SATYR’S MYST
Marie Harte
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This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Satyr’s Myst
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
Copyright © February 2008 by Marie Harte
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-667-0
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Ann M. Curtis
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Chapter One
The pain pounding in Rick Hastings’s temples worsened when he tried to free his hands from the restraints binding them tightly behind him. Flat on his back, each time he moved his wrists he irritated his previously injured shoulder, and he gritted his teeth to keep from groaning aloud.
“You awake and playing possum?” The deep, gravelly -- what Rick used to think of as sexy -- voice sounded amused.
Trevor Jackson, that traitorous bastard. Not that Rick wasn’t into his fair share of kink, but he hadn’t okayed being drugged and kidnapped to God knew where. The blindfold didn’t help matters, but Rick’s sensitive nose identified the natural bougainvillea that surrounded his resort. He had to be somewhere close to Satyr’s Myst. Somewhere close, and at night or in a darkened room, because the absence of light through the blindfold made it even more difficult to see.
Rick swore, earning a husky laugh from Trevor. What i it about me that draws such deceitful people? Two months ago he’d started receiving death threats from some religious zealot demonizing both his bisexual lifestyle and his ownership of Satyr’s Myst, which was supposed to be a secluded, private pleasure resort. Two and a half years ago, the woman he’d
s 2 Marie Harte
thought was The One had walked out of his life, apparently not as comfortable with his lifestyle as she’d let on. And three years ago, Jaz, Rick’s ex-lover, a man he’d trusted with his body and his life, had nearly killed him for a priceless antique.
You’d think by now I’d have learned my lesson. Yet the bitter taste of betrayal still stung. Apparently, Rick’s position as “king of the island” wasn’t enough to prevent the dickheads of the world from taking advantage. So he would need to use his most valuable asset -- his brain -- to save his ass.
What was Trevor’s game? That remained the million-dollar question. Whatever the criminal had used to doctor Rick’s drink left one helluva hangover, and Rick could only pray he lived long enough to return the aching favor.
“Damn, Rick. It’s been eight hours already. Wake up.”
A not-so-gentle poke jarred his side, and he turned his face away onto…silk sheets?
“Hell. Might as well get it over with.” Trevor sighed, and in seconds, Rick blinked into the dim confines of his own bedroom. He glanced around. No, not his bedroom in the resort, but at his private retreat on the other side of the island. A retreat no one but a select few of his staff knew about.
“Who the hell helped you?”
Trevor rocked back on his heels, his impressive build impossible to ignore, no matter how much Rick wanted to. Giant biceps flexed as he crossed his arms over a broad, bare chest, leading Rick’s gaze up past the powerful shoulders and thick neck to his captor’s captivating face. The dark brown of Trevor’s closely cropped hair only accentuated the golden tan of his skin and made his brown eyes glisten like fine chocolate. He still wore the knee-length tan shorts he’d been wearing when they’d first met and he’d surprised Rick with a flirtatious suggestion but was now shoeless. Apparently, he’d made himself right at home.
For the life of him, Rick didn’t know why Trevor looked so familiar. He’d never seen the man before and knew it had to be the feeling of recognition that had let him lower his Satyr’s Myst 3
guards to such a degree. Then again, who could have guessed this latest visitor would turn out to be a kidnapper? He’d have to start screening his guests personally again. He sure the hell didn’t want to go through this again.
Not a slug by any means, Rick had the height but not the brawn to meet Trevor in a hand-to-hand fight, especially not with a bum shoulder weighing him down. So he needed to figure out a way out of here, if he could hold onto his temper long enough.
“You okay?” Trevor’s voice roughened with concern, but when he leaned down to touch Rick’s shoulder, Rick swore and scooted back in spite of the ache in his joint.
“Who helped you?”
Trevor sighed. “I knew you were going to be a huge pain in the ass. Any normal guy would be asking, ‘Why are you doing this?’ or ‘What do you want?’”
“Answer the fucking question.”
“I was hired by an outside source. And if you must know, Tyrone’s been a huge help.”
“No way. I don’t believe you.” Tyrone had been with Rick since the resort’s inception. He was one of the few blatantly honest people in Rick’s life. From the get-go, Tyrone had been up front. He cared more about sex than money, and as long as Rick provided him with the resources to sate his needs, Tyrone epitomized the ideal employee, both loyal and able to handle anything thrown at him. After their first year on the island, their relationship had moved from employer and employee to that of good, solid friends. And Rick liked to think that their platonic relationship had made such a companionship possible. No sex and emotional baggage between them to muddy the waters.
