66. ICY TOUCH

ISLA’S POV I gagged as his cock thrust deep into my throat, the intrusion overwhelming, the stretch bordering on painful, but somehow, I craved it. My body was betraying me, responding to him in ways I didn’t understand and hated myself for. Drool spilt from the corners of my lips, sliding down my chin as I struggled to take him deeper, my throat tightening around him. My hands trembled as they gripped his thighs, my nails scraping against the expensive fabric of his trousers. It wasn’t resistance. It was desperation. I was holding on for balance, for control, but there was none. He was in control. Completely. The way his hands buried in my hair, firm sent shivers down my spine. It was the possession in his touch, the way he guided me, the way he owned me in that moment, that had me surrendering without a fight. “That’s it,” he growled above me, his voice rough, almost reverent. “Take it all. God, Isla, your mouth was made for this. For me.” His words sent a pulse of heat straight betw