Forbidden Three

by Kira Blakely

  She trembles.

  I stroke her clitoris, a gentle flick made slippery with her own juices.

  She throws her arms around my neck and cries out.

  “That’s right,” I say. “I’m going to make you come.” I kiss her cheek open mouthed, and trail a line of hot kisses to her ear lobe, then suck it. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t remember yourself,” I whisper, and circle her clit. “You’re mine now.”

  She digs her nails into my shirt, and I like it that way. She’s naked, and I’ve got my shirt and pants on, just my dick out, seeking her.

  I place it at her slick yet tiny entrance and guide it slowly.

  She tenses and I move away from her ear, back to her lips. “Slow,” I promise, then part her lips with mine and taste her mouth. “Slow. Say you want it. I want to hear you say it.”

  “I want it,” she whispers. “I’m yours. Take me.”

  Chapter 5

  Heather

  “Take it,” I say again, and cling to him.

  The distant groans of the sex party down the beach rise and fall, some lost beneath the thump of music, others rising to greet us. God, I’ve never wanted anything as much in my life. But I’m scared.

  The nerves have redoubled, but the need for him is stronger. My skin prickles, goosebumps rise, and I anticipate the pain.

  He enters me bit by bit, slow as he promised. He sheathes himself inside me – a sharp pang of pain, followed by the pleasure, radiating alongside it.

  I bite down on my lip and keep from crying out. It’s hot and sore and so good, nothing like I expected. As the waves crash on the sand, pleasure rolls over me.

  The masked man with piercing blue eyes, now slightly glazed, halts his thrust and waits. He studies my face with care, gauges my reaction.

  He’s worried he’s hurting you.

  I swallow. “I’m fine,” I manage, because the need chokes me up.

  He doesn’t hesitate, moves inside me, filling me up and gliding. His shirt scrapes against my bare chest, and tickles me. I squirm and wrap my legs around him instinctively.

  I’m in shock, caught between breaths and pulse racing. This is happening. It’s actually happening.

  He strokes my hair, then tugs on it lightly, and thrusts a little harder.

  I cry out and tighten my grip on him, kiss him again, probe his mouth, tasting, needing more, more, more. His tongue tastes of champagne and I inhale him, reveling in the smell, the taste, the brush of his tongue against mine.

  “More,” I groan. “Faster.” It springs from my lips. “I’m ready.”

  He increases the pressure, braces his knees and drives into me, deeper than before, stretching me, increasing both pain and pleasure with those strong thrusts, his dick claiming the soft, warm core no one has taken before.

  “Mine,” he grunts, and thrusts deep again, spearing me with ecstasy, his pubic hair grazing my clit and taking me higher still. He halts and I blink – it can’t possibly be over, can it?

  He presses a finger to my lips, just below my mask. “You’re mine.”

  “Uh huh,” I say.

  “I mean it. You don’t touch anyone else this weekend. You’re mine,” he repeats. “My forbidden vixen.”

  “Okay,” I say, and tighten around him. This talk builds that pressure inside me, feeding a furnace.

  “Say you’re mine.” His dick is the center point of my existence right now, and it’s so hard. He can take the pleasure away or bring more, and I want all of it. I want everything he has to offer. He cups my cheek in his hand, then strokes my bottom lip.

  He bends down, sucks on it and pulls, then pounds into me again.

  “Oh, god, I’m yours. I’m yours, Daddy.” Shit, what? Did I just call him –?

  “Daddy,” he growls, “I like that. You’ll call me that from now on. I’m Daddy, and you’re my vixen.”

  I writhe beneath him and reach for the buttons of his shirt. I tear at them, but my fingers shake too much to get them open. He uses one hand and rips the shirt open – buttons ping off into the sand.

  His chest is an expanse of muscle, knotted and slick with sweat. Beads trace down his pecs and drip onto my breasts. I grab them and massage – I want to feel good, I want to feel everything.

