Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

I never thought I'd envy a strawberry. But when Darien dips one into a bowl of whipped cream at breakfast, then slowly licks the tip before slipping it into his mouth for a luscious bite, I officially know what I want to be when I grow up.

Attempting to rein in the imaginings his actions conjure, I dive into a plate of crepes smothered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I've eaten two when he interrupts my gorging.

"Do you have siblings?"

I wipe my mouth with a napkin and put down my fork. "Nope. Only child syndrome here. It explains a lot."

He laughs and shifts a plate of sliced fruit next to me. "And your roommate. Lily?"

"She's my best friend. We've known each other since we were eight."

"Having met her the night I recruited you, I imagine you both have stories of many escapades. "

I laugh. "That's putting it mildly. All I'll say is, at least they didn't end up online."

"That's too bad. I'd enjoy watching Eden and Lily episodes." He sips his coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. "And how does she feel about my interest in you?"

"Oh, she's all in." Lily and I keep up a steady exchange via email. Messages I feel certain are read before being sent to ensure I don't say too much about the island. I eat a few pieces of fruit, waiting for him to tell me something about himself but it doesn't happen. "You've got to open that chest of secrets and tell me something. This isn't a fair exchange."

He studies me for a moment. "Who said any of this was going to be fair?"

Making a face, I grab a slice of kiwi and pop it into my mouth. "Okay. So all I know about you is that you've been on this island for a few years, are incredibly hot, and are a bit of a recluse. Oh, and you enjoy the power trip of enigma status."

Darien smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "That about sums me up."

"I doubt that."

My stomach is uncomfortably full by the time breakfast is over. I don't even remember what I ate after the crepes and fruit. My hand had a mind of its own, and I constantly placed tidbits in my mouth while I fielded questions. And while I managed to wrangle a bit more information from him, finding out he agrees that toilet paper should go over, not under, and that breakfast is an acceptable dinner option, I still know almost nothing about who he really is .

Does that change the direction of our relationship? Hell, no.

Before leaving, Zed confirms our afternoon appointment and whisks me away for a session with Oliver. As I'm ushered out of the intimate dining room, I crane my neck and catch Darien watching me with sultry promise.

It's about to get real.

My stomach gurgles as we step into the Oasis. I really shouldn't have eaten so much. What if, in the middle of whatever sexy activity Darien has in store for me, my intestines belch out a massive fart? The image is too realistic. I get Zed's attention and quickly explain the issue.

He laughs and tries to reassure me. "Oh, my dear. Today's treatment will ensure nothing untoward happens."

Thank God. Wait. What? "Could you elaborate?"

"You'll have a very mild flush followed by a complete spa treatment. Think wax and buff. You'll be lustrous when he's finished."

Wax on. Wax off.

Oliver strides into the lobby, his pale pink coat unbuttoned to reveal lightweight pants and a v-neck shirt. "Eden!" He leans forward and kisses my cheek, then looks at Zed. "Still blushing. I have a feeling that's not going to last after tonight. Who claimed her?"

"Darien."

Shock lights his face, quickly replaced by contemplation. "Interesting." He takes my hand and leads me into a private room, waving Zed away before closing the door.

I want to ask what he meant, but another door opens, and two attendants enter. There's no time to talk after that. Hours pass as I'm massaged and flushed—it's surprisingly quick, painless, and effective—then waxed and buffed until my skin glows.

Oliver looks me over and smiles. "You're exquisite."

"I'm nervous." Saying it out loud makes it more real. My skin, which felt lush and smooth a moment ago, is flushed with awareness of what's coming.

"You needn't be. Darien is…" he pauses, choosing his words, which piques my curiosity and apprehension, then continues, "a very special resident of the island. From what I've heard, he's an extraordinary lover." He pats my hand. "You're in very good hands, Eden. I'd wager many envy you."

I pluck at the towel under my butt. "Zed said as much, but still…" I shrug. "I just hope I don't humiliate myself. I've, um, had a few incidents."

Oliver laughs. "Oh, I've heard! I imagine it's that fire that ensnared Darien in the first place. My advice is to embrace the journey."

I nod and hop off the table. Oliver gives me a peck on the cheek and opens the door where Zed is waiting. My squire smiles and compliments Oliver before taking my arm and leading me out of the Oasis.

The hum of birds, insects, and tropical breezes fill my ears, along with the steady pounding of my heart. This is it. I'm about to take the bullet train out of Virginville straight into Kinkdom.

