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Punishment

Author: Dallas Ryan
last update Last Updated: 2024-12-16 00:45:12
Lachlan

Quinn's scent, a heady mix of arousal and the subtle floral perfume she favored, overwhelmed my senses as I lowered my head and ripped the panties from her body. I'd buy her new ones. Spreading her thighs wide, I gazed at her pretty pink folds, glistening like dew on the rose petals in my garden in the morning. I licked my lips at the picture of wanton abandon she made. All for me. Only weeks ago, she would have been blushing and trying to hide from me. Not any more. Now she was mine.

I rested her knees on my shoulders before diving in. I tasted her, my tongue laving over her folds, taking my time to savor every drop, search out every silky inch of her. The soft gasps escaping her lips, the way her fingers tangled in my hair, urging me closer – it was all intoxicating.

Her taste, sweet and musky, ignited a fire in my gut, making my shaft harden and beg for release. I delved deeper, my tongue probing her channel, teasing, lapping up the juices she was making just for me. Her hip
Dallas Ryan

Whoa! What's happening now? Will Lachlan be able to get out of whatever the Order wants him to do or will he have to confess everything to Quinn after all? Will she accept him? Let me know in the comments! And if you're liking the story, how about throwing some gems or support my way?! Thanks so much for reading!

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    The air on the island felt different now, heavy and charged, as though the approaching storm wasn’t confined to the sky. The once serene paradise had become a pressure cooker, the weight of it pressing down on Quinn’s chest. She stood by the tall windows of the villa’s living room, the horizon marred by dark clouds rolling in from the sea. The wind had picked up, rustling the palm fronds outside and carrying the salty tang of the ocean through the slightly open windows.Behind her, Lachlan paced like a caged lion, his phone pressed to his ear as he issued crisp, controlled orders. Yet, even in his attempts to exude calm authority, Quinn could see the signs of strain—the way his fingers flexed open and closed at his side, the tension in his jaw as he ground his teeth. His shirt, usually perfectly pressed, was rumpled, and his hair stuck up in places from where he’d clawed his fingers through it repeatedly.“Double the security at the perimeter,” he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut

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