by Kira Blakely
“Mine,” I growl. “You’re mine, now. Mine!” It’s feral, the words escaping me aren’t planned. They come from the base of my fucking balls.
My dick is almost too big for her, but she accepts all of me anyway, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes wide, eyelashes fluttering with each thrust. That pussy tightens around me, threatens me with an orgasm before I’m ready.
Fuck that.
I bend her petite frame to my will. Arch her until the base of my dick rubs against her moist clit. Each of my thrusts brings a gasp from her, then a moan, then a muted scream, as she pulses toward her edge.
She breaks around me. Milks my dick so hard it’s all I can do not to fill her up, right here, right now, but it’s not enough.
Dani shakes and finishes in my arms, goes limp.
I don’t stop pumping. “It’s not over yet, girl,” I say. “Hold on.”
She claps her hands down on my shoulders, tits still jouncing with every beat, and tightens the grip of her legs around my waist. “It’s too good,” she says. She struggles as if she wants to go, but she wants to stay, as if she can’t take anymore, but she wants it all. “I’m going to come again.”
“Good. Come again. I told you,” I say, between thrusts so deep and so hard the words hiccup out of me. “I told you, I’m not going to stop.”
Dani’s back arches even more, I hold her upright, pinning her on my dick. I’m her anchor in this fucking ocean, metaphorical and real. Her cunt clenches around me again, this time longer and harder, and she squirts and drips everywhere.
She screams, wordlessly, jamming along to her own drum beat.
I can’t take it anymore. It’s too good. It’s too fucking dirty good.
My climax shoots from the base of my balls, through my dick, and I release inside her, six deep shots of my cum against those velveteen walls. “Yes,” I growl. “Yes. That’s good, Dani. That’s so good.”
I slide out of her because I’m fucking dizzy from this. It’s sapped me of my energy. I stumble back, still with her in my arms, and sit down in the waves. They wash me clean of her juices, and her of mine.
She curls into my chest, burying her head in my neck. She doesn’t say a word.
“We’re doing this again,” I say. “Tonight. There’s a banquet in the hall. You’ll be there.”
She nods, her lips against the crook of my neck.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you back to your villa.”
I’d stay with her all day, eat her pussy this time, but I’ve already got somewhere else I need to be.
A meeting with my twin brother. The man I’ve just betrayed.
Chapter 5
Danielle
I stand underneath the water and let it scour the salt from my flesh. Nothing can remove the sensation of Holden’s fingers biting into my skin, the thickness of him inside me, or the warmth of his cum dripping from my pussy.
Every second of it was too good to be true.
I can’t believe this has seriously happened.
He recognized me this afternoon, and he wants to see me again tonight at the banquet.
My heart won’t quit doing flip-flops.
This was the last thing I’d expected.
All I’d wanted was a chance to be with him, even if he didn’t realize who I was behind the mask. An opportunity to get my obsession with him out of my system, but this was complicated.
He knew who I was, weird that he’d called me Dani though, and that meant things were about to change in a big way.
I step under the water and let it run through my hair and down my spine. Tonight, I’ll look perfect. I’ll do my hair and choose the most tempting dress for the banquet.
This afternoon changed me. I’ve never been emotionally inhibited, and the fact that we experienced that together makes it so much more difficult not to fall harder for Holden.
I’m already in too deep.
I sigh and scrub my hair, then wash the rest of my body, paying special attention to my breasts, my ass, my mound. God, just touching it reminds me of him inside me.
He was a little rougher than I anticipated.
Holden strikes me as the kind of man who takes control but is gentle. On the beach, he was all stick and hardly any sugar. And I do love the stick.
I laugh and shake my head, then shut off the water and get out.
I’ve got about an hour and a half before the start of the banquet—a notice was taped to my door when Holden dropped me off. He walked me all the way to the door.
I rub my arms, still smiling, then roll my eyes at myself in the mirror over the marble sink. “You’re going to regret this,” I say, jabbing a finger at my reflection. “You should never have come here.”
But I can’t muster the guilt to back up the statement.
I’m over the fucking moon.
And now, it’s time to prepare.
I dry and style my hair, leave it loose and curled, then cream up my entire body and slip into the sexiest dress I can find. It’s open-backed, and the straps crisscross over my breasts, lifting them and covering only my nipples. It descends into a form-fitting mini.
I slip into high heels, painfully high and not what I’m used to, then totter over to the dressing table and rifle through the drawers. There’s D&G perfume, MAC makeup, everything a clued-up girl could want.
I’m not that clued up. I spritz on some perfume and do my best with the makeup. It’s not flawless, but I look pretty darn hot.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror again and smoosh my breasts together. I’ll drive him crazy with this. I drove him crazy this afternoon, but this is naughtier than naked.
It’s sparse, revealing.
He could pull my skirt up and have his way with me right there, in front of everyone.
Is that even a thing? Maybe this is a normal banquet and I’m totally over—uh—under-dressed?
I fix my mask into place and inhale. Effect complete. I’m ready for him.
A bell rings in the distance, and goosebumps rise on my skin. This is it. I’m about to attend my first ever banquet—possibly an orgy. I don’t even care about the other people that’ll be there. I don’t care about the sex.
