For several long, agonizingly beautiful minutes, Dorian did absolutely nothing, simply allowing Isla to take complete, magnificent control of the storm.
She fiercely tangled her wet fingers deep into his dark hair, pulling him closer to press his handsome face directly against her heaving, bare chest, yet he remained entirely motionless, completely submissive to her desperate touch.
Deeply confused by his sudden, uncharacteristic stillness, Isla frowned, wondering what exactly was running through his dark mind.
Suddenly, without a single word of warning, Dorian fluidly stood up, effortlessly scooping her wet, trembling body into his muscular arms and carrying her straight out of the steaming bathtub.
Isla remained entirely silent, her heart fluttering with absolute, blind trust, knowing with perfect certainty that whatever he planned to do next would be flawlessly right.
He carried her to the grand bed, gently laying her down upon the plush mattress before his dark eyes quickly caught sight of a long, heavy silk lace discarded from her dress on the floor.
He slowly picked it up, trailing the fabric through his fingers.
'Are you truly ready for this, Isla?' he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
A breathtakingly beautiful smile graced her lips.
'Of course I am,' she whispered, reaching her delicate hands up to lovingly cup his wet cheek.
But the very second her fingertips grazed his skin, Dorian swiftly intercepted her wrists in an iron grip.
'Dorian, what on earth are you doing?' she gasped in sheer, breathless confusion.
'War,' he replied darkly. With swift, expert movements, he brought both of her delicate wrists together above her head, using the strong silk lace to securely and tightly bind her hands directly to the heavy wooden headboard.
'Dorian, what is this?!' she panicked slightly, hopelessly tugging at her restraints.
'Because for what I am about to do to you, this absolute restriction is entirely necessary,' he explained, hovering his massive, heavily muscled frame over her.
'But I am going to ask you one final time... you are absolutely not going to surrender and yield, are you? Because once I truly begin, I will absolutely not stop halfway.'
Isla looked up at him, her chest heaving, and nervously wet her swollen lips.
'Even if death itself comes for me tonight, Dorian, you must absolutely not stop,' she vowed with a fierce, reckless devotion.
'I am giving you my absolute, complete permission.
My soul has always belonged to you, and tonight, I am officially declaring that my entire body belongs exclusively to you as well.
So please, be ready.'
'Sweetheart,' he whispered in a dangerously low, gravelly tone, leaning down to press a devastatingly soft, lingering kiss right behind her sensitive ear.
Isla instantly blushed a furious crimson, her eyes fluttering shut as a violent shiver wrecked her spine.
Then, he claimed her mouth.
He captured her lips with an overwhelming, consuming hunger, kissing and tasting her as if she were the sweetest delicacy in the universe, their tongues violently tangling in a breathless, chaotic dance of sheer dominance.
He moved lower, dragging his hot, open mouth down her flushed cheeks, blazing a trail of wet, scorching kisses across her collarbones and the upper swell of her chest, leaving her already damp skin incredibly slick and burning with an impossible heat.
Suddenly, his teeth grazed the sensitive curve of her chest, sinking in just hard enough to leave a fierce, branding love bite that drew a tiny, stinging drop of crimson.
'Ahh... Dorian, please, gently... that actually hurts,' she groaned, her body arching helplessly against the mattress.
He paused, his dark eyes blazing with a wickedly triumphant fire.
'Did I not explicitly warn you earlier that you are far too young, too fragile, and too weak to properly handle the suffocating weight of my love?' he murmured against her bruised skin.
'I also explicitly told you that I would absolutely not stop... unless, of course, you are ready to admit defeat and yield right now.'
'Do not stop... do absolutely whatever you want,' she gasped out, stubbornly refusing to break her promise.
'That is my good girl,' he growled approvingly.
He lowered his head again, his warm tongue soothingly lapping at the tiny drop of blood he had drawn, sending a chaotic mix of sharp pain and blinding pleasure straight through her veins.
Isla's bare legs thrashed restlessly, violently rubbing against the silk sheets.
Seeing her desperate movements, Dorian shifted his massive, six-foot-five frame; he seamlessly tangled his thick, powerful legs with hers, utterly trapping her lower half between his muscular thighs as he finally let his full, crushing weight settle directly over her trembling body.
Their wet, entirely bare bodies pressed flawlessly together, and despite the cold night air, an overwhelming, suffocating heat violently erupted between them.
Isla kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut as Dorian continued to fiercely worship the tender mark on her chest, while his large, warm free hand moved to firmly and possessively knead her other soft curve.
She helplessly thrashed beneath him like a desperate fish pulled entirely out of water.
In the dark, breathless corners of her mind, she secretly, frantically began to regret ever issuing such a dangerous, fiery challenge.
She was quickly realizing that she was completely, utterly incapable of handling the raw, terrifying power of his prime youth and his overwhelming physical dominance.
Pinned beneath his incredibly heavy frame with her wrists securely bound and her legs hopelessly trapped, Isla was left entirely paralyzed, absolutely and beautifully at the total mercy of his fierce, unrelenting storm.