Savage Dom: A Dark Romance: Savage Island Book One Page 7

  We don’t have a change of clothes. Her bag is back at the cave.

  She looks down at her dress and up to me.

  “Well, this was poorly executed,” she mutters.

  “Yeah. Well, I’ll turn away. You take your clothes off and hang them on a branch.”

  “Cy,” she says bracingly.

  I raise a brow to her. Her eyes say what she doesn’t want to out loud. The attraction between us is fucking dynamite.

  “Yeah. That’s why I said I’d turn away,” I remind her. “You can air dry or something, then put the dress back on.”

  A corner of her lips quirks up, but she doesn’t respond.

  “Okay,” she finally says. “But make sure you turn away.”

  I give her a look that turns her suddenly shy and a bit more humbled. “Please. Turn away, please.”

  I respectfully do what she asks, but it doesn’t help like I thought it would. I can hear the rustle of her clothing as she removes it, and a second later I watch as she hangs them on a branch that extends to the watering hole.

  I swallow hard. She’s naked. Christ, I want to see her. A little voice whispers in my ear, tempting me to just take a peek, but I don’t. If I do, I’ll be joining her and then we’re screwed. We’re both barely hanging onto self-control already.

  But God, I need to wash, too. So I step away from her and go to the other side of the hole. I’ll be practical and logical and safe. I step out of my jeans and toss them on the bank, then wade into the water a few yards away from her. From the corner of my eye, I can just barely make out the gorgeous slope that leads from her side to her hips.

  I start counting in Spanish.

  Uno. Dos. Tres.

  Doesn’t help. Damn.

  I count to twenty to try to stop myself from getting a hard-on.

  Doesn’t work.

  I start reciting the prayers I learned in grade school. Maybe some kind of religious memory will trigger the need to stay celibate or something. Next thing I know, I’m imagining her in a Catholic school girl uniform.

  Yeah, that didn’t work.

  I dive into the water and close my eyes, drowning everything out in the muted depths. We swim in the ocean but have sighted sharks offshore. If we stay in the shallows we’re fine, because it’s the depths that are more dangerous. Here, in the watering hole there are no sharks to worry about. Nearby, there are waterfalls. It’s idyllic, and I stay beneath the surface, schooling myself for as long as I can.

  I surface to the sound of her screaming.

  Christ.

  I whip my head around trying to find her. She’s clutching her arms across her chest and screaming her fool head off.

  “What the fuck?” I ask her, looking to where she points. In seconds, I’m on the bank grabbing for my machete when I see a boa constrictor just inches away from her. Huge and deadly, though it isn’t poisonous, it’s very capable of strangling her to death. And even if it wasn’t dangerous, it’s another food source.

  We lost a man to a snake. I won’t lose another. She screams again and again while I wield the knife and lunge. The boa strikes at the same second I bring my knife down, but it doesn’t get far as the thick, sharpened metal lops its head off. Her screams become bloodcurdling, and she’s crying freely now.

  I hate this for her. Hate it.

  With the end of my knife, I pick up the snake and toss it to shore, then turn back to her. She walks toward me, and without thinking, I open my arms to hug her. Thunder rolls overhead, and before she reaches me, huge drops of rain pelt down from above. She reaches me as the rain falls in sudden torrents. We both speak at the same time. The poor girl’s trembling.

  “I’m sorry, I froze—”

  “Those things are deadly—”

  “I tried to get away—”

  “It killed one of the men here.”

  “You saved me, I couldn’t—”

  And then she’s in my arms, soaking wet and utterly naked, and I don’t even try to stop this. She’s shaking but framing my face with her hands as I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her. Oh, Christ, it’s been so long since I kissed a woman, and never in circumstances like this. We’re soaking wet and disheveled, but stripped from every possible modern convenience, there’s nothing but raw sexual attraction.

