Satyr's Myst

by Marie Harte

  Then thoughts of Rick struck again, and within moments, Trevor spewed into the tissues, his climax both silent and unfulfilling, because now his fantasies had a real face. One that spouted curses at him from the other room…and remained completely untouchable.

  Panting, Trevor stood still until the shudders faded. Disposing of the tissues and refastening his shorts, he sank into a chair, falling into a depression. His future was chancy at best. The situation could only get worse with Rick all pissed off. He’d have to keep his distance…if he could. Trevor held his head in his hands, his thoughts a mess. Wanting a threesome was bad enough in a family that bred conservative, mainstreamed sons. That Ethan had confessed to Rick’s allure should have told him something. But Trevor had been too stunned to understand the warning. Now that Trevor had tasted Rick, however, he wanted more. And in a family filled with feds, cops, and Marines, an ex-cop who was

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  anything but heterosexual, even in a manly field like physical security, would never fit in.

  Wouldn’t his father be oh, so proud?

  * * * * *

  Two days later

  Lilah Tanner was early. The bane of her existence. Never late, always prompt, a people pleaser. Her parents’ obvious favorite, and a woman so sick of toeing the line she could puke.

  Hence her open-ended leave of absence from the doctor’s office and her new job temping for Tanner-Grayson. Instead of a multitude of injured patients, Lilah would spend the next few days or weeks at Satyr’s Myst, a pleasure resort catering to outlandish sexual fantasies. She snorted. Sounded right up her alley. Yeah, right.

  To hear her cousin Elise tell it, all Lilah had to do was babysit some rich guy while soaking up a tropical tan. And to top it off, Mr. Rich was hot, owned an island, and had provided Elise with the best sex she’d ever had.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that this Hastings guy was Elise’s “the one that got away.” But Lilah had no sympathy. Two and a half years ago when Elise had returned home to Whitemarsh, Pennsylvania, so silent and withdrawn, her close-knit family became despondent. Always the therapist, Lilah had weaseled the story out of her cousin and set her to work. Now, not only did Elise run a successful security business of her own, she’d married a wonderful, if stuffy, guy, had a one-year-old son and another baby on the way. Elise should have been ecstatic with her life and normally was.

  But after receiving an odd phone call from friends on the West Coast, she’d become that sad shadow she’d once been.

  So here Lilah stood, Ms. Fix It, staring at the most gorgeous black man she’d ever seen in her life. He had height, brawn, and his twinkling brown eyes said he didn’t mind her plain face and bosomy build. Her kind of man.

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  “You must be Lilah. Elise said to expect you.” He kissed the back of her hand and took her overlarge duffle, his brows rising at its weight. “You’re a lot stronger than you look.”

  “You have no idea,” she murmured, wondering if her prudish cousin had ever indulged on this island before taking Hastings as her one and only. Trust Elise to land a cushy job as a security expert on a pleasure island and not partake in any sex for five freaking years. An absolute waste, in Lilah’s opinion. Until she’d fallen for the resort’s owner.

  The man laughed. “I’m Tyrone. And while I’d love to introduce you to the finer points of the island, we need to get you to the site, quickly.” His grin faded. “Things aren’t going well there.”

  “Problems?”

  “By the bucket load.” Tyrone sighed and wiped a hand over his scalp. The humidity gave him a sheen, making him glisten under the harsh sun. Lilah squelched the needy impulse to touch him. “We intercepted two more attempts to ferret information about the boss from our computers. We’re getting closer, but we’re not there yet. I can’t be certain our guest clientele is clean, either. Not to mention the last time we had a problem like this, it turned out to be one of our own.”

  Lilah placed a comforting hand on Tyrone’s thick forearm. “I know. Elise told me all about the problems you guys once had. Don’t worry. I’ll keep Rick busy enough that looking for trouble will be the last thing on his mind.” The look Tyrone gave her made her reexamine what she’d said, and she blushed to find she sounded incredibly sexual. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I’ll just watch over Rick until you tell me otherwise. I’m still not sure why you couldn’t have included Rick on this grand plan, though.”

  “Because he’s as stubborn as a mule. He refused to leave the island or get extra protection, even after the first attempt on his life. The only reason he’s even still alive is that the timer on the bomb that destroyed his yacht misfired. Rick hit the ocean hard but suffered no lasting damage.”

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  “Lasting damage?” First attempt on his life? Bomb? Elise failed to mention there was any danger involved. The job was supposed to concern a rich man with too much time on his hands who couldn’t stay out of trouble.

  “Rick’s got a problem with his shoulder, but nothing major.”

  Well, at least that she could help with. As a physical therapist, and a damned good one at that, Lilah had confidence aplenty in her skills. As a security guard, not so much. But she’d been told, pointedly, that she would be there as mere company for Rick. Per Elise, between the security on the island and the extra protection she’d hired, there was absolutely no danger involved. H&R Securities, which Elise’s firm occasionally worked with, had provided added security to make Elise feel better.

  Lilah didn’t figure much could get through the precautions she’d already been subjected to on the way to this quiet little island. Before she’d even been allowed to set foot on the plane, she’d had to hand over a doctor’s report, not over a day old, verifying that she was free from disease and currently taking birth control. Apparently, the island promised pleasure without recrimination, and they stood by their policy.

