Page 17 of Royal Flush

And directly into my arms.

There was no immediate push, no attempt to get away. With the fingers of one hand wrapped around my arm, the other hand pressing against my chest, she was gasping for air for an entirely different reason than before. While she was caressing the muscles underneath my shirt, I was enjoying the closeness, the sweet fragrance of her pussy.

I’d noticed just how wet she was while receiving her spanking. We were both momentarily captured in a crazy haze, not necessarily one I wanted to come out of.

But a deal was a deal.

Still, I cupped the side of her face, taking a few seconds to enjoy her beauty. When my control slipped and I lowered my head, prepared to ravage her mouth, she managed to turn her head.

Her entire body stiffened as if she couldn’t stand being this close.

Behavior of this nature was also something I wasn’t used to.

At all.

I could snap my fingers and women would fall at my feet. Yes, I was being as presumptuous as I was arrogant, but it was the truth.

And I certainly didn’t like liars.

Maybe that added to the hunger and the anticipation of what it would be like thrusting my cock deep inside the same cherry-scented pussy that had been so wet seconds before.

Chuckling, I pulled away entirely, even turning around to give her some privacy while I grabbed my jacket, not bothering to button my sleeves before sliding into it. “Get dressed, little koala. We have an entire evening for engaging in angry activity.”

“Angry is right.”

“Does that mean you prefer quiet walks on the beach?”

She snorted, another adorable trait. “Hell, no. I prefer wild, pulsing music, sweat-laden bodies, and neon lights in primal colors.”

“Fascinating.” She’d yet to learn to be careful what she wished for.

Yes, she was pushing every button, her attitude wearing on my patience, but more than that, she was wearing down my resolve.

This time, I was the ugly black spider spinning a golden web.

Or more appropriately put, I was the predator, the wild beast refusing to let go of his luscious prey.

The lovely Jasmine Sinclair had arrived on the wrong island if she’d believed she would leave unscathed.

Why?

Because I had every intention of ruining her.

CHAPTER 6

Jasmine

I wasn’t a girl who was used to feeling shame.

Very few people had dared try to embarrass me in any regard and that included the notorious press. Articles were constantly being written about my mother and me, even if dear old Dad had taken out several injunctions over the years.

The blokes kept at it, but you learned how to deal with them.

But right now, being around this man after I’d been completely naked except for heels remained shameful indeed. My face was likely as red as my bottom. At least my cheeks didn’t ache like my ass did. A wooden paddle? Really? I’d caught a glimpse of his cabinet of toys.

Or maybe I should say torture instruments.

Had I realized what this island catered to before I arrived? Yes, and I was no prude, having engaged in a little dominating foreplay in my sexual life, but this dude was… serious. Did people live the lifestyle twenty-four/seven?

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