Page 22 of Dust to Dust

Ever obedient, Isla replied, “I’m sorry. Do you like that, Mr. Kavanaugh.” When I didn’t reply, she threw a tentative look over her shoulder. “Do you like that, sir?”

“Fuck me,” I muttered. Although it was pure sin hearing her call me sir, there was something within me that wanted to hear my name from her lips. It made it far more intimate. Sir was a name reserved strictly for sex while my given name gave us a connection beyond the act we were currently engaged in.

“Quinn is what you should call me.”

She nodded. “What is it you’d have me do now, Quinn…sir.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through me. “Oh, so you’re a cheeky lass, huh?”

“I just want to please you,” she argued.

“It pleases me when you do as I tell you to, and I told you to call me Quinn.”

“But I know you liked me calling you sir,” she argued.

“Aye, you’re right. I do like it. I like it too much.”

As she gazed longingly at me over her shoulder, I shook my head. “Enough.” Sliding my hands around her waist, I lifted her to her feet. “It’s time to switch things up. Men are visual. Although they’ll enjoy seeing your ass, they’ll want your tits in their face.”

Instead of needing further direction, Isla rose off my lap to do a slinky turn to where she was facing me. As she swiveled her hips and curved her body, she lifted one of her legs. She pointed her toes as she slid her foot over one of my thighs. As she straddled me, she stared down at me with lust glittering in her blue eyes.

Instead of directing her, I allowed her to take the reins. Her hands came to my hair. As she jerked her fingers through the strands, her luscious tits brushed against my cheeks. She inched tediously back down on my dick, cupping my face in her hands before running her hands down to my shoulder. Lifting her hips, she began to ride me just as she would if my cock was buried deep in her walls.

When we locked eyes, every molecule in my body detonated, causing me to shudder. In that instant, I knew nothing would ever be the same for me. The connection between us was undeniable. From the mystified look in her eyes, I knew she was experiencing it too.

When I thrust my hips into her center, Isla sucked in a harsh breath, her fingertips painfully gripped my shoulders. It felt as if she was holding on to me for dear life. As I thrust into her center again, she whimpered.

“That’s it, Little Dove. Tell me how much you want me.”

With a shake of her head, she protested, “I shouldn’t like this.”

“Yes, you should.”

She licked her lips. “But only with you.”

I nodded. “But only with me.”

Although we were both gasping and panting from the intense pleasure between us, I wanted more.

I needed more.

To get what we both needed, I had to cross a line I’d never crossed with a dancer before. After sucking in a ragged breath, I rasped, “I want to touch you."

Chapter Five: Isla

“Iwant to touch you."

The deep timbre of his voice shot straight to my core. Although it was so very, very wrong, I wanted him to touch me, too. I ached for it.

I’d never wanted a man so much that I’d just met. Or that I knew so little about. It was like I entered the club and checked all my usual inhibitions at the door.

Despite how much I wanted his touch, I found myself asking, "Are you supposed to? I mean, are the men supposed to?"

"Never," he growled. "No man is to ever touch you.”

Feeling brave, I countered, “You’re a man. What about you?”

To my surprise, Quinn appeared repentant. "I shouldn't."

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