by Kira Blakely
“Open your legs wider, Danielle,” I say. “Nice and wide. That’s right.”
She obeys me and lifts herself on her elbows to get a good view of the show. Her eyes blaze in the holes of that damn, decorative mask. If not for the damn rules, I’d rip it off. But that mask is the only thing that keeps distance between what’s happening now and New York.
If we keep these on, I can pretend it’s never happened.
I lower myself between her legs and take in the sight of her pink swollen pussy. She’s dripping for me, slick beads dribbling from her hole and arcing down skin pebbled with goosebumps. Some of those juices have traveled all the way to her tight little asshole.
My cock is so fucking hard it’s about to break free of my jeans. I reach down and adjust it then focus on my girl again.
“You’re going to come like you’ve never come before, Danielle. You’ll never forget this night.” Fuck it, this weekend. If she’s here, she’s mine. Mind made the fuck up.
Danielle whimpers and writhes. “Please,” she says, and her legs tremble either side of my head.
I kiss the inside of one thigh and then the other. Another whimper. She’s swollen for me, desperate.
I turn my head and brush her clit with the tip of my nose.
She yelps and arches her back.
Nothing will stop me now. Nothing will keep me from claiming her as mine.
Chapter 7
Danielle
It’s the first night of heaven with Holden.
Mr. Long.
He’s between my legs, teasing me, prodding my clit with the tip of his nose. “Please,” I moan. “Please, please, please, Mr. Long. Please!”
Holden dives forward and buries his face in my pussy. He loops his arms around my thighs and holds them apart, pressing them farther and farther back, giving himself access to me. To my lips, my clit, my soaked hole.
His tongue curves inside me, plunges back and forth, back and forth, filling me again and again. It’s too much to bear. I’m already on the brink.
“Mr. Long,” I groan and fist a handful of his hair. “Oh, god.”
Holden feasts on me. He’s more focused than this afternoon. He pulls out and flattens his tongue against my lips, drags it upward to my clit then sucks, hard, circles my sensitive nub. The warmth drives me crazy. My legs kick, but he holds them in place.
I’m captivated, stuck.
I want nothing more than this moment. How can it be this good again?
Even better.
He drives two fingers inside me, and they make wet, soft noises. He hooks his fingers and grazes my g-spot. I watch everything, my elbows, sliding out from underneath me every now and again as I shake and keen.
“Going to come,” I manage. “Mr. Long,” I growl, my voice deepening as my orgasm builds. “Mr. Long, oh, fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”
I slam backward, fall, my eyes squeezed shut, and I jam through the orgasm, clenching around his fingers, dragging his face closer to my pussy, holding it there as best as I can.
“Good,” he says, around a mouthful of my clit. “Good. Again.”
I whimper and try shuffling away from him, but he holds me fast.
“Again,” he commands, sucking on my clit. His fingers pound into me, caress my g-spot, circle and press against it.
My aftershocks have barely subsided, but another climax builds within me, driven by those expert fingers and tongue, which lashes my clit yet again, demanding more from me.
Back in New York, he runs a tight ship. He expects the best from me, and I give it to him, whether it’s packed lunches or cleaning up after dinner. I’ll do my best for him now.
“Come for me,” he grunts.
The bliss that explodes through me is different from the last time. It grows within, tingles at my clit and scours me clean. I squirt for him, come so hard my eyes roll back in my head, and my ass bumps up and down, up and down.
“That’s it, fuck yes,” he says, and his voice is thick with desire.
He releases my legs, and I lie there for a second, breathing hard.
“Look how much you came,” he says, his voice still dripping desire.
I inhale and exhale, then sit up, my feet struggling for purchase in these heels. “I want it, too,” I say.
“What?”
“I want to taste you.”
His lips twitch upward at the corners, that sexy smile that’d tempted me back in New York. “Ask nicely, Danielle,” he says, from behind that mask. God, it’s even sexier that way.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please, I want to taste you.”
