It was all he could do not to take her up against the nearest tree. She had him tied in so many knots, he didn’t think he’d survive even that long. He could tell himself it was the setting, the…entertainment they’d witnessed, but right now all he saw was her. Those soft blue eyes searching his, burning with a desire only he was going to fill. It was heady, exciting…and not a little empowering.
His gaze dropped to her lips and he was stunned by the sudden realization that he hadn’t yet tasted them. How was that possible? Given the intimacies she’d allowed, the things she’d made him feel, how was it he’d never kissed her?
He began to lower his head, then stopped. Something about taking her mouth with his own almost seemed more intimate than taking her body with his own. It made no sense, but he wanted to savor that moment, taunt himself and her with the exquisite sensations they were both going to experience when their lips, and tongues, finally met. And somehow, he knew it would be beyond anything so simple, so unremarkable as any kiss he’d ever shared with anyone else.
He pulled on her hand, suddenly unwilling to lose another precious second, much less share the time they did have with anyone else. They had all weekend, he reminded himself, or did if he played his cards right. And even though they’d done hardly anything yet, he already had a feeling that two days…and two nights, were not going to be enough. He made a mental note to find out more about her.
He glanced down at her and found himself smiling. Her face looked as determined as his. Find out everything about her, he amended. Every last thing. His wanton island woman.
They came across a small marker that read BUNGALOW 9. “Privacy,” he said, looking at her. “What do you think?”
“Um, I’m not sure all the club bungalows are set up to be private.”
“Shall we find out?”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped and nodded.
He wanted to drag her inside right then and there, but something in her expression…“You sure?”
She nodded again, then said, “If it’s not…if it’s set up in a way that—” She shook her head and laughed a little. “I’ll stay but not if it’s some kind of torture chamber or anything. I know they have some pretty wild bungalows set up.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but he immediately envisioned her all strapped in black latex, with impossibly spiky heels on…and maybe a whip. It shouldn’t have turned him on; he was not one for those games. Or he’d never thought he was. “Why don’t we take a look, then decide? Who knows, it might already be taken anyway.”
But there were no sounds coming from the small, round building. The club bungalows were different from the guest bungalows in that they were of varying sizes, all of them smaller than the ones the guests stayed in, pretty much appearing to be one main room, with maybe enough room for a bathroom or dressing room of some kind. Each one decorated and set up with some sort of theme in mind.
Cam pushed at the door. “Hello?” he called out, but the inner room or rooms were dark and silent. He stepped inside and pulled Allie in with him. “Unoccupied,” he whispered.
She moved in close behind him and he twitched at the feel of her warm breasts brushing his arm and back. “Is there some kind of light switch?”
Cam turned to face her, intending to reach behind her to feel along the wall, but paused as he looked down at her. There was just enough of a glow from the small path lights to cast her face in pale relief, leaving the rest of her shrouded in velvety darkness. He ran his hands down her arms, enjoying the resulting shiver. “Maybe we should keep the lights off. Feel our way around.” He drew his fingertips back up along her arms, careful to brush the sides of her breasts and nipples as he did.
She gasped, then shook her head. “I want to—to see you.”
His eyes widened, surprised by the request…but it was a request he approved of. He wanted to watch her come apart for him as well. But he wasn’t quite ready to relinquish the darkness that enveloped them. He moved forward, his big body nudging her smaller one back toward the wall behind her. She brought her hands up to his chest, but to brace herself, not to push him away. Her fingers brushed over his nipples and he, too, shivered in awareness. Hyperawareness. He wondered if he’d ever be able to recapture this exact level of awareness once he left this place. He planned to find out. He wondered if she’d be there to find out with him.
When she came up against the wall, he kept moving in until his body was right up against hers. He pressed himself against her belly, struggling not to continue to thrust his hips. He didn’t think he’d ever been hard for such a long period of time. He should be in physical pain by now, but instead the forced control only jacked up the arousal until he thought he might simply explode. He had a few other things he wanted to do before that happened.
He leaned his head down and pressed his lips to her temple. “Do you realize we haven’t kissed yet?”
She stilled for a moment, then said, “I—no, I guess we haven’t.” She lifted her head, putting her mouth ever so close to his. “We could change that.”
He brushed his mouth along her chin, then her cheek, even lightly dragging them across her lips, but moving away as she opened them for him. “We could. But we won’t. Not yet.”
He could hear her breath coming in shorter pants now. “Okay,” she said, her voice a tight whisper.
He surged again, realizing the gift she’d just given him. She was going to let him guide, lead. Dictate. At least for now, he thought with a smile, remembering how swiftly she could turn the tables on him. Best to begin then, he thought. He drew his hands down along her arms until they circled her wrists. Slowly he pulled them up until they were all the way over her head.
He saw her eyes widen, but she allowed him the liberty. He pulsed with the power of her acquiescence. He switched his grip so he held both wrists together with one hand. The other he drew lightly down over her face. He moved his body so it brushed over her bared breasts as he once again pressed his fingertip to her lips.
