Page 25 of Wrecked With You

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what this was about other than pleasure. Her pleasure. And his. Because watching her melt was giving him a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Probably because he’d never let himself get close to anyone. For him, sex was usually about nothing more than taking the edge off a hard day.

Right now, it was about her. Making her feel. And, honestly, for no real reason other than that he wanted to. Getting comfortable with each other for the island was just an excuse. A good one, but it was as much a cover as their fake names.

No, he wanted this. And the fact that she so obviously did, too, affected him in ways that were both unfamiliar and yet very, very satisfying.

Beside him, she made a soft noise as he slowly cupped her sex, then curled two fingers and slipped them inside her. “Stay still,” he ordered when she started to rock against his hand. “This is just a taste,” he whispered, withdrawing his fingers so he could tease her clit as he watched her squeeze her nipples beneath the shirt, her muscles tight, her mouth open.

He teased her a bit more, taking her to the edge, reveling in the power he held over her. Such an incredible woman, and yet she was melting under his touch. Dear God, he liked that. Hell, he liked it more than he thought he would.

Most of all, he liked knowing that for this mission—his mission—he was the one in charge. Not only of the mission. But of her.

She was panting now, little moans emerging from her throat.

He slipped his fingers back inside her and felt her core tighten around him. And then, because that was the game, he withdrew completely. “You did good,” he said. “I’m definitely getting my money’s worth.”

She made a whimpering sound, then opened her eyes as he took her brochure and started flipping through it. “We should probably be familiar with the resort’s itinerary,” he said, keeping his voice casual.

She swallowed, her hands still in her shirt.

“Hands down,” he ordered, and watched with satisfaction as she reluctantly obeyed.

“Bastard,” she said, but there wasn’t any heat.

“That’s Sir Bastard,” he corrected.

She turned her head, eyeing him as she adjusted her skirt so that it once again covered her, albeit without underwear. “I can already tell that I’m going to enjoy our mission. But I want to make one thing clear.” She leaned over and cupped his cock as she whispered in his ear. “In this game, you don’t win unless you make me come.”

He shook his head, gently pushing her away as he purposefully turned back to the brochure. “On the contrary, sweetheart. I win when I make you beg.”

Chapter Eight

With the kind of work I do, I’ve seen a lot of the world. Stunning places like Paris and Sydney and Moscow. And dicey, scary places like underground tunnels where enslaved women forced to work in their underwear put together packages of drugs for cartels.

I’ve pretended to be a showgirl to take down a mafia-type with a bad habit of killing pretty girls. And I worked undercover at an island in the Seychelles as part of a money-laundering sting operation.

In other words, not much surprises me anymore. But I’ve never once walked into a resort and been handed a bag of sex toys instead of a room key.

To Debauchery’s credit, the toys are very high end. There’s also tanning oil, his and hers souvenir towels, a few card games with sensual themes, snack packs of nuts, emergency breath freshener, and condoms.

The goody bag also includes plastic wine glasses with the resort’s logo, perfect for poolside. Where, we’re told, there are serving stations set up for beer, wine, sangria, and harder drinks if that’s your pleasure.

“Meals are served in your room or in the restaurant, and there’s always fresh fruit and chilled seafood poolside.” Mindy, our personal concierge smiles at us. Not only does she look like a Mindy, but with her perky attitude and equally perky body, she fits in perfectly at this lush resort carved out of the island’s vivid greenery.

From what we were told on the shuttle ride over, the island has never had an indigenous human population, but I can’t believe Mindy the Concierge ever lived anywhere else. I think she must have been like Aphrodite, rising from the sea in her bikini top and tied-at-the-hip sarong, under which it is very clear she wears nothing.

Keeping with the theme, I suppose.

And, to be honest, I can’t complain. According to Antonio, his contact isn’t scheduled to meet him until the day after tomorrow. Which means we may have more than twenty-four hours to explore this place.

On a normal mission, I’d be irritated by the excessive downtime. But right now?

Well, the truth is that I could use a vacation. For that matter, I could use sex. It’s been a while. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit—at least to myself—that the idea of sex with Tony is not only appealing, but I’m downright craving it. I liked the way he teased me on the flight. The way he took control. And the way he left me wanting more.

At the moment, what I want most of all is for Mindy to wrap up the pep talk and tour. She’s already led us through the interior of the main building, showing us the entrance to the dungeon, as well as the door to the outdoor walkway that leads to the nightclub, the restaurants, the indoor bar, and the fitness center.

All the guest rooms are cabanas, which allows for more privacy. And for quieter surroundings. Especially since this is the kind of place where shouting and moaning and headboards crashing against the wall is expected.

We’re heading toward our cabana now, with Mindy leading us through one of the many outdoor recreation areas. The area is green and welcoming, with spas surrounded by both high and low plants, to provide minimum or maximum privacy depending on the level of exhibitionism of the guests in the water.