  But she didn’t mind. Lilah had nothing to hide, not to mention a depressing social life.

  She needed the break from the daily humdrum of life, a chance for some adventure, and hell, some much-needed passion. Unlike Elise, Lilah was all for soaking up the pleasures in life.

  Unconventional be thy middle name. She grinned and resolved to get rid of the invisible tattoo on her forehead that screamed “avoid me” as soon as possible.

  “Right. Well, Tyrone. I’m here to help. Lead on.”

  Tyrone sighed again and shook his head. He made small talk about the island as he drove a small Jeep through the mess of jungle from the resort to Hastings’s private home on the other side of the island. Apparently, the island housed a clinic and a small town comprised of the locals and a small but well-to-do sugar plantation, also owned by Hastings.

  During their trip, Lilah formed an impression about Rick that made her wonder.

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  From Tyrone’s and Elise’s descriptions, the man was a walking billboard for sex. But living on an island where everything and everyone was his for the asking, Hastings had to be more spoiled than both had let on. The man was thirty-four, never married, and rich as Croesus. Inherited wealth that he hadn’t squandered, but continued to build upon, beginning with his pleasure resort that catered to open sexuality and discretion for those who could afford his steep prices.

  From what little she’d seen of the resort, the main building looked impressive where it sat on the beach amid an oasis of flora: orange and red birds of paradise, burgundy bougainvillea, and lush green ferns spotting among palm trees. Yet the resort didn’t capture her attention the way this looming structure did.

  After two hours of bumpy driving through a narrow swath in the jungle -- a shortcut, she imagined -- they reached the outskirts of an impressive, open-air building that blended seamlessly with its surroundings. Bamboo and a light-colored wood, maybe pine, framed a monstrously large bungalow-style house. So this was Rick's private resid
ence. The large front doors remained closed to outsiders, and she could only hope that somewhere inside the protected walls a few inner doors and windows were open. Unless the place had air-conditioning, which would be a blessing at this point. The resort was on the water, which, she imagined, promised a cooling breeze. She had no idea how close this place was to the outlying ocean.

  Tyrone pulled the Jeep close and took her bag from the backseat. He motioned her to the doorway, and they stepped onto the clean, stone-covered walkway before the intricately carved set of wooden doors.

  “I’ll be in touch via radio.” Tyrone paused a moment, then set her duffle down, the ripped cords of his biceps bulging as he did so. He leaned closer, his expression worried.

  The sight of such a large, buff man looking unnerved concerned her. “Tyrone?”

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  “You’re out here pretty far from anyone. If you need anything, anything at all, please call me.” He handed her a small neon pink walkie-talkie. “We’ll keep in touch by radio. I just want you to have a way out if they’re too much.”

  Through the door, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps closing fast. The door opened, and she stared into the face of a very perturbed giant of a man. He topped her own five-eleven by several inches, and his bare, incredibly sculpted upper body could have been carved in granite, it looked so firm.

  “Tyrone.” The large man sighed with relief and pumped his hand in appreciation. He glanced at Lilah and grinned. “Damn. You read my mind. It’s been a while, and she’s just what I need. Thanks a million.” Before Tyrone could say “boo,” the man yanked her and her bag inside the door and slammed it in Tyrone’s face, locking them inside.

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  Chapter Two

  Lilah stared in surprise. “Hey, what do you --?”

  “Honey, I’m so hard I could chop down trees with this thing.” The brown-eyed, brown-haired sex god further shocked her by taking out his huge, hard penis and wrapping her limp hand around his girth.

  Lilah looked up into his ecstatic face as he watched her and rocked into her hand, aware she couldn’t quite close her fingers around him. She instinctively tightened her grip and heard him moan his appreciation.

  “Dammit, Trevor.” Tyrone banged on the door behind them.

  Lilah stood in complete shock. She’d never been in this situation before -- could never have imagined it -- yet strangely enough, she found she liked being viewed as someone’s sexual salvation. She stared down at the impressive shaft throbbing in her hand, and an involuntary shiver shook her. It had been so damned long since she’d last had sex, even longer since she’d seen a man this fine. And she’d never, ever, been looked at the way Trevor was looking at her right now.

  “Trevor.” Lilah licked her lips, and he groaned and leaned forward. His brown eyes practically glowed, the earthy chips of fire lighting her lust into a full-fledged bonfire. “I, ah,

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  hate to say it, really I do.” She squeezed him again before reluctantly letting him go. “But there’s been a mistake.” He frowned and focused on her mouth, and she had the hardest damn time remembering what she was saying. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Mistake?” He leaned forward and kissed her flush on the mouth. Lips, tongue, and --

  good Lord -- teeth. When he broke the kiss, she wanted to melt at his feet. “Tyrone,” he yelled through the door. “Go away. I’m not going to hurt…” he paused, staring down at her.

  “Lilah.”

  “Lilah. And with his royal jackass in residence, she’ll be just what we need to keep our hands off each other’s throats.”