  She’s holding onto me while I frame her waist with my hands, and my God, she feels so fucking good, even soaking wet and shivering. Her skin is like silk, her body easily melding to mine. My cock’s a steel rod between us, but she’s either as turned on as I am, or she doesn’t care. She only presses herself closer to me and rocks. I slide my tongue in her mouth and skate my hands down her trim waist to the fullness of her ass.

  I want to see how she responds to being dominated. Something tells me she might be an independent woman, but she won’t fight this. So I grip her ass before taking one of my hands away and when she moans, I lace my fingers through her sodden hair with one hand, and with the other, slap the fullest part of her ass.

  She sighs into my mouth and draws nearer. I spank her again, and again, as I continue to kiss her, yanking her hair between my fingers. I fucking love the way she molds to me like this, as if welcoming me to do more. I bring my hands to her underarms and hoist her into my arms. Her legs wrap around my torso, my cock pressed up against her ass. Christ, I want to fuck her right this minute. With her still holding onto me, our lips still joined together.

  My need for her is so strong, I can’t think, I can’t speak. I need in this woman, and now.

  I lay her on the ground and she yields to me, moaning when I pull my mouth off hers and trail my tongue from her neck to her collarbone. On instinct, I wrap my fingers around her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens on my palm while I cup her pussy with my other hand.

  “I want to own this pussy,” I say in a ragged whisper. Her eyes widen and her lips part when I flex my hand on her neck. I shove my hand between her legs and spread her thighs. She’s dripping wet in more ways than one. I effortlessly glide my fingers through her folds until she’s grinding against my hand.

  “Fucking gorgeous,” I say in a low rumble, working her pussy while I look her over. Jesus, how I want to fuck her. I drop my mouth to one breast and lap at her nipple while I finger her, reminding her who’s in charge of this with gentle pressure to her neck. She moans and bucks her pussy against my hand. I suck in a nipple, suckling for a moment before giving it a harsh nip with my teeth.

  She gasps, though it’s muted with my hold on her. I release her nipple and lap the hardened bud with the flat of my tongue, circling to stimulate her. She moans and whimpers. I release her neck and move my hands to her wrists, cuffing them.

  “Stay there,” I whisper. “Do exactly as I say, or I’ll punish you.”

  Her eyes look a little frightened, but her body vibrates with need. There are little pink fingerprints on her neck where I choked her, her hair wild and crazy from being pulled.

  I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t control, a way I don’t understand but can’t stop. I need her like I need to fucking breathe.

  “I need to fuck you,” I whisper. “I need to fuck you now.”

  “We shouldn’t,” she whispers, but then she’s moaning and spreading her legs like she can’t stop herself either.

  I line my cock at her entrance and tease her clit with the head, and when she’s moaning and on the cusp of climax, I plunge myself into her. She sighs deliciously and opens her legs wide.

  “Fuck me,” she says through gritted teeth. I place one hand on her neck again and gently squeeze, holding both wrists in my other hand, and shove my cock in her channel. Christ, it feels amazing. I don’t even remember the last time I had a woman. I do know it was way before I even set foot on this island. She’s so tight I groan, building a rhythm, oblivious to where we are or what we’re doing, our only focus chasing our ecstasy.

  I thrust and her head goes back with a moan and she pulls on her wrists, but I hold fast.

  “Fuck me, you’re
gorgeous,” I manage to rasp out. I thrust again, harder, and she screams, but it doesn’t stop me. Again, I thrust and again she moans, her legs wrapped around my torso anchoring me to her. I pull my cock out so the very head is at her center, and slam into her again, loving the way she writhes on the edge of bliss, loving the way her pussy milks my cock, loving the momentary reprieve from all responsibility as I do what I’ve been created to do, what I have to do. This woman was mine from the moment she set foot on this island.

  I close my eyes when her keening moans increase and her pussy clenches on me. She’s on the cusp of climax and I’m on her heels. She throws her head back with reckless abandon and screams her climax when my seed lashes into her. I pump my hips and claim her body, marking her with my come. I don’t stop until she’s sighing and panting and fully relaxed beneath me.