“There’s no way Tyrone would help you.”
“Believe whatever you want.” Trevor shrugged. “Now, you want to lay back and relax so I can fix your cuffs? I didn’t realize you were in pain, or I would’ve tied you in front. Looks like you’re favoring that left shoulder, hmm?”
“Fuck off.” 4 Marie Harte
Trevor had the gall to laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mumbled something under his breath Rick couldn’t quite make out.
“What did you say?”
“They warned me about you…” Trevor stared at him, and Rick wondered what he saw when he looked at him.
Rick had never lacked for companionship. In addition to the wealth he inherited, his blond hair and blue eyes, coupled with a tall, athletic build, put him in good stead with potential lovers. And he’d been told on more than one occasion that there was “just something about him” that screamed sexy.
Trevor, however, didn’t seem overwhelmed by Rick’s presence, or he wouldn’t be holding Rick against his will.
“You going to ransom me?”
“Nope.” Trevor grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the bed. He sat staring at Rick, to the point of making Rick, who didn’t know the meaning of the word self-conscious, uncomfortable.
“What?”
“You know, there’s just something about you.”
Rick rolled his eyes and, to his surprise, pulled a grin from the rough man across from him. Something about the action pulled at his memory…
“Relax, Rick. We’re going to spend a couple of harmless days together, safe and sound. Then I’m going home, and you’ll go right back to work doing…whatever it is that you do.”
The suggestive tone set Rick’s teeth on edge, though he didn’t know why. He’d never been ashamed of running a resort catering to sexual pleasure. Nor had he regrets about his choice of lovers… Jaz “the traitor” and Elise “the heartbreaker” notwithstanding. But the speculative look on Trevor’s face seemed disapproving. And this from a man with no compunction about kidnapping. Satyr’s Myst 5
“You know something, Trevor Jackson, or whatever-the-hell your name is? I don’t really care what you think about me or this island. I sure as hell wouldn’t have welcomed you here if I’d known this is what you’re about.” Rick gave him that polite sneer that he’d honed over a lifetime. And like those he normally aggravated with the expression, Trevor frowned in reaction.
“You don’t know what I’m about.”
“Oh, but I do.” If Rick was good at one thing, it was reading desire. “You’re a repressed asshole who can’t understand why he likes dick when all his buddies drone on and on about ‘those fucking fags.’ You’ve probably had to hide your desires your entire life.” A direct hit. Trevor was no longer frowning but scowling like a thundercloud. When he would have interrupted, Rick spoke over him. As stupid as it was to antagonize his captor while bound, it was too satisfying to pass up.
“You’re big, and you obviously work out. You’re into something physical. Ex-military or an ex-cop, I’d bet. And you pretty much do whatever you please. But you can’t make yourself act on what you really want. Because you’re scared.”
“Look, Hastings --”
“Scared of what you might feel, and scared of what others will say when they know you like men.”
Trevor’s face reddened, yet the flush only made him that much more appealing, much to Rick’s chagrin. To cover his unwanted attraction, he continued in the same icy vein. “It’s too bad you’re such a prude.” Rick gave him a clinical perusal. “You’re obviously good-looking. Large, muscular. Probably have a huge cock. But you’re so repressed, it would be difficult to bring that fire --”
Cut off by the giant male now covering him like a blanket, Rick whooshed out a breath, only to have Trevor suck it in with his hard mouth. 6 Marie Harte
Trevor inwardly cursed as Rick Hastings’s addictive taste lived up to its promise. He’d been warned, not only by Elise, but by his brother Ethan, not to underestimate Rick’s appeal. Elise, Trevor understood. Nearly three years ago, she’d engaged in an affair with the man she’d fallen in love with, only to leave because her deeply seated upbringing wouldn’t allow such an unconventional lifestyle.
Ethan’s warning, however, had been a shock. Though Trevor buried his own skewed sexual desires deep, he hadn’t expected his very heterosexual brother to admit a touch of attraction for the same sex. Especially not with a wife as hot as Jewel.
“I’m telling you, bro. Doesn’t matter if you’re into guys or not. Rick Hastings has some kind of weird mojo when it comes to sex. He nearly had me, ah, interested.” Ethan flushed. “And I’m not into guys, at all.” He smiled. “Just ask Jewel.”
