Forbidden Three

by Kira Blakely

  I haven’t bothered putting on underwear. I figured this would happen again, hoped for it, actually.

  Our masks are still on and I don’t ask to remove them. It’s against the rules, sure, but butterflies bounce around in my stomach.

  “I loved tasting your cunt,” he says.

  My breath catches in my chest, and arousal floods me, starts in my solar plexus and radiates outward, washing through me in seconds. “It’s not fair,” I manage.

  “What?” His fingers reach higher, to the crease between my thigh and the shaven mound awaiting him again.

  “You’ve had me,” I say, and swallow, work up the courage. “But I haven’t had you.”

  His bright blue eyes flash, and he releases me, settling back against the sofa cushions. “You can have whatever you want,” he says, and unzips his pants. He pulls them down and exposes himself.

  Already hard, but not dripping yet. I can remedy that.

  I scooch around on the sofa and get on my hands and knees beside him.

  He watches me, head cocked to one side, his plain white mask disguising the parts of his face I’d love to see. I want to know this man, but I can’t. I’ll settle for tasting him.

  I grasp his dick and bring myself even closer, bend toward him, sticking my ass in the air. The bottom of my dress creeps up and cold air washes over my pussy lips.

  Daddy reaches around and spanks me once, twice. “What are you waiting for?”

  I take him into my mouth and suck gently, use my tongue to circle the ridge around his head.

  He growls and I slurp up the first drops of his pre-cum, spread them on my tongue. He tastes good, like clean skin and a little salt. I want more of him, more of that addictive essence.

  “Wait,” he says, lifting my chin with a finger. I look into his eyes. “Yeah, just like that. Spit in your hand. Work my shaft with it.”

  I do as I’m told, spit in my hand and slide it up and down the thick length of his cock. It’s better this way. There’s not a chance I’ll get all of it in my mouth. I clamp my lips around his head again and move in time with the beat of my strokes.

  Daddy grasps a handful of my hair, the other hand rests behind his head. He closes his eyes.

  I suck hard and pop free, and he jerks a little, bumps the corner of his mask. It slips a little and I continue sucking, watching him, eager for another glimpse of skin. If it comes off, I’ll have a face to remember when I’m back at Columbia.

  I go deep this time and gag a little on his dick.

  He jerks again and this time, the masks slips down and exposes the left half of his face. The closed eye, a strong, sharp nose. My insides turn to ice; recognition stalls my movements.

  Daddy is… oh, my god. Daddy is Nicholas Bennett.

  I’m sucking off my ex-boyfriend’s father. The same man I crushed on during my relationship, felt guilty about and shoved out of my thoughts, was the man who’d buried his tongue in my pussy and squirted cum all over it after.

  “Oh, god,” I say. “Your mask.”

  He opens those crystal blue eyes and feels for it. Fixes it back in place. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he says, casually. He has no idea who I am.

  God, what will he do if he finds out? I was his son’s girlfriend.

  “What are you doing?” Nicholas asks.

  Oh my god. Oh my god.

  “Huh?”

  “Keep going,” he says, and gestures to his dick. My hand’s still wrapped around it and it’s wet with my spit.

  Slowly, I move forward again, place my lips around his head and suck. It feels so dirty, so wrong. He’s my ex’s father, and he tastes so fucking good I could cry. Every fantasy I’ve had about him—they were much tamer than the truth of our connection—screams back into my mind.

  I suck harder, lick and work my tongue around his head, focus on the sensitive spout where the ridges meet. I want to taste my ex’s father’s cum. I want to drink it up.

  Nicholas Bennett is the fantasy I’ve harbored for an entire year, and now he’s in my grasp.

  “Yeah.” He nods. “That’s right.”

  “Come for me, Daddy,” I say. “I want to taste your cum.”

  He jerks his head downward and skewers me with a stare. “Not before you come,” he replies, then grips my wrist.