  Daddy watches me from behind the mask, his eyes glinting by the torchlight. All I have to go on are his lips, not too thin, not too full, now parted, his tongue resting between his teeth, and those eyes. He devours me with them and moves inside me again.

  He’s on both elbows, angling his body so his abdomen presses against my clit with every thrust. He’s deep, so deep, and he’s taking me somewhere I’ve never gone before with a man.

  I arch my back off the sand, press my breasts into him. My eyes roll back in my head.

  “Daddy,” I groan. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” I chant the mantra over and over.

  He captures my lips again and kisses me hard. “Good,” he growls. “Good girl. Come for me.”

  I tense beneath him and sail toward the crest of a wave. Everything whites out, except for him. He’s the world and he’s taking me there with even thrusts, his slick torso pressed against mine.

  “Come for me,” he grunts.

  I explode over the edge, crash into the waves of pleasure. They swell around me, overwhelm me, and I clench tight around his cock, massaging him, pulsing through my orgasm.

  I’m frozen, eyes closed, in a stupor.

  “Jesus, you’re tight.” His dick hardens further. His thrusts are desperate, fast and hard.

  I rock through my orgasm and grip my breasts, my mouth open.

  He sucks the tip of my tongue, then jams into me one more time. He spurts inside me, groaning as he does, a long low rumble of sound.

  “Yes,” I manage. “Yes, Daddy.”

  His orgasm coincides with the aftershocks of mine. He spasms inside me one last time, filling me up for the first time, then lays on top of me, breathing hard.

  I inhale the sea salt and the scent of his skin, then shut my eyes.

  It’s over. It’s finally over. I’m not a virgin anymore. No, I’m not. I’m his for the weekend, and I don’t even know his name.

  Chapter 6

  Nicholas

  I stand on the wraparound porch of my villa and hold the glass of orange juice to my lips. I haven’t taken a sip since I lifted it from the tray in my living room. Thoughts from yesterday, my girl’s body beneath me, have taken me to another fucking plane of existence.

  I’ve never come so hard as I did with her. I filled that pussy with all I had and I’ll do it again.

  And her smell… it’s something special, a scent that unlocked a hidden desire. The floral scent, so light and fragrant, is familiar to me. I can’t place where I’ve smelled it before.

  I finally take a sip of the orange juice and savor the tang on the sides of my tongue.

  She’s tastier. I’ve named her my vixen, but the curiosity has already seeped through my veins. I want to know who she is.

  My cell phone rings inside the villa, and I squeeze my eyes closed. “Fuck,” I mutter.

  Mystique Island has a strict no cell phones policy for this exact reason. It breaks the fucking magic of the moment. I can’t disconnect from work for too long, though, and sneaking in a few calls here and there can’t hurt.

  I walk back into the living room, the floors of polished wood creak beneath my steps, and I lift the phone from the mantel where I left it. Jake’s number flashes on the screen.

  I put down the glass of OJ, then answer. “Son,” I say. “You should be at work.”

  “I am at work,” he replies, and I pre-empt the annoying whine. “Dad, it’s bullshit. This guy is a total dictator. I’m not going to handle working for him.”

  “Then you’ll be out of Columbia by the end of the week,” I say.

  “Can’t I just work for you?” he asks.

  “No,” I reply. I’ve always hoped that my son would take over the reins
at the Plug, but he’s fucking hapless currently. A couple weeks of grinding it out at a local store will put some steel in his spine.

  “Seriously?” he hisses, then hangs up.

  Little prick. He’s on the fast road to a wakeup call that will be very unpleasant for him, and will be none of my doing. I place the phone on the mantel again, but this time, I hold in the button on its side and turn it off.

  I’ll stick to the Island’s rules from now on.

  There’s a mixer on the beach – I can make out the thrum of noise from my oceanfront villa – and I snatch up my mask and put it on. Hopefully, my girl will be down there, waiting for me, and if not, I’ll fucking find her.

  I need to fill her again, to feel her walls close around me, taste her mouth and that soft skin at her neck. She’ll be my drug while I’m on Mystique.

