Page 22 of Isle of Beauty

His body is all corded muscles, thick lines dusted with dark hair. He could crush me in his arms or with his thighs and I’d let him. My mouth waters as he comes to stand naked before me, my eyes levelled with his heavy erection.

I’ve never touched myself in front of someone before and the experience leaves me feeling free, unchained by expectations and a future I don’t want.

I see the desire in his eyes, the proof tangible in front of me. Watching him jerk himself off with my underwear was hot as fuck, the image is branded in my retina.

Before he requests me to do anything, I take him in my hand, moving it up and down his shaft and bending slightly to take the crown in my mouth.

Pierce takes a step back with a smirk. “Trying to top from the bottom again, mo cara?”

I shrug and bite my lip. I might like to listen to his commands, I might even be turned on by it, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to just obey and take it all night long. Right?

“It’s okay, baby. You’ll learn.”

I have no clue what he means. It sounds ominous, a promise of retribution, and it turns me on even more.

I’m amazed to realise punishment for disobeying sounds exactly like what my body craves. I’ve known the man only a day, but the perspective of him spanking me has me squeezing my thighs, looking for relief. I’m greedy for more.

“Kneel.”

Another demand that has me dropping to the floor in front of him. His look of pure unaltered need makes me clench around nothing and I’ve never felt a deeper need to be filled. I want him in my mouth, on me, inside me. I want to devour him and have him as unhinged as I feel. I am on edge, so turned on I can barely think straight.

“Take what you need,” he commands.

I wrap my hand around the base of his length and give it a few languid strokes, licking my lips. I take the head inside my mouth and moan at the first taste of precum. I don’t tease him, going straight for the kill. I have to get accustomed to his girth but his soft grunts embolden me. I start to bob my head up and down, one hand at the base, the other at his balls. I gaze up at him, cheeks hollowed. I feel powerful. The look he’s giving me, like I’m special, is enough to have more wetness dripping down my thighs and my chest swelling with something I can’t quite name.

“Is my girl soaked from sucking my cock?”

I’m not exactly subtle, rubbing my thighs together to release the ache building between them. His words are like pouring gasoline on open fire and I hum around his cock, making him shudder. I love giving as much as receiving and Pierce’s whimpers are my favourite new soundtrack.

It’s so fucking hot when a man is loud in bed.

His breathing is ragged but his eyes glow with reverence. Suddenly, he grabs my chin to push me off of him.

Before I can get disappointed, he bosses me around once more. “On the bed, on your hands and knees. Now. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The callousness in his voice is tinged with playfulness and I can’t help but smirk and throw him a playful quip of my own. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

I ultimately obey, getting on the bed, while he gets to the nightstand to grab a condom and rolls it on.

The bed dips as he positions himself behind me, one heavy hand on my hip, the other reaching forward to caress my clit. I exhale sharply, ready for more.

“You’re drenched.” Something akin to adoration laces his words. I decide to ignore it.

This is just a one-night stand. I’m leaving tomorrow. I repeat the words like a mantra, trying to create a necessary distance. My senses are wide open, my heart on full display and I feel raw again.

Fuck, I can’t cry again. He’s going to think I’m a lunatic.

I tilt my head to him and watch as he enters me with two fingers, coating himself with my wetness, then licks them clean, moaning around the digits, his eyes closed in delight.

Fuck, that’s so hot.

Pressing his front to my back, he lines himself up at my entrance and sinks in, inch by slow inch. He feels so good, everything I thought he would be from just the flick of his tongue and his talented fingers. He retreats a few inches to sink back in again. And again. And again, setting a steady motion that’s driving me out of my mind.

“Harder,” I pant.

His steady pace from earlier is replaced by punishing thrusts, but I meet him there, impaling myself on his cock with every movement he makes. I get close to my release in minutes but I need more.

Effortlessly, as if he knows exactly what I need, he switches our position, sitting against the headboard, and setting me on his lap, my back to him, both knees on either side of his body.

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