[Invitation to Eden 20.0] The Island of Eden (9 page)

One designed to make me think of that beautifully lush body of hers beneath me as I fucked us both into oblivion. Of her complete and utter submission, the one thing that made me forget my scars.

I try to keep my eyes on the path in front of me as we walk, but can feel them stray towards Noelle. I’m thankful that I put my mask back on, because I know my face would’ve betrayed me when I first saw her in that slip. A little scrap of nothing edged in lace, which the island actually provided when I asked, I’ve seen a hundred women in my lifetime wear something similar.

But Noelle wears the item I’d used as a challenge like a weapon. And it’s stabbing me right in the groin.

As we descend the stone steps, she chats non-stop, making my eyes cross. She asks me about the flora and fauna on the island. About my lilies. I tell her about all the flowers indigenous to the region, and about the rock lizards that are everywhere, and the cicadas that sing at night.

“If you snorkel,” I add, “there are friendly sea turtles and sea horses just off the reef.”

“I think I’ve had just about enough of the ocean for a few days. Or maybe forever.” She says it with such an indignant squishing of her nose, I can’t help but chuckle.

“You never did say what happened to your boat.”

She shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. One minute I was onboard and the next I washed up onto your beach.”

“That’s odd.” I frown. Surely Joely would have seen the wreckage while in the air.

“You don’t know the half of it, buddy.”

I laugh again, because no one has ever called me
buddy
before.
Ever
. Especially not some beautiful woman who I desperately want to bend over the nearest rock and spank until she cries out for mercy.

She looks at me sideways, but I see her returning smile, a sly blossoming. “You have a good laugh. You should use it more.”

The compliment has my steps faltering. “Thank you. I don’t often have the chance to laugh, but you are amusing.”

She arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t seem to take offense. Interesting.

Everything
about her is interesting.

When we reach the castle lobby I immediately grab Jenna, one of my spa employees, like a life-preserver to take over the tour for me. I find it hard to be with Noelle without resorting to unprofessional behavior. Very, very unprofessional. She makes my hands itch for the whip and the rest of my body ache for release.

“Jenna will continue your tour.”

The woman in question gives me a puzzled look, then a knowing one when she notes the way my hands are clenching. Jenna was a dominatrix for hire before coming to Eden, and she’s the only one here who might have some inkling of my dominant nature.

She’s a bit of a wild card, too, so I tense, wondering if she’s going to comment. But instead she nods, gesturing Noelle ahead of her.

Good girl.
She held her own, and good for her—Jenna has never seen me frazzled before.  In fact, no one on this island has, except for maybe Joely when she first flew me here and the island spoke to us both.

Noelle frowns, and I resist the urge to put something in her mouth to wipe the expression away. “I was hoping for more time to speak with you.”

“I will meet you for dinner.”

“Where will you meet me?” She’s too smart for her own good.

“Jenna will direct you to the restaurant, and I will meet you at the table.”  I glance at my watch.  “At seven?”

“I eat earlier than that.” There she is, testing me again. And I could be nice, since when the time we eat at really doesn’t affect my day.

Instead I smile in return, but it’s the kind of smile I reserve for the women I top in the clubs. “I don’t.”

She looks like she’s going to argue, but when her eyes meet my own, I again see that softening.

This woman is trouble.

“All right.  But don’t blow me off.” I can’t help but laugh. Of course she wouldn’t let me have the last word. She’ll expect me to say something in return. Instead I just give her a smile, then turn and walk away.

I know she is shooting eye-daggers into my back as I leave—I can feel the heat on my skin. But it can’t be helped.  Spending more time with her would be dangerous. I usually have remarkable self-restraint, but this woman pushes me to the edge.

If she was not a reporter here to rip me to shreds, I might’ve broken my rule never to engage with guests on the island, of which she is now one. She tempts me. She teases the beast inside me.

I rub at my mask, knowing I can’t reveal myself. Not to her.

Never to her. My dream woman, the fantasies I wove around her—never to come true.

