Page 55 of Isla

"What was that?" Henry asks, looking down at me.

"Oh, just imagining what it'll be like."

"Whatwhatwill be like, Isla?" he asks, a sinful edge to his voice.

I give him an exaggerated wink and a quick kiss, pulling away tocontinue up the stairs. "I have to grab a change of clothes before Dylan gets back."

"Where'd he go?" Henry asks, looking up at me.

"To go get us dinner. We decided to stay in tonight."

"In? Like here?"

"Down at the cottage," I explain, ducking into my room to grab some clothes. When I return, Henry is in the same spot, his hair standing on end like he ran both hands through it.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Fine," he grumbles, turning to head back down the stairs. "This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life," I hear him say as he disappears into the kitchen.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He's adorable. Like a lost puppy dog. A few months ago, I would have thought it ridiculous to have a man pouting over being unable to spend time with me. But when it's Henry, how can I resist? The sweetness. Those muscles. That tongue. My core spasms just thinking about what he did to me the other night.Pull it together, Isla.I take a steadying breath and head to Dylan's room, grabbing some sweatpants and a T-shirt, and then pound back down the stairs, yelling goodbye as I head back outside. I peel my dirty clothes off before going inside the cottage, and head straight to the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as it'll go before pulling out my hair elastic and combing through the knots with my fingers. I moan in absolute ecstasy as I step into the shower, turning my back to the spray, steam filling the small space. Once my hair is wet all the way through, I turn around, washing the day's dirt away from my face.

"Honey, I'm home!" Dylan calls from the front door. I hear the sound of rapid footfalls over the water, and then he's practically falling into the bathroom, shirtless, hopping with one foot still in his pants. "Fucking hell. Leave it to me to have the most difficulty getting undressed."

"Come here," I say, opening the shower door and dropping to my knees.

"Isla–"

"Come here, Dylan."

"Fuck." He rubs his hand through his hair a couple times, finally making up his mind and approaching me. I jerk his pants over his foot, throwing them behind him. Sitting back on my heels, I look up at him. Steam caresses his chiseled muscles, making his skin glow. Big brown eyes capture mine, molten desire swirling in their depths. I drag my hands up his legs, ever so slowly, squeezing his ass before sliding my fingertips into his waistband and tugging his boxers down. I go an inch at a time, teasing myself just as much as I'm teasing him. His cock is heavy against his thigh, rising little by little as I uncover him until he springs away from the material, perfectly in line with my mouth. And fuck if I'm not drooling.

He runs the back of his finger over my cheekbone, his touch tender. "Do your worst, Freckles."

25

Itake my time, drawing out the seconds, holding Dylan’s gaze as anticipation rises to dizzying heights. I drag my fingernails up his lean, muscled thighs, then sweep my palms over his hips, pulling him closer. He groans, his cock jumping, desire leaking from the tip. It takes everything in me not to lean forward and bury him in my throat. I wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft, squeezing gently.

"Fuck, Isla." His knees tremble, and he reaches up, holding onto the shower frame for support. My gaze slides up the line of dark hair, over his taut abs, to the ridges of his pecs. Unbridled lust takes control, burning through my veins. I lick him like an ice cream cone, sliding my tongue from base to tip, moaning as his taste permeates my senses. I drag my tongue around the head of his cock, then feather it against that spot underneath. One strong hand slides into my hair, and he flexes his hips, pushing into my mouth. I take him deep, hollowing my cheeks, focusing on breathing through my nose as I bob my head, fucking him with my mouth. I look up at him, holding his gaze as I pull him toward me, not stopping until I feel him at the back of my throat. I swirl my tongue around him as I pullback, repeating the motion with my hand, twisting my hand over his slick shaft. His moan raises the hairs on my arms.

"If you keep going, I'm going to embarrass myself," he rasps, dropping to his knees, tossing his glasses onto the countertop before framing my face with his hands. He traces my lips with his thumb, gasping when I sink my teeth into soft flesh, leaving a mark. Fingers gripping my chin, he pulls me into his lap, plundering my mouth. I support myself with my elbow as he leans over me, adjusting my legs so I'm gripping his torso with my knees. I slowly melt back onto the shower floor as he makes his way down my body, teeth scraping before he soothes with his tongue, kissing it better. He slides me across the floor, making sure the water isn't in my face before lowering his head to my breast, flicking his tongue over my nipple, then sucking it hard and deep. My body bows, begging for more.

"Fuck, we're flooding the bathroom floor," he mutters, grabbing a towel and throwing it over the water before pulling me to my feet and closing the shower door. "There wasn't enough room for me to do what I wanted to, anyway," he murmurs, pressing me to the glass, his cock digging into my ass.

"What did you want to do?" I rasp, pushing back on him, need pulsing through my veins.

"I'll show you after dinner." He slides his hand around my hip and down my stomach, not stopping until his fingers are diving between my legs. I moan, rocking against him. He slips a finger into me, slowly sliding it in and out. "God, you're wet," he groans, expertly circling my clit.

"Dylan, please." I whimper in disappointment as he takes a step back, but it turns into a groan as he slides his cock down my ass and between my thighs, nestled along my slit, the head of his cock riding over my clit as he thrusts his hips.

He pushes my chin up with two fingers, our gazes colliding in the mirror. Fuck. My muscles tremble as I struggle to keep myself upright. He notices immediately, turning me around, capturing my mouth with his, hauling one of my legs up on his hip, his other hand going back between my legs. I moan into his mouth as he pushes twofingers into me, the heel of his palm rocking back and forth over my clit with every thrust of his hand.

"Come for me, Isla," he whispers, biting and sucking on my lower lip, breathing hard. I come alive beneath his capable hands, my body his instrument, and god, does he know how to play. I drop my forehead against his shoulder as I come, waves of ecstasy wracking my body. "You're so fucking sexy," he rasps, tilting my face up to his, licking his lips. "I can't wait to see what you look like when you're coming on my cock."

"Why do we have to wait?" I ask, my voice shaking as I try to catch my breath.

"Let me at least wine and dine you first, love," he chuckles, those big brown eyes sparkling.

My heart stutters at his casual use of that four-letter word as he turns me toward the spray, grabbing a bar of soap and running his sudsy hands all over my body. I would stay with him like this forever if I could. Our own, personal real-life wet dream. Turning toward him, I soap up my hands and tease his nipples before I wrap my fingers around his cock, sliding up and down his length with firm, measured strokes. He covers my fingers with his, squeezing, hips thrusting, fucking my hand.

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