Forbidden Three

by Kira Blakely

  Nicholas Bennett… Jake’s father.

  The day we met, he’d come to fetch his son for the short break between terms. He brushed up against me and sent heat spiraling through my core, a reaction that left me speechless.

  Nicholas had been in a tight white cotton t-shirt that hugged the muscles of his arms and chest. Jeans tight against his thighs. And the smell – the lightest, greenest cologne. His eyes cut into me, probed me – bright blue and hungry, and his lips had seemed soft, parted to greet me.

  I picture kissing him, then clear my throat.

  “No one,” I say, firmly. “Becky, I don’t know anyone who’d help me out. And I don’t think – this is going to sound out there – but I don’t think I’d want to do it with someone I know really well, anyway. If I’m going to just, you know, get it out of the way, it would be way better to do it with someone I’ll probably never hook up with again. That way I know there won’t be rumors about it around here, and it will have less meaning.” No risk of me falling for a tall, handsome stranger if I know I’ll never see him again.

  Becky’s lips twitch. “Good,” she says. “Then I’m glad I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  Becky gets up from the sofa and rushes back to her bedroom. She’s back in two seconds, holding out a golden envelope, embossed with my name in diamantes. I take it from her, and the thick golden paper is waxy beneath my touch. “What’s this?”

  “It’s an invitation,” Becky says, and wriggles on the spot as if she’s got to pee. Or as if she’s got the best secret in the world and I’m about to find out what it is. “This is the best thing that will ever happen to you. Open it.”

  I turn the envelope over and brush my fingers over its back, and to the small diamond – is that a real one?! – attached to its back. I open it carefully, and it comes free with a small tick.

  Inside, I find a single sheet of paper.

  Miss Heather Henderson,

  You are formally invited to join us for the Halloween Party on Mystique Island. Masks will be required at all times during the course of your stay over the weekend. All clothing, food, and accommodation will be provided for you.

  Welcome to the sexiest event of your life.

  “What is this?” I ask, and flap the letter at her. “Becky?”

  “It’s a sex party,” she replied.

  “Are you – are you crazy?!”

  “No.” Becky sits down beside me and offers me a smile fraught with ‘naughty’ intent. “Every few months, Mystique Island throws an event like this.”

  “An event.”

  “Yes, basically, Mystique is owned by a billionaire and he invites all his billionaire buddies to the island for parties like this. The rich dudes pay for everything, and if you’re lucky enough to get an invitation, you get an all-expenses paid vacation for three days on a Caribbean island.”

  My brow wrinkles. “What’s the catch? You have to have sex with them? That sounds a little like – you know.”

  “No, it’s not like that. You can have sex if you want to, and that’s encouraged. The more partners the better, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Pleasure comes in many forms. That’s what they say at initiation, anyway.” Becky takes both my hands in hers and squeezes. “I really want you to do this with me. I had to pull serious strings to get you an invite on short notice. Please, please, come with me. It will be the perfect way for you to lose your v-card and have some fun.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, and look down at the letter.

  It has a certain allure, the gold, the diamonds, and the idea of getting away, maybe even losing this damn virginity.

  “It’s one hundred percent safe,” Becky says. “They do tests before you get access to the island to make sure everyone’s clean. And birth control is a requirement. You’re already on it, right?”

  I am on it – I started it in high school on my mother’s insistence. “Yeah,” I whisper.

  “So?” Becky asks, and elbows me.

  The page flick-flacks in my hand. I nod, slowly. “Yeah, all right,” I say, at last, and I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this. Have I lost it?

  Not yet. But maybe on Mystique Island, you’ll have the chance.

  Chapter 2

  Nicholas

  “I don’t give a shit if you’re not happy about it, kid; you’re taking the job and you’re staying there for the weekend, get it?” I pace back and forth in front of the massive walnut desk in my office, holding the golden envelope from Mystique Island in my hand.

