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I start with her arms. A safe place. Somewhere that won’t see me fall down the rabbit hole I’ll never be able to drag myself from. But soon enough I’m moving to her chest, and the first brush of my knuckle over the tight bud of her nipple is the final straw.
Every movement is gentle, but I make no secret of the small touches I steal between passes. The way my fingers pinch one of her nipples as I move down her body. How I move my other hand over the path the sponge has taken.
And Isla doesn’t say a word. She just watches me, and occasionally her bottom lip is dragged between her teeth as she fights her need to moan.
I bypass her cunt and move straight to her legs, knowing once I touch that pretty pussy, all bets will be off, and I at least want to care for her before I lose myself in paradise.
She complies as I bend one leg and move the sponge over it before repeating the same motions on the other, but I don’t miss how her breath catches in her throat the closer I get to her pussy, almost as if she can sense what’s coming.
The first time the sponge brushes her cunt, her eyes press closed for just a second while I fight the possessive growl that claws up my throat. I don’t know where this monster came from because I’ve never been like this with anyone else. But I have better things to do right now than analyze my own mind.
When the second pass comes, Isla can’t swallow the moan, and her eyes snap up to mine as an idea forms in my mind.
I’m sure I could yell and shout and demand she follow the rules from here on out, but I have a better idea. One that crosses every single line I’ll never be able to come back from, but that’s a tomorrow me’s problem.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ISLA
No man has ever touched me like this, and slowly but surely, I’m losing my damn mind.
The way Doc carefully washed my hair is so at odds with the brutal man I’ve come to know him to be, and I can’t reconcile the two versions of him I’ve met.
It was only a matter of time before he reached my aching heat, but I didn’t expect the sponge to be discarded after just two passes, the pretense out the window as his calloused fingers move through my delicate folds.
Fuck. I’m trying so hard not to moan, not to beg him to play my body like I know only he can, but when his fingers slowly move around my clit, I almost fucking scream.
“You’re being such a good girl, Isla,” he croons, and my eyes dart up to meet his. The darkness staring back at me should probably scare me, but instead it makes me ache deeper for him.
His touch moves lower until his fingers rest at my entrance, and I hold my breath. Doc has no way of knowing I’m the only person who has ever touched myself like this. Despite the facade I show the world and the party girl I’ve always been, I never wanted my first time to be with some asshole after a night out.I didn’t want to fall victim to a two-pump chump taking my virginity, and then have nothing to show for it at the end.
So, I decided to wait. And then I waited a little more. And now I’m here, a twenty-year-old virgin playing with fire.
Doc dips a single digit into my aching heat, and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from screaming. Even a single finger feels huge when it’s a man his size, and if this escalates any further, I’m afraid he’ll tear me straight down the middle.
“So tight,” he murmurs, his eyes glued to where his hand is playing me like his own personal instrument. “And so wet for me.”
A deep flush moves from my cheeks down my neck until my entire chest is warm. I think that’s a good thing. I’ve read enough dirty books to understand the mechanics of sex and what is meant to be good and bad, but it is fiction so there’s a good chance some of it is exaggerated.
“Doc,” the plea tumbles from my lips. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but I hope he gives it to me because right now I think I might cease existing without his touch.
“Shh, spitfire. I’ve got you.” His finger moves in and out of me, sweeping over a place inside that I thought was a myth. His thumb moves slowly, torturously so, around my clit and it takes everything in me not to squirm, not to beg him for more.
His free hand reaches up and tweaks my nipple until it’s bordering on pain, before repeating on the other. Each time I hiss out a breath, but I desperately try to remain quiet in fear he’ll stop.
A second finger breaches my entrance and the burn takes my breath away. Holy fuck, how is this only two of his fingers? How the hell am I going to handle the monster in his pants that I’ve felt against my ass every morning this week?
Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Isla, I reprimand myself. This is just a one-time thing. A moment of weakness onboth our parts, and if I were stronger, I would ask him to stop here and now.
But even as I think it, I know this is so much more than a moment of weakness for both of us. This is the start. This is inevitable. And eventually, it will be our downfall.
I reach for him, desperate for more contact, but he shakes his head slowly. “Hands above your head.” The command in his voice leaves no room for argument, but I’m tempted to argue anyway. I’m desperate to know how far I can push him before he snaps.
But perhaps I’ll save that for another day when I haven’t already broken his rules.
I lift my arms, leaving my body open for him, and he makes no secret of his hunger for me.
“How’s your head?”
