His fingers closed over her nipples, squeezing and pulling. It would have probably been painful some other time, but right then it sent sparks of pleasure running from her breasts to her belly. “Harder,” she heard herself say. Her voice was husky with desire. She wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the pinching or the fucking. Possibly both.
He squeezed one nipple hard enough to hurt. But he also rocked her hard, moving one hand to her waist and pulling her onto his cock. His torso slapped against her ass, almost as if he was spanking her. His balls bounced against her clit, and that and the pain set her off. She screamed and clutched at the sand as her pussy clenched around his cock, pleasure rippling through her from head to toe.
Her hands slid out from under her and she fell forward, her breasts rubbing against the rough sand. She was beyond caring about that. His cock was still in her, still thrusting. Her desire was building again, although she felt as if she should have been completely satisfied. Even after coming violently, she still wanted more of him. More from him too. She managed to fight through her pleasant haze enough to start rocking back against him.
He dipped his hand lower until his finger rested on her clit. He stroked lazily.
“Don’t come this time until I tell you,” he whispered.
“Yes, Master.” Hold back? Usually her orgasms were hard enough to come by without trying to resist. Good thing he’s being gentle. I won’t come too quickly.
Naturally, he started rubbing before she was halfway through her thought.
Tension built in her core. Somehow the very fact that he’d said she couldn’t come aroused her more. Soon she was struggling, trying to hold on to the explosion building inside her.
“Please, Master.”
“Not yet. But soon.”
It made her ache not to come. She tried to think of something else. Of moths and orchids. Of prime numbers. But she couldn’t shake her awareness of her urgent need for release or the huge cock stretching and filling her pussy.
He stretched his body on hers and his breath was hot against her ear. “Now, beautiful. Come now.”
At his command, she climaxed. She screamed. He growled and spurted his hot seed inside her. Her pussy clenched his cock as he pumped inside her. Then her knees went weak and she collapsed onto the sand, sated and complete.
He slid out and lay down beside her. He pulled her into his arms.
“You’re so lovely, Natalie.”
She smiled. “Thank you for forgiving me. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I thought I might lose everything if I didn’t.”
He kissed her gently. “Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” She meant it. Whatever happened next, she wanted it to be because of who she was and who he was, not because of what she pretended to be.
Chapter Eight
The men were all seated around the dining room table. Rhonda and Amber were at the pool. Natalie was in the woods, kitted out this time in an old shirt of his, a bush hat and shorts. She had his big flashlight and his digital SLR camera too. He missed her already, but he had to straighten out things with the guys.
“I’ll vote yes to the proposal with the movie people on one condition,” said Carter. Of course putting it that way meant Kyle wouldn’t agree, but Kyle liked his island solitude too much to want Natalie staying anyway.
Kyle made a noise but it wasn’t intelligible. And it wasn’t positive. “What’s the condition?” asked Roger.
“That Natalie be allowed to stay here after the week is over.” Technically, they all had the right to bring a friend to the island. He could fly her off and fly her back on, and they couldn’t say no. It was his home as much as any of theirs, after all. But he didn’t want there to be resentment. Kyle’s he couldn’t help. The rest, well, better if they thought they’d driven a hard bargain.
“You’re in love,” said Tom. “When did that happen?”
In love? He hadn’t thought of it that way. If someone was going to hear those words from him, it would be Natalie first, anyway. “I just want to explore the possibilities,” he said.
Tom chuckled.
Roger frowned. “We agreed that these Submission Island weeks would stay professional. That we’d stay detached.”
Carter remembered that discussion. They’d all agreed a long time ago, in Iraq, that no woman was ever going to tie them down. Too many fish in the sea and too much variety to settle for one. Maybe that had made sense then, when they were younger. It definitely made sense when they were all in the service and could be sent hither and yon by their countries at a moment’s notice.