  I check my reflection in the mirror and nod. Forty-two years old and I’m still working out, not a hint of gray in my hair, with a dick thick enough to please hundreds of women. Except, I don’t want hundreds of women. I learned my damn lesson years ago, when I fell for Jake’s mother and ultimately lost her.

  I want no one.

  Except that’s not technically true anymore. I want my girl, my vixen, and I want her now.

  I head out the front door, clomp down the three wood steps that lead onto a dirt path between two hedges. I like it this way – closed off and private. I requested it from Blake, my buddy who owns the island. The idea seemed pretty fucking far out at first, but now? I won’t look back.

  I reach the sand, kick off my shoes, then hit the sand. My feet sink into the silken whiteness and I relish that sensation – this is what a vacation is supposed to be. Relaxation, and a gorgeous woman begging for it.

  Mine. She’s mine for the weekend.

  I walk down to the party, the same spot where the picnic baskets had been the night before, and past a couple fucking on the sand. He’s got her leg pinned back and her pussy on display, pounding her with every inch he has. Her tits bounce beneath the two fabric triangles of her bikini.

  She’s hot, but she’s not my girl.

  I walk on and take a seat on one of the beach chairs, shaded by a colorful umbrella, near a volleyball net. Scantily glad women jog around and giggle, their bodies tight or curvy. Different shapes for different tastes. Vixen isn’t among them.

  I rub my palms together and settle back, close my eyes. Giggles, a soft moan from behind me, and the thump of the ball hitting the sand. The sun beats down on my skin, and I tug off my t-shirt, careful not to unseat the mask.

  Where is she? She should be here.

  I sit up again and look around.

  And there she is, walking across the sand toward me, wearing nothing but a tiny gold bikini. It sits against her tan skin and teases me. It’s almost invisible because of the hue.

  She approaches, casts sideways glances at the others on the beach, but everyone’s lost in their own private joy.

  Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and strands of hair escape it and flutter across her mask. She catches them and tucks them behind her ear.

  “Vixen,” I say, and pat my crotch. “Take a seat.”

  She licks her lips, hesitates, then sidles over. She straddles me and sinks onto my lap.

  I tuck her legs up onto the chair, her tits jouncing from the motion. One of her nipples escapes and she lets out a muted cry and tugs the tiny triangle of glittering fabric over it.

  “Shy?” I ask.

  “I’m – I guess,” she says. “I’m not used to all of this.” She nods to the women playing volleyball, and the couple two beach chairs over. The woman there has her mouth wrapped around her partner’s cock. She winks at me as she sucks him off.

  Vixen stiffens and lays across my chest, claiming me.

  I grin at her. “It works both ways,” I say. “You’re mine for the weekend, and I’m yours.”

  Her shoulders relax a little and she shrugs. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We’ll never see each other after this, so it’s okay.”

  I grasp her chin and lift it, make sure she’s connecting with me for real. “Hey,” I say, “it matters. It fucking matters.”

  “It does?” Her pussy rests against my dick, already stiffening for her again.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Nobody touches you but me. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she whispers.

  Chapter 7

  Heather

  I’m intoxicated by him.

  He’s a powerful man whose face I’ve never seen, but he’s made me come and writhe and moan his name. He’s made me promise to be his for the weekend, and if he asked it, at this point I might even promise to be his for longer than that.

  This isn’t what I expected. I’d figured I’d eventually work up the confidence to fuck someone, but this?

  I’m wild, and free, and he’s the one who did this to me.

  I lie against his chest and listen to his heartbeat, a steady tha-thump beneath me. His dick, hard again, is trapped between us, a reminder of what we shared last night. I move against him, gently, a circular motion, barely noticeable.

  “Careful, girl,” he says.

  I gulp and look up at him. His lips are inches from mine, and his eyes bore into mine above the rims of his matte-white mask.

  Motion draws my focus to the beach chair beside us. A masked man lies down and two naked women join him. Everything is exposed, apart from their faces. They kneel either side of him. One kisses him, the other fumbles with the tie on his shorts.

