Two of a Kind (Desire Island 2)

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Dylan breathed as he returned to her with coils of rope.

Shifting the rope to his left hand, he stroked her spread, already wet cunt with his right, sending shivers of desire radiating through her body.

She moaned, her clit hardening beneath his touch. He continued to stroke her, bringing her close to the edge with embarrassing ease. “Oooh,” she breathed, trembling when he slipped a finger inside her, crooking it just so. “Please, Sir. May I—”

With a small, evil laugh, he pulled his hand away. “Absolutely not. Not yet.”

His refusal, while sexually frustrating, thrilled her to her bones. She loved the way he controlled her with such dominant assurance. For the first time in her life, she could truly let go.

Dylan set about binding her with the delicious Shibari ropes—so soft yet deceptively strong. He started with her arms, which he tethered to the leather straps of the swing behind her head. The rope was tight but not painful—just the right amount of snug pressure to make her feel both safe and controlled. He looped the rope around her thighs, binding them, spread wide, to the leather straps on the sides of the swing.

As he worked, she settled into sensual submissive headspace, letting the leather and rope take her over. The more thoroughly he bound her, the more she relaxed, though sexual tension continued to buzz steadily beneath her languor. He didn’t stop until she was completely immobilized, tightly bound and utterly at his mercy.

Some of the bindings were painful—or not painful precisely. More like erotic discomfort. Ironically, that very discomfort was comforting, if that even made any sense. The rope quieted her mind and nurtured her soul.

When he was done at last, he stood back, gazing at her with raw desire. He drew his tongue sexily over his lips as he stroked the huge bulge at his crotch. He tore off his shirt, kicked off his boots and shucked his jeans. His large, perfect cock sprang free.

She eyed it hungrily, aching for it to be inside her. As he positioned himself between her legs, she moaned in anticipation, her entire body quivering with lust.

“You’re mine,” he whispered throatily. “I own you.”

“Yes,” she moaned, shuddering with lust. “Yes, Sir.”

Spread and tightly bound as she was in the leather swing, the experience was heightened tenfold. He’d adjusted the swing perfectly so that he was the exact height necessary for full, delicious penetration. She groaned—a low, feral sound from deep in her throat—as the fat crown of his shaft nudged its way inside her. He was slow and careful, giving her body a chance to adjust to his sizable girth, but he never pulled back.

He pulled her slowly toward him, impaling her on his hard cock as he stared into her eyes. The penetration was deep, deeper than it was possible to achieve when they were lying down. She was powerless to resist him in any way, bound in the intimate embrace of the ropes that held her tight and spread for him.

As he thrust and swiveled inside her, he groaned, his eyes closing. The pleasure of his cock at her center combined with the erotic discomfort of her bonds sent a deep shudder of dark, raw passion through her being.

His pubic bone was perfectly positioned to rub against her throbbing clit. The pleasure was exquisite. She trembled in her bonds, an orgasm rising like a huge, cresting wave inside her. Though she knew it had to be her imagination, she actually saw a gold aura shimmering over and around them, holding them together like a magnetic forcefield as Dylan fucked her.

His tempo increased, the tendons standing out on his neck as he threw his head back in the moments before his release. “Come for me,” he commanded in a hoarse voice. “Now. Oh, god… Now…”

They came together, he thrusting into her so hard she felt like she was being split in two. It was just what she needed. Throwing back her head, she gave a wild cry of pure, perfect release…

She must have lost consciousness for a few seconds, because when she opened her eyes, Dylan had withdrawn from her and was untying the knots that bound her. When the ropes were off, he gathered her into his arms and lifted her from the swing. He carried her to the recovery couch and settled with her on his lap.

“Wow,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “That was spectacular. I think we need to get our own swing so we can fall directly into bed afterward. I’m not sure I have the strength to get up to our room.”

“I know,” Kendra agreed with a weak chuckle. “My bones have melted into goo. I’m afraid you’re going to have to carry me.”

There was a light knock on the closed door. Dylan glanced at the clock that was mounted on one wall. “Damn. Our time’s up.” He set Kendra down on the couch and got to his feet. “Just a minute,” he called out. “We’ll be right out.”