Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ezra

B y the time I reach Kindra's villa, she's already changed into sweatpants and a large t-shirt. Through the window, I watch as she swipes her eyes and paces circles around the couch with her phone held toward the ceiling. She is the picture of a panicked woman.

Without knocking, I ease open the door. She stops pacing and sucks in a breath when she sees me, then bolts for my arms. I hold them wide, encircling her within them when she reaches me.

"This is such a fucking mess," she cries against my chest. "This is why I don't make friends. I suck at it."

I brush my hand over her hair, comforting her in a way I've never comforted a woman before—in a way I have no right to comfort this one.

"If it weren't for you, I'd want to leave right away," she adds.

The sentence twists the knife in my gut, but it also sparks an idea. I could take her to the airstrip when the pilot returns and see her off the island. I could tell her I'll contact her as soon as I'm back from the retreat. Then I could hop across the pond and make a life for myself in the UK.

I never have to tell her the truth and break her heart.

Or mine.

Instead of being a regret, I could be a fond memory. She might grow to hate me, but that's okay. It sure as hell beats her feeling something much stronger than hate for me.

But then she leans back and looks into my eyes, and I know what it means to love a woman completely. It means being honest, even to my detriment.

"I don't like to see you hurt," I whisper as I brush a tear from her cheek. "What can I do to help you?"

She lets out a humorless laugh and rests her head against my chest again. "Unless you have a time machine that can take me back a few hours, I don't think anything can be done."

A time machine would solve so many problems.

I lead her to the couch and guide her onto my lap as I sit. She nestles against me and lets out a contented sigh. Her hair smells like a Tahitian sunrise with a hint of sunscreen. I breathe it in and commit the scent to memory. These are our final hours, and I'll need these memories to get me through.

"It's hard to even stay in this villa," she says. "I keep seeing things that remind me of her. Why does this feel like a fucking breakup?"

"In a way, losing a friend is like experiencing a breakup. But I don't think she's gone for good. Maybe she just needed a little space."

"I still don't know how I'll sleep tonight, even if you're with me. I can see her villa from my bed."

"Why not stay at my villa tonight?" I suggest.

My reasoning is twofold. Yes, I want to help her, but I've also seen the vast repertoire of weaponry she brought along. I don't fancy getting gored by a longsword when I tell her the truth, even though I deserve it.

"A sleepover would be nice," she says. "It'll take my mind off of everything, and I won't have to see a constant reminder of my fuck up."

She wiggles off my lap and retreats to her room. She returns a few minutes later with a small bag about the size of a tote. I rise from the couch, and we start toward my villa.

I've had visions of our last night together, and we were naked in all of them. To say I'm not disappointed in the turn of events would be a lie, but her tears cause me more discomfort than the ache in my balls. Sex is likely the furthest thing from her mind right now, and I won't press the issue.

After a silent walk, we reach my villa and step inside. The air conditioner's low hum greets us as we head toward the bedroom. Kindra flops onto her back on the bed. I divert my attention away from her nipples pressing against her shirt and begging for my touch.

"Is it too cold in here for you?" I ask. "I can turn down the air."

She shakes her head. "No, it's perfect. If it's not as cold as a well digger's ass, I can't sleep."

"Turn over," I say. "Let me rub the tension out of your shoulders."

She rolls onto her stomach with a chuckle. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, though."

I straddle her full ass and grip her shoulders. "I'm not trying anything, if that's what you're insinuating."

"How disappointing," she mutters into the mattress.

"I just figured you'd be too upset to indulge in carnal desires." I squeeze the muscles, and she lets out a soft moan.

"I'm never too upset for that. Besides, an orgasm will help me sleep. If you keep rubbing my body like that, I'm liable to come before you can even get your dick wet."

God, I love her vulgarity.

Having received the green light, my cock hardens against her ass. She lets out another soft moan and grinds against my length.

"Let's play with the ropes some more," she says. "I want to be used right now."

I nearly choke on my own spit. How is this woman real?

"If that's what you want," I say, "then that's what you shall have. But first, let me relax you so that you'll be limber. I want to put you in compromising positions."

I raise her shirt and move down so that I can place my lips against the small of her back. My tongue laves her skin, pressing and moving against her twitching muscles. Her moans fuel me, and I travel higher and higher until I reach her neck, all while my hands continue massaging her.

The muscles shift from concrete to liquid beneath my fingertips.

