by Shandi Boyes
My cock stiffens so quickly it’s painful, but I play it cool. “It’s a yacht, not a boat, and technically the jet-ski doesn’t count, but I’ll be sure to rectify that sometime soon.”
After drinking in her hopeful smile, I slide open the back-entrance door of the yacht. When musty dampness filters through my nose, I mumble, “I wonder when the next train for Philly leaves?”
Giggling, Isabelle enters the cramped living quarters. She appears seconds from gagging when the scent of wet carpet hits her senses, but just like me, she keeps her cards close to her chest. “We just need to open a few doors and windows. Get some natural ventilation happening.”
While yanking up some windows in the compact yet luxurious living area, she seeks modes of transport we’ve yet to liaise in. “What about a bus?” Her eyes brighten so much it is as if a lightbulb switched on inside her head. “Maybe we could borrow Nick’s tour bus. That would be a lot of fun. We could roleplay. You’re the hot, brooding rock star, and I’m the naïve innocent virgin who really wants to be a groupie.”
“Or I could be a ruthless businessman, and you’re the agent assigned to investigate me.”
The tightness across my chest eases when she takes my comment as I had intended—playfully. After sticking out her tongue, she moves to the windows opposite to the ones she just opened.
I love that she’s not letting her upcoming trial dampen her mood, but even if she did, she doesn’t need to worry. I protect what’s mine, and she is undoubtedly mine.
The scent I’m struggling to ignore amplifies when I murmur, “I’ll call in a favor with Cormack. See if he’ll loan us a tour bus for a night or three.” If he doesn’t, I’ll buy a damn bus. The expense will be worth it if it maintains the lusty glint Isabelle’s eyes are holding now. “But for now, we need to get these items packed away before adding gallons of water between us and anyone you may scare with your screams.”
In silence, Isabelle follows me into the galley kitchen to place the cold items into the gas fridge before we move onto the helm of the yacht. After checking the instruments and gauges on the dashboard, I kick over the engine, stunned when it starts on the first try. I haven’t taken her out in months, so I thought she’d be a bit sluggish.
A smile that will highlight my dreams for years to come stretches across Isabelle’s face when the yacht chugs out into the ocean. Within forty minutes, we’re surrounded by nothing but crystal blue water.
After mooring the anchor, I join Isabelle on the bow. Even in a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater, she shines brighter than the low-hanging afternoon sun. She detects my presence before I can announce it. That isn’t unusual. I could be hidden in a sea of millions, and she’d still find me. The way we met is proof of this.
She gives our scenic location once last final glance before straying her eyes to mine. “Is there anything you can’t do?” You could misconstrue her statement as sarcastic, but her tone doesn’t allude to that. She’s in awe, and I love it. I’m not out to impress anyone, but I’ll take any compliments she’s willing to give.
I wrap my arms around her slim waist before tugging her back, so my torso heats her back. “I’ve driven a race car, swam with sharks in Australia, flown a helicopter, been skydiving.”
I feel her raging heart. “You’re nuts,” she mumbles under her breath. “Why would you jump out of a perfectly good plane?”
“For the adrenaline,” I drop my lips to the shell of her ear, loving the goosebumps that follow their descent. “But not one of those things compete with the thrill I get when my name tears from your throat during ecstasy. Not. One. Single. Fucking. Thing.” I graze my teeth over the fleshy meat on her ear with each of my last five words.
When she shudders, I glance past her shoulder. A handful of boats are scattered on the horizon. They’re far enough away they’d have to strain to hear her screams, but close enough, I know we need to take our exchange elsewhere.
After curling my hand around Isabelle’s, I guide her down into the cabin of the yacht. As we pace toward the main bedroom, only her shallow breaths can be heard. She could be admiring the affluent surroundings, but I doubt that is the case. My suite is decked out in my favorite wood, and the furnishings are top-end, but the energy crackling in the air has nothing to do with my yacht and everything to do with this being another first for us. Isabelle is the first woman I’ve brought here—just like she was the first woman to be invited into my private residence. Not even Regan has been there.