But maybe none of them had met the right woman. He’d had his share of pleasurable experiences. Hot, kinky sex with women who were either submissive or willing to be for a night in exchange for enough orgasms. But in a perverse way Natalie’s secret had made him see her as something more than a hot fuck. She had passions that had nothing to do with sex, and she was passionate in bed too. Or on the beach.
“What the hell are you thinking?” asked Roger, cutting Carter’s train of thought like a knife.
Nothing, he was about to say, and then he remembered Natalie telling him the same thing in response to a similar question, the first time they’d been at the cove. He guessed now that she had been thinking about her orchid. He’d wanted her honesty. He couldn’t be less than honest himself and deserve it. Sure, he’d tell a white lie here or there, but not to her. And not to his closest friends, if he could help it. “I’m not detached. Fair enough. And it’s not just about her staying with me. Natalie is going to stay”—he carefully didn’t say if—“and study our plant life. She’s a biologist. It’s what she does. It’s part of what makes her special, and she can’t be here and not do it.” There, that probably thoroughly pissed Kyle off. But it was time his friend started making steps forward, and while it wasn’t his job to push, he couldn’t see it as a bad thing.
Roger’s frown deepened. “So that’s why you wanted the proposal so badly.”
“Yep.”
“No deal,” said Roger.
“Aw, come on, Roger. He’s gonna do what he wants to do anyway,” said Tom.
“That’s different than going along with it,” insisted Roger. He stood up and glowered at Carter. “We have a nice setup here and we agreed to have it one way. Don’t fuck it up.”
Carter shoved back the chair. If Roger needed to have his ass handed to him to be okay with it, Carter was willing.
Tom moved between them. “Cut it out. I like to see a good fight as well as anyone, but that’s what pay-per-view is for.”
Roger glared at Carter. Carter glared back. Yeah, an agreement was an agreement. And maybe things wouldn’t work out with Natalie after all. But his instinct said it might—and that she was worth fighting for.
“The heart wants what the heart wants, Roger,” said Kyle suddenly. “For a guy who knows all about psychology, you sure can be clueless sometimes. Besides, you’re not going to stop him, so you’re damn stupid not to take his deal.” He shoved his chair back. “I’m going to go work out some of my issues on a girl who likes how I work them out. See you guys later.”
Everyone stared at Kyle as he walked out of the room and headed toward the pool.
“All righty then,” said Tom. “Glad we worked that out. And hell, maybe she can cook.” He clapped his hand to Roger’s back. “Come, let’s go entertain ourselves with Rhonda. And when the week’s done we can go to Sydney or L.A., your choice, and enjoy some variety while Carter figures himself out.”
Roger took a deep breath and nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He glanced at Carter and shrugged. “You do too.” He walked past him and headed out to the pool, with Tom following.
Carter waited for a moment and then shrugged and followed the rest. He unfolded a lounge chair, stripped off his shirt and settled back. He didn’t want to rush Natalie, but the pool was the best area to wait for her.
Soon, Kyle took Amber back into the house. For the serious ki
nd of play he probably had in mind, a slippery pool deck wasn’t the best place. Roger and Tom picked up a squirming Rhonda and carried her off to the woods, no doubt heading for the cove. He thought of chasing them, since they’d probably encounter Natalie on the way, but he’d given them enough of a heads-up that he doubted they’d be surprised by her snapping pictures of plants and insects. She needed time to do her work, and he needed time to figure out what, exactly, she meant to him.
Natalie was having trouble focusing. She’d have to make a return trip at night, probably several, anyway. Hopefully he’d come with, and keep an eye out for spiders. Now that she knew where the orchid was, however, it was easy enough to recognize it even during the day. She’d snipped a closed flower and put it in an air-tight bag for analysis later. Especially, she wanted to know what chemicals were responsible for that musty old book scent, and what the plant’s mechanism was for producing them. She’d taken pictures of it from every angle, along with the eucalyptus whose branches it grew on and the other plants around it. She’d spent an hour looking at the funny burrowing caterpillars too, as they might be the same as the moths that were attracted to the night-blooming orchid’s flower.