  We shift around on the sofa, so that he’s lying flat on his back. I crawl onto his body, my mouth at his dick and my dripping pussy just above his face. Nicholas, oh my god, it’s Nicholas. I still can’t reconcile the truth, and I can’t stop either.

  He’s already claimed me as his and I want it to stay that way.

  “Sit on my face,” he says, and takes hold of both my ass cheeks. He pulls me toward him and his tongue dances over my clit, collects my wetness, spreads it over my pussy again. “Fuck, you’re almost there, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper.

  He slaps my ass hard, follows it up with a kiss on my pussy lips. “Suck me.”

  I dive in again and take his throbbing length into my mouth, as much of it as I can fit. We settle into a rhythm, him eating me, slurping and grunting at the taste, and me moaning around his dick.

  Shocks of pleasure streak through my core, and I work my pussy on his face, back and forth, brushing my lips against his tongue.

  “That’s right,” he says. “Just like that, naughty girl. You’re mine.”

  “Oh, god, Daddy,” I hiss.

  “You like that? You like hearing that?” he asks between sucks and kisses.

  I gag on his cock. “Uh-huh,” I manage. His taste is a drug to me now. My jaw aches but I’m loving every second of this. Nicholas Bennett is between my lips. I can’t get over it.

  “Good. You’re mine. You’re my girl.”

  I tense up and rock against his face, overwhelmed by the urge to break into pieces.

  “Keep sucking,” he commands.

  And I do, suck and lick, drag out more pleasure from him, even as I crest the rise to my climax. I’m going to come harder than I have before, simply because it’s him.

  My orgasm awakens every inch of me. Every cell is electrified by the white-hot purity pulsing in my core. I cry out but bite my lip to keep from screaming out his real name and giving the game away.

  His dick thickens between my lips. I work his shaft even as I spasm against him, and I’m rewarded by the first spurt of his cum. It hits the back of my throat and I drink it up. A second, a third, a fourth, he jams into my mouth, growling low, lips against my clit. I take everything he has to offer, every drop.

  And after it’s all down, I crawl forward off his body, and sit down neatly on the sofa. The realization hits home again, but this time it’s without the hot sex to distract me from the truth.

  I’ve just fucked and sucked my ex-boyfriend’s father.

  Chapter 12

  Heather

  Nicholas walks beside me, his bare feet whispering along the sand, and his arm around my shoulders. The sun sets on the horizon, as we move between the villas, toward my own personal place.

  “Tomorrow’s the last day,” he says, softly, and kisses my shoulder, right beside the red spaghetti strap that hold my dress up.

  “I know,” I say. Tomorrow, one whole day and night with the man I can never have, and then it’s all over, folks. I’m not sure I can work up the courage to see him again, or rather, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist.

  He’s been my dream since I ran into him in the hall. Since I Google stalked him a year ago. God, how pathetic am I?

  “Are you all right?” He stalls and drags me around to look at him, hidden behind the mask, now. “You’ve been quiet since we left the villa.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just hungry and tired.”

  “Let’s have dinner down at the beach,” he says and brushes my hair from my neck. “Candles, wine, the wash of ocean against the sand.”

  “No,” I say. “No, thank you. I’m super tired. I’d like to get a little sleep. I’ll see you
first thing in the morning.” We’re only a few feet from the front of my villa.

  “As you wish,” he says, and leans in for a kiss.

  He still tastes like me, and it makes it that much harder to walk away. I want to be his for real. I want him to know who I am. but I’m equally terrified and guilty. This is wrong on so many levels.

  Nicholas parts my lips and massages my tongue with his, deepening the kiss.

  I cling to him; my knees give way and he catches me.

  “Oh, sorry to interrupt,” a voice squeaks behind us. The usual unctuous tones from Becky are marred by a high pitch.

  I separate from Nicholas and look over at her. “Hi,” I say, and my heart plummets. What will she say about this? We fought, sure, but she’s still my friend, and we’ll need to get past it, fast, because god knows I need some advice right now.

