by Shandi Boyes
My pussy pulses when the lips that highlight my dreams stroke my neck. “Are you ready to beg yet?”
Nodding, I step backward, yearning for his body heat to simmer the shivers running rampant through mine. I’m not cold. I’m so incredibly turned on, my brain thinks I have a fever.
When I crash into his torso, my insides purr like a kitten. I lean into him deeper, craving his closeness more than my next breath.
My knees violently crash together when he gathers my hair to one side of my sweat-slicked neck so he can ravish the other side. He bites and licks me three times before he presses his lips to the shell of my ear. “Say it, Isabelle.”
“I’m sorry.” My whisper is barely heard over the music booming out of the speakers above our heads, but nothing can deny the plea in it.
“Louder.”
A hum of excitement vibrates between us. It’s more compelling than the electricity energizing the air. There’s so much beautiful friction between us, I’m afraid I may soon combust.
I’m confident without a shadow of a doubt when he tugs me back another inch. I’m not the only one getting carried away by the moment. Isaac is as turned on as me.
With my horniness at its peak and my self-respect at its lowest point, pleas for forgiveness spill from my mouth like a waterfall over a boulder. “I’m sorry… so very sorry. Please forgive me.”
A pleasing jolt heats my skin when my begs are rewarded by him swinging his hips. His dance moves are effortless but seductive enough to seduce me with our clothes on.
With his manly scent eradicating my every qualm, I make the sways of his hips roll for roll. My dance moves are teasing—somewhat sexually suggestive. I make love to him with my clothes on, praying this won’t be our first and only dance.
Every kiss he places on my neck as we dance like we’re the only two people in the room enlarges my heart. Muggy dampness is invading the air, but it would take more than a monsoon to dampen the heat bristling between us.
I grind against his hardened rod, loving that our closeness has generated such a profound response from him. Even swarmed by elegantly dressed men and women hasn’t stolen the admiration we have for one another. When we’re together, it is just us—the man I’d go to the end of the earth for time and time again and me.
Chapter 25
Isaac
Isabelle has always been super responsive to my touch, but tonight, that notion has reached an entirely new level. I’m barely touching her, yet she’s purring like a pussy cat. Her seductive scent has my cock wrangling with the zipper, and her skin is so hot, it sizzles when I drag my tongue along it.
I didn’t plan to tease her when I first arrived. I had every intention of waiting until we were in the privacy of our hotel room before forcing her to plead for clemency, but her mouthwatering dress crumbled my best-laid plans. She’s always been a ravishing mix of beauty and seduction, but tonight, her diamond exterior is polished to perfection. She’s every man’s walking wet dream, making me confident no man in this hotel could look at her without getting aroused. That’s how appealing she is.
Her long, lavish legs are on full display in the super short skirt she’s wearing. Her lush tits are barely contained by the strapless bustier that forms the top half of her risqué number. Her glistening lips are begging to be tasted, and don’t even get me started on her gorgeous eyes. The dark shadowing varnishing them adds even more appeal to her sex-pot appearance.
She’s totally fuckable and entirely mine.
A growl ripples through my lips when she grinds her curvy ass on my hardened shaft. The scent of her hungry pussy reveals how close to the brink she is, not to mention the heat I feel pumping out of her from regions below the belt.
“Not here, Isabelle,” My words crack out of my mouth like a whip, but not even their sternness can hide my wavering constraint. “I’m the only one who gets to see you come.”
Unless you count the moan vibrating her lips, she doesn’t voice an objection to my demand.
The longer we dance, the more her scent sparks a wild, primitive response from my body. The urge to claim her as mine is so strong, the need dominates my levelheadedness. I’m hazed by lust, so desperate to taste her again. I scan the area, knowing we’ll never make it back to the seclusion of my hotel room before I’m overcome with desire.
A smug grin curls my lips when I spot Hugo standing on the edge of the dance floor. He’s gesturing his head to a door at the side of the ballroom, the gleam in his eyes telling me he anticipates praise for his on-the-spot thinking.
