Savage Dom: A Dark Romance: Savage Island Book One

by Henry, Jane

  “It’s an excellent time to fish.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Let’s get some food while we can and get some water. Tonight, when the sun begins to set, we’ll pull some fish in.”

  He uses the term “we” like I’ll have anything to do with smelly fish. I’m all about making soup or getting the greens and fruit, but I would rather never eat another fish than actually have to catch the things.

  He looks at me with concern. “I was just going to clean my arm then head straight back to you. But you found me first.” He looks me up and down as if he’s just seeing me, then levels me with his hard gaze. “Why did you change?”

  “I got soaked.”

  He frowns, giving me a stern, reproving look. “I told you to stay inside. Did you go out in the storm after I told you not to?”

  His tone holds a corrective edge that makes my pulse quicken. I shake my head. But a part of me wonders if I should tell him I did. Give him a reason to go all alpha on me. Maybe it would restore some of his energy, and wipe away that forlorn look in his eyes, and maybe— aw, hell. Maybe I like when he does. Maybe I feel special and protected when he shows concern. And hell, maybe I need this.

  “No. I just stood in the doorway and yelled for you.”

  It sounds so silly now, like a little lost puppy pining away with her nose pressed to the windowpane.

  “I’m sorry I took off so fast,” he says.

  “Don’t be. It makes sense that you’d want to try to catch them.”

  He stands and takes my hand, and we walk hand in hand to the beach. I’m glad to see after he’s washed the cut on his arm it isn’t as bad as it first appeared. Mostly superficial.

  “Do you think that other guy survived that?”

  He shrugs. “No idea. Hope not.”

  We walk in silence back to the shelter. Earlier today, I wanted to swim. Now it’s the furthest thing from my mind.

  It seemed at first that this was a sort of paradise. But between the uncertainty of what lies ahead, and the dangers we face, it feels so much more like a prison.

  We head to the watering hole, but before we get there, I hear something. I pause and hold a finger up to my mouth.

  His brow furrows and he looks ahead of us. But we see nothing.

  “What was it?”

  I shake my head. “I wondered if it was the other guy.”

  “This would be a good place to stake him out,” he says. “Unless he’s already transported enough water to wherever he is.”

  But he’s out there somewhere. We both know it. We hear nothing after a few minutes of silence.

  “No damage to the shelter?” he asks, after we get some water. I shake my head.

  “One time, we had a storm and it leveled the shelter. It was a bitch reconstructing. I suspected we wouldn’t have that issue this time, because the eye of the storm was further out to sea.” His jaw tightens. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

  “Look, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’m glad you tried. I mean, we would’ve wondered if we made a mistake if you hadn’t, right?”

  He looks at me silently, holding my gaze for long minutes. “And just when I think I’m in hell, you’re sent to me,” he says. He turns around and reaches for my hand, tugging me close to him before drawing his fingertip down my cheek to my chin. “I love that you have an attitude like that. You’re a good girl, Harper.”

  “I’m a woman,” I protest in a whisper, because I don’t trust my voice. I swallow hard. I want to kiss him so badly I can taste it.

  “You sure as hell are,” he says with a lascivious grin. “But when you’re with me, you’re my girl.”

  And how could I not love that? Maybe I should protest, but I don’t know if I want to.

  Then he’s bending down and brushing his lips to mine. So tender. So gently, it feels like the flutter of butterfly wings at first. With a sigh, he pulls me tighter to him, cups my jaw, and intensifies the kiss.

  His rugged whiskers tickle my skin, his lips softer and gentler.

  I’m so grateful to have him back, at first, I let him take this kiss. I surrender to this moment. I give it to him freely.

  I fought a mental battle back at that cabin. And I came to a realization.

  He wants me as much as I want him, and I’m not going to fight it. There’s no damn point.

  Cupping my jaw in his large, rough palm, he brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, “I want you, Harper.”

  I swallow hard. “I know.”