  “Hi,” Becky replies and adjusts her mask a little. “Are you busy?” Her gaze darts to Nicholas and back to me again. “We need to talk.”

  “I think we do,” I say. I squeeze Nicholas’ hand. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  “The morning.” He nods but sweeps me into another tight embrace. “Assuming I can wait that long,” he breathes, into my ear.

  Goosebumps chase down the back of my neck and I shiver, automatically. I kiss his jaw – it’s the only bit of skin on his face I can access – and fight off a fresh wave of guilt. It feels perfect, like it was meant to be.

  Finally, I step away from him and move toward the entrance to my villa. I glance back and he stands there, hands in his pockets, watching me.

  Becky falls in beside me. “So that’s the mystery man, eh?”

  I remain quiet. If I talk now, it will all come tumbling out before I can figure a way to word it right. Ugh, not that there’s any manner in which to word this right.

  “I’m sorry, Heather,” she says, softly, but I still look over my shoulder to make sure he hasn’t heard.

  Nicholas is gone. The spot where he’d stood is empty and all I’m greeted by is a view of the ocean in the distance, reflecting glimmers of orange.

  “Let’s talk inside,” I say and open the front door of my villa. We enter and I click on the lights, nerves building by the second.

  She’s going to think you’re crazy.

  Why do I even care what she thinks? She’s the one who suggested this trip, and the one who insulted me because I took advantage of the opportunity she offered.

  I shut the door and walk through to the tiny kitchenette at the opposite end of the room. “Water?” I pour myself a glass.

  “No, I’m good,” Becky says, and removes her mask. “These things are way too hot after a while.” She gestures with it, then tosses it on the coffee table. “I can’t stand this for much longer. Like, the experience is amazing but the heat is too much. I just want to rip my mask off and be free.”

  I down the water and set the glass down on the counter.

  “Heather, I’ll apologize again,” she says. “I know I freaked out earlier but it was only because I care about you. I guess, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt and I feel a certain amount of responsibility for the fact that you’re here and that you lost your virginity here. I wanted this to be fun for both of us, but I’m also afraid you’ll end up regretting it.”

  God, shots fired. Regret swirls through me as we speak, after all. Regret and desire – like it or not, I still want Nicholas.

  “I found out something,” I say. “I found out something that’s changed things a little.”

  “What is it?” Becky frowns and scooches to the edge of her seat. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I guess, I’m fine. Actually, no, I’m not. This is serious. It’s bad, and I don’t know quite how to handle it.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I slept with Jake’s dad,” I say.

  Becky’s eyes almost pop out of her skull. She stares at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind.

  I finally pull off my mask and toss it aside, wipe sweat from my cheeks. “His mask slipped off while we were in the act.”

  “Oh,” Becky says, and she relaxes back against the cushions. “Oh, okay. It was accidental. That’s not your fault. How were you supposed to know that it was him? How could anyone have known?”

  I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I knew it was him and I continued anyway.

  “As long as you don’t see him again, it’s fine,” Becky says.

  I shake my head. “I have to see him again. Tomorrow. He asked me to meet him. It’s – it’s the last day, Becky.”

  “So?! Are you kidding? Like, I know we’ve just made up again but if you’re going to be irrational, I can’t help you. This is Jake’s dad. Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?” Becky folds her arms and glares at me.

  “Dude, of course I know how fucked up it is, but it’s not like I planned it. Besides, I can’t stop now. He doesn’t know who I am. If I blow him off, it will look weird,” I say.

  “So? There’s nothing he can do about it.”

  I chew on the words I’m about to spit out. “And maybe I don’t want it to end like this. Maybe I actually like him.”

  “Like him?! He’s your ex’s dad. And you know how much Jake’s father cares about him. He talks about it all the time. His single dad who gave him the world and will do anything for him. Do you really think you can come between them? Jake will be humiliated.”

  Humiliated, not crushed.

  “Jake cheated on me!” I snap. “He didn’t really give a fuck about me or he’d have broken up with me before diving into someone else’s bed.”

