Sylvie uncrosses her legs and closes the distance between us without hesitation. My hands find her waist, and in seconds,her pert ass presses against the hard length of my cock when she straddles me. I groan, feeling the breath go out of me. I watch her face as I slide my palms under her shirt and drag them slowly up her spine. Her lips part in a gasp as she shivers against me, and this time, it has nothing to do with the chill. Not when my hands are hot against her naked skin.
Her tits rise and fall quickly as I trace the line of her back before circling to the front and cupping her breasts in both hands. She whimpers, eyes going hazy under my watchful eyes. “Is this warming you up?”
“Yeah,” she breathes when I brush my thumb over a nipple, velvet soft to the touch. “Better than gloves.”
A low laugh rumbles out of me. I lower my mouth to her chest, and suck her nipple through the fabric, causing her to rock forward over my cock. She gasps. I let out a strangled groan, teasing the peak with my teeth before soothing it with my tongue, but it’s not enough. Fuck, the need to taste has me shoving up her shirt and closing my mouth over her bare nipple, tugging it between my lips, circling it with my tongue.
She whines, and rocks needily on my lap as I lick at her nipples, suckling them until my own skin is burning. When I finally push back, her face is flushed, her stunning blue eyes dark like the ocean that lies just outside the tent.
Want, unlike anything I have felt before, rushes through me, and I realize that I have to have her. Now. Here. On this island where, if the world ended today, neither of us would know.
With a low growl, I seal our lips together in a kiss that’s meant to possess and lay claim. I taste the hot chocolate we had after dinner on her tongue and something sweeter underneath—her, just her—and it’s intoxicating. Maddening.
I pinch her nipple as I sink deeper into the kiss, drowning in the taste and feel of her. In the scent that seems to linger on her and crowd my judgment. I kiss her like a drowning man, and she opens for me like she’s been waiting. Her arms circle my shoulders, and she kisses me back with everything she has.
With a growl, I roll us to the tent floor of the tent and cover her with my body, licking into her mouth as I rock against her, my dick begging for release. Her hips move restlessly against mine as I devour her mouth, swallowing every little sound she makes.
I break the kiss, my chest heaving as I trail my mouth down her throat, kissing her and exploring spots that make her shiver against me. I kiss her everywhere, learning her body as I would a map. She’s sensitive at the back of her ears and likes it when I nibble the lobe. Her neck and collarbone, too. She likes it when I worship her breasts and trembles when I kiss down her stomach; When I slide her panties down her thighs and bury my face between her thighs.
“Wyatt!”
I didn’t think I would ever experience the desperate need to hear my name called out in a breathy sigh until she does it, and now, I want more. I can’t help but wonder how many ways I can get her to say my name.
“Fuck!” I growl against the inside of her thigh, inhaling the warm, soft scent of her arousal. She’s wet, already so slick. Practically dripping for me.
I slide my hands under her ass as I drag my tongue along her slit, from her entrance to her clit. Her hips arch up with a sob, “Wyatt… oh God.”
Does she not understand that when she calls my name, all she does is feed the beast that lives inside me. The one thatwants to ignore everything and claim her for myself. Keep her on this island so I never have to share her with the world again.
With a deep feral growl, I work my tongue over her drenched pussy, circling her clit in slow, deliberate passes until the tent is filled with her breathy moans. The taste of her fills my senses.
“Wyatt, I can’t…” she sobs, digging her fingers into my hair. She rolls her hips helplessly against my face, lifting her flesh to my mouth for me to pleasure. I let her ride my tongue, humming as she paints my beard with her sweet and tangy arousal. She moves restlessly under me, and it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. A woman so lost in pleasure that she can no longer control herself.
She’s close. I can feel it in the way her pussy begins to quiver against my mouth and from how her breathing becomes more erratic. I slide one finger into her pussy, and she tightens around me. I thrust it in and out, picking up speed as I move deeper. I add another finger and slowly work both until I feel her hands tighten in my hair. I curl my fingers until I find her most sensitive spot. A few swipes of my fingers against her walls finally send her over the edge.
Sylvie screams.
Tremors roll through her body as I suckle at her clit, drawing at it as her body trembles and her pussy clenches around my fingers.
“Wyattttt!” she sobs, tugging hard at my hair. I replace my fingers with my tongue, savoring her taste as her release coats my face and beard. I continue lapping at her flesh until the rough shakes turn to small spasms.
I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh and lift my head to look at her. She’s wrecked—flushed from her chest to herhairline, chest heaving, those blue eyes glassy and dark as she stares up at me. The sight of her like this does something savage to my self-control.
Then she reaches for me.
Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt and she pulls—not hard, not certain, but deliberate. An invitation that she has to know I’ll answer.
“Wyatt,” she breathes.
Just my name. Nothing else.
I move up her body and brace myself over her, and those eyes track every inch of my face like she’s memorizing it. Her hands slide under my shirt, and I feel her palms flat against my stomach, warm and searching, and I nearly lose my mind entirely.
“Fuck, Sylvie, I want you,” I growl.
“I know,” she says softly. Her fingers curl into my waistband. “I want you, too.”
Her hands are trembling slightly. I notice. I tell myself it’s the cold. It’s not the cold—the tent is warm, has been warm for the last hour—and something at the back of my mind tries to form a question I don’t stop to ask because she’s pulling at my sweatpants and looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world. And I’m struggling to think straight.
