Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, her voice soft and low, her body trembling.

He wanted to hang on. He wanted to draw it out until she was reduced to begging, desperate for release. But it felt too damn good. And she was so fucking hot, writhing beneath him, her flaming hair wild about her face, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving. His balls tightened, his heart lurching as sweat filmed his body. It was no use. He couldn’t fight it much longer.

He was poised at the top of a sexual roller coaster, seconds away from careening out of control. “Come for me,” he managed to gasp before his body took over. As he hurtled downward, his mind shut down. He went rigid as he exploded in a series of intense orgasmic spasms, his cock the center of the universe.

Abbie’s cunt was tight and hot as she arched up against him, keening in a high, sweet soprano. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she bucked and shuddered beneath him. When she finally stilled, they lay together in a tangle of sweaty bodies and pounding hearts until their breathing slowed.

Ryan lifted himself on his elbows and peered down at Abbie. Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed, a beatific smile on her face.

Why had he waited so long to claim this lovely, willing woman? Looking back, he had to admit that a deep, abiding attraction had been quietly simmering between them for months. But he’d been too driven to pay attention.

Well, Abbie had his full attention now. He would give her what she craved, and if love was part of that equation, who was he to deny it?

Chapter 8

They packed a small cooler with a picnic lunch and brought it, along with towels, to the big blue and red beach umbrella set up near the back deck of the cottage. Ryan pulled off his shorts to go into the water. He smiled as Abbie’s eyes flicked over his cock, which obligingly rose under her gaze. He briefly considered taking her again right there on the beach. But sand and sex never mixed well, and he forced himself under control.

“Want to go for a swim?” he asked instead.

“Sure,” she agreed. “I love to swim in the ocean.”

“Great. Let’s do it.”

Wading out past the breaking waves, they took a long, leisurely swim. Since there was no lifeguard, they stayed relatively close to the shore. They stopped every now and then to hold each other, kissing salty lips as they pressed their naked bodies close.

When they returned to the umbrella, Ryan spread out the large beach towels they’d brought.

Abbie, with her fair complexion, had packed a big, floppy hat. Gathering her wet hair in a pile on her head, she pulled the hat down over her ears. Then she slathered her entire body with sunscreen, asking Ryan to do her back.

“If I try to hold you now, you’ll slip out of my hands,” Ryan teased.

“Trust me. If I don’t do this, you’ll have a lobster for a slave. I don’t get suntan—I get sun stroke.”

Ryan laughed. They lay quietly for a while, enjoying the peace of the day. What a change from the constant seminars, submissive training and the day-to-day minutiae of owning and running a resort. Ella had been so right—he needed this week off to rest and regroup. Even more importantly, this down time with Abbie made him understand the blinders he’d been wearing to keep himself focused. This lovely girl had been there all the time, but he’d been running too fast to stop and see.

The sun was warm, the sea breeze pleasant. Glancing over at the naked girl beside him, he considered making her masturbate for him right there on the beach. But his eyelids kept drooping, and he gave in to his languor. He drifted peacefully for a while, dozing on and off.

When he opened his eyes, Abbie was propped on her elbows beside him, staring out at the horizon. A small welt was still visible on her right thigh from the first strike of the day—a stroke of the cane delivered while she was showering. He doubted the second strike—a hard smack to her sweet ass while she was doing the breakfast dishes, still showed.

“Strike three,” he said now, startling her from her reverie. “The single tail. You’ll find it at the bottom of the tote.”

Abbie instantly pulled the bag toward her and rummaged inside, retrieving the small whip. Placing it between her teeth, she got onto her hands and knees and faced him like a sweet, eager puppy.

His cock rose as he took the whip from her mouth. “Stand up,” he instructed. “Hands laced behind your head.”

She rose at once and assumed the position. Ryan, too, got to his feet. Raising the single tail, he flicked his wrist, bringing the thin, braided throw down across her right breast.