The Forgotten Island

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:

MARKED, PART TWO

-Arya-

Everything else here was the same, so where was he? I sighed with disappointment as I fell into one of the soft couches in front of the fireplace. “Did you miss me?” a masculine voice from the doorway asks me. I jump up so fast I fell onto the carpeted floor, a grunt pressed from my chest on contact. He erupts into a deep laughter and for a moment I am completely transfixed by the sinful sound. I stare up at him as he leans against the wall, the same white tunic and black pants clinging to his every muscle. I am holding my breath, and I know I shouldn’t be; but when we make eye contact it’s like I am lost, pushed into a gray foggy abyss with no chance of recovering. I am on my feet in a second, running straight at him and jumping up into his arms. Wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck I sink my hands into his hair before devouring his mouth. He responds in earnest, the sharp tip of his canines drawing blood as he explored my mouth. When we finally came up for hair he chuckled, the sounds vibrating through my abdomen. “You did miss me.” He stated as he walked us to the couch, his large hands cupping my backside possessively. We are so close I can feel every ripple of his muscles as he moves, his face so close to mine our noses nearly touch. “Where have you been? What took you so long?” I ask in a desperate whisper. He feasts on my face with his gaze, a slight furrow in his brow “It is not easy to get here to you, mate. Dreams are a complicated matter.” He sits down with me in his lap, as if he too can’t stand to end the physical contact.

He pulls me in tighter and speaks against my throat. I tilt to the side as if giving him better access, but to do what, I am not sure. “You are the only thing I ever want to dream of again.” The dark huskiness of his voice pulls a moan from my throat as his fingers begin tracing my thighs. I instantly ignite with a fiery need, and this beast is the flames. He cups my naked sex beneath my silk gown, and I buck forward at the contact. “You’re fucking soaked for me” he growls against the side of my neck. I see stars as his thumb begins to swipe up and down my folds. His finger thrusts inside of me and I cry out in pleasure, unsure if he is my heaven or hell. He reaches his free hand up my stomach, and stops to squeeze a hard, throbbing nipple through my dress before wrapping his fingers around my throat. I bite my lip, and I taste fresh blood on my tongue from the earlier kiss. He opens and closes his fingers inside me as he gently puts more pressure around my throat. His thumb rubs up and down my clit in circular motions as he thrusts his fingers inside of me. A wave builds deep within me from the onslaught of his hands, and I feel the delicious edge getting closer. Sweat breaks on my forehead as I pant, completely lost in him and the things he is doing. I scream against his shoulder as the wave breaks, stealing my ability to breathe, to think.

He drags his fingers out of me before shoving them into my mouth. “Taste how perfect you are” he says in that heart shattering voice of his “Everything about you was made for me.” Shockingly, desire ignites in me again as I suck my juices from his fingers, lust burning in his gray eyes as he watches me. I rock my hips forward in his lap as I take his fingers deeper in my throat, and I am rewarded with a low growl that makes my body sing. Gods, how I wished he was real. The thought brings down me from my high and I sit back, letting his fingers slide out of my mouth. The change in attitude isn’t lost on him and he studies me curiously. “Speak to me of what troubles you”. He lifts my small frame and turns me in his arms until he is cradling me in his warm embrace. The familiarity in the movement is comforting, and I relax into his chest.

“The island is all consuming, and I am afraid I will die alone, atoning for sins I never committed. Even here, in this dream, you are a testament to my loneliness. A manifestation of the things I crave, given life by a statue on the beach. On one hand I need everything that you are, and on the other hand you are the embodiment of my personalized hell. I don’t even know if I am even truly still alive or if I am in purgatory.” He takes a strand of my hair in his hand while I speak, twirling it around his fingers while contemplating my words. The fire crackles in the silence as I lay in his arms. When he finally speaks, I am halfway asleep. “I do not fully understand. What statue, and what island?” I chuckle at his response, yawning and snuggling closer into him. “We are in a library of my memories, just read the book.” I smirk at my own joke before dozing off; the smell of him echoing through my heart.