He rises to his feet and towers over me, looking down, power seeping from him, making me wetter still, if that’s possible at this point. Holden tilts his head to the side and waits. “Come,” he says.
I get on all fours and crawl across the floor toward him, my gaze on the bulge at the front of his jeans. It’s as massive as I remember, but I need to taste it. Now.
I halt in front of him and reach for the zipper. He catches my wrist and holds it. “Look at me,” he says.
I do as I’m told. He’s commanding again, taking charge, but quieter now. I like this mood, whatever it is. Love it, actually.
“Keep looking at me until I tell you to stop,” he says then undoes the button of his pants and unzips. He removes his dick from within, and I suck in a breath.
It’s even bigger than I remember, and the candlelight flickers, picks up the pre-cum that already coats his head. He’s just as wet for me as I am for him.
This is still surreal to me.
He’s my boss and for this weekend, and this weekend only, my lover.
“Wet your hand,” he says.
I spit on my free palm, and he releases the other.
“You’ll need both.”
He’s right, of course. I’ll work this dick with both hands and my mouth, too. Tasting his cum will complete this experience for me. I crave it.
I smooth my palms down his shaft, relishing the veins, the girth, all of it. Holden grabs the back of my head and jerks it forward. I open my mouth and accept his dick. I suck and open my jaw as wide as it can go and an ache creeps along the side of my face.
God, he’s huge.
“Look at me, Danielle,” he says. “Keep looking.”
I fix my gaze on his and suck, work his dick with my hands and mouth. He forces me onto his dick, and my mouth walks along the shaft. His tip hits the back of my throat and I gag, swallow, go deep again. On repeat.
This is too fucking good, once again.
Holden thrusting into my mouth, me gagging on his length, is a fantasy of mine. It’s one I’ve come to in the past, moaning his name.
“Don’t stop,” he commands.
I go faster, get sloppier, gag a few more times, but keep it together. I’m wet all over again. He thickens between my lips, and my teeth graze his dick. I open wider still.
“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s it, Danielle. Fuck it, you’re so good at that. Fuck.”
His desire spirals through the space between us. My eyes roll back in my head, then flick back and focus on him again.
My Holden. My boss.
Come in my mouth. Claim it. I’m yours.
He pounds into my mouth, throws his head back and groans. “Coming,” he manages.
Holden’s dick is impossibly big now. His head hits the back of my throat, and he pulses in my mouth, shoots his slightly salty, slightly sweet cum across my tongue. I lap it up, drink all he has, but more keeps coming.
I take that, too, and swallow, gently lick the bottom of his tip clean.
Holden pulls out slowly, grunting as he does. “Yes,” he says. “Christ, that was good.” He takes hold of my elbows and lifts me from the boards, then draws me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “So good.”
I sigh and melt into him. This moment is even better than the sex. It’s emotional, connected, and I want to live in it forever.
Does he fee
l the same way I feel about him? He’s got to realize that my attraction isn’t only physical. Meeting him changed my life, and being around him each day… it’s made me realize what I want in a partner one day, even if I can’t have him.
I inhale his scent—spicy and warm, it clings to the insides of my nostrils. I’ll never forget it. Strange that he didn’t wear this cologne this afternoon.
Holden releases me then fixes my skirt. He pulls it down so it covers my ass again, brushing the backs of his fingertips on my skin. Next, he lifts the straps to cover my nipples again. He fixes my hair, holds my cheek and strokes it, his turquoise blue eyes consuming me.
I sway in his grip.
Why do you have to be this perfect? Mask or no mask, I can’t help falling for you. Stop, just stop, Holden.
But he won’t, and I don’t truly want him to. Not now.
What will happen when we’re back in New York?
“Come on,” he says. “Back to your villa.”
He takes my hand, and we walk to the door. He unlocks it with a dull click, and the thud of music and soft moans leaks into the room. We let ourselves out into the hall and walk the short distance to the boardwalk outside.
