by Kira Blakely
I swallow and lick my lips, the memory of Holden’s dick pressed against his jeans front and center in my mind.
I’ll do it. Just this once. And if he’s not there… I’ll leave. That’s it. Just one weekend, and he’ll never know, and it won’t matter when we’re back.
Will it?
Chapter 2
Holden
The golden envelope holds the words I’ve read several times over the past few years. I rarely visit Mystique Island. When I do, it’s to catch up with my twin brother, Joey, because he’s out of town doing business for us most months. In fact, I haven’t seen him in almost half a year.
He’s been in Japan for ages.
Joey’s my total opposite in everything except looks.
He’s the bad version of me. He’s a party animal, a man who is always free and never settles down.
Joey will take a look at this envelope and its invitation and hop on a flight and boat ride to Mystique whether I go or not.
He loves fucking, and he loves parties. That’s Joey.
But I’m not him. I’m the responsible dad. Or I was until the fucking divorce ripped my family in two. It was an amicable resolution, but it still messed with Jessie, and that eats me up inside.
I walk to my king-sized bed and sit down on the pale blue sheets. I turn the envelope over and over in my hands, shaking my head.
I have a whole weekend to myself, and I promised I’d go to this damn island, if only to catch up with my brother. It’s my excuse.
The truth is, I want to fuck, too. But not any of the women there, in their masks.
I’ve visited Mystique several times, and I’ve made a connection with a woman maybe once or twice. I’m never interested when I get there. There’s mystery, yeah, but there’s nothing I haven’t had before.
Threesomes, women in all shapes and sizes, they’re shit from my past. From when I was young and dumb. Joey’s still in that phase, even though we’re the same age. Fine, I’m a minute older.
“Fuck,” I grunt and drop the envelope on my bedside table.
I shouldn’t be conflicted about this. It’s not a difficult decision.
My problem, my big fucking problem, is the woman who’s down the hall this very minute, packing her bags to leave my house for the weekend.
I don’t want her to go.
I want to drag her into my fucking bedroom and eat her out until she screams my name. I’m craving her. I have been since she arrived in this fucking house.
Hiring her was my mistake.
She’s become a constant, and I love that. I love seeing her in the kitchen in her tight jeans, her ass up in the air, tempting me to touch.
A noise echoes from two doors over. Her room. I get up again and walk toward the exit to my master bedroom. My big, empty master bedroom.
I crack my door open, a frown wrinkling my brow.
“Oh, god.” It’s a moan. From her lips.
My cock twitches. This is too much for me to handle.
I can’t fuck my nanny. I can’t mess around under this roof. I can’t jeopardize Jessie’s state of mind.
But she’s not here this weekend. And Danielle is. Danielle, who smells like soft, sweet vanilla and spice. She’s what you want. Take her. Fuck her.
“No,” I grunt to myself and click the door closed.
But the sound of that tight, hot moan tells me everything I need to know.
Danielle isn’t packing down the hall—she’s caught in a private moment. Likely, she thinks I’m still in the kitchen and doesn’t want me to hear. She ran out of there fast enough once she realized how much I wanted her.
I won’t bend to this. I’m not a fucking animal.
I can’t fuck her.
Any other woman would’ve been bent over a desk by now, but not her. Not Danielle.
I walk to my bed again and slide open the top drawer. I draw out the bottle of lube from inside. I’ve run out of it this month and replaced it twice. Danielle’s presence has me jerking off every day, at least once.
It’s the only way I maintain my sanity around her.
Another moan leaks in from underneath my door, and I’ve effectively lost it.
I unzip my jeans and tug them down, bring out my dick. It’s bigger than most women see in their lives. I know because I’ve been told. I’ve witnessed the gasps and the licked lips, the excitement.
Danielle will love it.
I let myself fantasize about that.
I grab the lube and pop the cap, squeeze some into my palm, then smooth it over my dick, focusing on the tip.
“Fuck,” I growl and buck my hips.
It’s too good. This will be another one of those orgasms.
Any time I fantasize about the nanny, I come so hard my toes curl. It’s not just her tight little ass, those perky tits, or the long dark hair that falls past her shoulders. It’s not those pouty blow job lips, or the sparkling hazel eyes, flecked green.
It’s her manner. Her care.
I want her to nurture me. Nurture my dick, god damn.
My dirty thoughts lead me. I walk to the door and lean against the wall next to it, listening hard.
Another moan, this one breathier than the last.
I stroke my dick, up and down, shut my eyes, and picture her naked on her bed.
The sheets in her room are pristine white, and she lies back on them, now, I fucking see it.
Danielle’s hand is thrown up over her head, fingers caught in the sheets, her other hand working her pussy. She slides two fingers inside and rams them in and out, moaning, writhing, her feet planted on the bed.