  “Gorgeous,” I say, leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

  “My God, what was that?” she whispered. “I got turned on looking at you. This isn’t me. I’m not—"

  “Me neither,” I tell her. We’re still entangled together. I’ve just fucked her, but I’m not sated. I want more.

  “Something’s happening here,” she whispers. She looks in my eyes searchingly. Hers are a delicate, bright green.

  “I know.” I don’t know what else to say, so I lean down and kiss her again.

  “Dear God,” she says, when I pull away. “This place is bewitched or something.”

  “Or something,” I mutter. “Christ. Get your dress on before I fuck you again. We’ve got to get up to the shelter and secure things before nightfall.”

  She pulls away reluctantly, jumping back in the water to clean off but I don’t look this time. I can’t. If I do, I don’t trust myself not to fuck her again.

  Eight

  Harper

  I have no idea what just happened. I mean, I do. I just fucked a man I hardly know, in the middle of nowhere, like a wanton whore.

  Who am I?

  It’s like we both lost total control at the same time. He went all animalistic on me and I caved like a house of cards. But God, I don’t regret it. I don’t regret it for a minute.

  I’ve had polite sex, and lackluster sex, and pretty damn good sex, but never anything like that.

  My throat still hurts a little from where he wrapped his hand around it. I touch the tender skin and smile to myself.

  I liked it. God, I loved it.

  My ass still stings from where he spanked me, and my scalp still burns from when he pulled my hair. I look down at my breasts, not surprised to see pink bite marks around my nipples. I turn away from him so he doesn’t see me smile. I feel so… badass.

  What the hell is that about?

  The rain stops as suddenly as it started. I shake my head as I make my way up the bank, wiping as much of the water off me as I can.

  He manhandled me and I begged for more. My pussy clenches at the memory of his thick, hard cock gliding in and out of me.

  I start when I think about what we just did.

  Birth control.

  I took my birth control pills yesterday.

  Are they still in my bag? How many more do I have?

  And is birth control enough? I don’t even know the man. I just had unprotected sex with a savage, wild man I met today.

  Am I out of my mind? Honestly, I think I am. I really, truly, think that I’ve lost all semblance of reason. There’s something in the air, or hell, the water on this place. I look back at the pool I just stepped out of as if I expect magical purple smoke to be rising from it, but of course there’s nothing of the sort. I see the dead snake on the shore and cringe.

  Something caws in the distance, shaking me out of my head. I grab my dress and pull it off the branch, whipping my head around to look to Cy.

  “Just a bird,” he says. “Still, we have to get back up to shelter.”

  He isn’t looking in my eyes but hungrily at my body, and I swear he’s hard again just looking at me. He swallows hard.

  “We don’t have time for another round, cowboy,” I mutter. He shakes his head as if to clear his mind and shoots me a lopsided grin but doesn’t reply.

  I can’t believe I just fucked him, like a sorority girl at a frat party in need of a one-night stand. It’s the island. It’s got to be. Because when I see him standing there, still dripping wet and flushed from fucking, I can’t help but smile back at him. If he stalked over to me right this very minute and manhandled me again, not gonna lie, I’d let him.

  “Any ideas for dinner?” I ask him. My stomach growls, and he gives me a withering look.

  “Hungry?” he asks.

  I nod reluctantly. I will not admit I should’ve eaten the rodents. No way.

  “A little,” I say, tugging the dress over my still-damp body. “Not starving.”

  “Yet.”

  When I tug my head through the neckline, I see him swallowing hard again, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Should’ve eaten the food I made you,” he mutters, staring at my breasts.

  I grimace and step over toward him. “I… think I’m fine. Please, tell me there are other sources of food on this island?” I have protein bars, still, but they won’t last long.

  “Sometimes there is, and sometimes there isn’t,” he says, tearing his gaze from mine and stepping past me to pick up the dead snake.