Isabelle’s dark locks cling to my facial hair when she pivots around to face me. With her lust-riddled eyes arrested on mine, she fiddles with the buttons of my dress shirt. As my eyes give her permission to guide the pace of our combustible lovemaking, I run my thumb over her plump lips. To give her confidence the boost she’s seeking, I can relinquish a small amount of my dominance--for now.
A lot of the contact we’ve had the past six weeks has been sexually based, but that’s because the real Isabelle is only unearthed in the bedroom. There, not only does she relinquish her power to me, her entire soul is exposed as well. We communicate our feelings through touch. Every nip, kiss, and gesture say more than words ever could.
Although I can’t bring myself to say those three little words that take my breath away every time Isabelle says them, I have no issues displaying how much I care for her. My feelings for her are indescribable, but that neurosis is null and void when I’m expressing what she means to me through touch. Even discovering she lied to me for months couldn’t dampen my desire to have her beneath me. She’s my addiction. My drug. The one person I’ll never get enough of.
Isabelle’s eyes darken with need when my shirt falls to the floor with a soundless whoosh. It’s closely followed by the removal of my belt and unclasping of my zipper. When she guides my boxer shorts and trousers down my legs, my cock leaps out. Her lush tits are scraping my thighs, making the throb in my cock more pronounced.
Once she has them puddled around my feet, she grasps my shaft in her silky-smooth hand before inching the lips I fantasize about toward my glistening knob. My thighs tense when her tongue skates across the crown of my cock to gather a bead of precum formed there. When she groans, I rock my hips forward, eager for the vibrations of her moans to circle my cock.
She gets on board with my plans rather quickly.
With her eyes locked on me and her lips recently moistened, she glides them down my twitching shaft. When she takes me to the very back of her throat, a groan belonging to a man on the verge of falling to his knees tears from my throat. Although she can’t take all of me, I’m not disappointed. Her hand works on the section missing out on the warm wetness of her mouth, and she takes in more of me with each suck she does.
Isabelle knows how to give head. I’m usually more controlling in the bedroom, but this is one task she doesn’t require any guidance with. She literally has me by the balls with how well she sucks my dick.
When my knees dip to align my shaft with her mouth better, her sucks become more urgent, stronger, almost greedy. My breathing turns labored when the urge to come overpowers me.
“Fuck, Isabelle,” I grunt when she works my cock into her mouth faster. “I’m going to come in your pretty little mouth,” I warn since my climax is dangerously close to spilling. “And you’re going to gobble up every drop I give you, aren’t you?”
Her moan almost sets me off. God, I love the way she sucks my cock, all eager and obsessive like she can’t get enough as if she’s anxious to taste my cum again.
“I’m going to give you what you want before taking what I need. I need you, Isabelle. On your knees sucking my dick. In my bed. Beneath me. Above me. I need you any way I can get you.”
My words spur on her pursuit to unhinge me. She draws me in with long, deep sucks, knowing the power she has over me. She’s the only one who can make me absentminded, to completely forget everything around me. No one has this type of power over me. No one can unbalance me as she does.
Whe
n her teeth graze my knob, I can’t hold back my urges any longer. With my head flopped and her name rumbling out of my throat, the first spurts of seed jet out of my cock.
“Fuck, Isabelle,” I hiss, my words as violent as the brutal fucking I’m giving Isabelle’s mouth.
Even with my cum coating the walls of her mouth, her pursuit to suck me dry doesn’t waver. She pumps me greedily while her tongue laps up every drop of my spawn, her eagerness to please me keeping me as hard as a rock. She doesn’t suck my dick because she feels forced, she does it because she loves it. The heaviness of me in her mouth. My taste and smell. She loves it all, but not as much as she loves watching me unravel.
Once every drop of cum has been expelled, Isabelle peers up at me over the bumps in my midsection. Her pupils are wide, her breaths jagged, and the wide span of her knees exposes the slightest sheen of wetness between her legs.
She looks thoroughly fuckable, and I haven’t even touched her yet.
