by Avery Aster
Every drop of anxiety vanished as she took her first good look at Eden.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
The word paradise seemed a pale description for the lush beauty of the island. Palm trees lined the edge of a pristine white sandy beach. The crystal blue water was clear and as they walked down the dock, Carissa could see countless species of colorful fish.
On its own, the natural magnificence would have been impossible to beat, but the opulent castle nestled atop a hill just before them overshadowed all of that.
The sun was beginning to set, the gray of dusk shattered by the bright lights greeting them. For a moment, Carissa could almost believe she’d been transported back in time.
“I can’t believe this place is real.”
Jett didn’t reply, so she turned to look at him. His gaze remained steadfast on the castle for a few moments more, and then he faced her.
“Thank you for bringing me here, Rissa.”
His words were solemn, earnest. She smiled and shrugged. “Thank the radio station.”
He shook his head, his eyes softening, reflecting some emotion that made Carissa nervous…in a good way. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her palms felt sweaty. She’d never done that typical schoolgirl crush routine when she was a teenager. Life working at her father’s bar, surrounded by gruff, world-weary people who never tried to sugarcoat reality for her had taken away her ability to romanticize anything.
However, there was no denying she was falling head over heels into a fairytale fantasy right now. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look away.
Eden wasn’t reality. New Orleans was. She needed to stay smart, keep her guard up, and maintain the status quo. Ten minutes on this island and she already knew leaving it would be one of the hardest things she’d ever do. She didn’t need to add to that difficulty by indulging in dreams about something that could never survive on Toulouse Street.
Together, she and Jett climbed the stone steps leading to the castle. A pretty young woman at the front desk greeted them, then a bellboy took them up to their room.
Carissa didn’t think it was possible to top her first glimpse of the island and castle, but the room proved her wrong. She’d never seen such sensuous luxury. The first thing she noticed was a king-sized, four-poster, complete with a canopy and sheer drapes. The fancy bed made her think of that second Indiana Jones movie—the one she hated with the whiny blonde chick.
Through an open doorway, she spotted a bathroom that was larger than her entire apartment above the bar back home. French doors opened to a balcony overlooking the ocean—which was shimmering in the moonlight. A romantic table adorned with a fancy white tablecloth, fine china and lit candles sat near a large window.
The bellboy set their luggage down near the door, then pointed out several of the room’s amenities, including the large Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom and the antique armoire that hid a state-of-the-art television and sound system. He also gave them a quick rundown of what he referred to as “special places” on the island he thought they might enjoy, including a small cove that was ideal for snorkeling, and the dungeon.
Carissa snuck a quick peek at Jett, curious to know his reaction to that information. She’d read about Eden’s dungeon several years earlier and it was one of the things that had fascinated her about the island. The second she realized she’d be traveling here, Carissa had done some research on BDSM and indulged in a shopping trip. At some point, she planned to sneak away from Jett to explore that part of the castle.
It was unlikely she’d ever have the opportunity to take a trip like this again. As such, Carissa intended to take advantage of every adventure, including indulging her curiosity and interest in bondage. She was far too outspoken and opinionated to relinquish control of her life, but she definitely wouldn’t mind trying out the submissive role for a week. Being dominated by a sexy stranger had always ranked high on her list of sexual fantasies. Eden was offering her a chance to experience it without risk or strings.
The bellboy pointed to the table. “Given your long journey, the master of the island thought perhaps you would prefer to dine en suite this evening.”
Jett nodded approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Carissa agreed. The long day was beginning to catch up with her.
“I’ll leave this with you, then.” The bellboy handed Jett a menu. Jett reciprocated by handing the young man a tip and his thanks. Surprisingly, the bellboy refused the tip, claiming the master paid them very well.
Once they were alone in the room, Jett passed the menu to Carissa. “I’m going to grab a quick shower. You mind ordering?”
She shook her head. “Nope. What do you want?”