I guide Isabelle across the room, growling when her lusty eyes collide with mine when we step off the dance floor. No words need to be spoken between us for her to know what we’re about to do. Her rapid breaths indicate she’s well aware of what activity we are about to undertake.
The spark of attraction between us is so intense, it zaps my hand when I place it on her back to lead her into the storage room tucked away from prying, snobbish eyes. I lift my chin in thanks to Hugo when his large frame blocks the doorway once Isabelle and I walk through it. It’s closed, but his size alone will ensure we won’t be interrupted. It will also guarantee his succor will be immensely rewarded.
After securing the lock into place, I spin around to face Isabelle. She’s absorbing the space that usually houses the tables and chairs that are set up in the gala. There are a stack of white catering chairs lining one wall and a dozen tables in the middle of the room. It’s basic but suitable for quenching the desire raging like a wildfire through my body until we get back to my hotel suite.
A vein in Isabelle’s neck beeps when I stealthily prowl toward her like a panther on the hunt. She threw out the bait, entrapping me with the jealousy that curses my acumen when it comes to her, and now I’m here to collect restitution for her defiance. I’ve never been a jealous, dense idiot before, but the thought of Isabelle with anyone but me is an uncontrollable rage I doubt I’ll ever contain. It’s irrepressible—much like my feelings for her.
I stop striding when I’m close enough to smell her enticing scent, but far enough away she can’t reach me. “Take off your mask. I want to see your beautiful eyes when I fuck you.”
She swallows harshly before she unties the silk straps of her mask. My cock throbs when her smoky eyes become fully exposed. They’re as tempting as the vixen hiding behind them.
I remove the mask, throw it onto the table at my side, then continue with my ruse. “Now your dress.”
Isabelle’s eyes widen before they shoot to the door we just entered.
“No one will ever see you. Your body is only for my eyes.”
An exciting thrill quivers through her thighs as she nods. When she unfastens her dress, my zipper bites my cock. Her dress slips past her delectable curves to gather in a pile of silk and tulle around her strappy shoes. The thrill of the hunt surges through me hard and fast. She knew I was coming tonight because she’s wearing the steel gray strapless bra and lace panties she wore the day we fucked in the plane. It took Catherine visiting four stores to find the boy-leg panties I shredded that night, but I’m so fucking glad my campaign paid off. Isabelle looks ravishing.
“You wanted me to come tonight? Is that why you provoked me?”
Isabelle shakes her head. “No. I packed these with the hope you’d come. I didn’t set out to purposely antagonize you.” Her rich chocolate eyes relay the honesty in her statement.
She sucks in a sharp breath when I take a step closer to her. “I purchased a ticket for this gala when I found out it was a masked ball with the hope you’d ask me to attend with you.”
Remorse flashes through her eyes. “I would have invited you, Isaac. I wanted to, but Regan made me promise to stay away from you. She made me swear on my uncle’s grave.” She huffs, peeved at how many people are commanding her life right now. “I didn’t even keep my promise for a nanosecond.” Tears gloss her eyes when she whispers, “I can’t stay away from you.”
“No one can keep us ap
art, Isabelle,” I kiss her turn-downed lips before raising her head via her chin. “Not Regan. Not Col Petretti. Not Theresa. Not even a hurricane could keep us apart. You’re mine, and I am yours.”
A ghost of a smile cracks onto her pouty lips before she seals them over mine. I growl, loving the strawberry flavoring of her lips. Too many hours have passed since her lips have been on mine—too damn many. When I delve my tongue into her mouth, it muffles her soft moans. After moving her hands into my hair, she pulls me closer, urging a more passionate kiss.
Gripping her nape in my hand, I hold her mouth hostage to mine before deepening our kiss. I taste the lip-gloss slathered on her mouth, and the peppermint of her toothpaste while slipping my other hand under her bra to cup her breast. When my thumb skates over the stiff peak of her nipple, my mouth steals every hot breath escaping her lips. I tease her breasts for several long minutes, loving that not even the prospect of being busted dampens her body’s response to my touch.