But increasingly, her thoughts turned to Carter instead. When had a man, any man, distracted her from science? And the odd thing was, he wasn’t trying to. He was leaving her alone, letting her do what she needed to do. Maybe that was part of the attraction, actually, part of what made him worth her interest. He respected her work and yet he wanted her submission. She hadn’t expected that combination to be possible. On top of that he was very nicely made, with six-pack abs and big, thick corded arms. And he knew what to do with his cock.
She’d hidden things from him and he’d had to ferret them out. He didn’t seem to hold it against her, but she wasn’t sure she’d forgiven herself. Yes, she had her reasons. But it wasn’t a good start to a relationship, was it? She wanted to start fresh with him.
Then there was the question of submission. She’d come here to play at it. And now it filled her mind. She had thought a little kinky fun might be a chance to step out of character, have an exotic joyride in someone else’s shoes. But she had never felt more herself than when doing what he told her to do.
She walked back toward the house, the camera swinging heavily from her neck, flashlight and baggies of samples clutched in her hand. She hadn’t realized how useful the flashlight would be, but even in daytime it wasn’t bright in the jungle, and when the spot she wanted to look at was beneath a shrub or even some particularly thick eucalyptus foliage, it could be as dark as a moonlit night in Illinois. When she emerged from the jungle, the intensity of the tropical sun had her blinking for a few minutes.
Carter was half-sitting, half-lying in a lounge chair at the edge of the pool. His chest was bare but he had a hat pulled over his eyes. She wondered if he was asleep. He looked so relaxed. There wasn’t anyone else around. It was so quiet and peaceful without the sounds of civilization.
She put the flashlight and her samples down on a chair. She took the camera off her neck and put it on top. She’d resolved not to care whether there was an audience, but she was glad there wasn’t one. She didn’t know what to do about the fact that he was asleep. And then she grinned. I think I know one way to wake him up so he won’t mind.
She moved in front of him and unbuttoned the shirt she wore. His shirt was almost long enough on her to be a dress. She watched him carefully, but he didn’t stir. She took the shirt off and then shimmied out of her shorts.
She knelt down next to him and reached for his zipper.
“Hello, Natalie,” he said, tipping his hat back.
Well, looks like that won’t be necessary. Just as well. She didn’t mind the idea of having his cock in her mouth one bit, but she wasn’t really in the mood to lead. She’d rather do what he asked. “Hello, Master,” she said.
“You’re naked.”
“You can put clothes on me if you want to, Master.” Every time she said the word she felt more submissive. That, in turn, aroused her. And being turned-on made her want to submit.
“That’s not going to happen. Not unless it’s absolutely needed. It’s a sin to cover up a body like yours.”
Some people would call it protecting others’ eyesight. But she didn’t say it. She didn’t even really believe it, she realized. She felt too lovely in his presence.
“Get up off the tile, you’ll wreck your knees,” he ordered. “Come sit on my lap instead. Straddle me.”
“Yes, Master.” She climbed up onto the lounge chair, not entirely sure it could take both their weight. She noticed there was a hard ridge in his pants now, and settled herself down overtop it. The fabric of his jeans was rough against her delicate folds, but it was a good rough. And she hoped he could feel how wet she was through them.
He grinned. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having a beautiful woman take her clothes off and submit to me?”
She resisted the temptation to argue with him about beautiful. “It’s what I want.” No, what she’d been feeling was stronger than that. “It’s what I need.” That didn’t seem quite right either. It made her sound weak, and she didn’t think she was. She’d done perfectly fine without anything but the occasional fuck for a long time. She didn’t need anything. She looked at him and shrugged.
He glanced at her breasts for a moment—apparently he liked what the shrug did to them. After a moment he said, his voice soft, “Your mind is still working away at that one, I can tell.”