The warm mouth under Trevor’s explained, and then some, just what Ethan had been talking about. The sight of Rick was enough to have Trevor battling a hard-on, an unusual occasion in itself. Not that Trevor harbored anything against gays, but he wasn’t into men. Or at least, he wasn’t in real life. In his fantasies, however, he did all kinds of things with men and women, usually at the same time. But right now, the taste of Rick… Good Christ, it was enough to make even a wondering straight man want to bend over and wait. And the feel of Rick’s hot, unyielding chest under his, their bodies meeting skin-to-skin, took Trevor to an all new, and not altogether welcomed, state of desire.
Trevor groaned and would have backed away but Rick leaned up, pressing them tighter together. Succumbing to the raw desire pooling in his gut, Trevor deepened the kiss, aware he’d never been so hard in his life. Rick didn’t soften his mouth at all, but angrily took charge, sucking and nipping until Trevor could do no more than feel. A mass of sensation, he caught his breath as Rick dueled with his tongue and captured it. He licked at the roof of Trevor’s mouth, the faint stubble on his chin a surprising turn-on, clearly reminding Trevor of the differences between a man’s and a woman’s mouth. Satyr’s Myst 7
His first kiss from a man. And Trevor wanted more as much as he didn’t want the feeling. Rick arched into Trevor as they kissed, and Trevor felt the man’s erection through his shorts pressing into Trevor’s own arousal. Oh, shit. His cock screamed to be let free, and the unbidden thought of Rick’s strong lips around his shaft was so real that Trevor felt himself on the verge of orgasm.
The shock of passion broke through his sexual frenzy, and he pulled back, alarmed at what he’d almost let happen. Rick stared up at him, his gaze cloudy, his lips curled into a smirk.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Rick licked his lips, and Trevor had to work to stifle a groan. Of all the guys to finally find attractive, why this one? And why now?
“Thought that would shut you up. But obviously I was mistaken.” Could his voice get any lower? Trevor prayed he sounded more in control than he felt. He quickly stood and moved back to the chair, wincing at the discomfort his overeager dick was giving him.
“What did I tell you, Trevor? You let fear dictate your actions.” Rick scowled and jostled his arms again. “Though I can’t see why you’re afraid of me. You’re bigger and obviously have me at a disadvantage. Are these cuffs really necessary?”
Trevor snorted. “First of all, the icy ‘fuck you’ tone you keep giving me tells me you’re a problem, tied up or not. And second, yeah, they are necessary. Because you not only run the island, you own the island. Look, Rick. You don’t like it. I don’t like it. But I have a job to do. Just sit pretty for a few days, and then you can go back to fucking anything that moves.”
If Rick’s eyes turned any paler, they’d be white. Trevor stared, mesmerized, as he caught the full, infamous Hastings wrath. “You won’t ransom me. Won’t tell me why I’m here, or who you work for. You implicate one of my closest friends, and you want me to ‘sit pretty’? When I’m free from here, your ass is mine.”
It wasn’t the words so much -- though the literal meaning behind them had him sweating -- but the icy disdain behind them that put Trevor in brain freeze. Rick had money, 8 Marie Harte
shitloads. And Trevor’s business was still in its infancy. What if Rick didn’t accept the truth once he heard it? Damn Elise for insisting Rick be kept in the dark about the whole of it until his part was finished.
“Whatever. Just sit tight, pretty boy. And try not to irritate me, or you won’t get any bathroom breaks. Got it?” Trevor frowned and stalked into the living room, leaving Rick cursing behind him.
He was irritated as much with Rick, Elise, and his brother as he was with himself. Glancing down at his front, Trevor swore at his dick, which was harder than a pike.
Lusting for Rick was a huge mistake. One, because Trevor had never had sex with a man and, despite his fantasies, couldn’t do it and continue living his life as it was. Two, this case had the potential to screw up not only Hastings’s schedule, but Trevor’s fledgling venture into independent security consulting. This was only his third job since leaving the force. And if Rick realized his ex-lover had hired Trevor to protect him, even from himself, he might not be so forgiving. He might even take it out on Trevor, whom he now obviously despised.
Shit. If it weren't for Ethan, Trevor would have passed on this damned job anyway. He should have, in fact. But his brother needed his help, too busy himself to assist Elise. And the stakes were high, no matter how much Rick wanted to pretend the death threats against him didn’t exist.
“Three days. I can do three days.” By then his replacement should show. And then Rick could rant and rave until the cows came home. Trevor would be on a plane bound for Seattle. No longer on the hot seat, Elise had promised. Hell, the woman owned her own security firm. He still didn’t understand why she hadn’t used any of her guys for the job.