  “Do you want to leave?” Daddy asks me.

  I shake my head. I want to see it. I blush at that particular realization. This is beyond naughty. It fascinates me.

  The women ignore us. The blonde finally gets his dick out of his shorts and doesn’t waste a second. She locks her lips over his head and sucks on it, moaning as she does.

  The brunette kissing him looks up and smiles. She gets up and steps over the chair, lines herself up with his face.

  I’m tense all over, waiting for what happens next. My pussy is already clenched tight.

  The brunette sways from side to side, capturing the man’s gaze with her own, even as the blonde strokes his dick and sucks, noisily.

  He grins up at the brunette and crooks a finger.

  She lowers herself and presses her pussy to his face, gripping the pole of the umbrella behind his chair for leverage. She places her other hand on his forehead, then rocks back and forth and fucks his face, leaving wetness on his lips, his chin, the tip of his nose.

  I can’t tear myself from what’s happening. I can’t possibly tighten any more than I already have. I spare a glance for Daddy.

  He watches them, too, and his dick pulses against my bikini bottoms. Two layers of fabric between us and we might as well be naked. I’m ready for him, but I can’t work up the courage to say it out loud.

  The blonde chokes on the man’s dick, grins and wipes dribble from her bottom lip. She gets up, turns around, and sits down, guiding his cock to her entrance. She slides it inside and he groans against the brunette’s pussy lips.

  The noises intensify – grunts and groans, the wet slap of flesh, and the soft gasps. I want it, too. I want all of that, but with Daddy.

  I lick my lips and meet his gaze. I’m not even sure how to suggest it.

  Daddy grasps my elbows and helps me sit up, then stand.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, and glance at the trio beside us. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to miss a second of this. I’ve already wet the golden triangle between my legs.

  “You,” he replies, then stands, too. He strips off his slacks, then rips down my bikini bottoms, and runs a hand over the curve of my ass cheek. He slaps it once.

  I shudder at the sharp pain. “Now?” I ask.

  “Bend over,” he says. “Knees on the chair.”

  I follow his instructions, right away. I get up on the chair, and my breasts pop free of the bikini top. I’m past caring. I lean my f
orearms on the back of the chair and rest my head on them, look over at the threesome.

  They’ve already changed positions.

  The blonde lies on her back, the brunette between her legs, eating her pussy, sucking her clit, running fingers between her lips and probing her, all while the masked man fucks her from behind, watching.

  I breathe hard, look back over my shoulder at Daddy.

  He’s naked, and his dick puts the other man’s to shame. He’s thick and already dripping. He steps up to me, but doesn’t enter me. He drops out of sight.

  I gasp. “Oh, god!”

  His tongue sweeps between my pussy lips. He inserts it inside me and eats, feasts. God, he’s everywhere, his fingers digging into the meat of my ass, his lips sucking on my clit now, tongue circling it.

  I arch my back and rock along to this fresh new indulgence. Each caress of his tongue sends shocks of electricity through my core. I shiver and my nipples pucker.

  Next to us, the blonde writhes on the beach chair. She grips a handful of the brunette’s hair and thrusts her hips upward. “I’m coming,” she cries out.

  The brunette doesn’t let up, merely moans and drinks down more of her flavor, smacks her lips.

  I’m close, too. Daddy’s lips and tongue are expert. They circle my clit and probe my folds, my entrance. He slurps and sucks again, and I rocket toward my first orgasm of the day. Somehow, I know there will be many more.

  Chapter 8

  Nicholas

  The sun beats down on my back and brings droplets of sweat from my skin. I suck on Vixen’s tight pussy, then run a finger over the white flesh on either side of her pink folds. She quivers, so close to coming I can already taste it.

  I want her to come on my face, but not as bad as I want to feel her coming on my cock again.

  I get up before she comes and grasp the base of my dick, guide it to her slick opening.

  “Please,” she whimpers and turns her head to catch me in her gaze. “Daddy, I need your dick.”