  “I want to fuck you day and night and leave the memory of my lips on yours, the taste of me on your mouth, the feel of my cock between your legs.” His voice is just above a growl, low and seductive. I pull closer to him because I love this, his warmth, the possessive way he holds me, the dirty words he says that make me want for more than just a kiss. “I want to seduce you and shower you with attention, bring you to climax again and again, until every bit of resistance seeps out of you and you belong to me.”

  “Oh?” I ask in a breathy whisper. “Sounds manipulative. Also sounds pretty damn good, so I can deal with that.”

  His low, dark chuckle makes the little hairs on my arm stand up on end.

  “You’ve made me forget my troubles, Harper, and I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.”

  “Um. You’re welcome?”

  Still chuckling, he gives me a playful slap to the ass and I smile to myself.

  I belong to him on this island, and until our circumstances change, there’s no turning back.

  Thirteen

  Cy

  Days go by, then weeks, and we fall into a familiar routine. We spend our days gathering food, until we have such a solid store, we’re set for a while. Though we have no way of storing the roasted fish, we store everything else.

  There’s no sign of human life besides the two of us. Maybe Will died during the storm after all.

  No helicopter returns, either.

  We make the turtle soup with the greens, and Harper actually admits it could almost be chicken and spinach.

  “Almost,” she says. “Let’s not talk about the turtle shell.”

  I still can’t get her to eat the all the varieties of rodents I catch. She was pretty fit when she came, but after a few weeks of island fare, and the miles of walking we do each day, she’s tanned and more lithe than before, whereas I’ve filled out more.

  She’s got razors in her bag, which she uses sparingly, but I ask her to help me shave the ridiculous beard I’ve grown while on this island. It’s kinda of a bitch to shave, but together we do it. It feels so fucking good to get that hair off my face and neck. We use some of the knives we have back at the shelter to cut as much of it off as we can, and when I’ve cut it down as far to the skin as it can go, she shaves me. It’s intimate and sexy, and it’s no surprise that once she’s shaved me clean, I thank her by pulling her onto my lap and kissing her sweet mouth.

  It’s almost comfortable like this together. No. It isn’t the two of us that make this complicated, but our situation.

  With Harper? It’s fucking perfect.

  One day she admires her muscles in the reflection of the water.

  “My hair must be a sight,” she muses. “But wow, look at those guns. And my ass.”

  She turns to look at herself, and I do, too. It’s almost as good as an invitation to lie her down and fuck her right by the shore, so I do just that. She doesn’t complain.

  We’ve both stopped fighting it. We don’t understand why or how this attraction between us flames to life at the merest whiff of the other’s scent or the slightest touch of the other’s skin, but it does. I’m no more capable of self-control when I’m around her than she is. So, after a while, we don’t even try to stop it anymore. We make love when we wake up and take a nap during the day and wake to another go around. Most evenings, we can’t help ourselves and end up in bed all over again.

  She can take me. She fucking loves it when I pin her down or restrain her with makeshift ties from what I find
. When I place her belly-down and smack her ass while I fuck her from behind, she melts and takes every last stroke of my cock. We bathe by the watering hole and skinny dip, but there’s so much more I want to do to her.

  One night by the fire, I sit her on my lap, and when she’s nestled good and secure, I cup one of her breasts.

  “Cy,” she warns.

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m sleepy,” she says on a yawn.

  “So? Be sleepy. I didn’t say I wanna fuck you.”

  “As if you ever announce it,” she protests on another yawn.

  “This is true. But you know, there are a few things we haven’t tried yet.” There’s a ton we haven’t tried yet, but I’m easing her into the kinkier, deeper stuff. She responds well, but I don’t want to scare her off.

  “Oh,” she asks breathily, wriggling her ass on my crotch when I roll her nipple between my fingers.

  I bend my mouth to her neck and kiss her there, making her giggle.

  “That’s ticklish.”

  “You know what else is ticklish?”

  “No, but something tells me I’m going to find out.”