After a few more heated moments, I inch back. “My cock leaped when my eyes landed on you tonight.” I gaze into her eyes, seeing my reflection in her massively dilated pupils. “That dress… fucking Christ. I nearly had a heart attack.”
Heat creeps across her cheeks as they rise to sit high on her face. “You can thank Hugo for that.”
Jealousy almost gashes me open until I remember Hugo is standing guard to ensure we’re not disturbed. He’s the first man I called after my arrest, and the only man I trust to keep Isabelle safe when I can’t. He’s not a threat to my relationship. He’s an asset.
“I’ll be sure to show him my appreciation when I sign his bonus check.”
I tuck Isabelle into my side before striding to a stack of tables on our right where I adjust her position until her breasts are splayed on the tabletop, her legs are spread wide, and her delectable ass is suspended high into the air. Once I have her where I want her, I take a step back. She’s so aroused, her panties are clinging to the folds of her pussy, and I’m sucking her seductive scent like a drug addict sniffing coke.
After tugging a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of my tuxedo, I hand it to Isabelle. “I love every scream that escapes your lips, but those are my screams.”
She lied in the plane when she said she wasn’t a screamer. I love every erotic moan that tumbles from her throat, but my ears are the only ones privileged enough to hear them.
I hook my thumbs into her panties before gliding them down her quivering thighs. Her bra is unhooked and discarded to the floor with a flick of my wrist two seconds later. As I shrug out of my tuxedo jacket and undo the buttons on my dress shirt, my eyes absorb her seductive curves. Isabelle stays still, motionless, and in perfect position looking as if she is a buffet ready to be sampled.
“I know I said last night I’d spend hours tasting you, but I wasn’t expecting that to take place in a storage room, so that must wait.” I unbutton my trousers, then lower the zipper. This hiss of the metal increases the wetness between Isabelle’s legs. “But I can’t wait any longer to bury my cock deep inside you.”
When I release my throbbing cock from my boxer briefs, Isabelle peers back at me before licking her lips. A hungry glint ignites in her eyes when I wrap my hand around my shaft to give it a firm tug in the rhythm of her breaths. Her eyes widen more with every stroke I inflict.
“You like watching me stroke my cock?”
Last night was the first time in over ten years I’ve come by my own hand. That alone shows the power Isabelle has over me.
She nods, her scent increasing me. “Yes,” she whispers with her gaze fixated on my cock. “As long as I get to touch it, too.”
I’d love nothing more than to recreate last night’s phone call. The sounds were stimulating enough, so imagine how riveting the visual would be? But we don’t have the time, and we’re in a storage room with thousands of gala attendees mere feet away, so that fantasy will need to simmer on the burner until I get Isabelle back to my suite.
My eyes shift to her bare mound, erotically showcasing her arousal. “Are you ready for me?”
She licks her lips and nods.
“Say it, Isabelle.”
“Yes,” she murmurs, her voice a throaty purr.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’m ready for you.” Her lips crack into a smile as the lust in her eyes detonates. “Ready for you to fuck me… to make me beg for forgiveness.”
My lips crimp. I knew she would have understood my tease the moment I brushed my fingertip across her shoulder blade. She knows me better than anyone.
I step closer to her until the crown of my cock braces against the seam of her ass. When I place pressure on the puckered hole, Isabelle stiffens before her head cranks back to me. She doesn’t speak, but fear is clouding her usually bright eyes.
“One day, I’ll claim all of you, Isabelle.”
Her pupils widen to the size of saucers as she swallows harshly.
“But not tonight as I need to make sure your body is prepared for that.” I shift the tilt of her hips, so the ridge of my cock braces the entrance of her pussy. “Grip the table and hold on tight as this is going to be hard and fast.”
She may have begged for forgiveness on the dance floor, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck her into submission. Her rebelliousness requires some sort of punishment, and mercifully, she loves being punished by my cock just as much as I love punishing her with it.
Isabelle bites down on the handkerchief before securing a tight grasp on the table. Her grip is so rigid, her knuckles go white. I finish coating my cock in her juices before sinking into her in one fluid thrust. Our combined groans bounce off the white walls when her soaked pussy accepts me without protest.