Yet if she had, Trevor wouldn’t have experienced a fantasy made flesh -- his first taste of male perfection in the form of Rick Hastings. Satyr’s Myst 9
The feel of Rick’s lips, the foreign taste of male desire reflected back at him, stoked his desire anew, and Trevor couldn’t help himself. He swore, grabbed a few tissues from a box off a side table, and unbuttoned his shorts. Wrapping his hand around his dick, Trevor recalled the feel of Rick pressed against his belly and thought them an even match. He wondered what it would be like to have Rick jerk him off, what it would feel like to touch another man the same way, to experience simultaneous bliss.
Not great thoughts for a guy who wanted to project an image as a tough-as-nails, rough-and-ready security expert.
Nevertheless, he began stroking himself and tried to concentrate on the image of a woman, any woman, to help rid himself of this ache. But Rick’s face haunted him. The scent, taste, and feel of the man worked Trevor into a lather. His balls tightened, and his cock swelled painfully hard. Images he didn’t want refused to leave him. Rick’s lips moving ove his cock as he sucked… Rick bending over to shove deep into his ass as Trevor went down on a faceless woman… Finally, a woman's visage appeared, but only as Trevor was getting fucked in the ass. Trevor would have laughed if he hadn’t needed so damned badly to release. Then thoughts of Rick struck again, and within moments, Trevor spewed into the tissues, his climax both silent and unfulfilling, because now his fantasies had a real face. One that spouted curses at him from the other room…and remained completely untouchable.
Panting, Trevor stood still until the shudders faded. Disposing of the tissues and refastening his shorts, he sank into a chair, falling into a depression. His future was chancy at best. The situation could only get worse with Rick all pissed off. He’d have to keep his distance…if he could. Trevor held his head in his hands, his thoughts a mess. Wanting a threesome was bad enough in a family that bred conservative, mainstreamed sons. That Ethan had confessed to Rick’s allure should have told him something. But Trevor had been too stunned to understand the warning. Now that Trevor had tasted Rick, however, he wanted more. And in a family filled with feds, cops, and Marines, an ex-cop who was r 10 Marie Harte
anything but heterosexual, even in a manly field like physical security, would never fit in. Wouldn’t his father be oh, so proud?
* * * * *
Two days later
Lilah Tanner was early. The bane of her existence. Never late, always prompt, a people pleaser. Her parents’ obvious favorite, and a woman so sick of toeing the line she could puke. Hence her open-ended leave of absence from the doctor’s office and her new job temping for Tanner-Grayson. Instead of a multitude of injured patients, Lilah would spend the next few days or weeks at Satyr’s Myst, a pleasure resort catering to outlandish sexual fantasies. She snorted. Sounded right up her alley. Yeah, right.
To hear her cousin Elise tell it, all Lilah had to do was babysit some rich guy while soaking up a tropical tan. And to top it off, Mr. Rich was hot, owned an island, and had provided Elise with the best sex she’d ever had.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that this Hastings guy was Elise’s “the one that got away.” But Lilah had no sympathy. Two and a half years ago when Elise had returned home to Whitemarsh, Pennsylvania, so silent and withdrawn, her close-knit family became despondent. Always the therapist, Lilah had weaseled the story out of her cousin and set her to work. Now, not only did Elise run a successful security business of her own, she’d married a wonderful, if stuffy, guy, had a one-year-old son and another baby on the way. Elise should have been ecstatic with her life and normally was.
But after receiving an odd phone call from friends on the West Coast, she’d become that sad shadow she’d once been.
So here Lilah stood, Ms. Fix It, staring at the most gorgeous black man she’d ever seen in her life. He had height, brawn, and his twinkling brown eyes said he didn’t mind her plain face and bosomy build. Her kind of man. Satyr’s Myst 11
“You must be Lilah. Elise said to expect you.” He kissed the back of her hand and took her overlarge duffle, his brows rising at its weight. “You’re a lot stronger than you look.”
“You have no idea,” she murmured, wondering if her prudish cousin had ever indulged on this island before taking Hastings as her one and only. Trust Elise to land a cushy job as a security expert on a pleasure island and not partake in any sex for five freaking years. An absolute waste, in Lilah’s opinion. Until she’d fallen for the resort’s owner.
The man laughed. “I’m Tyrone. And while I’d love to introduce you to the finer points of the island, we need to get you to the site, quickly.” His grin faded. “Things aren’t going well there.”
“Problems?”
