69. ICY TOUCH

ISLA’S POV. My forehead pressed against the cool tile, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps that fogged the surface in front of me. The warm spray of the shower rolled over my trembling body, but none of it compared to the heat of him, his mouth, his tongue, his hands. “Oh fuck!” I cried out, my voice echoing in the small, steamy space as his tongue dragged a slow path from my ass to my cunt, teasing me, tormenting me. My hands slammed against the wall, fingers splayed wide as I tried to steady myself, but it was useless. My knees were weak, my body shuddering with every flick of his tongue. This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t sweet. This was possession. “Remy,” I moaned, the sound breaking on his name, a plea, a prayer, a curse. I didn’t know anymore. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as I tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensations. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. He had me pinned, completely at his mercy. He murmured against my skin, his voice