The urge to fuck her claws at me. I want to take her hard and fast, to fuck her as I was designed to do, but she didn’t work me how she did for no reason. She wants to be devoured, to be cherished, and she wants me to do it.
As she peers up at me with full, glossed-over eyes, I murmur, “Now it’s my turn.”
Chapter 12
Isabelle
My torso jolts off the bed as a tingling sensation races through me. I’m covered with sweat, and my breaths are ragged, but it isn’t the nightmare waking me before the sun has even risen. It’s the deliriously skilled tongue of Isaac Holt toying with the swollen bud between my legs. From the slight thump of my head, I’d guess we’ve only been asleep for an hour or two. Aware we had mere hours left with each other before we’re once again forced apart, neither of us was eager to seek sleep, but our exhaustion must have overtaken us.
When Isaac’s lips circle my clit to suck it into his mouth, I weave my fingers through his thick locks, which are damp at the tips from the stifling heat bristling between us.
Excitement zaps my womb when his deep, rumbling voice vibrates on my clit. “Good morning, Isabelle.”
I’ve always loved the way my name rolls off his tongue, but having it said while he’s devouring my pussy gives it an entirely new meaning. He’ll never speak my name again without getting me all hot and bothered.
When he parts me with his fingers, I wriggle against the satin sheets. I know what’s coming next, and I can’t hold back my elation.
He slips two fingers inside of me, grinding them at the pace my hips are rocking as his mouth hardens my clit to an unimaginable stiffness. It doesn’t matter how many times he consumes me, the sensation never slackens. It’s as combustible as ever.
“Oh… God… don’t stop… Isaac.” Big, needy breaths space my plea. The sensation blasting through me is divine, and I’m immensely turned on to be awakened in such an erotic manner.
When his teeth graze my clit, I buck against his mouth like a bull. I need the friction—crave it. Tingles dance across my throbbing sex when he places the perfect amount of pressure to the sweet spot inside. I suck at his fingers greedily while grinding my pelvis against his mouth.
“Oh… ohh… ohhh.” My screams grow louder with each one that is released.
As the shake of my thighs turns rampant, Isaac peers at me over the meaty globes on my chest clapping in applause of his magnificent talents. “Eyes, Isabelle.” His demand proves how well he knows me. He seems to know when I’m about to climax even before my body does.
When I catch his heated dark gaze, stars combust before my eyes as his name is torn from my throat. My feet dig into the mattress, and my back arches as I ride the intensity of my umpteenth orgasm in the last twelve-plus hours. I pulsate around him, loving that he holds nothing back as he watches me unravel beneath him. He devours me as if starved of my taste like a man who didn’t just bring me to the brink mere hours ago.
Several toe-curling minutes, I sink into the mattress. My lungs are void of air and every fine hair on my body bristles, but I feel fantastic. My climax was beyond comprehension, only growing stronger with each one I have—much like my feelings for the man who took me to the brink.
While gliding his god-crafted body up mine, Isaac places delicate kisses on the bruises mottling my skin. When he undressed me last night, fury unlike anything I had ever felt sparked out of him when he realized the bruise on my cheek was nothing compared to the ones dotted over my torso and stomach. The elbows and knees inflicted on me during my arrest are worn by my body, and for some stupid reason, I mistook Isaac’s devastation as disgust.
I hated the way he was looking at me—so much so, I immediately commenced getting dressed. I wanted him to see me as the Isabelle he saw at the cabin, not a hideous, scratched-up victim. I was stronger than that. We were stronger than that.
My jeans didn’t even make it halfway up my thighs when he kissed me with so much intensity, every doubt I was having vanished in an instant. He handled me with more care than he usually does, but he still took the control I happily handed to him. I love relinquishing my power to him in the bedroom because he rewards my trust in a way you could never imagine. He tilts the axis of my world like no one ever has.
“I want to be awoken like that every morning,” I mumble over his lips when he finally reaches my mouth.
“It’ll be my pleasure.” My breath snags when his eyes flick up to me. Their unique coloring has always been mesmerizing, but from this closeness, they’re utterly soul-stealing. “We just need to wade through the mud first, then I’ll give you anything and everything you want.”