She’s wide open, on display, her pussy lips dripping for me. She messes up the sheets with those juices.
Fuck, I’ll lick them up. I’ll drink her, devour her.
A real moan interjects into my fantasy and drives me on. Higher. Fuck, I’ll come at this rate.
I open my eyes and stare at the door, lift one hand and drag my shirt up and over my shoulders. I let go of my dick, get the shirt off, and hold it ready at my side, then start stroking again.
Danielle groans down the hall. “Oh, fuck, Holden.”
I freeze, hand on my head, my balls tightening up. She said my name.
Fuck it, she does want me. Not that it’s any great surprise. I’m rich, I’m hot, I’m out of her league as her boss. It’s naughty, and Danielle’s a naughty girl.
My naughty girl.
Not yet. Not ever.
This doesn’t change anything.
She wants me, and I want her, and that makes it even more important we don’t touch. Ever.
Except in my fucking mind.
I shut my eyes again and work my cock, throbbing for her, pre-cum dripping from the tip.
Once again, she’s laid bare before me.
Her legs spread wide, now her hand cups her breasts, pinches her nipple as she cries out, softly. She flicks her clit, then circles it, taps it. She uses both hands now, fingering herself with one and playing with that sweet, pink pearl with the other.
Danielle curls around herself, moaning, her perfect lips parted. She’s trapped in a moment of bliss. “Holden,” she moans. “Holden, god, you’re so fucking big.”
The beginning of my orgasm tickles in my balls.
Christ, she’s said that out loud.
I open my eyes and let reality slam home. She’s saying these things in my house, under my roof. She’s moaning for me two rooms away.
“Holden,” she keens again. “So fucking big.”
I can’t hold on much longer, the wet squelch of the lube perfectly emulates what her pussy would sound like with me inside her, filling her to the brim.
“I’m coming, baby,” she calls out. “Holden, I’m coming for you.”
I clench my teeth and ram through my orgasm, blocking the tip of my dick with my shirt. I squirt five times, and then another, and another. Christ, it doesn’t end for an age. It’s the hardest I’ve ever come, and I wish every drop had been inside
her.
I exhale and rest my head against the jamb.
Silence in the house. No more moans or begging.
This is it. It’s the final straw.
I can’t fire her for this. I can’t blame her for having urges when I have them myself. She has a future ahead of her. She’s saving to become a pilot, and I won’t wreck her dream.
I’ll go to Mystique Island instead.
One weekend of sex with a masked woman will erase my fantasies about her.
Is has to.
Chapter 3
Danielle
Mystique Island is the perfect Caribbean retreat.
I arrive on the white sand beaches with a group of nervous women, each wearing a mask, as I am, and long flowing white dresses that are pretty much transparent.
Nerves bubble in my belly.
I’m finally here. A call to my sister to let her know that I’m spending the weekends with friends instead, a plane ticket, and one boat ride with a gaggle of giggling girls, beautiful, short, tall, petite, curvy—as different as can be—and here I am.
And he’s here, too. Somewhere.
An assistant escorts me to a villa just off the beach. It’s gorgeous, with a floor-to-ceiling window in the living room looking out on the white sands and trees. My bags are at the foot of my bed, placed there by whoever runs this place, and there’s a welcome note waiting on the pillow—gold and diamond embossed.
I lift it and swallow, press both hands to my stomach.
Please join us for a welcoming party down on the beach. Masks required.
But clothing not?
I have no idea what to expect here, but if there’s a party, it’s my best chance of finding Holden among the guests.
Oh, god, what if he recognizes me? Or worse, what if I can’t find him?
I’ve come all this way for this opportunity to seduce him. It’s ridiculous, pathetic, but I can’t turn back now. I won’t.
I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, across from the king-sized bed decked in silken sheets, and check my reflection.
My skin is sun-kissed, tanned, and the slopes of my breasts lift the near-transparent cotton shift I was dressed in on the boat. The outlines of my nipples are clear, as is the vague depression of my belly button.
My hair hangs loose, a little windswept, either side of my oval face, and the mask hides my nose, but not my lips, or my eyes. I’m not exactly unrecognizable, but this is the last place he’d expect me to be.
If I don’t talk, maybe he won’t realize… or maybe he will.
Do it. Come on, Dani, this is what you came for. You’re here to find him, so just do it. Don’t back out now.
I square my shoulders, and a strap slips off and drops, exposing more of my breast. I lift it back into place.
Jeez, were these dresses designed to fall off?
Probably, ha.
I walk to the door of my villa, the pressure building in my core. He’s got to be here, right? He got an invite. If he’s not…
One step out of my front door and I halt, suck in a breath.