  “But, Dad! I don’t want to work at a fucking video store. What’s the point? We have loads of cash. It’s not like I need the income,” Jake replies, ever the wise ass.

  “We? Jake, we don’t have money. I have money, and you have been wasting it ever since you started at Columbia. You failed two courses last year. This is not a discussion; this is a command. Start working at the store and earn the money for your tuition.”

  “This is bullshit,” Jake grumbles. “I don’t want to –”

  “Earn it or drop out,” I say.

  That puts an end to his complaints. I love my kid like there’s no tomorrow, but he’s driven me mad lately. He’s always complaining, taking shit for granted, even though I busted my ass working to create a future for him.

  The life of a single parent isn’t easy.

  “And, Jake, I don’t want to hear about any problems from the owner of that store. One issue and you’re out of college, got it?”

  “Yes,” he mutters. He knows better than to go against one of my directives.

  My tone softens at last. “You don’t have to like it. Just do it. This will be good for you. Teach you a thing or two about work and responsibility.” I say a quick goodbye, then hang up and place my iPhone on the desk.

  I lean against it, roll up my sleeves, and study the front of the golden envelope, embossed with my name. I don’t bother opening it, because I already know what it’s going to say.

  It’s time for another weekend on Mystique Island, the perfect break from work, work, and more work.

  I never mix business with pleasure, and attending these parties is the only way I relax, whether it’s on the beach or beneath the hands of a gorgeous woman.

  But there’s a catch this weekend, and an interesting one. I’ll have to wear a mask, and so will the women. It intrigues me – I originally figured I’d skip this and spend the weekend working, but everything’s fine at the office, and god knows, I need a break for once.

  I slip my finger beneath the lip of the envelope, open it with a soft tick. I slip the sheet out from within and study it.

  Should I go? Should I stay?

  I weigh the golden envelope in one hand and the paper in the other. The masks will spice things up a bit.

  I lean over and press the intercom button on my desk phone. “Janet? Clear my appointments for the weekend. I’m going dark.”

  Chapter 3

  Heather

  I step onto the white sands of the Caribbean beach and lose my breath. It’s exactly like a postcard, just as I’d imagine it – soft, silky sand beneath my bare feet, the gentle kiss of a breeze on my skin, and palm trees lined up against a wooden deck ahead.

  A woman in a form-fitting pantsuit beckons to us, her red hair done up in a bun. Becky and I, and several other women, shuffle toward her, all giggling or talking amongst ourselves, dressed in our travel gear.

  A first-class flight, a boat ride on turquoise waves, and now this – every minute has been worth it so far.

  “Welcome, ladies, I trust your initiation on the boat wasn’t uncomfortable,” the admin lady says.

  We all nod and smile at her because Mystique smacks of… well, of mystery, and we’re here. Nerves burble in the bottom of my belly, but they’re the happy kind.

  “You’ll all be escorted to your villas, immediately, where you’ll change into the dress provided and attend your first evening party,” the admin lady continues. “Please, remem
ber that masks must be worn at all times, even during intercourse.” She’s so matter of fact about it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world – sex will happen. “This is a safe space. If you ever feel uncomfortable, just raise your hand and you will be escorted back to your villa. That’s all.”

  She claps her hands and men appear out of nowhere, dressed in white shirts and beige slacks. One of them steps in front of me wearing a smile that parts his lips over teeth as white as his button down.

  “Hello, Miss Henderson,” he says. “Please, follow me to your villa.” He offers me an arm and I take it. I’m swept off through paradise, past buildings and palm trees, over sand and finally, onto a boarded walkway, over grass, past a trickling stream that leads to a pond between two villas.

  He drops me off in front of the villa, a thatched roof construction with a single door and floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’ll pick you up here in five minutes, ma’am,” he says.

  I hesitate, then slip inside. My bags have already been placed next to a double bed, which is decorated with rose petals and a single slinky black dress. It’s cut low in the front, set to expose so much cleavage I might as well walk into the party naked.