  Tyrone mumbled something, but Lilah was mesmerized by the impressive flesh now kissing her bare belly. Damn, but this guy was seriously hung.

  “Now, Lilah, you were saying something about us not knowing each other?”

  He kissed each corner of her lips before kissing her so thoroughly she forgot her own name. When he raised his head, he looked smugly satisfied.

  “I -- I --” she stammered, then took a deep breath. “Trevor. I know your name, but nothing else. I’m a stranger. New to the island.” He pressed his cock solidly between them, not that she could possibly forget he was exposed in front of her. She panicked, aware she came seriously close to succumbing to sex with a man she’d just met…a man whose penis she’d held. “I don’t even know what you like,” she added lamely.

  Tall, dark, and handsome smiled down at her, and she thought he’d literally stopped her heart. “I like you.”

  * * * * *

  Rick glared at the door through which Trevor had vanished before slamming it shut.

  For two days he’d been badgering his close-lipped kidnapper for answers. And the only thing

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  he had to show for it was a raging hard-on that threatened to explode whenever he was in Trevor’s presence.

  For a man who wasn’t into other men, Trevor certainly put out some confusing vibes.

  The longing looks, the impossible-to-miss erections he sported, the frustration that darkened those melting brown eyes into bittersweet chocolate, all made it hard for Rick to think about anything but fucking Trevor into submission. Talk about a man with problems. Rick lusted after something he hadn’t encountered before…the unattainable.

  Never had Rick had to work so damned hard for a lover. No one rejected Rick. Or at least, no one had until Trevor showed up. If that weren’t hard enough to swallow -- or not, he thought literally -- Rick had as little control over this situation as he had information about why Trevor detained him here, of all places. A true kidnapper wouldn’t have allowed him as much latitude as Trevor had. Each time Trevor cuffed Rick to the bed, Rick freed himself. Trevor would sigh, refasten the cuffs, and sit with him until they both grew snappish, then leave again.

  In the time it would take Rick to release yet another restraint, Trevor would think up irritating things to say, thereby transforming their aggravation from sexual to argumentative.

  Fumbling with the newest lock Trevor had imposed, Rick managed to free himself in under half an hour. When he stormed through the doorway, however, he stopped in surprise. He’d heard Trevor shout something, but hadn’t understood it was at another person.

  Bemused, Rick realized he’d never seen this particular woman on the island.

  Like Trevor, she also seemed familiar. Long, sandy brown hair framed an oval, if average, face. She had pale, even skin, but her features were too wide, too overwhelming to fit together prettily. Not that she was ugly, but plain would be a more apt description to put to her face. Her body, however, was another matter entirely.

  Rick took a good, hard look and felt his body temperature, and another impressed part of him, rise. Though Trevor had her caged against the door, they stood perpendicular to the

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  wall. In relief, Rick saw her curves bursting through an athletic, well-toned frame. She wore short shorts and a thin, red T-shirt that ended right below her breasts, leaving a perfectly sculpted abdomen to view.

  The woman flushed and pushed her way past Trevor, and Rick’s body raged to life. A living, breathing maenad. Like the worshippers in the paintings he possessed that paid tribute to Bacchus -- the Roman god of wine and debauchery -- this woman had a body made for carnal worship. Large, round breasts sat high over a pinched waist and firm, womanly hips. She turned to reply to Trevor, and he noted her firm ass. So very, very tight.

  Rick immediately had an image of himself penetrating those cheeks, or better yet, between those luscious thighs. Her arms and legs would wrap around him while he took her, and that graceful column of her throat would beg him to nip and suck while she arched her neck in supplication…

  “Figures.” Trevor’s deep growl brought his fantasy to an abrupt end. “Lilah, meet Rick.

  The man you’ve come to save from my ‘boorish companionship.’”

  She glance
d at him before turning back to murmur something under her breath to Trevor, and Rick took another unobstructed look at her perfect ass. Heart-shaped and firm, leading him to stare down her slim, taut thighs to her calves. Even her feet were perfect.

  Feminine, with red nails and long, slender toes, all encased in bright white sandals.

  “El --” she paused and glanced at Rick over her shoulder, then looked again at Trevor.

  “My boss never claimed you were boorish. She merely said you had a tendency to speak your mind at the most inappropriate times. Just like your brother Ethan.” Lilah chuckled. “Which is no doubt why she thought we’d get along.”

  Ethan… Reaper? Son of a bitch. Trevor Jackson, my ass. He thought Trevor looked familiar, and seeing him fully in the light of day, Rick wondered how he’d missed the family resemblance the first time around. But the look in Trevor’s gaze as it wandered over Lilah drew Rick’s focus, and he promised himself to demand an explanation from Trevor Reaper soon enough.

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  “Is that the only reason why?” Trevor’s baritone sounded smoky, causing Rick to study him with fascination. He glanced down Trevor’s frame and narrowed his gaze.

  The top button of Trevor’s shorts was undone, and the man had an erection beneath the clinging fabric, one impossible to miss. And Lilah had given it to him. Lilah, a woman, a person acceptable to Trevor. Then again… Rick pursed his lips. He wouldn’t mind slaking his own lusts on a woman so incredibly sexy.