My heart plunges into my stomach. I’ve been living in an Isaac Holt buzz cloud the past sixteen hours, successfully forgetting everything that’s happened and will occur over the next several weeks. I’ve only got another hour or two before our bubble bursts. I refuse to waste a single second.
When I adjust my position to face Isaac head-on, he balances his stubble-covered jaw and leans on his hand that’s propped up by his elbow. He looks tired, but he’s still the most ravishing man I’ve ever laid my eyes one. When I cup his cheek, he playfully bites my palm before kissing the edge. The dark richness in his eyes dulls when they zoom in on the bruise circling my wrist.
“They don’t hurt,” I assure him, praying it will lessen the fury building in his alluring gaze.
My prayers go unanswered when he replies, “That doesn’t make a difference, Isabelle. They shouldn’t be there to begin with.” His voice is as rugged as the scruff his chin doesn’t usually hold. “I will not let this slide. They will not get away with putting their hands on you.”
My pulse spikes. Even without his verbal confirmation, his eyes reveal his wish to seek personal retribution on the officers who arrested me. He’s a protector. He protects the people he loves, and nothing I could say will change that, but he also isn’t the man his FBI file makes him out to be, so although he’ll seek revenge, I trust their punishment will never exceed their wrongdoing.
I swallow to relieve the dryness in my throat from my breathless moans during ecstasy before murmuring, “I love you, Isaac.”
After snapping his eyes shut, he takes in a sharp breath, like my three little words are too much for him to bear. When the tension on his face relaxes, he appears closer to his age, instead of the ruthless businessman others witness daily. I love that I’m one of the rare few who gets to see him out of his element, unearthed and exposed.
Utterly raw.
When his eyes flutter back open, the pain that had settled behind them has vanished, and a new fire has been ignited. The air shifts when his gaze flicks to the clock sitting on the bedside table before returning to my face.
“We have a little over two hours before Hugo will arrive at the boathouse to collect you.” His throaty purr has my core clenching. “Are you up for some outdoor activities?”
“Uh-huh.” When I shimmy down the bed, his pupils widen. “After I’ve returned the favor.”
As his d
ark brows curve high, his thumb softens my jaw for the exhaustive activity it’s about to undertake. “You’re always so greedy to suck me dry.”
I nod before I do precisely that. I drag my cheek down his rapidly stiffening shaft to relish his delicious scent before having the quickest taste of his arousal beading at the tip. He smells musky and sweet, an odd combination that ignites every nerve in my body.
After gripping his cock in his hand, he feeds the first inch into my mouth, too impatient to wait a second longer. His keenness turns me on. I’m hot all over, both aroused and eager to please. He angles my head so I can take him to the very back of my throat before lifting his hips off the mattress. He rocks into my mouth on repeat, his groans growing rougher with each pump he does.
“I love this, Isabelle. Your mouth. Your tongue. Your fuckable lips.”
I suck him faster. Greedily. I crave his wicked tongue as much as I’m dying to taste his cum once again. My cheeks burn from my ravenous sucks, but I hold nothing back. I lick, pump, and suck him, ensuring the heat of our exchange will keep him warm during what could be months of absence.
As his animalistic groans ramp up, his grip on my hair tightens. I love the sting. It’s part of the package of him getting off, and I savor every moment of him unraveling beneath me.
When I drag my teeth over the cleft of his cock, he hisses out a curse word before bunching the sheets in his spare hands. He fists them as effectively as he clutches my hair. It’s a dominating hold that reveals he is no longer in control of our exchange. All the power has been handed to me.
“Isabelle…”
His words are cut short by my tongue darting over the sensitive crown of his cock. I tighten my lips around him before pressing my tongue against the vein feeding his magnificent manhood. He rocks his hips harder, driving into my mouth like he usually does my pussy. Sweat pours out of him as he grapples for the power he unwillingly relinquished. He matches my sucks with equally pleasing grinds, fucking my face as I wish he would my pussy.
