Page 35 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

Silence.

Heavy. Devastating.

He shakes his head once, then turns away.

I take a breath, the words scraping their way out. "Why?"

He stops, shoulders stiff.

"Why what?" He asks, without turning.

"Why were you humiliated?"

He goes still.

"Because you said it meant nothing." Then—quietly.

He turns then. Not angry. Just wrecked.

"I let myself believe it was more." His jaw flexes. "That it mattered, and then you looked me in the eye and threw it away like it was a transaction."

His words are a slap I can't flinch from. Because he's right. I did say that. I meant to say it.

But now?

I swallow the lump rising in my throat.

"I didn't know how to hold it." I whisper. "What it meant. What you made me feel. I've never had sex like that before. I've tried."

He doesn't speak.

I press on, the truth clawing free.

"No one's ever taken it from me like that." My voice is low, rough around the edges. "Not because I didn't give it—but because they couldn't."

I meet his eyes. Steady. Unflinching.

"I've tried. Men who said they were dominant. Who tied the knots, gave the commands, played the part. But it always felt like I was still in control. Like I was directing the scene from underneath it." I swallow. "It never worked. Not really. It was always just… pretend."

My voice drops. Honest in a way that guts me.

"But you?—"

I step closer. My chest brushes his. I feel the heat of him. The gravity.

"You didn't ask. You didn't perform. You didn't pretend." My breath catches. "You just took. Like you already owned it. Like my submission was yours to claim. And the second you stepped into that space—everything in me recognized it. Like my body had just been waiting for someone strong enough to force the truth out of me."

My pulse pounds, and my breath trembles.

"You didn't just dominate me. You mastered me. And for the first time, it wasn't scary. It wasn't shameful. I didn't feel broken for needing it."

He doesn't move. Doesn't speak.

So I give him the last of it. The part no one else has ever heard.

"For the first time… I didn't feel twisted. Or warped. Or wrong. I didn't feel like a freak who needed to be fixed."

A pause. A breath.

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