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r yet.
So it was okay if she judged a little.
Dr. Dangerfield caught the frown on Krista’s face. She ignored it for a brief second. “Mr. Evans, how did you enjoy the show the other night?”
Kendall’s gaze soaked in the therapist’s body, before he looked up at her. “I enjoyed it,” he said honestly. It had turned him on. In turn, he handled his business in the bedroom with Krista. Some light foreplay—rubbing her pussy while they kissed. And then right to fucking. Because that’s what she’d wanted. He’d wanted to see her facedown, ass up.
But he’d settled for her favorite position.
Missionary.
Very vanilla sex, but the pussy was still good.
It always was.
Dr. Dangerfield smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. What about you, Mrs. Evans,” she said, her eyes landing on Krista, “how’d you enjoy the show?”
Krista shrugged. “It was okay. I guess. But I need for you to explain to me why everything on this island is about sex? So far, that’s all I see.”
Kendall stared at his wife. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself shaking his head at her ass. Because you need to step it up in the sheets, he thought.
Brenda rolled her eyes up in her head.
Dr. Dangerfield smiled, her gaze raking over Krista’s billowy tank dress and then her painted toes. Her white sandals were lying beside her cushion on the sand. Everyone had received an embossed note with instructions to dress in beachwear. And yet this bitch had come down to the beach wearing a . . . flowered dress. She hoped a bathing suit was hidden beneath.
“This island is about passion,” Dr. Dangerfield said. “Not sex. Sex can be meaningless for many. It can become almost a mechanical act of copulating for the sake of getting off. But passion on the other hand”—she shook her head—“it’s a powerful, emotional experience. Sex and sexuality are a part of human nature. But passion and sensuality are lost on many. So here at Passion Island we seek to infuse the two into each and every one of your sex lives. It is my hope that we’ll be able to help you—for those of you who need it—revive your sexual imagination.”
“I love it,” Brenda said. “I think couples should always want to keep it spicy in the bedroom. And as women we should always embrace our sensual sides.”
LaQuandra grunted, and then glared at Isaiah. He hadn’t fucked her yet. But last night, he’d haphazardly fingered her pussy, while she’d sucked his dick.
She’d sucked him as if she were sucking him for her life. And there were parts of her that felt like she had been, sap sucking him for dear life, suckling on a dick that her body needed so desperately.
When she tried to straddle him, he’d grabbed her, stopped her.
What kind of fuckery was that . . .?
Isaiah reached for the magnum of Dom, then poured himself another drink. He’d been drinking since they’d arrived on the beach at eight this morning.
“I invited you all down here,” Dr. Dangerfield continued, “to help you tap into each other’s sexual energy.”
Through observation, she hoped to gauge each couple’s intimate connection through their touch and the way their bodies responded to their partners. With the help of the island’s owner, she’d be able to do exactly that.
It was all about helping couples find a spiritual connection.
Ideally, she’d prefer the couples were naked. But she suspected most of them weren’t ready (or comfortable enough) for that. So she’d settled for bathing suits.
“Everyone, please, strip down to your swimwear,” Dr. Dangerfield instructed, “and then resume your positions back on the cushions, facing each other.”
Dr. Dangerfield waited.
To the left of her, in back of the couples, she caught the sight of her soror sitting up on the broad shoulders of Sin.
Yes, him.
Sin.
He was long dreads; six foot, three inches of dark chocolate masculinity. Bare-chested. His dick swinging proudly in his white drawstring pants.