“By the bucket load.” Tyrone sighed and wiped a hand over his scalp. The humidity gave him a sheen, making him glisten under the harsh sun. Lilah squelched the needy impulse to touch him. “We intercepted two more attempts to ferret information about the boss from our computers. We’re getting closer, but we’re not there yet. I can’t be certain our guest clientele is clean, either. Not to mention the last time we had a problem like this, it turned out to be one of our own.”
Lilah placed a comforting hand on Tyrone’s thick forearm. “I know. Elise told me all about the problems you guys once had. Don’t worry. I’ll keep Rick busy enough that looking for trouble will be the last thing on his mind.” The look Tyrone gave her made her reexamine what she’d said, and she blushed to find she sounded incredibly sexual. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I’ll just watch over Rick until you tell me otherwise. I’m still not sure why you couldn’t have included Rick on this grand plan, though.”
“Because he’s as stubborn as a mule. He refused to leave the island or get extra protection, even after the first attempt on his life. The only reason he’s even still alive is that the timer on the bomb that destroyed his yacht misfired. Rick hit the ocean hard but suffered no lasting damage.” 12 Marie Harte
“Lasting damage?” First attempt on his life? Bomb? Elise failed to mention there was any danger involved. The job was supposed to concern a rich man with too much time on his hands who couldn’t stay out of trouble.
“Rick’s got a problem with his shoulder, but nothing major.”
Well, at least that she could help with. As a physical therapist, and a damned good one at that, Lilah had confidence aplenty in her skills. As a security guard, not so much. But she’d been told, pointedly, that she would be there as mere company for Rick. Per Elise, between the security on the island and the extra protection she’d hired, there was absolutely no danger involved. H&R Securities, which Elise’s firm occasionally worked with, had provided added security to make Elise feel better.
Lilah didn’t figure much could get through the precautions she’d already been subjected to on the way to this quiet little island. Before she’d even been allowed to set foot on the plane, she’d had to hand over a doctor’s report, not over a day old, verifying that she was free from disease and currently taking birth control. Apparently, the island promised pleasure without recrimination, and they stood by their policy.
But she didn’t mind. Lilah had nothing to hide, not to mention a depressing social life. She needed the break from the daily humdrum of life, a chance for some adventure, and hell, some much-needed passion. Unlike Elise, Lilah was all for soaking up the pleasures in life. Unconventional be thy middle name. She grinned and resolved to get rid of the invisible tattoo on her forehead that screamed “avoid me” as soon as possible.
“Right. Well, Tyrone. I’m here to help. Lead on.”
Tyrone sighed again and shook his head. He made small talk about the island as he drove a small Jeep through the mess of jungle from the resort to Hastings’s private home on the other side of the island. Apparently, the island housed a clinic and a small town comprised of the locals and a small but well-to-do sugar plantation, also owned by Hastings. During their trip, Lilah formed an impression about Rick that made her wonder. Satyr’s Myst 13
From Tyrone’s and Elise’s descriptions, the man was a walking billboard for sex. But living on an island where everything and everyone was his for the asking, Hastings had to be more spoiled than both had let on. The man was thirty-four, never married, and rich as Croesus. Inherited wealth that he hadn’t squandered, but continued to build upon, beginning with his pleasure resort that catered to open sexuality and discretion for those who could afford his steep prices.
From what little she’d seen of the resort, the main building looked impressive where it sat on the beach amid an oasis of flora: orange and red birds of paradise, burgundy bougainvillea, and lush green ferns spotting among palm trees. Yet the resort didn’t capture her attention the way this looming structure did.
After two hours of bumpy driving through a narrow swath in the jungle -- a shortcut, she imagined -- they reached the outskirts of an impressive, open-air building that blended seamlessly with its surroundings. Bamboo and a light-colored wood, maybe pine, framed a monstrously large bungalow-style house. So this was Rick's private residence. The large front doors remained closed to outsiders, and she could only hope that somewhere inside the protected walls a few inner doors and windows were open. Unless the place had air-conditioning, which would be a blessing at this point. The resort was on the water, which, she imagined, promised a cooling breeze. She had no idea how close this place was to the outlying ocean.
Tyrone pulled the Jeep close and took her bag from the backseat. He motioned her to the doorway, and they stepped onto the clean, stone-covered walkway before the intricately carved set of wooden doors.
“I’ll be in touch via radio.” Tyrone paused a moment, then set her duffle down, the ripped cords of his biceps bulging as he did so. He leaned closer, his expression worried.
The sight of such a large, buff man looking unnerved concerned her. “Tyrone?” 14 Marie Harte
“You’re out here pretty far from anyone. If you need anything, anything at all, please call me.” He handed her a small neon pink walkie-talkie. “We’ll keep in touch by radio. I just want you to have a way out if they’re too much.”