“Anything that mooed in a previous life.”
Carissa laughed, perusing the list as Jett grabbed his shower bag from his suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.
She ordered the largest steaks on the menu for both of them, added baked sweet potatoes and grilled asparagus, then decided to splurge, requesting Tiramisu for dessert and a bottle of red wine at the last minute.
She giggled as she listened to Jett singing “Layla” loudly in the shower, then she ventured out onto the balcony. Night was in full bloom, the moon shining so brightly, its reflection on the water almost gave the appearance of day. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
“Quite a view.”
She turned at the sound of Jett’s voice and realized she’d been mistaken about that most beautiful sight. Jett beat the view hands down. He was shirtless, dressed only in jeans that hung low on his hips. His dark hair was wet. He hadn’t bothered to shave again, so his jaw was covered with a five o’clock shadow that she longed to rub her cheek against. Then her hormones kicked in and she reconsidered—wishing she could feel that roughness on the skin of her inner thighs.
Her silence prompted Jett to take his gaze away from the scenery. He studied her face with a knowing grin.
Shit. The cocky man would have a field day if he realized how much he was turning her on. She searched for some smartass cut-down; some way to put them back in familiar territory, but no words came.
She was saved by a knock on the door. Hallelujah for room service.
A waiter delivered their food, setting it out on the table as Jett pulled on a clean t-shirt and complimented her for her choices. After the waiter left, they claimed their seats. Carissa’s stomach growled and Jett laughed.
“It’s been hours since those lame burritos at lunch.” He picked up his fork. “I’m starving too.”
They chatted as they ate, their conversation mixed with a continual chorus of “Oh my God, this is good” and “Can you believe this place is real?”
Once they finished eating, Jett stood and looked around the room. Carissa noticed when his gaze fell on the bed. Before they left, the idea of the two of them claiming opposite ends of the large mattress had felt a lot simpler. Faced with the reality they’d be sharing the bed and her sudden, unfamiliar attraction to Jett, Carissa realized the bed wasn’t as big as she thought.
She felt Jett’s attention turn to her and she wondered if he was struggling with the fallout from those kisses in the plane as well. Carissa didn’t doubt he’d been sincere about trying to distract her…at first. But there was no denying that distraction had morphed to desire pretty damn quick.
“Tell you what,” Jett said, breaking a silence that had gone on a few beats too long. “I’m going to take a walk around the castle, do a little reconnaissance work to see what our options are in terms of recreation. Why don’t you get a shower and hit the sheets?”
He was giving her a chance to escape, to fall asleep without him in the bed. She wasn’t as grateful for the kindness as she should be.
“Sounds good.”
Jett headed for the door. “Don’t wait up. I spotted the bar on our way to the room. I might check out the action there.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning
then.” She waved as the door closed behind him. And she missed him about three seconds after his departure.
She tried to shake some sense into herself, then blamed her temporary insanity on the Bermuda Triangle. Clearly there was something weird in the air on this island that was clouding her usual crystal-clear judgment.
She lifted her suitcase to the luggage rack, digging for her own bathroom bag. Her gaze landed on the outfit she’d packed to wear to the dungeon.
Suddenly exhaustion was replaced by adrenaline.
Grinning, she considered the next few hours. Jett had said he would be gone for a little while, which left her some time to do a bit of exploring on her own.
Time to find her sexy stranger and have some fun.
With any luck, her trip to the dungeon would end in a dalliance that would drive Jett Lewis and his gorgeous blue eyes out of her mind.
Gorgeous eyes.
Damn. Until a few hours ago, she wouldn’t have even remembered his eyes were blue.
She peered back into the case and spotted the vibrator she’d foolishly thrown in at the last minute on a whim. She was pleased with her impulsiveness. At least with the toy, she had a plan B if the dungeon fantasy failed.
God. This was going to be a long week.
