Page 10 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"Tell me to stop."

My eyes snap open. He's close enough to see every flicker of restraint in his expression, like he's balancing on the edge of something feral.

"I'm not going to do that," I whisper, barely able to speak around the thudding of my pulse.

His eyes darken. His mouth curves—not soft, not sweet.

Predatory.

"Good."

He growls and lifts me again, this time without hesitation. One hand slides beneath my dress, fingers gliding through slick heat that confirms every unspoken thing between us.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're soaked for me already."

I can't speak. Can't breathe.

My back hits the wall. My legs lock around his waist. And in one brutal thrust, he's inside me—deep, stretching me open, making me his.

My gasp is swallowed by his mouth. His tongue takes over, claiming everything, leaving no part of me untouched.

Then he starts to move.

Hard. Fast. Relentless.

A man on a mission.

Rutting. Fucking.

He pounds into me, each thrust slamming me against the wall, making me feel every inch, every ruthless intention in his body.

"You like this?" he growls against my neck, his voice pure gravel. "Like me fucking you senseless?"

I moan—helpless, wrecked.

"Yeah, you do. You love it. Love being pinned up like this. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do but take it."

Each word is punctuated by a thrust—hard, filthy, devastating.

"Wrapped around me… trembling like this… fuck, you were made for this. For me."

I cry out as his hand fists in my hair, tugging just enough to arch my neck and expose more of my throat. His teeth scrape across my skin. I'm already burning for him.

"Look at you," he growls, fucking me harder. "So fucking tight. So desperate. You love this—love being held like you're helpless while I fuck you against the goddamn wall."

My hands claw at his shoulders, nails digging into muscle. My moans break into gasps with every thrust.

He's relentless. Savage. Perfect.

My orgasm builds fast, blinding. Pressure twisting, heat tightening, nerves snapping.

"I can feel you," he growls. "About to come. I should make you beg for it, but I'm feeling generous."

I shatter at his filthy words.

My scream rips into his mouth as I convulse around him, body clenching so hard it nearly breaks me. Pleasure rips through me—raw, full-body, white-hot.

"Fuck," he snarls, hips jerking. "Take it. Take all of it."

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