I look down at my empty plate, unsure what to
say. He squeezes my hand. “I mean it, Liza. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on what makes you feel good.”
I give him a small smile. I don’t think he understands I want him to feel good. I don’t want to come alone, but with him. But I don’t say that. If he’s really…incapable until his injury heals, I don’t want to harp on it and upset him. Men can be sensitive about sexual stuff.
Until he’s ready, I guess I’ll just do as he says and try not to worry about it. I’m sure I’ll be the first person to know when his injury’s fully healed.
We watch a movie together after dinner, then go to bed. Unlike last night, he joins me instead of working. He cradles my body with his, and I let the sense of security and warmth ripple over me, a nice counterpoint to the lulling sound of waves outside.
For the next two weeks, we have a routine. Every other day, a drone comes over early in the morning to drop off fresh food. We share a leisurely breakfast, sit out on the beach and have fun until lunch. I’m now nicely tanned, and so is he, his skin deliciously bronzed.
After lunch, he goes to the office to catch up on work that can’t be delegated, and I go to the studio to work on my painting. The piece is coming along nicely, more and more details emerging to complete the knight and the dragon. My brush strokes aren’t too bad—I try not to be impatient, even though I want to finish it before leaving the island. The knight and the dragon both deserve my full attention—no rushing, no sloppiness. It’ll make a great gift to Dominic for bringing me to this paradise.
I don’t initiate a kiss or any kind of sexual contact, but Dominic touches me every night, fingering me to a climax like he can sense I’m aching for him.
But as much as I find pleasure in it, guilt and worry gnaw in my belly. How long will it take before the injury heals? How long is he going to be getting hard but unable to do anything about it? He wouldn’t even let me grip his shaft, saying I shouldn’t bother.
The more pleasure I get, the more desperately I need to share in the bliss. I’m feeling more and more like a woman at a buffet, stuffing herself yet unable to find true satisfaction.
And Dominic seems to sense that in me too. But instead of either forgoing the half-measures or taking me fully, he kisses my nude body all over, from forehead, to eyes to cheeks to chin, then all the way down my torso, paying special attention to my breasts, sucking the nipples.
Pleasure builds, and I clutch the sheet underneath me, but a small kernel of dread sits in my belly. I wonder if he’s going to use his hand again, and if he’s going to let me touch him…or suck him off.
Surely, a blowjob isn’t totally out of the question. Maybe the doctor forgot to mention it. Or maybe he was too shy. Maybe the people of St. Cecilia are modest and don’t talk about sex very frankly.
But instead of pushing his fingers inside me, he spreads me wide with his hands until I’m totally exposed to his gaze. The cool evening breeze brushes my wetness, and I swallow, feeling vulnerable and at his mercy.
“Look how pretty you are, Liza,” he murmurs. “All pink, wet and quivering for me. I can stare at your pussy for hours…days.”
“Dominic…”
He brings his head closer and inhales. “And you smell amazing. Musk, vanilla, lavender… I swear I get a hard-on just smelling vanilla and lavender, but the musk between your legs? A-fucking-mazing.”
I tremble, wild longing coursing through my veins.
“And your taste… Fuck.”
He runs the flat of his tongue along my slit, from the pussy to the clit, in one slow, deliberate lick. I cry out, my pelvis rocking toward him.
“Delicious. So responsive, too.”
“Dominic.”
“I’m going to eat you out until I have my fill.”
And he does exactly that, his hot mouth closing over my clit. His hands pin my thighs in that luridly split position, but I don’t care as white-hot streaks of pleasure spread through me like wildfire.
He eats me like I’m the tastiest ice cream cone, licking, lapping up, sucking. He knows even more of my sensitive spots, exactly what kind of touch makes me wetter, how much pressure I need.
Honey-thick bliss courses through me, and my hands twist in the cool sheet. Sweat mists over my skin, and I pant fast.
He uses his fingers too—driving into me in that familiar rhythm that never fails to push me over the edge.
“Let me hear you come, Liza.”
He pulls my clit into his mouth and sucks hard. My back arches almost to breaking, the friction of his fingers in my pussy and the suction of his mouth on my clit bringing on a scorching, blinding orgasm.
My mind is blank, except for the ecstasy. I scream so loud I swear people on the mainland can hear.