Isle of Sin: A Standalone Dark Romance
Isle of Sin: Chapter 17

Adalyn’s lips skated along my jaw. “Kiss me, Sir,” she requested again. “Please kiss me.”

She sounded desperate, her voice a seductive beacon that called to my very soul. I should tell her no. I should pull her from the water, carry her upstairs, and demand that she rest.

But I couldn’t seem to replace my control.

It left me feeling inadequate. Off-balance. Wrong.

A soft, needy noise from her grounded me in the next moment, forcing me to react. To possess her. To soothe her.

I slid my fingers into her wet hair, fisted the slick strands, and angled her head toward me. Her pupils were wider than before, begging me to take her, dominate her, save her.

It provided me with the flicker of consent that I needed to replace my authority once more.

And claim.

Just a kiss, I promised myself. Just a kiss with a lot of tongue.

Because fuck, the moment our lips met, I needed more.

I wanted to taste her. Devour her. Memorize every goddamn inch of her.

She felt too perfect against me. Too ready. Too mine.

Her muscles clenched, her thighs seeming to agree with the possession of my mouth, her beckoning heat rubbing against me once more as she searched for the friction she desired.

And found it with my pulsating cock.

Her responding groan went straight to my gut, the sound a caress that tightened my groin and provoked an immense craving inside me.

Fuck, this female was undoing years of experience and rewriting them with her tongue. She kissed me as though I were the air she needed to breathe. Just as she clung to me as if I were the lifeline keeping her from drowning.

It made me feel powerful.

Desired.

Needed.

The embrace resembled an intoxicating drug that made me feel invincible. On top of the world. Dominant.

She was flawless, her touch potent, her being more desirable than anyone else I’d ever met.

I walked her toward the side of the pool where water drizzled down the tiled wall to keep the contents fresh and moving all day. Almost like a waterfall, but softer. Less intimidating.

Yet the wall provided the balance I needed, giving me somewhere to hold her in place while my hands roamed her exquisite form.

She shivered as her spine met the wall, her arms tightening around me, only for her head to fall back on a moan as my palms skimmed up her sides.

I watched her squirm, ensured she was still safe and with me, and palmed her breasts. She arched into me in response, her plump lips parting on a beautiful sound that had me flicking her rosy tips with my thumbs.

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes drowsy as she met my gaze. Her dark irises possessed no sign of hesitation or pain. Just blatant need.

“Gorgeous,” I praised. “It almost makes me want to demand that you beg for more.”

But I wouldn’t do that to her here.

Not when she’d so beautifully given me control.

It was a small act of trust, perhaps one ingrained in her mind that forced her to react. But I wouldn’t take advantage of it now.

No, I’d give her what she wanted.

Reward her for being so open.

Thank her for allowing me this gift.

Submission should be commended, not taken for granted.

And I intended to show her that now, not with words, but by creating a memory to help overshadow her past.

This is who I am, I whispered against her throat with a kiss. I didn’t dare speak the words out loud, not wanting to distract from the moment. Instead, I licked a path down to her breast and nibbled her tender peak. Not harshly, but enough to give her a little bite of pain with her pleasure.

She grasped my shoulders and bowed off the wall with a groan, confirming my instincts about her preferences.

I chased the ache away with my tongue, then took her abused nipple into my mouth.

“More, Sir,” she whispered. “Please.”

Ah, so she was listening to my comment about begging. “Such a good girl,” I murmured, switching to her other tit. Her thighs clamped down around my waist again, her pussy demanding more, just like her mouth had.

My palms grazed her sides to grasp her hips, pulling her into a position against my throbbing shaft where she could replace that friction she clearly craved.

Her nails dug into my skin in response, not to hurt me or to push me away this time, but in another nonvocal request for me to continue. For me to give her everything. For me to help drive her over the cliff she was obviously already climbing.

I wasn’t sure what had worked her into this state so quickly, but I didn’t mind it.

I loved a hot and needy woman.

And Adalyn didn’t disappoint.

She panted as I kissed a path back up to her mouth, her eyes twin pools of dark need. If I asked her to fuck me right now, she would. She’d give me anything I desired to take her over that edge.

Because in this moment, she was mine to possess. Mine to own. Mine to claim.

And I did so with my mouth, punctuating my presence here with my tongue and demanding that she acknowledge who commanded her body now.

She shuddered, her body putty beneath my hands.

So perfect, I thought, expressing my admiration for her with my tongue instead of my words.

It wasn’t enough.