She moaned and twitched a little.
“Hold yourself still,” he commanded softly.
She gasped and looked sharply at him, then nodded tightly and held herself perfectly still.
“Take my finger into your mouth.” He pressed it slowly between her lips.
She allowed him to enter her lips, her gaze steady on his. There was a duality of power here, he realized instantly. She didn’t have to let him do this, they both knew he’d stop if she said the word. The fact that she allowed him these liberties also put her in a position of power with him. She had to know what this was doing to him…and he suspected she was enjoying wielding her power every bit as much as he was. Damn, but he wished this night would go on forever. That he could last forever.
You can have her again tomorrow, he reminded himself. And tomorrow night. And all the following day. Right up until it was time for them both to leave.
Leave. His body clenched at the very thought of her disappearing from his life, and not in pleasure. He hadn’t even kissed her and he couldn’t imagine having her beyond his immediate reach, beyond his control.
Control.
He leapt in response once again to the very idea. This, right here, right now, he controlled. And would continue to until they chose to end it.
“Taste me,” he said roughly, stroking his finger along her tongue, pushing it deeper into her mouth until she had to tighten her mouth around it to keep from choking. “That’s right,” he schooled, brushing her body with his again, almost moaning himself when she gasped and pulled him more deeply into her mouth in doing so. “Suck on me, Allie,” he commanded gently. “I want to feel how soft and strong your mouth is.”
She continued to hold his gaze with great deliberation, and began suckling his finger. He pulled it halfway out, then let her pull it back in with the force of her tongue. He repeated this again, and again, until he thought the torture of one more stroke would kill him. Then she flicked her tongue over the tip an
d along the edge and he abruptly pulled it all the way out, panting now himself.
She grinned, but said nothing. She knew exactly what she’d done to him. Or almost done.
He found himself smiling, too. “There are other things I plan to push into you,” he said, enjoying her almost convulsive shudder. “Hot things, hard things, wet things.”
Her body trembled, but she continued to hold his gaze and struggled to keep herself still in his grasp.
“Shall we find out what lays in the darkness behind me?” Before she could respond, he leaned in next to her ear and whispered, “Whatever it is, will you trust me to find some way to make you scream with pleasure before we leave?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t hear you.” He leaned away just enough so that he could look into her eyes. “Tell me, Allie.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He could feel the pulse in her wrists tripping wildly as she held his gaze steadily. “Yes, what?”
“Yes,” she said, “I will let you make me scream.”
His cock twitched hard at her softly spoken words and the slightest curve of her lips told him she’d felt it, that she knew the power she wielded in this scenario was, at the very least, equal to his.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He reached behind her with his free hand and felt along the wall. When he found the switch, his hand hesitated. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
Chapter Eight
Allie wanted to close her eyes as Cam flipped the light switch, remaining in the darkness where anything seemed possible. But she was also dying to see what lay in store…for them both.
Instead of harsh lights, a dim, rich glow filled the small bungalow as gas lamps leapt to life. There was a sconce just beside them next to the door, and one somewhere behind Cam as well. There was just enough light so that when she turned her head toward the door, she could make out the small, delicately hand-painted sign on the door.
“Victorian Villa,” she read.
Cam saw it the same time she did, then looked back at her with a fake pout. “No whips and chains.”
“Don’t be so sure, the Victorians could be an…interesting lot.”
Cam pulled her wrists down, still holding them in the span of his one large hand. He massaged her palms and fingers as the blood flowed back into them, then tugged her away from the wall. “Let’s find out what we have here.”
He turned them both around at the same time, and she wasn’t sure who gasped first. The small round room was a study in Victorian lace. The bed dominated it, sitting right in the middle. It was a small, but commanding four-poster that sat so high off the floor there were stools on either side for help in climbing up on it. It was covered in a downy coverlet with mounds of lacy pillows, all pristine white, as was the draping that hung from the posts, like misty clouds.
“Definitely not leather and whips,” Allie murmured, wondering what Cam thought of this ultra-feminine décor. The sole nightstand had a lace cover and held only the gas lamp and nothing else. The sconces on the wall barely emitted enough light to show what else might lie about for them to employ in their enjoyment, but it looked as if the elaborate bed was to be its own toy. The visual of Cam, all big and tawny gold, reclining in the midst of that sea of white linen and lace, was a bigger turn-on than she’d expected.
“Think you can still fulfill your promise to me here?”
When he shifted his gaze to her, she realized he wasn’t the least put off by the décor. His eyes all but blazed into hers, his grin downright carnal. “Oh, I think I can elicit a scream…or three.”
She shivered, then almost laughed herself. In glee. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was real. Considering how the evening had started, this was turning out to be way too good to be true. She spent another second or two wondering if she would be enough for him, enough to convince him not to end this when the night itself ended. He tugged her toward the bed and she decided right then and there to be whatever she had to be in order to keep him around. At least until the sea taxi arrived to take them all back to wherever they came from.