“It’s what I am. At least when you’re around. I-I don’t really want to find out if it’s what I am with anyone else, if that’s okay.”
He smiled, satisfied. Actually, he looked downright smug. “I don’t intend to give you the opportunity.” He arched his hips, which dragged denim across her pussy and made her lose her balance. She fell toward him, her hands slamming against the lounge chair for support. The metal arms and legs creaked in protest. His hand clasped her ass, hard enough to sting, and pushed her against him.
“Master,” she sighed.
“You like the way that feels.”
She did. She wasn’t sure whether it was a statement or a question, but she answered anyway with what were becoming her two favorite words. “Yes, Master.”
“Show me how much you like it. Rub yourself against me.”
That sounded rather shameless. “I’d rather have your cock inside me.” She wasn’t sure when fucking in broad daylight had become the refined, dignified option. Sometime in the last ten seconds, she thought.
“But you’ll do as you’re told.” That wasn’t a question either. She tensed. She hadn’t heard him sound so stern before, and her entire lifetime had prepared her to rebel. Then she realized it was only because she wasn’t sure she was brave enough. She wanted him to be in charge. She wanted him to take her places she wouldn’t go on her own, to make her do things she wouldn’t normally dare.
“Yes, Master,” she said, and felt the tension go out of her. She shifted her weight so she was more stable and moved her hips, angling herself so that her clit rubbed against his seam. He was very hard. She started at the base of him and worked her way up, determined to take advantage of every inch of his prodigious length. Her tits swayed heavily beneath her, their tips especially eager for attention. He complied, his rough hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs caressing her peaks.
She rubbed all the way back down again. Her pussy was on fire. The fabric was almost too rough and yet it felt so good. She wasn’t sure whether she’d come first or rub herself raw, but either way, she was determined not to stop until he said so. And her bet was that she’d come.
She hoped he’d order her to. Slowly she inched herself back up, making sure her clit never broke contact with his denim-covered cock.
“Fucking hell, girl, this is torture.”
She grinned. “For you and me both.” She didn’t mind torturing him. She liked the idea of him aching with desire for her. She liked the idea
of him climaxing too. Above all, she liked it being his choice. As long as she was involved. She didn’t want to have him doing it with any other hussy. Or even jerking off, if she wasn’t watching. She wanted him, all of him. She wondered how he’d take being told that.
He reached between them and pulled his zipper down, freeing his cock. He pushed into her in one thrust, stretching and filling her. He arched his hips. She moaned. For a moment she thought about how it all must look, her naked, riding him; him with his jeans on, unzipped just enough to fuck her. Shameless. But she didn’t feel shame, or even embarrassment. She didn’t care if anyone was watching or not. She had a big handsome stud, and she was proud of him. He was hers.
She was his. A jolt reminded her she wasn’t in control, even if she was on top. He was setting the pace, and it was fast and rough. His fingers dug into her hips. The lounge chair creaked. She hoped it held up to the abuse.
Her tits ached to be touched. She didn’t want to tell him what to do so she was silent, but she wiggled her chest in hopes of getting some sensation and attention. He grinned. He let go of her hips and reached up for her breasts. She looked forward to him cupping and caressing them. He had an evil glint in his eye though, one that scared her and turned her on all at the same time.
He squeezed her hard peaks and pulled, shooting sparks straight to her core and igniting an explosion. Her pussy clenched at his cock and she screamed loud enough for the whole island to hear. She collapsed against him, her body quivering, and for a moment she couldn’t see, could only feel as tremors ripped through her from head to toe. He held her, his cock rocking inside her more gently.
“Next time,” he said softly, with no anger, “you ask permission before you come. Your orgasms belong to me now.”
She didn’t remember agreeing to that, and she wanted to argue. She stopped. She had more with him in her life than without, anyway. But it still didn’t seem entirely fair, in the circumstances. She propped herself up so she could see him better, conscious of the cock still lodged in her. “That one snuck up on me,” she said.
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