I need to find Joely and get off the island, even for an hour or two. Just to the club in Miami. I need to lose myself in another woman, one who reacts the way I expect her to.

The very notion makes me feel guilty, but I strengthen my resolve. Yes. This is what I need to do. Find some sexy little submissive and forget about the crushing disappointment of my crumbled dreams, and of my attraction to a woman who is using me for personal gain.

Just like Celeste once did. The comparison leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Celeste was a model, stunningly beautiful on the outside and very cunning beneath the skin. She played me perfectly throughout our whirlwind romance, made me fall head over heels in love with her. Made me trust her, adding her name to my accounts in preparation for our upcoming marriage.

As soon as she had access to my money, she and her real fiancée, a con artist wanted by Interpol, drained my accounts. I could have lived with that—money is just money, after all, and it was a small enough price to pay for my foolishness.

But the money meant more to the woman I loved than my life. She and Richard trapped me on a boat, set me on fire, and left me there to burn.

I survived because the room I was trapped in collapsed into the water. I managed to claw my way to shore, where a good Samaritan called for help.

Celeste and Richard? I’d had a private investigator track them to a tiny town in Istanbul two years after the accident. They’d already burned through the millions they’d stolen from me, which sent cold pleasure through me, because I had millions more that they knew nothing about.

They were living in squalor, trapped in a town without any means to leave. While I’d contemplated what to do with my newly found knowledge, Richard was killed by a man in his village for, of course, theft—theft of the man’s wife. The bed kind.

Celeste got away. I’ve kept an eye on her, but have never made contact, not even to ask why. The answer to that has always been clear—the woman saw me not as a person, but as a tool for her own personal gain.

This sours my mood. I have no doubt that Noelle sees me this way too—someone she plans to use to get ahead.

My instincts tell me that she is nothing like Celeste.

My instincts where love is concerned are, to put it bluntly, shit. I can’t risk it again, and I know that my perception of the little reporter is thwarted due to the years I’ve spent dreaming of her face.

Yes, I need some distraction. Something—some
one
—that will put a solid wall between me and my attraction to the curvy blonde.

I take the path that leads down to the dock where Joely has her plane tied up. There isn’t another guest due to arrive until late tonight, so she should be there, likely having a nap inside the cockpit, sleeping right through the Bob Marley blaring through the speakers.

But when I get to the dock, the plane is gone. I check the time and realize that Joely must be cooling her heels back in Miami, waiting for the minute arrival. I need to talk to her so I literally run back to the castle, to the radio room, where I signal Joely.

“Eden one niner, come in.”

“Whassup, Mr. V?.”

I shake my head. Ten years, and still she calls me that. “What’s your status?”

“Well I’m single... but really, boss, you’re not my type.”

“Joely...”

“I’m going dark, Mr. V. But I can arrange for someone else to fly something out if you need it.

For a moment, I’m stunned. She’s going dark? Joely lives for this island.

And I’m not happy at the idea of some strange pilot setting foot on my island.

But... just by asking for what I am, I’m going to be breaking a few rules of my own.

“I do need something.” My heart is hammering against my ribcage. I feel no anticipation in what I’m about to ask for, which is strange—I should be yearning for the release.

“Details?”

“Lexi. Club Savage. Send her out with the pilot. Then go do whatever you need to do and get your ass back to work.”

I mean the last jokingly, but I’m actually a little desperate. I depend on Joely, and I need this,
now
.

There’s silence on the other end.  I can just imagine the thoughts going through her mind.

“If anyone asks, she is on the island for an interview.” I continue, not sure what else to do.

“An interview?” She doesn’t believe me, but doesn’t ask. We never ask, not with each other.

“Yes. I’ll leave instructions to have her escorted to my estate.”

“Mr. V?”

“Yes?” I trust Joely to be discreet, but even I know this is going too far.

“Are you sure about this?”

An image of Noelle pops into my mind. She’s on her knees in front of me; her wrists are bound together with a red ribbon, a red that contrasts beautifully with the black of her dress. Or better yet, with her bare skin. I want this woman so badly I can taste her on my tongue. I know her skin will be sweet to lick, and I want to lick her in all her sweet places.