Holden waits for me to take the lead and I do, walking back toward my villa. It only takes a couple minutes, but the tension between us grows with each step.
We halt in the sand outside my front door. “Thank you,” I say and lean in to kiss him. “Would you like to come in for some coffee?”
He pecks my forehead, lets go of my hands, and steps back. “I have to go,” he replies.
“What? Why?” My heart thuds in my chest.
“This was a mistake. A big fucking mistake. It can’t happen again.” Holden runs his fingers through his blond hair and steps back. “I’m sorry, Danielle. I can’t jeopardize what we have going on.” And with that, he turns on his heel and strides off across the sand, without a backward glance.
My insides curl into a ball of shame and I hover there, watching.
Is this what heartbreak feels like?
Chapter 8
Joey
I watch my asshole brother stride away from Dani’s villa, my fingers digging into the rough bark of the palm tree, my loose slacks tugged by the breeze. He’s effectively given up on her, on the reason I even invited her here in the first place. And if he’s given up on her, why the hell would I worry about his opinion?
Dani stands there, staring after him, her mouth half open and her skin flushed.
Did they have sex?
Naturally, they must have, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Her eyes brim with tears, and my soul fills with anger. I don’t know this chick, apart from how she feels in my hands and on my dick, but I’m furious anyway. Maybe it’s because Holden has done this to her.
There can’t be another reason for it.
Dani steps back inside her villa and shuts the front door. Silence reigns, broken only by the gentle sweep of water on sand and distant laughter or something softer, more sexual.
Fuck it.
Dani deserves a good evening. Better than what my brother’s given her.
I wait another ten minutes, with my back to her door, staring out at the ocean, and the reflection of the moon on its waters.
Finally, I slip out from behind the palm tree and stride toward the front of her house, shaking my head. This is stupid, it’s dangerous, but I haven’t thought about anything other than her since this afternoon.
I was the one who invited her here. I was the one who claimed her first. Rightfully, I should have the chance to spend the weekend with her. And if he’s going to toss out his chance like this…
You can’t betray him like this. She can’t know, yet.
I halt in front of her door, clear my throat.
I’m not the guy who hesitates. I party. I fuck. I enjoy my life.
This is new fucking territory for me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like to share.
I look down at my jeans and loose cotton shirt—the shirt is different than my brother’s, but in the time since he left, it’s likely he might’ve changed.
Christ, this is sleazy. But I can’t tell her yet. Not yet. Soon, but not now, when she’s upset, and she needs someone to help her feel good.
What scares me is I’m not sure feeling good will entail sex. And I don’t even mind.
Dani’s elusive. Whatever she’s done to me is magic. The taste of her, the feel of her, is embedded in my mind.
She’s supposed to be my brother’s. That’s got to be the attraction. She’s supposed to be his, and I can’t stand that I don’t get her, instead.
I knock on the door, then tuck my hands behind my back and wait.
Footsteps, the rattle of a latch, and then the door swings inward.
Dani stands on the threshold, wearing a pair of loose cotton shorts and a camisole, her nipples pricking at the fabric. Hourglass figure, so sweet and tight, but none of that matters, now.
Her eyes are puffy and red. Her hair is damp from the shower.
“Holden,” she whispers.
“Mr. Long.” I can’t do this if she calls me by his name. I extend my hand to her. “I’m sorry.” Words I never fucking say. I’m never sorry for anything. Never doubt anything, but I’m apologizing on my brother’s behalf. As much as I love him, he can be a jackass sometimes. “I was… confused.”
She swallows but doesn’t take my hand. She folds her arms across her chest and squishes her breasts together, struggling to maintain eye contact. She’s so voluptuous, yet so tight at the same time.
The woman is my fucking Aphrodite.
“Confused,” she says.
