that it wasn’t, and besides, he liked that reaction.
“Did you drink any whiskey last night?”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Because someone raided the liquor cabinet, and if it wasn’t you then that someone is probably going to be sleeping in and waking up with a headache.”
“Oh.”
He reached down and pulled on the zipper of her jeans. He wasn’t a big fan of women in pants, and double that for loose jeans like the ones she wore. Sexist again, he supposed, as he found loose jeans quite comfortable himself. Their one good feature on women was that they came off easier than tight ones, and he took advantage of that. When he got to her boots, he picked her up and put her over his shoulder. She shrieked.
What she was yelling didn’t sound like pineapple, so he pulled her boots off and then took the jeans off the rest of the way. He carried her toward the pool.
“Don’t dump me in, please!”
“You have your safe word. All you have to do is say it and I’ll set you down. You can get your clothes back on and go about your life. You can swim, can’t you?”
“Yes.” Teresa looked at the water then back at him. She was thinking about it, he could tell.
It would be a shame to have things end here. And anyway, he had a better idea. He set her down on the tile at the edge of the pool. “Honey, I’m happy to get your knickers wet, but not like that.”
She blushed. And looked down. Was she aroused and wondering if it was showing? He reached behind her back and undid the back hook of her bra.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure your undies don’t get wet.” He paused. “Wetter.”
“You have a lot of nerve.”
“Yep. Always have.” He tossed the bra on one of the beach chairs, and then pulled her underpants down, bending at the knees. He inhaled her scent. Her arousal was unmistakable. He had been sure she would have contradicted him if he’d been wrong anyway. The thatch of hair over her pussy was proof enough that auburn hair wasn’t from a bottle, although he’d never cared much about that one way or the other.
“What if he wakes up?”
“Stay under the water, next to the edge, and I’ll chase him away.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that her body was beautiful, because it was, and didn’t need to be hidden. If there was a god, he hadn’t created bodies like hers, with her lush breasts and her wide hips, to be covered up all the time. But that was fine for when you knew all the people around you were safe and approving, and not so much so, he supposed, when you were trying to fend off someone’s unwelcome advances. He’d protect her from Gallagher if she needed protecting.
“Please don’t toss me in,” she said.
“I won’t.”
“You’re still wearing your shorts.”
“Yep. We wouldn’t want to be sexist about it.”
She blinked. “How is that not sexist, for you to be wearing clothes when I’m not?”
“Well, I took yours off. You’ll have to do the same.”
She reached for him. He jumped into the pool, splashing her. He’d let her succeed, but she’d have to work for it some.
Chapter Three
Terry stood there at the edge of the pool for a moment and watched Kyle swim away from her with long, easy strokes that covered the territory quickly, his lean body glistening in the sunlight. She wasn’t going to catch him if he didn’t want her to, she knew that. And he was right. Short of putting her clothes on, getting in the water was the best protection for her modesty that she had. She knew from experience that if she dangled a foot in, she’d never manage to get there. The best way to acclimatize was all at once. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him not to throw her in. She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce, actually—she figured he’d toss her in all the faster. She jumped.
The water, she supposed, could have been worse. At least it was nice and clean against her skin, although it felt funny to be naked in it. She swam in his direction. He’d already reached the other end of the pool, which was slightly curved, and was standing in the shallow end, waiting for her. She suspected he would move out of the way as soon as she got there, so she didn’t hurry. Some of the stuff he had talked about, the floggers and such, she was curious about and thought she could deal with. Even the ropes, despite her objection. But she had a mortal dread of being made to look foolish.
To her surprise, he didn’t move. She stood up on the bottom, wading the last couple of steps toward him, feeling that sense of awkwardness she always felt when walking through water. So much less elegant than swimming. Her breasts surfaced as she got to him.
Now that she was there, she hesitated. What the hell. She grabbed his shorts and yanked downward. She had to bend to push them down farther, careful to keep her head above water.
He grabbed her and, to her surprise, k
issed her. She didn’t know why it was such a shock, but he didn’t strike her as the sort of man who kissed. Or hugged. Although his kiss was anything but gentle. It bruised her lips and his tongue invaded her mouth. He held her tight, not letting her break away. Not that she wanted to. She would happily have kissed him until she passed out from lack of breath. He knew the right way to move his tongue and his chest felt good against hers. His hand on the back of her head was nice too, a reminder he was in control.
He let her go and she felt lightheaded.
“You’ve got a sweet mouth,” he said.
“You’re a pretty good kisser.” It was an understatement, but his ego seemed healthy enough without help.
He grabbed her by the ass and pulled her close and temporarily off balance. She wrapped her arms around him for stability. She could feel his hard cock against her stomach. Between the cool water and his presence her nipples had tightened, and the wiry hair of his chest tickled them. The only way they could be closer was if he was inside her, and that was a very attractive proposition. Her pussy tingled at the thought.
Then he let her go and swam off. She swam after him. He hit the other end first and did a jackknife turn to head the other way. She splashed him when he surfaced. He laughed and splashed back. She dove under and swam away and he chased her. She managed to slip out of his grasp a couple of times. A small victory, but a satisfying one, although she wouldn’t have mind losing either. His hands felt good on her, and only the slipperiness created by the water gave her any chance with him. Also, she suspected he wasn’t trying his hardest.
He caught up with her again in the shallow end and pulled her into his arms for another kiss. This time she couldn’t get away. She struggled for form’s sake, but it didn’t do her any good. He was too strong, his grip too sure.
He lifted her and she thought for a moment he was going to fuck her right then and there, but he didn’t. His cock slipped between her thighs and the head of it nestled against the crease of her ass. She wrapped her legs around him, aware for a moment that even though they weren’t having sex, it probably looked like they were. The thought of what it looked like made her think of Gallagher, and she must have made a face, because he asked, “What’s wrong?”
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