She needed to know just how special I found her. Just how much I respected her. Just how much I wanted to help her fly. With me, she would never crawl. Not unless she desired it.

With me, she would always be pleasured.

Always scream my name in orgasmic bliss, not painful torment.

I believed in using sensual agony to enhance the experience for both of us, not just myself.

That wasn’t how this game was played. Not in my bedroom, anyway.

Like right now. She was burning. Aching. Needing so much more.

But I prolonged her gratification by applying only subtle pressure against that hot apex between her thighs. I allowed her to feel my arousal, my own heat, my need. Just through the boxers, not bare. A tease meant to bring tears to her eyes. A subtle torture meant to heighten the expectation.

A cruel sadist would leave her in that state and never satisfy her.

I wasn’t cruel.

I merely enjoyed delayed satisfaction. Just as I preferred games of sensual play and sensory deprivation.

She’d learn that in time. This was meant to be an introduction, a way to show her my intentions, to prove to her that I wouldn’t hurt her. Not like the men of her past.

I would take care of her.

Just like right now.

Give her what she needed and ignore my own cravings.

Because this was about her, not me. This was about grounding her, helping her replace her own footing, and giving her a piece of herself back.

Her own sense of control.

Her own pleasure.

Her own reason to breathe.

I captured her mouth again, worshipping her with my tongue as I slid one hand between us to palm her between the thighs. She whimpered against me, her desire a palpable presence that I stroked with two of my fingers.

Her resulting quake vibrated me to my very being, her pussy so fucking needy that I easily slid both fingers inside her. My thumb found her clit, the swollen little nub practically pulsating and begging to be touched.

It made me wonder if anyone had ever granted her orgasms during their scenes.

Because she was reaching her peak so much faster than I’d expected, her whimpers turning into cries as I brought her closer and closer to the realm of no return.

“That’s it,” I told her. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, little one?”

“Please,” she begged. “Please… Please let me come. Please.”

I wasn’t sure if her previous trainer had required her to beg before pleasing her, or if she needed permission to let go, or if she was begging me not to stop because other men would.

But I strove to give her exactly what she yearned for.

“I want you to come all over my hand, Adalyn.” I bit down on her lower lip, ensuring she understood the demand in my voice. “I want you to scream and tell the world how good it feels.” I laved the hurt away. “Don’t hold anything back, sweetheart,” I continued, my lips going to her ear. “This orgasm is for you, and you’re going to take every ounce of pleasure that it gives you.”

She shook so violently against me that I worried she might lose consciousness, but her resulting scream told me she was very much aware and alive.

And ecstatic.

She clenched around my fingers, her pleasure rippling up my arm and going straight to my heart as she let herself go entirely, giving herself over to the hedonistic waves that racked every inch of her luscious form.

It was a sight to behold.

A sound I would fantasize about for years to come.

Utter. Erotic. Perfection.

Her full lips were parted on her cries of pleasure, her back arching as though to present her beautiful tits to my mouth, as she squeezed the hell out of my fingers.

I even felt her clit pulsate against my thumb.

If pleasure had a form, it was Adalyn.

Delicious.

Intoxicating.

Addicting.

The only way to make this moment better would be if I had my mouth between her legs instead of my hand.

“So fucking beautiful,” I whispered as her head went to my shoulder on a sob of exhaustion.

She’d worked hard for that moment of magnificence.

And now she was feeling the aftermath of her lack of sleep.

I slowly made my way back through the pool, one arm around her lower back and the other around her shoulders.

She jolted a little as I started up the stairs, her legs tensing.

I hushed her and took her inside the house, ignoring the damp path we left in our wake.

Adalyn needed to rest.

I pressed my lips to her temple as I started up the stairs, careful not to slip on the wood planks. Then took her down the hallway and into the guest room I’d given her. As much as I’d love to put her in my bed, we were nowhere near that point yet. We might never be there.

But I bypassed her bed for the bathroom, needing a towel.

I grabbed the nearest one, swathed her in it, and brought her over to the mattress. She was barely awake by the time I laid her in the center, her eyelids drooping.

My lips twitched. So the best way to make Adalyn rest is with a mind-blowing orgasm. Noted.

I kissed her forehead and tucked her in, then backed away.

I glanced back at her as I reached the doorway, taking in the soft rise and fall of her chest. She was already asleep.

However, I felt the need to say, “This is who I am, sweetheart.”

Someone you can trust.

Someone who will protect you.

But only if you let me…