“Yes, I hope you understand why.” I don’t even understand why. If this woman was my nanny, I’d have fucked her long ago. Shit, the thought of a live-in caretaker who looks like this… my dick twitches. “Things are complicated. Let’s go for a walk. We’ll talk it out.” I’m not asking because I’m not used to asking for anything.
I take what I want. Always.
“I—” She purses her lips, those kissable, fuckable lips, and inhales through her nose. “Mr. Long, maybe you were right. Maybe it’s better if—”
I raise my index finger and press it to her lips. “Don’t think this weekend. Let’s make a deal. We’ll forget everything else and focus on this, together, the sand, the beach, the moon. We’ll deal with all that other shit later on.” Her lips are hot against my skin. She breathes against me and I picture that on my neck, on my dick. “Let’s walk.”
I take her hand, and she shuts the door behind her. She’s barefoot, cute, and a little cold. She wraps her arm around her waist and holds it there.
“There were no coats in the closet,” she says and shakes her head. “Weird. There’s every type of lingerie, there are whips and even ball gags, but no coats. This is a strange place.”
“Here,” I say and stop short. I unbutton my shirt and strip it off, then hand it over to her.
She bows her head and shadows envelop half her face, the other half illuminated by the moon overhead. “Thanks,” she says and slips it on. She sniffs the collar, then frowns.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing, it’s just—nothing.”
We link hands again and walk across the sand together, a slow pace, drowning in the moonlight and the sounds of water lapping the beach. Crisp wind tugs at the shirt she clasps to her breasts and chills my skin.
We stop just beyond the line of water, still hand-in-hand.
She turns to me, traces my body with her gaze. “I love your tattoos. I’ve never seen them before. Around the house, I mean.”
“No talk about the house. Or tattoos,” I reply. Specifically, not the meaning of the twins on my chest, back to back. Warriors. Brothers. “Talk to me about you. About your future. About what you want.”
She chews her bottom lip and releases it, slowly. “I—well, you already know I want to be a pilot.”
“Yeah,”
I say and nod, though I had no fucking clue. I don’t know her at all, and Holden does. Christ, that bites my balls.
A pilot. That’s something special. How did she end up as a nanny?
“I know,” I say, at last. “But we’ve never discussed it in detail.” Even now, standing side by side, we’re too far apart. I twirl her into my arms and hold her close.
She lets out an adorable yelp.
I take in the sight of her, the curve of her nose and arch of her strong cheekbones. Perfect American beauty. “Tell me more about it. Tell me more about what you want.”
“What I want,” she repeats, almost as if talking to me like this is a dream, like she’s drifting through it toward me. “I want to travel the world. I want to see things that I’ve never seen. Experience cities and countries. I want to fly.”
“You want to be free,” I say.
She wants to live like I do. She wants my life. So, she’s not made for Holden after all.
“Yes,” she replies.
“Usually, it’s the opposite.”
“What? That women want to settle down?” She raises an eyebrow at me, and I absorb that defiance.
“People do. Everyone wants a home and a family to go back to.” Except for me.
“And so do you,” she says. “I—I’m sorry things have been difficult for you, lately.”
“It’s fine.” I wave that away. “I try not to think about that stuff too much.” I release her, because holding her like this and talking about my brother’s home life makes me cringe hard, then take her hand again and walk her back down the beach. “So, you’re saving up to study.”
“Yes.” She nods, and once again, she’s lit up from the inside out. She stalls again, tugs on my fingers. “Holde—Mr. Long, did you invite me here? Was all of this planned?”
Fuck. If only I could tell you the truth. But I have to figure out what I want to do about this, other than fuck her senseless again. “No. It was a surprise to see you here,” I reply. And that’s true. The first time I laid eyes on her she knocked me over.
Tan and long-legged and tempting rolled into one.
Her brow wrinkles.
“Come on,” I say. “It’s getting late.” And if I stay out here a minute longer with her, I’ll take her in the sand. She doesn’t need that right now. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.