  “What the hell,” I whisper. “Let’s do this.” I never step out of my shell and it’s past time I give it a shot.

  I change quickly, check my reflection in the standing mirror beside the entrance to the bathroom, and flick my hair. I do a quick touch up on my makeup, then let out a low whistle.

  I’m not usually dressed like this.

  The girl in the mirror doesn’t look like me, or at least, not the ‘me’ I’m used to. Her long, tan legs scoop up into an ass that looks like twin bubbles beneath this cloying fabric, and her narrow midriff curve is accentuated by the dress. Her breasts gleam with a sheen of island sweat, peeking out from beneath the thin, silky neckline.

  I square my shoulders and bury my nerves, but they pop up right away. I slip on the glittering mask, which leaves only my lips and eyes exposed, then walk to the exit and open the door.

  The helper dude smiles encouragement and offers his arm again but doesn’t comment on my appearance. It kinda makes me feel good. Like I’ll fit in or like it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He gives me a quizzical look. “To the party, Miss Henderson.” He leads me down the long, wooden path, and the low hum of laughter and talk drifts on the air, alongside a rhythmic beat of music.

  The sun is an orange orb, dipping toward the horizon and long shadows chase across the grass. We head down toward the beach again, and step onto the sand. I’m still barefoot, but I’m not the only one.

  My assistant steps back and out of view, leaving me to mingle with the guests.

  And there are so many guests.

  Men in jeans and shirts or suits, all wearing masks in differing colors. Women in dresses similar to mine, with their own glittering masks. Waiters swerve between them in uniforms, carrying trays of drinks and bite-sized appetizers.

  The music echoes down the beach, complemented by the gentle wash of waves on the sand. I grasp a wicker chair from a row nearby and ease myself into it, accept a flute of champagne from one of the waiters – also masked.

  Mystery is in the air, and something else, too. It’s in the glances of the women, some of whom saunter over to the masked men, swaying their hips. It’s in the gentle caresses doled out by the men, sweeping fingers down backs, or resting them on necks or faces.

  I swallow panic. Where the hell is Becky?

  I glug back some of the alcohol and search for her in the crowd but I can’t tell who is who. The back of my neck prickles, I spin around, and meet the crystal blue gaze of a man nearby. He leans casually against the bar, and his gaze sweeps up and down my body, dancing over it.

  My insides tighten and I jerk upright.

  He tilts his head to one side, raises a finger, beckons.

  I can’t shake my head. I can’t do anything but stare at him.

  He’s taller than most of the men at the party, and he fills out his shirt. His biceps tug at his sleeves, his thighs are encased in a pair of beige slacks, and I force myself not to focus on his bulge.

  He tugs fingers through wavy brown hair, which looks soft as silk by the light of the flickering torches pegged in the sand, and he won’t quit watching me.

  Another tightening inside my body, but this is different. It’s hot and tingly, and oh, god, I actually want to go over to him. Am I crazy? I came all the way out here, but now… it’s so out there, so in my face, and I’m struggling to catch up.

  A moan breaks the moment, and I look over at the source.

  Two steps from me, a couple are wrapped around each other. The masked man holds one of the woman’s legs up, exposing her pussy to the warm dusk breeze. He runs two fingers between her lips, and she moans again.

  I’m frozen. My heart races, my body responds – nipples pucker, tingling deep within my core. Oh, god, why is this so hot? It’s so hot!

  The masked man inserts two fingers inside his partner and she slaps her hands down on his shoulders, clings to him, and lets out a feral growl this time.

  Heat creeps up my neck, accompanied by the acute awareness that masked blue-eyes watches me, still.

  The couple topple to the sand. He rips down the slope of her neckline and suckles on her right breast, still working his fingers deep inside her. His dick is already out, glistening with pre-cum. She fumbles for it, grasps it between her thighs, and starts stroking his shaft. The man’s breath hitches.

