Page 152 of Lost Paradise

"He has perv tendencies, leave the poor fella alone," Foster interjects, playing his role as the peacekeeper in our little family. He hands Byron the knife to cut his cake and then leans over to claim me with a kiss.

I relish every second of our embrace, savoring the taste of Foster’s tongue against mine. The world around us fades into the background as the warmth of his lips electrifies me.

“You’re delicious, darling,” he says, wrapping his hand around my back and squeezing my ass. “Watermelon?”

I've developed quite an addiction to the island's exclusive fruit soda. I practically drink it by the gallon while the guys stick to coconut water or beer—some habits they've never managed to break from their old lives.

"Good guess," I reply, licking my lips and loving the taste of Foster. "I'll go grab the gifts; keep him occupied."

His eyes narrow as he smiles, a familiar emotion gleaming within them—the same look he gives me every morning when I wake up and every evening before I drift off to sleep.

"Will do," Foster says, giving my ass one last playful squeeze before releasingme.

As I go to head inside, Zane’s massive frame blocks the entrance to our hut. He’s got a ball cap pulled low over his face and wears a short-sleeved shirt that compliments the power in his arms. His left forearm shows some seriously detailed ink designed by Jack and Astro. Among the detailed artwork, somewhere amidst flames and sparkles, is the nickname he has for me, etched in bold black ink.

His tall, muscular frame is accentuated by the play of light and shadow, highlighting the contours of his chiseled physique. The rich mahogany hue of his skin seems to absorb and reflect the ambient light, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His eyes, a mesmerizing amber color, are framed by thick lashes, their warmth and intensity resembling molten gold. As he leans casually against the doorframe, a charming, mischievous smile plays on his lips, revealing perfect teeth that contrast strikingly against his dark complexion.

Zane is pure sin, and I stop right in front of him and bite my top lip. He runs his hand up my arm and cups my neck.

“Busy day, Firecracker?” he asks, his eyes falling to my mouth.

“It’s the start of the season, pretty good considering.”

Gently, he pulls me into him, pressing his lips to mine, and the sound of pleasure he makes vibrates from his chest and weakens my knees. I lean into him and feel my stomach tighten as his lips move over mine. He kisses me gently, patiently, until I dig my fingers into his shoulders and make a whimper of desperate need as I quickly come unwound.

Suddenly, he pulls away with an amused grin.

“That’s just a taster for later,” he says and slaps my ass.

“You’re a fucker,” I tease.

He laughs, “I’m head over heels for you too. But it’s Byron’s birthday. He’ll probably want you all to himself later.”

“I’ll convince him an orgy is more fun,” I wink at Zane and he huffs a laugh.

Sliding past him inside, I gather plates and cutlery, load them onto a tray, and head into the bedroom to grab the bag inside the closet where I’ve been storing all of Byron’s gifts. They’re only some small stuff, mostly personal luxuries we can never find on the island. His biggest gift tonight will be the boys inking him.

Everyone except me and Byron has a tattoo. I’m not sure I want one, but Byron’s been talking about it for a while, so the guys created a few ideas for him basedon what he wants.

As soon as I stand up from the closet floor, I feel two arms wrap around me from behind, enveloping me in that familiar, intoxicating scent that always sends shivers to my core, doing unspeakable things to me.

His scent is fucking phenomenal.

I've never quite figured out what it is about Jack that makes him smell so fucking good all the time. Frankly, I don't care either; I enjoy it, and that's what matters.

I can feel his warm breath tickling the back of my neck. His lips barely graze my skin, sending delightful tingles coursing through my entire body.

"I'm willing to share you with four other men, but you should know better than to be absent for a full day and greet them all while ghosting me; it won't end well," his voice rumbles deep and lethal as he breathes his words against my neck.

He nuzzles his nose against my skin before trailing the metal stud on his tongue from the base of my neck to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. With a deft motion, he removes the elastic band from my hair, causing it to cascade down my back.

“I did sayhi,” I say, knowing my answer is as weak as my knees are right now.

He emits a deep, disapproving growl from his chest.

“In case you have missed all the really obvious signals, I’m eager to eat you out at every opportunity. Your pussy is ambrosia to my senses. So when you see me, you give me that honor, and let me show you how happy I am to see you.”

I’m so gone. When goth boy says shit like that, I can’t recover so quickly. If I thought my panties were wet before, dammit, they’re soaked now.

---