  “Mhm. My stubble between your legs while I eat you out.”

  Her gasp says enough. “Cy,” she whispers.

  “You ever had that done to you?”

  “Of course, I have,” she whispers, but I think she’s lying, because she won’t meet my eyes, she seems really fucking turned on and a little embarrassed.

  “Really?” I ask her. “You never had my mouth between your legs.”

  “Mmmm,” she moans when I suckle her neck while I roll her nipple between my fingers. “Maybe we… maybe we should go back to the shelter.”

  “We could,” I say. I have no interest in laying her out in the middle of the forest when there’s snakes and insects everywhere we turn. “But you said you were tired.”

  “Not like I have to get up for work tomorrow,” she says, but her laugh fades to sighing.

  I stand and lift her in my arms, carrying her to the shelter. If she starts talking about work, she’ll get all melancholy again. She’ll be reminded of Daniel, and her home, and the job that she left behind that she loves. When I carry her, she lays her head on my shoulder.

  “Cy?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Do you think they think I’m dead?”

  “I don’t know, baby,” I say truthfully.

  “I hate the idea of Daniel thinking I’m gone,” she says ruefully. “Who will take care of him?”

  “There’s nothing you can do about that right now,” I tell her. I want to draw her to my chest and soothe her. Rock her until she falls asleep in my arms, no longer worried about what she can’t control. The woman brings out a tenderness in me unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. There’s more than just raw sexual attraction here. It’s far deeper than that. Stripped away from anything superfluous, we’re left exposed and vulnerable. Apart from civilization, we’ve only got each other.

  “You’re right,” she says with a sigh. “I can’t. But maybe we can send some signals or something.”

  I smile to myself. “Maybe, yeah.”

  “Maybe the helicopter will come back.”

  “I hope so. But for now, the only thing I want on your mind is my mouth on your pussy.”

  “Cy,” she protests in a whisper.

  “Harper,” I whisper back.

  “That’s so dirty.”

  I go on. “I can’t wait to taste you. To suck your sweet clit until you lose your mind.”

  “Oh God,” she says on a moan. “You know, I could do the same thing.”

  The vision of her sucking me off makes me groan out loud.

  “Fuck yes, you could.”

  I carry her back to the little shelter she’s made into a home. She keeps it tidied and surprisingly pretty, gathering wildflowers and placing them in empty coconut shells, sweeping it, and straightening the blanket. She’s resourceful, and has our food stores neatly organized and arranged, our weapons hidden, but sharpened and ready. It’s almost cozy here, and there’s something about it that disturbs me a little.

  I don’t want to grow complacent.

  I don’t want to accept this as our new norm.

  I want to be sure that no matter what happens, we don’t lose sight of the fact that we want off this island. That we still have our entire lives to live. That this isn’t where we’ll die.

  I won’t accept this. I have to be sure she doesn’t, either.

  So, though we make sure we’ve taken care of everything necessary and made our stay here as comfortable as we can, I don’t lose sight of the fact that this is temporary. That we aren’t meant to stay here forever, and someday we’ll either find our way off this island or be rescued.

  I hate being passive. I don’t want to wait here for someone to come along, but hell if I can find a way off this fucking place.

  She mentioned the idea of us being near another island, when the helicopter flew overhead. And there’s a distinct possibility that we are indeed somewhat close to civilization. The thought kills me, to think we pushed ourselves to such extremes when civilization might be near. But there’s no safe way for us to find out.

  Or we could very well be truly isolated, far from anyone and anything remotely civilized. If only we knew. If only we fucking knew.

  Harper gives me a coy look from where she stands, over by our bed. I don’t know what she found or how she did it, but she’s somehow made our bed thicker, more comfortable, and softer. With no artificial light, we go to bed when the sun sets and wake when it rises, and between having her next to me, the rigorous physical efforts every day of survival on this island requires, and the more comfortable bed situation, I sleep like a baby.

  Tonight, focused on the lack of control I have over our survival, I’m craving control of another type.

