AllFreeNovel
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I laugh. “Don’t forget accessories. You’re going to need jewelry, a purse, a mask—don’t think I won’t buy the whole damn store.”
“God, you Fox men really are dramatic.” She huffs.
I chuckle. “I prefer passionate.”
She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “Emotional?”
“Devoted.”
She pops her hip. “Bullheaded.”
I raise my hands in surrender with a grin. “I’ll give you that.” We both laugh.
A few minutes later, I’m back on the couch and she’s struggling to bend over in one of the tight dresses to try on a pair of strappy heels. She stands back up with a frustrated huff.
“Let me.” I get up and drop to a knee in front of her.
She hesitates but eventually lifts her bare foot onto my thigh. I slip the shoe on and take my time wrapping and tying the straps. When I put on the second one, I don’t let her foot down. My fantasy from the shower flashes in my mind, and it strikes me for a moment that this might not be real either. But as my hand spreads out on her smooth calf and I look up at her, burning, I know it is. The way she’s looking at me right now is better than anything my mind could conjure.
She bites her lip as I drag my palm up the back of her knee and then to her inner thigh. My blood pounds in my ears, louder the higher I climb up her velvet skin. I’m less than an inch from the hem of the dress when she pulls her leg away. Her eyes flash with wanting something contradictory to her actions.
I stand and reach out to trace her jaw with my finger but stop myself. She exhales heavily when I do, as if she were holding her breath, waiting for my touch.
So, I give it to her.
I clutch her face with both hands, ready to crash my lips down on hers, to finally drink down her taste. But at the very last second, I dip down and ravage her throat instead. She arches into me, knitting her fingers in my hair while I kiss and suck and bite my way up and down her neck. She moans and the needy sound makes me infuriatingly hard.
I palm her ass and pull her tight against me. She rolls her body against my erection. It makes me clench my teeth and slam her against the mirror. I swallow the surprised moan that escapes her.
Her hands slide under my shirt and stroke my bare skin. I pin her to the glass with a hand around her throat, while my other one climbs under her dress. The soft caress of her palm turns into a delicious sting when she drags her nails down my chest as I rub my hand over her panties.
She whimpers when I apply more pressure, and I scrape my teeth along the shell of her ear. “It’s been less than a day and you’re already whining for my fingers to fill this perfect pussy again. Sweet, sensible Stella wants to get fucked naughty in public again. Is that it?”
She answers by reaching for my belt, choking on silent moans while I tease her over wet the fabric. I hum when her hands slip inside my pants and her fingers wrap around my cock. She bites her lip, and her eyes are half-lidded as she strokes me. There’s a drunken neediness in her gaze even though I know she’s stone-cold sober.
I tip her chin up and lick a lascivious path up her jaw. “Take it out,” I whisper harshly into her ear. The order is low and guttural, her touch making it harder to breathe. I catch my reflection in the mirror, wild and crazed. My blues eyes are hardened with need. A need that I want reciprocated.
So, before she can free my cock, I spin her around and her hands catch herself on the glass. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and it nearly knocks me off my feet, her rich amber eyes like layers of precious stones. But there’s a fleeting quality in them that makes my throat dry.
“Look in the mirror, Stella. If we do this, there’s no pretending I’m someone else. It’s going to be my cock fucking you. It’s going to be my fingers making you come. And it’s my name you cry when you can’t take anymore.”
I want her so fucking bad that it takes everything in me to wait for her reply and not kick her legs apart, tear her dress if I have to, and slam into her.
Would she let me?
Would I be able to stop if she didn’t?
Her gaze flickers over my face in the reflection. I can see so clearly warring desires in her eyes. My heart sinks before she even speaks.
I’m hoping to hear hesitation or uncertainty in her voice, but there’s only decisiveness. “What happens on the island, stays on the island.”
My hand on her hip freezes, but I don’t remove it. I can’t. Maybe it’s stubbornness, maybe it’s delusion, but there’s a connection here and I can’t bring myself to break it. “Is that what you really want?”
She lifts her chin. “Yes.”
“Okay.” I step back, my chest splintering. She turns around, and as much as I want her, I hate the apologetic look weighing down her gaze. Stella never apologizes for her decisions. “Just know that I will be here when you realize what I already know.”
She tilts her head as she peers up at me, her eyes flashing with something that looks suspiciously like regret. “Which is?”