It’s Holden. It’s all Holden.
I leave the villa behind and teeter across the sand in my heels. “Bad idea,” I mutter. I’m Bambi on hot coals, right now. “Well, that’s a nice thought.” Gosh, these nerves have totally affected me.
Holden Long. Holden. Mr. Long.
I bite my bottom lip.
Is it love or an obsession? I don’t care anymore.
The pathway to the banquet hall is lit by fairy lights in palm trees. Soft laughter and music echoes from the entrance, and something else, too. The wet slap of bodies, moans, and grunts. Yeah, it’s definitely a banquet of food and flesh.
A feast of both.
And I’ll be his dinner tonight.
I enter the hall, and my senses are totally overwhelmed.
Candles light a central table upon which food of every kind is arranged on silver and gold platters. Two smaller tables flank that central piece, both with women lying atop them, sushi arranged artfully on their bodies.
Sofas face the tables, pressed back against the walls, and people lounge on them. One woman sits astride a man’s face and rocks back and forth, one breast out of her dress, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She’s caught in her own moment.
There’s sex everywhere.
Sex against the walls and on the floors. A billionaire devours a woman’s pussy on the table, knocking all the sushi aside in the process.
Doorways lead off the main hall, into candlelit rooms I’m tempted to explore. But I don’t.
I need to find Holden.
I walk a few paces into the room and stop, staring. Two men take one woman on a raised dais at the end of the hall. She suckles greedily on one fat cock while another pounds her cunt. The man behind her inserts his thumb into her ass and she keens, judders on the spot. Her legs
go weak.
She’s coming.
The thought is surreal. It drifts out of the pit of my brain.
My pussy tingles.
What would that be like? Two men at once?
I’ll never find out, of course. I belong to Holden, and he’s all I’ll ever want. He staked his claim this afternoon.
Still, I can’t help but stare.
The platinum-blonde caught between two men, dripping her own cum, pounded from both ends. God, it’s hot.
I shake my head to clear it and set off walking again. I won’t get anywhere watching these people.
I want to find Mr. Long.
My nipples pucker beneath the thin strips of fabric that crisscross my chest. The thought of him is enough to illicit that reaction. That and the groans from every corner.
I leave the main hall behind and enter the first room.
It’s decorated in purple velvet and matching candles.
A woman lies on a sofa, masked, her double Ds on display. A man stands above her and drips hot wax onto her belly. “You like that, baby?” he asks. He’s naked, erect, ready for her.
“Yes,” she hisses the reply. “More wax, and then you fuck me.” She’s got a Southern twang to her accent.
The man spots me and beckons. “Come,” he says. “Kiss her. Fuck her. She wants it.”
I shake my head once and step back, out of the room.
Holden. I only want Holden.
The man and woman turn back to each other. He places the candle to one side, then kneels on the sofa and slowly parts her legs. “My cunt,” he says. “You want some dick, girl?”
“Yes, please,” she whines and plays with her clit.
He presses his dick—not as long or thick as Holden’s—into her pussy with a groan. “Fuck, so tight. That’s right.”
I finally tear myself away from the sight and walk off. I brace myself against the wall. This is all too much for me. The sex, the smell of it on the air, heady and sweet, and what happened this afternoon.
I’m so fucking horny I could scream. And he’s nowhere around!
He promised he’d come. He said he’d meet me at the banquet.
But what if he’s changed his mind? What if he’s angry that he let go?
I can’t lose this now.
I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll make a deal. It will only be for this one weekend. We’ll pretend it never happened when we’re back in New York.
Can I really do that though? Pretend after he made me come so hard I actually squirted?
I walk farther and farther down a long hall. I peek into one door and the room beyond is quiet and empty, lit by white candles, an empty sofa waiting a guest. Ahead of me is an exit that leads to the beach.
I lean against the wall and catch my breath.
If he doesn’t turn up in the next ten minutes, I’ll leave. I’ll go home, flick my own damn bean, and fall asleep.
If he doesn’t come, it means he doesn’t want this to go on.
I can handle that. Can’t I?
Chapter 6
Holden
I tap the razor on the side of the sink in the bathroom and finish my clean up. I trimmed off the entire beard on Joey’s suggestion. His first words to me, the minute he entered my villa this afternoon, looking a little sunburnt, were, “What are you, a fucking grizzly bear?”
“Clean shaven,” I say. It’s been a long time coming. I usually don’t grow beards, but I’ve been so fucking busy I haven’t bothered shaving.
“Better,” Joey says, from the doorway. His arms are folded, and he leans his side and his head against the jamb. “Much better. I didn’t think you’d come this year, bro.”
“What, and miss out on all the pussy?” I snort, and he does, too.
I’m not the meaningless pussy kind of guy, whereas Joey would swim in it if he could.
“Nah, man. It’s good to see you again.” I slap on some aftershave then nod to my reflection in the mirror.
I’m looking good. I haven’t had as much time to hit the gym as I’d have liked, but I’m still cut, and the tattoos that streak down my arms and across my abdomen complete the effect. That and the Gemini tattoo on my left pec.
