Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

“Hold on,” he commanded. “Use that mental control thing you have in yoga. You will not come.”

She tried to do as he said, strengthening her yoga position as she focused on her mantra. She needed to disconnect from the sensations whirling inside her and the awareness that the man of her dreams was just behind her, touching her in such a powerful, intimate way. Her brain was eager and willing to obey, but her body wasn’t as disciplined as her mind. Tears sprang to her eyes, which were squeezed tightly shut, as she tried desperately to stave off the inevitable.

Just when she was about to fail—to careen wildly over the edge of an uncontrollable, powerful climax—his hands fell away. A moment later, the vibrator and plug were eased from her quaking body.

Though she hadn’t meant to, she fell out of position, collapsing onto the mat in an ungainly sprawl. Then his hands were under her, turning her, lifting her. Master Ryan rose with her in his arms. He sat on the bench, settling her onto his lap.

She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, not in anger, but with such a tender, smoldering expression that she forgot how to breathe.

“Abbie,” he murmured softly, his head dipping toward her.

Oh, my god.

Was he going to kiss her, at last?

~*~

Her lips were soft—as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. She parted them as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of strawberries. Was he doing her a disservice by giving in to his own desires this early in her training?

At the moment, he didn’t care. He couldn’t help himself. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since their surprising scene in her bedroom in the slave quarters.

It had been intense watching her struggle to stave off her orgasm, her body wracked with pleasure, trembling with the suppressed need for release… And the way she’d held off as best she could, desperate to please her Master, to please him. It touched him even more deeply than her grace during the whipping. She wasn’t yet in complete control of her sexual reactions. And her natural response to his touch was arousal, desire, lust, yearning…

Was it him—Ryan Summerlin—she wanted? Or just what he offered? He was well aware that women found him attractive, and that that attraction was heightened for submissives and masochists in the scene who craved what he could provide. In his position as a trainer, as a Master to all and hence to none, he had to be careful to keep his heart, not to mention his cock, out of the mix.

But this was different. Abbie was different.

She wasn’t there as his employee or an island trainee. They were exploring this potential M/s connection together. She was giving of herself completely—baring herself to him with all the trust a Master could want. Why should he continue to hold himself back? Who was that serving?

He cradled her head as he explored her mouth with his tongue. Her nipples were hard against his bare chest. He could feel the beat of her heart against the pounding of his own. His trapped cock ached in his jeans, fully erect.

In that moment, he forgot about being a trainer. He was not Master Ryan. He was just a man who was falling in love with a woman who was beautiful, submissive and graceful to her core.

Still kissing her, he rose to his feet with her in his arms. He settled her on her back on the thick cushions that covered the long bench. She opened her big blue eyes and stared up at him as he pulled at his fly, ripping the metal buttons open. He tugged down his jeans and kicked them away. Naked under the warm sun with the ocean breeze moving over his skin, he draped himself over the lovely girl.

As he pushed her slender, muscular thighs apart with his knee, he looked into her face, searching. If he saw the slightest shadow of resistance or hesitation, he would stop. But all he saw was his own longing mirrored in her expression, shining in her eyes.

Reaching for her wrists, he extended her arms over her head, pinning them to the cushion as he nudged the head of his cock at her slick, hot entrance. He groaned as she gripped his cock in the tight, silky-wet sheath of her cunt.

He moved slowly inside her, the exquisite pleasure nearly unbearable. She arched up against him, moaning, her face slack with lust, her lips parted. He swiveled his cock and thrust deeper. Abbie groaned, the sound a deep, guttural cry of raw lust.

“Not yet,” he growled, his mouth close to her ear. “You will wait for your Master, Abbie.” He punctuated his words with a hip swivel that garnered another moan from the yielding, lovely girl trapped beneath him.