  It’s all too much for me. Wetness drips between my thighs. I feel the need to stay and watch, even though it’s not like anything I’ve witnessed before. What if someone grabs me just like he grabbed her? Am I about to have public sex with a stranger for my first time?

  I hesitate, spare one glance for the masked man by the bar, and then I run for the palm trees, away from the noises of sex and toward the crash of waves.

  Chapter 4

  Nicholas

  She’s running. The young blonde who caught my eye runs from the visions of sex and satisfaction, toward the line of palms. It has to be her first time here.

  I follow.

  I’ve never seen something I’ve wanted and not gone for it. I want her. I want her body against mine, her pussy tightening on my cock as I pulse inside her. Raw, skin on skin. I want it and I’m going to get it.

  I stride across the sand, drawn on by her temerity. She seems innocent, the wide-eyed look, the flush which crept up her neck at the moans. Fucking perfection. I’ll make her groan and writhe just like that.

  I catch up to her beneath the palms. She leans against one of them, her head tilted back to expose an expanse of succulent neck, her eyes closed. One hand is between her legs, pressed against the fabric of her teeny tiny dress.

  “It’s only worse if you run,” I say.

  She gasps and opens her eyes, snaps her arms to her sides. “W-what?”

  “Delayed gratification. It made you hot, seeing them like that,” I say. “Why run?”

  “I – It’s my first time,” she says. Her voice is smooth and sweet, almost musical, but not too high-pitched. A fine wine.

  “I’ll show you around,” I say, and gesture to the picnic spot up ahead. Blankets have already been laid out on the sand, between the torches, next to baskets. None of the partygoers have moved over to them yet. They’re all high on the arrival.

  “No, I mean –” She sucks in a breath and chews on one full bottom lip. “It’s my first time ever… having sex. I’m a virgin.”

  My cock stiffens, immediately, desperate to be free and claim her. “That’s good,” I say, and take a single step closer. “You want to lose it.” That has to be why she’s here.

  “Yes,” she says.

  I don’t ask why. It’s not important, right now, only that she wants this. Her breasts rise and fall rapidly, she breathes hard and glances down at the front of my pants. She presse
s her lips together.

  “You don’t mind?” she asks, softly. “That I’m a – that it’s my first time?”

  I close the distance between us in two strides and press my body against hers, my crotch into her abdomen. “Does it feel like I mind?” I capture her dainty wrists in my fingers, encircle them and pin them above her head. I grind into her, real slow, and her eyelids flutter.

  “Oh – my,” she whispers.

  “I’ll take it for you,” I say.

  Her lips part, she nods ever so slightly, and I release her from the tree, and lead her back to the beach where the blankets wait. I slip her dress off her shoulders and expose perky tits, tan lines from a bikini cutting across her skin, pale triangles around pink nipples, and her pussy, hairless.

  The gentle thrum of music and the ocean itself provide the perfect backdrop.

  I take her hand and place it on my dick, still trapped by my pants.

  She gasps. “It’s big. It’s too –”

  I unzip the pants for her, draw out my length and place her hand on it. It’s big, all right, thick and hungry for her, already wet from the anticipation of claiming her first time, claiming her virginity as mine.

  She strokes my shaft, runs fingers over my head. I take her hand again, this time to guide her down onto the blanket. She lies back, brown eyes wide, her lips parted. I can’t see the rest of her face, but I can tell this rocks her world, her very existence.

  “I –” she stammers and looks down at her body, her tits bouncing slightly, so full and begging to be touched, to be sucked and licked.

  “I’ll go slow,” I say, and lie down on top of her. Christ, it’s been so fucking long since I’ve had a woman, especially one who’s this gorgeous, untouched, and smells of ocean, champagne, and light, floral perfume.

  I’m already throbbing for her, fucking aching to be inside her and feel the velvet warmth of her walls, the tight wetness.

  I brace myself on my elbows, then reach between us and slide my fingers between her pussy lips. She’s swollen and dripping, so wet she’s already dripped all over her thighs. We haven’t even kissed yet and she’s this ready for me.