Chapter Three
Jett stood in the main playroom, keeping to the shadows as he surveyed the crowd in the dungeon. He felt a bit guilty for lying to Carissa about his true plans when he’d left the room, but he wasn’t sure how she would react if she knew about his interest in BDSM. He’d purposely avoided making eye contact with her when the bellboy mentioned the dungeon. When she didn’t mention it over dinner, he assumed she was either indifferent or hadn’t understood what the man was referring to.
He straightened the mask Roan, the dungeon master, had given him upon his arrival. Apparently tonight was some sort of theme party—Masquerade—and everyone was required to wear masks. The anonymity appealed to Jett as it added an extra layer of intrigue to the evening.
There were close to fifty people at the party. Roan explained there were quite a few staff members who were regulars, in addition to the guests at the hotel. Some of the latter were first-timers, but others apparently returned to the island often. There was a good mix of Doms and Dommes, as well as collared and available subs.
He understood why an invitation to Eden to play in the dungeon was so coveted. It was beautiful, everything done in red, black and chrome. The red-lacquer walls were decorated with large mirrors so people could watch themselves playing in the flickering light provided by sconces. The equipment was state-of-the-art, most of it designed by Roan himself.
Roan had remembered Jett from the phone interview he’d conducted of the man a few years earlier when he was researching his book. He’d welcomed Jett to the dungeon and given him a quick tour of the place. Now, Jett watched as Roan played with a gorgeous woman strapped to a giant St. Andrew’s cross. A crowd had formed, watching as the master smacked her shapely bottom with a leather paddle, then paused to stroke the reddening skin when she moaned and arched into his touch. Then he started again, this time with a short leather flogger. Jett didn’t doubt for a moment every female sub in the place was wishing she were tied to that cross.
Jett had spotted two possible women to play with as he’d toured the area with Roan—lovely, sweet subs who would help him work off some of this pent-up lust that had been steadily building since he and Carissa left New Orleans.
When he first escaped the hotel room, he’d actually considered doing exactly what he’d told Carissa—castle tour, beach walk, bar. There was a part of him that felt guilty for coming here. Which was ridiculous. He and Carissa weren’t a couple so it wasn’t as if he were cheating on her.
The problem was something had definitely shifted the moment he’d opened that fancy envelope she’d handed him in the Royal Lunch and he’d read the invitation to Eden. It was as if a veil had been lifted, his vision cleared. Despite his deep roots in New Orleans, he’d never set much stock in voodoo or magic. At least not until he’d read that letter. From that point on, there was one thing that seemed to shine brighter to him, that stood out like a beacon calling him home—and it was Carissa.
He’d told her that kiss in the plane was meant to distract her, but the truth was after all those hours together in the car, driving to Miami, his willpower was gone. He simply couldn’t not kiss her for a second longer.
Jett had spoken to a couple of friends who’d traveled to Eden a year earlier. Both of them kept referring to the magic of the place, the way things that had always seemed cloudy were suddenly in focus—vibrant, crisp, sharp. The man said the trip to Eden had changed their lives completely and that they would never be the same, but Jett had dismissed his overzealous comment. He recalled thinking to himself that perhaps they’d smoked some sort of wacky island weed that had distorted their perspective and left them a little touched in the head.
But now…he felt it. He understood.
When she’d looked at the bed in their room after dinner, it had taken every ounce of strength he possessed not to push her down on the mattress and take her then and there. And the truly frightening part was he didn’t think Carissa would have rejected him, wouldn’t have said no.
Things had taken a weird turn somewhere and it left him wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do now.
He sighed.
He wasn’t going to do anything. At least not in this dungeon tonight. And not with a stranger. Dammit.
The only woman he wanted was upstairs.
He pushed away from the wall, intent on leaving, when he spotted her.
Despite the mask, there was no mistaking Carissa’s walk or the self-assured way she stood, almost daring everyone in the room to look at her.