“Yes. Over and out.”  I put down the radio, and then take out my cell phone from my pocket.

I scroll through my contacts, then press call. She answers immediately, as I’ve trained her to do.

“Hello Master. I’ve been waiting for your call.” I’m sure she has, even though I’ve only seen her a handful of times—the only submissive I’ve ever seen more than once.

“Get ready to fly.”

NOELLE

I
sit at the pool bar and sip on my third drink. Chad, the bartender, makes the best martini I’ve ever tasted. He calls it a Poison Ivy, and says he named it after a guest. Besides that, he is devilishly handsome and loves to flirt. It doesn’t matter to me that he’s gay and married. In fact, I think that makes him more appreciative of my curves. Plus, sometimes a girl just needs to get her flirt on.

It’s not like I could’ve flirted with the Master earlier. He is a hard man to read. He has chinks in his armor, all men do, but just when I think I might be able to peer inside, the crack in the steel slams shut. If only I can get that armor completely off... I wonder what I will find.

Not that I should be thinking about getting him naked. Nope. Bad idea. I came here to Eden to do a story on him. Not have my brains fucked out.

But boy... does he look like he’d be capable of it. Like he’d fuck, not make love. And I have always liked it a little rough.

I run my finger over the rim of the glass and collect the sugar sprinkled there. It’s hormones, I tell myself. Pent-up hormones, because I haven’t had sex lately. Especially not the kind of sex I suspect would be possible with the Master. The men I’ve dated in the past just don’t... get me. They have no clue what I need. What I desire in the bedroom.  And none of them I’ve trusted enough to inform them of exactly what that is.

But the way I reacted when Theo threatened to spank me? The heat that rocketed through my body?

Oh, yeah. I bet he could take me all the way.

Sucking the sugar off my finger, I put my concentration back on the conversation I am supposed to be having.

“Am I boring you, sweetheart?” Chad smirks and pushes a glass of water my way.

“No, of course not.  I was just thinking about...” My words die off. I’d like to think it’s because I’ve been drinking, but it’s far more likely that it’s because I just don’t know what to say.

“The Master of the island?” He clutches his chest dramatically. My cheeks flush.

“No. Why would you say that?” Shit.
Shit
. Where’s my damn poker face when I need it?

“Because you’ve written the word
Master
about ten times in your little notebook there.” He gestures to the bar in front of me.

Startled, I look down and see that yes, indeed, I have written the word ten times. Actually, eleven. I scratch out ten of them and circle the last one.

“So, why is he called the Master?”

“I’m not saying he is.”

“Oh c’mon.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s not play this game. You deliberately point out the fact that I wrote the word over and over again and assumed I was thinking about him while doing so. You automatically made the connection, and now you’re telling me there isn’t one?”

He just smiles and pours a drink for another patron sitting at the bar. When he’s gone to deliver it, I look around at the other guests. I see mostly couples. There are a few singles, but I just assume they are waiting for their other half.

When Chad returns to me, I pin him with my most intense interrogative gaze. “So like this place is some kinky couples retreat, right? There are big wild orgies at night. A virgin sacrifices her flower to the tropical deity, the Master of the island.”

“Are you the virgin in this scenario?”

“That ship sailed long ago.” I grin, but the idea... hmm. I’ve never tried roleplay before, but I think I might be game.

He just stares at me deadpan. “You should write books instead of
news
articles.” He does the quote fingers when he says
news
.

Wow. Gossip travels fast.

“Fine, so what’s he really like?”

“Who?”

“You know who.” I slap at his arm. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Mr. Vardalos is a great man. He’s kind and generous and he helps people.” He shakes me up another martini. Like I need another. “He is the most unselfish person I know.”

“Really?” I narrow my eyes. Everyone is selfish, at least in my experience—everyone pursues their own agenda. Myself included. So I take his declaration with a grain of salt. Maybe the entire shaker.