  I want to have her begging. I want to make her come until she’s hoarse from screaming, boneless, and high on endorphins.

  I give her a series of short, rapid commands. She responds well to me instructing her, and when I’m ready to master her body, I like to get her ready. Mentally and physically.

  I can hear the soft rustle of her clothing and wish we had more light in here. But there’s a certain mystique to making love without seeing one another, as if the other senses are magnified.

  The sweet, musky scent of her arousal makes my dick hard, and I growl as I make my way toward her.

  “Hands on your breasts,” I tell her. “Work your nipples.”

  “Cy—”

  I’m close enough to fist her hair and give her a hard tug. “Work. Those. Nipples.”

  Her breathing is ragged when I drag my hand down her body to make sure she’s obeying my instruction.

  “Good girl.” With my mouth at her ear, I finger her pussy. “Good and wet for me already. This cunt’s mine, Harper. Say it.”

  “Yours.” She’s teasing me.

  I pinch her clit between my fingers, and she lets out a little scream. “Say the whole thing”

  “This cunt’s yours. Mmm.” She’s rolling her hips and working her nipples, and her sweet, seductive scent permeates my senses. I close my eyes and work her clit harder, faster until she’s writhing and panting.

  I freeze.

  “Cy,” she whispers, pleading. I’ll have her begging harder than that.

  “Lie down on your back,” I whisper in her ear. “Spread your legs and work your nipples. You come hard, babe. Tonight, you don’t come until I tell you.”

  She whines a little, and I punish her with a swift but moderate smack to her pussy. I want to shock her, not hurt her. Heighten her senses. Get her ready to come harder than she ever has before.

  She gasps.

  “Say yes, sir.”

  Slowly, gradually, I’m bringing her to where I want her. Introducing her to what I like.

  Absolute fucking control.

  “I—you want me—”

  Another smack to her pussy and he
r words come out in a rush. “Yes, sir.”

  I can tell by the way her whisper ends on a sigh that she likes that.

  “Now do what I said.”

  I remove my hand and feel her obey, down on her back with her thighs spread wide for me. I lower my head to her belly and kiss her there, before I lazily drag my tongue along the sweet, tender skin. My cock’s hard as a fucking rock as she moans and trembles beneath me.

  Kneeling over her, I cup her ass cheeks and lift her to me. I can almost taste her, almost feel her trembling before she shatters. Swallowing hard, I breathe hot air on her belly and work the sweet skin with my tongue. Circling. Grazing. Suckling. She’s whimpering and doing exactly what I said, rolling her nipples between her fingers, like a good girl who knows what’s coming.

  “That’s it, baby,” I whisper, my breath hot on her pussy. “Work those nipples while I work your pussy.” I squeeze her ass cheeks and kiss her mound. I’m dying to bury my tongue between her folds and taste her sweet essence, but I want her craving it before I do. I kiss her inner thighs and groan when I can already taste her, so wet, so ready. I pinch her ass and make her gasp, and when her hips rise, I kiss her pussy again.

  “No coming without my permission,” I remind her. “If you do, I’ll make you regret it.”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispers. I groan. I fucking love this. Love it.

  I slide the very tip of my tongue between her folds, a gentle tease, and she lifts her hips for more, but I don’t give it to her yet. It takes all my self-control to only tease. I blow my hot breath on her clit, then part her folds and drag my tongue slowly but fully along her center. Just once, but she’s already bucking and moaning. I remove my tongue and breathe on her again. I love sensation play. Hell, I love all kinds of play, but we’ve had to get resourceful on this island without my kinky tools. I can do plenty with my hands, my tongue, my cock.

  Without warning her, I bite the sweet, supple, slightly damp skin between her thighs, first her left leg, then the right.

  “Cy,” she whispers.

  I bite her again. “Sir,” I remind her.

  “Sir,” she purrs.

  I slap her thigh when I realize she’s waiting for me and not working her breasts like I told her.