Six Signs of Submission (Desire Island 6)

“Whoa, hold on,” Lainey protested, though she, too, was laughing in spite of herself. “Who said anything about falling for anyone?”

“We’re just teasing you,” Abbie said, her smile kind.

Kendra nudged Lainey in the ribs. “Speak of the devil. There he is.”

Lainey turned and caught her breath. There he was, decked out in leather, looking good enough to eat. His hair fell roguishly over his forehead and his jaw was still covered in sexy three-day stubble. He wore a black leather vest, his massive chest bare beneath, luxuriant dark hair curling along his sternum. Black leather pants hugged his legs and the alluring bulge at his crotch. Black boots completed the ensemble, along with a nylon gear bag slung casually over one shoulder.

The guy had no right to look so damn good.

Perhaps feeling their eyes on him, Cooper turned in their direction. A slow, sexy smile lifted his lips, and Lainey’s heart did a flip-flop in her chest.

“Hey there,” he said, sauntering over to them. “Anyone up for a scene?” He spoke to them all, but his eyes were fixed on Lainey’s.

Lainey’s heart leaped into her throat. She glanced from Cooper to Abbie. What do I do? she telegraphed urgently with her eyes.

Abbie gave her a small, encouraging nod, as if to say, “You got this.” Aloud, she said chirpily, “Sounds like fun, but I’ve got a work gig.” Then she melted away.

Lainey turned to Kendra, who flashed an impish grin. “I see my fella. Have fun, you two!” Then she, too, vanished into the dungeon.

Lainey watched helplessly as her friends deserted her. She would have to kill them later. But for now, she ordered herself to hitch up her big-girl panties. She’d been fantasizing about just such a scenario ever since this guy had walked into her step class. The question was—did she have the nerve to go through with it?

Her mouth was dry, her heart beating overfast. She felt like she was in seventh grade, and Denny Johansen, the cutest guy in middle school, had just asked her to dance. What if she made a fool of herself? What if she freaked out?

Cooper, whose gaze had never wavered from Lainey, let his eyes rove slowly over her body, electrifying her nipples and soaking her panties in the process. Eventually, his eyes returned to her face. His smile was easy but his eyes were glittering like black diamonds.

“Guess that just leaves you, hmm?”

Chapter 2

Lainey had been so supremely confident and in control while running the step class. Yet now she stood before Cooper looking absolutely petrified. He had thought her cute in class, with the sassy ponytail and tight tank top. But now, with her burnished hair falling to her shoulders, her sexy curves packed into that cute little black dress and those long, shapely legs ending in fuck-me heels, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

He’d speculated endlessly in his head since the class that morning about where she fell on the Dom/sub spectrum. He was now reasonably sure she was a sub, or at least not a Domme.

So far in his few days as a guest on Desire Island, everyone he’d encountered was steeped in the BDSM lifestyle. Nudity, overt sexuality and intense play were par for the course. Every girl he’d scened with had been ready, willing and able. And, while it had been fun each time, that was all it had been. He hadn’t felt the spark he experienced now. In fact, he hadn’t felt a spark like this in longer than he could remember.

He reached for Lainey’s hand, taking it lightly in his. She didn’t pull away, but he could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Forgive me,” he said gently. “Sometimes I come on a little strong. Feel like grabbing a drink at the juice bar?”

She visibly relaxed. “Sure. I am thirsty, now that you mention it.”

They weaved through the crowd toward the juice bar located in an alcove at the back of the large space. The action was already hot and heavy everywhere they looked. Naked subs of all shapes and sizes were restrained in various ways, gasping and moaning as impact toys snapped, flicked and stroked their bodies. The scent of desire was ripe in the air.

As they headed back, Lainey stopped suddenly in front of a scene station. A naked woman was tethered to a St. Andrew’s cross, her back to the small crowd that had gathered around her and the man behind her. The man held a short-handled single-tail whip in his grip. Each time he popped the tip against her already-marked flesh, the woman moaned. The sound wasn’t that of someone in pain, but more like a woman in the throes of sexual ecstasy. Her head had fallen back, and from where he stood, Cooper could see that her eyes were closed, a beatific expression of utter peace on her slack face.