When we arrive, Darien is waiting. Zed squeezes my hand, dips his chin to Darien, and then leaves me. His exit is palpable, and I almost give in to the urge to follow him. But then I hear my Master's voice, unlocking something in me—something deeply feminine and primal. I step over the threshold, the door swinging shut behind me.

The lights cast a yellow glow throughout the room. Darien takes my hand, leading me to the center of the space, then releases me. Tracing his fingers lightly on my skin, he walks around me in a slow circle. Everywhere his hands touch, my skin pebbles with awareness.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, running his index finger along my tummy.

My muscles spasm, making my soft belly jiggle as he traces a circle around my navel.

"You've never been touched like this."

It's not a question but I shake my head, confirming his observation.

Darien stands behind me and sweeps my hair across my shoulder. I can feel the heat of his body, the hot puff of breath on my neck. He leans down, lips hovering above my nape, and whispers, "You're mine."

"Yes."

I can feel him smile, though I can't see it. It's like the air is charged. My body rocks toward him when he steps away, and I ball my hands into fists to keep still. Darien returns a moment later. I feel something soft tickling my skin. It runs up the backs of my legs, over my ass, across my back, and between my shoulder blades to my neck. He sweeps the peacock feather down my throat, swirling it around my nipples, then over my stomach to my pussy where it brushes sweetly in slow circles.

A whimper slips from my mouth, and I bite my lips .

"Don't trap those sweet sounds. I want to hear them. Every moan. Every plea. Every cry of pleasure." He flips the feather in his hand and runs the tip of the quill over the lips of my pussy. "I want it all, and you're going to give it to me."

I dip my head. Unable to say anything. I can only feel, and it feels so damn good. I'm about ready to hop onto that enormous bed and demand his cock. He knows it, of course. I'm a violin, and he's the bow through which he'll wring sweet music.

Darien drops the feather. I watch it spill to the ground and land silently. Taking my hands, he pulls me toward the bed. I'm so ready. But the mattress is not the destination. I grumble with frustration as he sweeps my hands above my head, pushing me gently against the passive post of the frame from which hang soft leather cuffs affixed to a hook. He slides my hands into them, then adjusts the height to stretch my body. The position intensifies the weight of my breasts.

He steps back to admire me, and I can see his cock jutting through the loose fabric of his pants. Darien picks up something that looks like a riding crop. "Open your mouth."

"Wh—what?"

"Open your mouth." He holds the crop horizontally in front of my face.

I look at it, then flick my eyes to his and part my lips.

He nudges it between my teeth. "Bite down."

It tastes of leather, the rod soft and pliable.

He pulls out a black satin blindfold from his pocket and sweeps it over my head. The room grows dark, and all of my senses are heightened. The whisper of his body as he moves, tugging the crop from my mouth. The whistle as it swings through the air and lands with a light slap against my belly.

I yelp, but there's no pain in the noise. My stomach clenches where the tip of the crop landed and is now stroking my flesh. He flicks his wrist, striking my flesh again. Darien swings his arm, each stroke singing in the air, landing with a smack, echoed by my moans.

The crop tortures me. Stinging my breasts, my thighs, my buttocks. In a series of quick movements, he slaps the soft leather tip against the lips of my pussy. I come undone, writhing and tugging against the leather cuffs. My hips jut forward, seeking the delicious spank of the crop.

My clit aches as he runs the handle between the lips of my pussy. He draws the object away, and I groan.

Chuckling, Darien leans close to my ear. His voice is hoarse with need. "Not yet."

I hear him move away, then catch the murmur of his voice. Who the fuck is he talking to? My body is on fire. I tug at the restraints, but they only tighten with my efforts. I hear a door open and freeze.

Footsteps. Low voices. Hands unfasten the cuffs and remove the blindfold.

"What the fuck?" I shout as I stare into Zed's face.

He laughs, taking in my flushed body and obvious frustration.

I'm on the cusp. A few more strokes, and I'd be there! My hand twitches, anger flaring. I almost do it. Almost rub my clit to finish myself off. It's hard to regain control, but I do .

"You will see your Master again tomorrow."

"The fuck I will!"

Zed heads for the door, and I trail behind him, fuming. Offshore breezes wash over me when we step outside, taking the edge off. We don't speak as we return to my quarters. It's only later, after a dinner peppered with awkward silences, that I admit the genius of Darien's actions.

The ache isn't gone. It's only heightened by the thought of him.

I want to return the favor and play him like he played me. But I'm a guppy, and he's a shark. If anyone's taking a bite, it'll be him, and I'm not deluded enough to believe I won't offer myself up on a platter the moment he crooks his finger.

I sigh into the darkness and slip into dreams of blindfolds, feathers, and riding crops.