Through the door, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps closing fast. The door opened, and she stared into the face of a very perturbed giant of a man. He topped her own five-eleven by several inches, and his bare, incredibly sculpted upper body could have been carved in granite, it looked so firm.
“Tyrone.” The large man sighed with relief and pumped his hand in appreciation. He glanced at Lilah and grinned. “Damn. You read my mind. It’s been a while, and she’s just what I need. Thanks a million.” Before Tyrone could say “boo,” the man yanked her and her bag inside the door and slammed it in Tyrone’s face, locking them inside. Satyr’s Myst 15
Chapter Two
Lilah stared in surprise. “Hey, what do you --?”
“Honey, I’m so hard I could chop down trees with this thing.” The brown-eyed, brown-haired sex god further shocked her by taking out his huge, hard penis and wrapping her limp hand around his girth.
Lilah looked up into his ecstatic face as he watched her and rocked into her hand, aware she couldn’t quite close her fingers around him. She instinctively tightened her grip and heard him moan his appreciation.
“Dammit, Trevor.” Tyrone banged on the door behind them.
Lilah stood in complete shock. She’d never been in this situation before -- could never have imagined it -- yet strangely enough, she found she liked being viewed as someone’s sexual salvation. She stared down at the impressive shaft throbbing in her hand, and an involuntary shiver shook her. It had been so damned long since she’d last had sex, even longer since she’d seen a man this fine. And she’d never, ever, been looked at the way Trevor was looking at her right now.
“Trevor.” Lilah licked her lips, and he groaned and leaned forward. His brown eyes practically glowed, the earthy chips of fire lighting her lust into a full-fledged bonfire. “I, ah, 16 Marie Harte
hate to say it, really I do.” She squeezed him again before reluctantly letting him go. “But there’s been a mistake.” He frowned and focused on her mouth, and she had the hardest damn time remembering what she was saying. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Mistake?” He leaned forward and kissed her flush on the mouth. Lips, tongue, and -- good Lord -- teeth. When he broke the kiss, she wanted to melt at his feet. “Tyrone,” he yelled through the door. “Go away. I’m not going to hurt…” he paused, staring down at her.
“Lilah.”
“Lilah. And with his royal jackass in residence, she’ll be just what we need to keep our hands off each other’s throats.”
Tyrone mumbled something, but Lilah was mesmerized by the impressive flesh now kissing her bare belly. Damn, but this guy was seriously hung.
“Now, Lilah, you were saying something about us not knowing each other?”
He kissed each corner of her lips before kissing her so thoroughly she forgot her own name. When he raised his head, he looked smugly satisfied.
“I -- I --” she stammered, then took a deep breath. “Trevor. I know your name, but nothing else. I’m a stranger. New to the island.” He pressed his cock solidly between them, not that she could possibly forget he was exposed in front of her. She panicked, aware she came seriously close to succumbing to sex with a man she’d just met…a man whose penis she’d held. “I don’t even know what you like,” she added lamely.
Tall, dark, and handsome smiled down at her, and she thought he’d literally stopped her heart. “I like you.”
Rick glared at the door through which Trevor had vanished before slamming it shut. For two days he’d been badgering his close-lipped kidnapper for answers. And the only thing Satyr’s Myst 17
he had to show for it was a raging hard-on that threatened to explode whenever he was in Trevor’s presence.
For a man who wasn’t into other men, Trevor certainly put out some confusing vibes. The longing looks, the impossible-to-miss erections he sported, the frustration that darkened those melting brown eyes into bittersweet chocolate, all made it hard for Rick to think about anything but fucking Trevor into submission. Talk about a man with problems. Rick lusted after something he hadn’t encountered before…the unattainable.
Never had Rick had to work so damned hard for a lover. No one rejected Rick. Or at least, no one had until Trevor showed up. If that weren’t hard enough to swallow -- or not, he thought literally -- Rick had as little control over this situation as he had information about why Trevor detained him here, of all places. A true kidnapper wouldn’t have allowed him as much latitude as Trevor had. Each time Trevor cuffed Rick to the bed, Rick freed himself. Trevor would sigh, refasten the cuffs, and sit with him until they both grew snappish, then leave again.
In the time it would take Rick to release yet another restraint, Trevor would think up irritating things to say, thereby transforming their aggravation from sexual to argumentative.
Fumbling with the newest lock Trevor had imposed, Rick managed to free himself in under...
chomciomania