Her body and mind both instinctively rejected the idea of letting him simply walk away from her. But that was part of the allure of this place, right?
She refused to answer that on the grounds that it would make her crazy if she let herself go there. Enjoy what you’ve got, Allie, while you’ve got it. It sure as hell was more than she’d ever hoped for.
Cam paused beside the footstool. “Climb up onto the bed,” he instructed.
Allie felt the buzz of his intently spoken words hum through her entire body. She liked hearing his deep voice issue those oh-so-velvety commands. Maybe it was because she already knew he was a Mr. Nice Guy at heart that she was able to trust him to guide her. And maybe it was because she hoped to be the one to make him be Mr. Bad Boy.
Whatever the case, she stepped onto the stool.
“Wait,” he said, tugging her back. When she looked questioningly at him, he said, “You still have far too much covering your delectably pale skin.”
She’d been self-conscious about her pasty white skin since she got here. She’d hoped to hit a tanning salon before coming, or at least use one of those tanning creams but with the merger going through had never found the time. She was probably the only woman in California with no visible tan.
Then he stroked a fingertip along her collarbone and said, “It’s so creamy, so pure, I want to lap up every inch of it.”
One look into his eyes proved he meant it. And suddenly she felt…well, if not beautiful, at least desirable. And that was more than enough.
“I want to see every inch of it,” he said, then let go of her and moved back a foot or so away from her, leaving her all but swaying with one foot still perched on the small, padded stool. “Take off your clothes, Allie. Take off that skirt and peel those ridiculous panties down your sweet hips.”
Allie had never undressed for a man before in her life. Sure, she’d had sex with the lights on, but undressing had either been a clumsy, groping affair…or done in the bathroom while her partner undressed in the bedroom.
He’s already seen most of you, she reminded herself. And yet as she felt along her waist for the knot that held her sarong skirt up, she couldn’t stop the fine trembling of her fingers…or of the muscles in her inner thighs.
“Undo the knot, Allie.” He looked from her fingers, to her face, and continued the dual attention as she fought with the damp fabric. The water had made the knot so bound up there was no way it was coming loose. Her brief visual of undoing the knot and sexily flinging the sarong away fled. Well, doesn’t this figure?
He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand. No, dammit, she wasn’t going to let him help her get around this. This was why she was here, to learn how to handle exactly this type of situation with feminine finesse. There had to be a way to get this thing off without—
She smiled then, perhaps a bit wickedly as the solution came to her…and had double the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen a bit as she regained her confidence in herself. She turned just slightly, so he could see her hips…and that sweet backside he’d mentioned…and slowly began to nudge the sarong down over her hips.
She tried the best she could to dip her hips and roll them, hoping it looked suggestive. Her panties got caught up in the fabric and were being pulled off with the sarong, but she didn’t pause. They were going to have to come off anyway, she told herself, turning so her back was more fully toward him. She continued to push and slide, moving her hips as she did. Praying he wasn’t trying not to laugh.
Then the fabric was past the swell of her hips and dropped to the floor. She stepped gingerly out of them, hoping she didn’t trip, but kept her back to him, wondering what he was thinking. Then she felt him walk up behind her and it took everything she had to keep still.
“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice tight and almost raw with tension.
She let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding, but resisted the urge to melt back against him. It was a heady thing, turning a man on like this. She liked it. A lot.
“Hardly perfect,” she managed.
She felt the warm tip of one blunt-edged finger brush the nape of her neck. He trailed it all the way down her spine, undoing her self-control as easily as he might have undone a zipper. She shuddered and was forced to clamp her thighs together against the aching need that pooled there.
His finger continued past the base of her spine, down along the curve between her buttocks. The feel of his finger, so close…drenched her further.
“Step up onto the stool,” he commanded hoarsely.
She no longer questioned this, or him. She wanted whatever he wanted to do to her, with her. She stepped onto the stool.
“Brace your palms on the bed.”
She did, and in doing so had to push her cheeks ever so slightly toward him. He ran his fingertip again along the dip between her cheeks, causing her to convulsively flex the muscles between her legs.
“Move your feet apart. Just a little.”
She could feel his breath on the skin of her lower back. She closed her eyes, intent on all the things he was making her feel. Somehow she’d thought facing him, stark naked, would make her feel the most vulnerable, especially when he was still dressed. However, exposing herself to him this way was far more intimate, far more vulnerable than she could have ever imagined. And it thrilled her no end.
She moved her feet apart.
Again, she felt his fingertips trace down along her buttocks, but with her feet slightly apart, she couldn’t clench as tightly against the need. It left her open there, and aching, and so wet she didn’t think she could stand it a moment longer.
She wanted to scream at him to move his fingers lower, to touch her there, to give her some relief. But his touch was removed once again. She moaned and heard a similar noise come from him.
Maybe she should beg him, she thought, maybe that’s what he wanted. She was certainly willing to; at this point all she cared about was getting him to put an end to this ache he’d built up inside her.
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