Once her tension has loosened, I ease her onto her back and remove her shirt. The small lamp by the bed provides the only light, and it bathes her round lines in the perfect mix of brilliance and shadow. She hasn't worn a bra, and her relaxed breasts make my mouth water.

I dip my head, take her nipple into my mouth, and suck the hardened bead until she squirms. Fearing I've been too rough, I go to pull away, but Kindra yanks my head down again.

Noted.

I repeat the action, this time nipping the sensitive skin as well. That earns a louder moan.

"Fuck, that feels so good," she breathes. "I want you inside me."

"Soon," I rasp against her breast.

I pinch her other nipple between my fingers as I continue to nip and suck the first. Her hips rise, pushing her pussy against me. Warmth radiates from her.

After releasing her from my mouth, I go for my bag and pull out rope and two sets of black fur-lined cuffs. What I have planned will keep her tied up for a bit, and I want her to be as comfortable as possible.

"Look in my bag too," she says, and the playful lilt to her voice sends a pleasurable zap up my spine. I already know what I'll find before I pull back the zipper.

I also know exactly how I plan to implement it.

"In due time, pet. Right now, I'm going to use you."

I return to the bed and fasten the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. If we had more time, I'd wrap her from head to toe. I can just imagine how beautiful she'd look as her flesh pushes through a net of gaps. But there is no time. My pet has a need, and I must fulfill it.

I strip away her sweatpants and panties, then affix the rope to a set of cuffs and tie her hands to the bamboo bed frame. I do the same to her ankles, positioning her so that she's spread open for me with her knees near her head. Signs of arousal glisten between her legs like runway landing lights.

I strip off my shirt and drop onto my elbows so that my face is mere centimeters from heaven. The salt on her skin reaches my nose, and my mouth waters. My tongue drives forward and slides through her slit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whimpers.

Her pussy clenches around nothing as I find her clit and tease it with the tip of my tongue. I'm not trying to make her come. Not yet. Not until this position begins to wear her out.

I continue licking and sucking until she's a quivering mess, but I always stop just before I send her over the edge. Her frustration begins to build. She probably thinks I've lost my ability to dine out, but this is all part of the plan.

"Okay, it's getting harder to breathe like this," she says.

I smile against her mound, but I don't stop licking, sucking, and biting.

"Ezra, I'm serious. I think it's time to let me out of this now. Positional asphyxiation is a thing."

The slight panic in her voice tells me that it's time.

Without a word, I stand and go to her bag. I pull out her toy and turn to face her. "I'll let you out of that, but you have to come first."

"I don't think I can," she says, her eyes widening. "I'll suffocate before I get off!"

I flick the switch, and the device buzzes to life. The tiny machine shakes so violently that it nearly leaps from my hand. The priest's look of fear doesn't seem so far off base now. I'm liable to fracture her pelvic bone with this thing.

"Is this what you regularly use?" I ask.

"Yes, now let me out of these ropes!"

Panic has her in a chokehold now. Her legs jerk against the restraints, and she snatches her wrists back and forth. She doesn't yet realize it, but I've just constructed the best orgasm of her life. It's amazing what you can learn about a woman if you just listen when she speaks.

I step forward and trace her pussy lips with the toy, holding it just close enough that she can feel the movement of air. She relaxes again as she realizes that an orgasm may not be such a bad way to go.

Full transparency: I would never allow her to perish at my hand. I've tied the ropes with a quick release. If I feel she's in any danger, I'll cut her loose.

But she doesn't need to know that.

Using my left arm, I press against her thigh and make it a bit harder for her to breathe as the toy drifts closer to her clit. She tries to get a gulp of air, but it won't come. Her chest doesn't have enough room to expand.

"Fuck, I . . . really can't . . . breathe," she pants.

"Then you'd best come."

I lower the toy, and the reaction is immediate. She lets out a cry as her body tenses and writhes. The ropes pull taut as she loses control and strains against the cuffs. I release the pressure on her leg, allowing her more air.

Her hands flex, opening and closing, and her toes curl until I'm certain they'll snap right off. Her chest jerks up and down, but I keep the toy pressed against her clit, milking every ounce of pleasure from her body. She gasps in quick bursts, which is all she can manage. Standing at the brink of asphyxia only enhances her orgasm.

As she begins to come down, I silence the toy, lean over her, and unfasten the ropes. Her arms and legs flop to the bed. Her eyes stare at the ceiling as she smiles and gulps oxygen into her lungs.

"Are we feeling a little better now?" I ask.

She licks her lips and tries to answer, but no words come, so she nods.

"Good," I say, but I'm not finished with her yet.