  “Noooo,” I groan, even as my stomach aches with hunger. The breakfast buffet this morning seems very, very long ago. He slings the snake around his neck, and I grimace.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He walks toward me and takes me by the hand to help me up the steep bank.

  I look longingly over my shoulder at the beach. “Can we explore the beach a bit? It would be better than walking through these woods.”

  I wince when my tender foot comes in contact with the rough branches. Without asking me, he bends, lifts me in his arms, and effortlessly walks while holding me. My arms instinctively wrap around his neck. I’ve never been carried by a man. I feel his muscles flex around me. He’s warm and strong, and I feel weightless in his arms.

  I like this.

  “No,” he says with determination. “It’s too dangerous until we know where Will is. We’re too exposed down there.”

  I don’t fight him. I let him carry me. And maybe that’s the catch. This is still my choice. Even when he dominated me on the bank, that was my choice, and I loved every second.

  “Not so crazy about being the helpless female,” I mutter.

  “That’s too bad,” he counters, his voice deep and husky. I look up at him, but he doesn’t make eye contact, he’s so intent on making sure we’re getting back to safety. If I believed in things like werewolves, I’d think I was being carried by one, and it’s not just because of his long, ragged hair and beard, or the thick snake draped around his neck like a scarf. I shudder and look away from it. There’s more to it than that. There’s a certain ferocity in the way his eyes roam about the forest. Sometimes when he speaks his voice is rough and raspy like he’s half-growling, and the way he killed that snake…

  I swallow.

  He’s a man, not a beast.

  Is he both?

  His lips twitch. “I, on the other hand, quite like you being the helpless female.”

  And just like that I’m turned on again and more than a little irritated about it. I’m no helpless female.

  “Is that right?” I can’t keep the ire out of my voice. “I just arrived here. Give me some time—”

  But then I stop speaking when I realize what I’m saying. I’m not taking it for granted that I’m going to be here a while. I don’t want to be. I want to be home, back with my brother, back to my job and my home, the little piece of heaven I built for myself.

  And yet, when he looks down at me, and his full lips quirk up at the edges, my heart does a little flutter in my chest. He leans down and brushes his lips to mine. I stop breathing.

  “You’ve got no
one here to prove anything to, Harper,” he says and then, with a shrug, his lips tipped up and eyes twinkling, he brings his mouth to my ear. “No one to come save you. No one to hear you if you scream.” I shiver, and my pulse ratchets harder. Even though he looks a bit playful, the rough sound of his voice in my ear affects me. “I own you now, Harper.”

  I feel my cheeks heat, and a full body tingle shivers down my body.

  I should protest, but I don’t trust myself to speak.

  I own you now.

  The way he says that makes my heartbeat thud.

  No one owns me.

  But there’s something about being alone with him that makes me wish it were so.

  I toss my head back, which doesn’t have quite the dramatic effect I’m aiming for since he’s holding me to his chest, and I tip my chin in the air.

  “You don’t own me, sir,” I say with as much haughty dignity as I can muster. My voice sounds high and squeaky. I’m trying to play off being teasingly serious, but I only end up sounding like a child play-acting.

  He sobers, his lips thinning and his grip on me tightening. “We’ll see about that, now, won’t we?”

  Is he serious? Is this some wild man form of flirtation?

  Though I like being held by him, I can’t help but try to fight this.

  “Put me down, Cy.” I push against his wall of a chest.

  His jaw clenches. “No.” He isn’t even winded.

  “Yes,” I counter lamely as he steps over a large, fallen log.

  “Talk back again and you’ll find yourself over my knee.”

  “Excuse me?”

  A muscle ticks in his jaw. “You heard me.”

  Why does the threat of a spanking make my heart race even faster? I crave his domination and control so hard it scares me a little.

  I decide to push it a little. What if he does spank me? I’ll live. And I want to know what it’s like. So with my heart racing, and my palms all sweaty, I put on a brave face and clear my throat.

  “Put. Me. Down.”

  My timing brings us right to the foot of the cave.