No caique parrots to spy on us, no guests or goddesses to break us apart.
Just us.
Two people.
A man and a woman walking in the moonlight on a tropical island.
No outside world with its rules and expectations. No reminders that we weren’t really a man or a woman, but a slave and an owner.
Sully and Eleanor.
As we rounded the bend that led to the main arteries of pathways, forking to different villas and communal areas, Sully snatched my wrist and stopped me. Looking around, ensuring our aloneness, he backed me slowly, gently against a palm tree.
Unlike the first when he’d grated my cheek into the bark while he sank his hard length inside me, this time, he cradled me until the tree took my weight and he pressed his body against mine.
His erection wedged into my belly, his eyes flashed navy in the darkness, and I went wet instantly.
We both sucked in a breath as he positioned one hand by my head, looping his fingers through the scattered strands of my hair, and the other caressed my body from my breast, to my waist, to the junction of my thighs.
I bit my lip as he cupped me, claiming me like Calico had. Unlike her touch full of contempt and envy, his radiated with lust and possessiveness.
I waited for him to speak or kiss me, but he used silence as foreplay, allowing the muggy air to send shivers down my spine, the fine hairs on my arms to stand up, and the fireflies that lived permanently in my belly to wake up and start to glow.
Not looking away from me, he ducked his knees and shoved his hand under my dress, trailing his strong fingers up the inside of my thigh.
My mind went totally blank. No instincts or alarm bells. Just black, sinful desire.
I was thankful for the tree holding me up because my legs buckled as his touch crept higher and higher, tracing the dampness of my underwear before inching my lingerie to the side and fingering me.
He groaned when he found how slick I was. “I thought you’d be turned off by me…after what I said.”
My mouth only had one purpose…to kiss. Forming words seemed like trying to knot cherry stems with my tongue. “I already know what you are. I’ve already accepted that you’re not the saviour in this story.”
He inserted one finger deep inside me, his shoulder arching up, his chest pressing against mine. His mouth hovered ever so close to kissing me as I parted my lips in a wide, soundless cry.
“You’re saying I’m the villain?”
I shook my head, my hair catching in his hand and the bark. I wanted to reply, to somehow soothe the surprising vulnerability he’d shown, but his one finger became two, jolting me with both pleasure and pain. My inner muscles and delicate parts hadn’t fully recovered from what he’d done to me while high on elixir.
Bruises screamed their protest. A few cuts stung. But my body produced more lubrication, doing its best to welcome his intrusion, rather than fight it. He feathered his touch, massaging some button inside that switched pain into fireworking bliss.
“You’re wet…without me having to slip elixir down your throat.” His nose ran along my neck, his teeth grazing sensitive skin. “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or a sign that we’re both completely fucked.”
I moaned as he continued to thrust into me. His forehead landed on my collarbone as his spine bowed. “Why did you let me hurt you? Why put yourself at my mercy?” His body curled close as if he struggled to stand.
My breath caught as he thrust deeper. My moan turned into a groan of discomfort. “Because I wanted you to.”
His head shot up, his brows tugging low. “Why?”
“Why?” I curled my nose. He wanted to know why when his hand was between my legs? Didn’t he know any answer I gave him would be scrambled? I might lie and say I drugged him so he wouldn’t sell me. Or I might tell the truth and say I wanted him, regardless of our situation. I might even profess insanity and spout nonsense about feeling something unexplainable…something I didn’t feel with Scott or the other partners of my past.
I might even ask that same question, fishing for his feelings, intent on dragging them from the sea of his eyes and stranding them on the shore so I knew, knew, that I wasn’t the only one struggling.
“Why are you special?” His voice resembled crushed up diamonds, a priceless dust that scratched and scarred. “Who are you, Eleanor Grace?” He nuzzled me, his fingers stroking me, claiming. “Why are you different from all the fucking rest?”
I cried out as his touch grew aggressive, halting his sudden desperation for answers I couldn’t give him, filling his eyes with self-loathing.