Joey has a matching one. Twin brothers through thick and thin.
I grab my shirt from him and slip it on.
“You’re really going to the banquet?” Joey asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah.”
“You never go to the banquet.”
“So?” I frown at him. Ever since he walked in he’s been… different. Maybe being away from home has changed him. Fuck, if only I could afford to keep him in New York, but our business needs his tech savvy and his personality overseas.
“So, it’s fucking weird,” Joey replies. “Why go if you hate it.”
“Because I want to get my dick wet.” Plain and simple. The only way I’ll put my obsession with Danielle behind me is to get some strange. Masked strange. Weirdly, I’m not excited at the prospect.
I don’t want strange pussy. I want her.
“I expect you’ll be there, too,” I say. “How many will it be this time? Three? Four?” My brother is a champion when it comes to this shit. I marvel at the fact that he hasn’t become bored with the endless line of women.
“I’m not going,” Joey replies.
“What?” I button my shirt and smooth the front, then grab the mask off the marble counter beside the sink. Everything in here screams opulence, from the marble crapper to the golden faucets. “Why not?” I fix the mask onto my face. Turquoise eyes stare out of the holes.
“Just not in the mood. I fucked this afternoon,” he says.
“Only once?” It’s a joke, but Joey scowls. “Hey, man, are you okay?” I’m not big on expressing emotion, but I cuff my little bro—one minute younger—on the shoulder. “You look like you’ve had a rough day. She take it out of you?”
“You could say that.” Joey yawns and blocks it with his fist, but I don’t buy the yawn or the nonchalance. Something is up with my brother.
I don’t push, though. I’m not here to dissect his state of mind.
I’m here to fix mine.
“All right,” I say. “The bell rang a half hour ago. I’m going. Catch up with you tomorrow, bro.” I pat him on the shoulder and walk toward the door, fresh to death, ready for what will happen.
“Yeah.” Joey follows me out into the sand. “Have a good night. Don’t do anything or anyone I wouldn’t.”
“You can count on it,” I reply.
I step out into the sand and trudge toward the boardwalk, which leads up to the back of the banquet hall. An open doorway greets me and moans beckon from within. The party is already in full swing.
Christ, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to fuck anyone other than her. And that’s exactly the reason I have to do this. I can’t jeopardize what we’ve got going on at home.
I square my shoulders beneath my fitted cotton shirt, then step into the darkened hall, lit sparsely by candelabras and flickering light. I saunter down the hall and check the rooms but most are empty.
A woman leans against the wall up ahead, her breasts magnificent beneath a strappy crisscrossed dress. It barely covers her nipples, which prick at the fabric regardless and leave nothing to my imagination.
She raises her gaze and catches mine with chocolate brown eyes. Deep liquid pools of emotion that shock me to my fucking core.
It’s Danielle.
Here.
Behind that mask. In that dress. She leans against the wall as if it’s keeping her upright.
Moans drift on the air, and I stare at her.
How is this fucking possible?
Did she follow me here? Or was she invited by someone else?
The thought of some other billionaire laying his hands on her sets my blood fucking boiling. I won’t stand for that. She deserves better.
She deserves me.
“Hi,” she says and licks those plush lips, like two cushions
. I want to lose myself in them. Devour them.
I can’t fucking talk. I can’t move. This was supposed to be my opportunity to get away from her, not dive right into her tight, hot pussy. And that’s exactly what I have to do now. I won’t turn away.
Not with moans drifting down the halls and the slap of flesh, the grunts of men burying their cocks deep in the women of their dreams.
This will fuck up everything.
I can’t care anymore. The heat between us is insane, zipping, building, driving me closer to her. I take her by the arm and walk her into the room beside us. It’s decked out in white candles and there’s a sofa against the wall. It’s not exactly the romantic situation I envisioned for this, but fuck it—at least there’s a fucking door.
I slam it shut behind us, then turn the key. No interruptions.
“Mr. Long,” she says.
Fuck me.
That’s already too much. She knows, and I know. “Danielle,” I reply and drag her into my arms, flattening my palms against her back. Her tits press into the cotton of my shirt. “Danielle,” I repeat, because this is fucking tangible. It’s happening.
She’s here.
I reach up and take hold of those ridiculous straps that hardly cover her body. I tug them down, and her breasts bounce free. Nipples exposed to the cool air, they pucker up even more, the skin pulling taut.
Candlelight illuminates the curves, and I can’t tear myself away.
I’m all in.
I drag my fingers down the front of her throat, then cup both her breasts in my palms. They fill my hands, perfectly, and she lets out a hiss, arching toward me.
The nanny. I’m about to fuck the nanny.
I massage her breasts and take in every reaction. Every tiny movement she makes. A gasp, the turn of her head, eyelids fluttering. She loves this.
Memories of her moaning for me, over and over again, just days ago down the hall, tangle with my reality.
I rip her skirt upward and drop down in front of her, forcibly spreading her thighs then find her naked, smooth pussy waiting for me.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” I growl.
“Only for you, Mr. Long,” she whispers.
I grab the backs of her knees, catch her ass, and lower her to the wooden boards. She gasps at the sudden motion but doesn’t complain.