Fuck, she feels good.
Tight.
Wet.
Mine.
I drive into her on repeat, fucking her until her body is slicked with perspiration, and her pussy is weeping with the musky goodness I love devouring. When my brutal pounds cause the table’s feet to jump across the wooden floorboards, Isabelle firms her grip, knowing I need to fuck—to come. Not because it’s the only way I can disperse the jealousy still blackening my veins, but because I can’t get enough of her. Her smell. Her moans. Her hot, slick channel that’s softer than a feather but as savage as a wild animal.
My thrusting becomes frenzied as I jackknife my hips on repeat. It brings her screams up to an ear-piercing level, soon overtaking the sound of skin slapping skin.
“Bring it down a notch, then I’ll permit you to remove your handkerchief.” I’m dying to hear her moan my name as she does during climax, but I can’t risk anyone else hearing her. Even though it’s my name, so I should be banging my chest like a macho-man, I refuse for anyone to hear the lyrical gold that flows through my ears when she comes.
When Isabelle does as requested, I tug out the handkerchief being held in place by her clenched teeth, then go harder, faster, and more violent. Beads of sweat roll off my cheeks landing in the small of her back. It adds to the glossy substance coating my shaft and balls, it’s just not as shimmery.
“Isaac…”
She’s so close, I can taste her arousal on the tip of my tongue. It has me slamming into her on repeat, giving her everything I have. Her pussy sucks around me, begging for my spawn as much as my balls are pleading to be freed from the tightness asphyxiating them. I can feel cum sitting at the crest of my cock, prepped to erupt, but I hold it back, never once chasing my own release until Isabelle is exhausted of hers.
“Oh God…”
I move one of my hands to the dark locks spilling down her back, twist it around my wrist until it’s close to cutting off my circulation, then tug back until the eyes I’d kill for lock with mine. The lust in them spurs on my campaign. I rock into her on repeat, my hand violently yanking at her hair with every thrust. I’m certain I’m hurting her, but I’m too blinded by the chase to care.
As the tautness in her face softens, her pussy tightens around my
cock. “Eyes, Isabelle.”
The walls of her vagina clamp tightly around me while she fights the urge to shut her eyes during the terrifying climax that’s seconds from roaring through her body. She stills, then moans, the functions of her body no longer hers to control. Her torso becomes one with the table as she calls out my name. It’s loud enough for me to hear, but not loud enough to have me worried it was heard by the partygoers outside. Hugo, on the other hand—I’ll need to have a word with him.
When Isabelle returns from the depths of hysteria, I put weight back into my pumps. I build her excitement with precise strokes of my cock and calculated rolls of my hips, advising her that we’re not leaving here until her pussy milks my cock for sperm for the second time tonight.
I get precisely that not even ten minutes later.
Chapter 26
Isabelle
A damp napkin scratches my skin when I remove the mascara smudged under my eyes, giving me a raccoon look. My hair is a tousled mess from Isaac’s firm grasp, and my cheeks are flushed. I look thoroughly fucked. Rightfully so, I should look this way. Even with thousands of people mere feet from us, Isaac’s stamina went above and beyond my greatest expectations. I didn’t think it was possible, but the sex gets better and better with every tryst we do.
As I drag my fingers through my hair, hoping to regain some control over the tangled mess clinging to my sweat-slicked neck, I try and comprehend what Isaac sees in me. After sex, I’m a sweaty, repulsive disaster, whereas he looks like he just stepped out of the pages of a magazine spread, primed and ready to go.
“I guess that will have to do,” I murmur to my reflection in the vanity mirror.
After a quick dab of lip gloss on my mouth, I exit the crowded bathroom. When I saunter past the long line waiting to use the facilities, I spot Hugo leaning against the wall. Heat spreads across my face when he winks at my disheveled appearance. Only after doing the deed does my rational-thinking head click on. An average person would wait until they’re in private before participating in sexual activities. My urges can’t be helped, though. The instant Isaac is in my presence, all my levelheadedness sails out the window.