Her posture and poise screamed Domme…yet her outfit was in direct opposition to her demeanor. She was dressed in a very short mini skirt, stockings and high heels. She wore a revealing, lacy black push-up bra that enhanced her curves and was covered by a sheer white blouse that she’d only buttoned halfway. She was displaying her assets perfectly.
However, the thing that caught and captured his attention the most was her hair. It was down, hanging loose and wavy. His fingers itched to touch, to tangle, to tug. She was sex incarnate and a quick glance around the room proved he wasn’t the only Dom to notice.
He needed to act fast before the hounds descended.
Jett took slow, measured steps toward her, trying to decide his approach. It appeared Carissa had been keeping her own secrets in regards to this trip. She’d clearly packed that outfit knowing she’d be venturing to the dungeon. He grinned. This vacation just kept getting better and better.
He was only a few feet away when another Dom approached Carissa. The man had pushed his mask off and was leading a woman behind him on a leash. His submissive was crawling on her knees, her head bowed. Jett frowned as he watched the woman struggling to keep up with the Dom. Humiliation wasn’t an unusual thing to observe in the clubs, though it didn’t interest Jett.
He glanced around to see if the Dom’s behavior was setting off any alarms, but Roan was still with his sub at the St. Andrew’s cross. There were other dungeon masters around the perimeter of the room, their sashes clearly designating their role. None of them reacted to the Dom’s actions, so clearly the play had been negotiated and agreed upon. Roan managed the dungeon very well—upholding the Safe, Sane and Consensual credo. He had explained during the tour that many of the visitors to Eden were new to the scene and they’d come to live out their fantasies. As such, he worked very hard to keep everyone safe.
The Dom stopped in front of Carissa.
“Get on your knees,” he demanded.
Carissa’s spine straightened. No doubt she knew her rights. The man wasn’t her Dom and she certainly didn’t have to obey him.
However, Jett had witnessed his wildcat tossing more than a few rowdy drunks out of her bar in his lifetime. He decided to step in and gui
de her through her fantasy. What worked in the Royal Lunch was not going to work in this dungeon.
Jett was behind her in less than two seconds. He wrapped his arms around her waist, gripping her tightly. “There you are, my love. Standing just as I told you to. You’re such a pretty sub.”
Carissa stiffened, but didn’t try to escape his hold. She started to turn, but Jett grasped her hair, forcing her to face forward. He’d purposely deepened his voice, not wanting her to know it was him. She hadn’t mentioned her interest in the dungeon or told Jett she was planning to leave their room, which indicated she’d come here looking for a dalliance with a stranger. He planned to give her that…sort of. She’d definitely be playing tonight. But she’d be doing it with him.
“This is your sub?” The other Dom studied him, suspicion on his face.
Jett tried to keep his fury toward the obnoxious man at bay, but it was difficult. He had no respect for men who were more bully than Dom. “She is.”
“She’s disrespectful. She didn’t lower her eyes when I spoke and she didn’t obey my command.”
Jett didn’t respond. Instead he leveled a stare at the man that would leave no sensible, intelligent person in doubt of his anger. It was lost on the idiot in front of him, who failed to back down.
“She doesn’t have to respond to jackasses,” Jett said at last.
“Who are you calling a jackass? Your sub is badly behaved. All I’m saying is I’d be more than happy to help you punish the bitch.”
The man was clueless about dungeon etiquette. If he continued behaving this way, Roan would kick the man out on his ass.
Carissa pressed closer to Jett in an attempt to get away from the bastard. He held her tighter, his protective instincts on red-alert. “I don’t intend to punish her.”
The man leered at Carissa, viewing her like a juicy steak. “That’s a shame. I’d like to see how she responds to the whip. Bet she takes it like a bitch in heat.”
The man’s comments and unsavory ogling sickened Jett. Carissa started to turn away, but Jett held her in place. It was important they keep up the appearance of Dom and sub, even though he wanted to pull her against his chest, shielding her from everyone in the room. She was his.