  “That doesn’t justify this,” Becky replies, evenly. She’s red-faced and ready to explode – I’ve lived with her long enough to identify the clues. “I can’t – I’m not going to fight with you again. But I can’t talk about this with you. It’s sick.”

  “It’s not sick,” I whisper.

  That actually hurts. Thinking that what I’ve shared with Nicholas is sick is physically painful. He’s my first. The first man I’ve slept with and the first man I’ve connected with in this way.

  Becky rises from the sofa, arms still folded. “I’m going to go. We’ll talk about this when it’s over. When you’ve come to your senses.”

  “I don’t need to come to my senses. I know what I want,” I say, and the truth of it strikes at my heart. “I want Nicholas.” Perhaps, a part of me has always wanted him, since that first run-in in the hallway outside Jake’s room. “I know it’s not exactly orthodox, but I don’t care.”

  Becky massages frown lines on her forehead. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  My roommate walks out and slams the door shut behind her, and I’m along again. Alone with nothing but the mask for company, and thoughts of how I’ll handle tomorrow.

  My last day with Nicholas.

  Chapter 13

  Nicholas

  I sit up in bed and stare out of the window. The view, waves and palm trees, white sands and the rising sun over the ocean, does nothing to assuage my need for her. I’ve barely shaken off the sleep, and already I’ve got my mystery girl front of mind.

  Today is our last day together.

  I can’t accept this. I don’t care about what’s under the mask, anymore, only that I have to see her again after this weekend.

  The sex isn’t just amazing, it’s mind blowing. It’s changed my fucking life. I’ve never connected with a woman on that level. It’s almost cellular. Every nerve-ending screams for her, demands I get up and find my fix.

  My cell phone buzzes on the bedside table and I pick it up. Jake’s name flashes on the screen. No doubt, he has more complaints about his nine to five, more suggestions about how I can better handle this situation.

  I put the phone down and ignore the call.

  Today, I have a mission. I rise from the bed and walk to the dresser, but a knock sounds at the front door of the villa and I change course. I snatch up my mask on the way, fixing it t
o my face as per the rules.

  I’ve got nothing on but a pair of boxers, and my muscles ripple with every step. I unlock the front door, and a slow smile spreads my lips. “It’s early.”

  “I had to see you,” Vixen says. “May I come in?”

  She wears a silken robe, and the outline of a lace bra presses against it, drawing my gaze and my lust. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips naturally red. I’ll suck on them again, as soon as she’s inside.

  “Of course,” I say, and take her wrist. I guide her into the living room, through the door and into my bedroom. I sit her on the edge of the mattress. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she says, but it’s no more than a murmur of sound. She’s not fine.

  “What’s bothering you? I missed you last night. I had to order room service,” I say, then catch myself from going further. It’s been a while since I’ve wanted a woman to eat with me.

  “Nothing,” she says. “Nothing’s bothering me. I just wanted to see you again, Daddy. I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know if this is normal.”

  “To want me?”

  “It’s more than just that,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Forget I said anything. I’m being an idiot.”

  “No! No, you’re not,” I reply. “I’ve thought about it, too. And, yeah, I feel what you do. I want to see you again after this weekend.”

  She freezes and stays that way, still on the edge of that bed, her silk robe slipping now, a revealing the slopes of her breasts, cleavage, the rim of her black and red lace bra.

  “I think it’s time we take off these masks,” I say and reach for hers.

  She catches my arm and struggles backward. “Not yet. I’m not ready yet. Maybe tomorrow, before we leave. Just – let’s have one last night together with the masks on. One last day, I mean. It’s morning – I – please?”

  Suspicion unfolds, and I tilt my head to the side. “Why?”

  She blinks up at me, then gets up and walks to the floor-to-ceiling window, shaded by drapes, now. She drags them open, then turns to me and drops the silken robe, exposing the tan expanses of flesh, those shapely legs and her tiny bra and panties, also lace and two-toned.