My villa is right on the beach, and my steps lead into the pale white sand. Just ahead of me, people are naked beneath the palm trees. Their hands are all over each other, their bodies glistening with oil or sweat or saltwater.
It’s totally unexpected, and I blush.
I’d assumed there’d be some modicum of modesty, but this is pretty much an orgy.
A woman sits astride a guy, right in the sand, her tits bouncing free to the air. She moans and inserts a finger between her lips and sucks on it, while another dude stands just next to her stroking his dick.
She reaches over, grabs it, and pulls it into her mouth.
I gulp.
It’s just past midday. The sun is high, and people are out here in broad daylight, all over each other.
Is this what Holden expects? I’m not sure I’ll be able to share him.
God, if he’s here at all.
I steel myself for more of this. For flashes of bodies, twisting together, for hungry mouths and cocks dripping for them. I set off down the beach, heading for the bar across the way, where most of the people are clothed, chatting or sipping drinks. Some of them kiss, but they aren’t sucking on each other’s nipples here, thank god.
I have a moment to think. To scan.
I halt in front of the bar and bite my lip.
A masked bartender grins at me, cocking his head to one side. “First time?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Don’t worry, it’s normal to be nervous. By the end of the weekend, you’ll forget all about it. You’ll never want it to end.” He winks.
I wrinkle my nose. I doubt the staff are meant to fraternize with the guests, and I’m here for someone else. The only man who exists in my world.
“What can I get ya?” the bartender asks.
Behind me, a man groans, low in his throat, followed by wet, seductive noises. I don’t look back, but the backs of my legs prickle beneath the soft cotton. A breeze brushes the back of my neck.
“Uh—” I’m not usually this indecisive, but there are definitely people fucking right behind me. It’s pretty damn distracting.
“She’ll have champagne.” The gruff voice sends a shiver done my spine.
It’s him!
His tan hand rests on my forearm, and my eyes actually roll back in my head. I force them back into their regular position and take deep breaths. Got to keep it together.
I haven’t even looked at him yet.
You can do this. He won’t recognize you.
I turn to him, and I’m stunned. Stuck in place.
It’s Holden all right, but he’s shaved off his beard since I last saw him, and the blue eyes behind his mask don’t widen in recognition. Thank god.
“You’re mine,” he says, plainly. “For the weekend. For as long as I want. Any complaints?”
I shake my head. I can’t form words. That part of my brain has shut down so hard it might never work again.
“Good. Champagne,” he commands, at Winky the Bartender.
The guy’s smile is gone now, and he pours for me and for Holden. My masked Holden.
This weekend will be everything I want it to be. I can’t contain my excitement.
I tremble till I’m basically vibrating on the spot. How apt.
“This way,” Holden says and takes my hand. He leads me across the sand, past tables where people talk, and two people on the ground, kissing, grinding into each other, desperate.
The beach is a white strip beside a turquoise ocean. Waves wash the sands, whispers of noise that raise the fine hairs on the back of my neck. Everything about this island seduces me, from the villas to the sensual moans echoing from every direction. Palm trees do little to hide the shapes beneath them.
“Here.” Holden stops, hands me the champagne flute, then takes a sip from his own.
He stands and stares out over the ocean now, his eyes the exact same color, a gorgeous, swirling turquoise.
This close, I can barely move.
Holden doesn’t look at me. He waits.
I sip my champagne and swallow. It fizzes down my throat. God, is it ever going to happen? Does he know it’s me?
I don’t want him to doubt this for a second. What can I do to prove it to him?
“Strip,” he says, as if he’s reading my thoughts as they pop into my mind and flit out again. “I want you naked.”
The champagne flute slips from my finger tips and hits the sand. The stem cracks, but it doesn’t shatter, and the liquid spreads from its mouth. I don’t care. Nothing matters but this moment.
I’ve fantasized about it for so long. Dreamed of touching this man who’s been so patient and kind, yet powerful and hard since the beginning.
He’s such a fucking man, even though he’s shaved his beard.
“Now,” he says. Holden’s lips part again as if he’s about to say my name, but he doesn’t, thank god.
I step
over the wrecked glass, too lost to care about cleaning it up, and walk to the water’s edge. Waves lap my toes, and I gasp at the warmth of the water—I expected cold. My skin prickles again.
“Turn around. Face me. Strip.” The commands are gruff, similar to the way he spoke in the kitchen not two days ago.
I circle on the spot, swaying my hips, and reach up, real slow. I want this to last.
“Good,” he says. “Faster.”
My pussy clenches. Faster? He wants me naked as quick as possible. He wants me that bad.
I drop one strap of the cotton shift, and it brushes past my nipple, already erect from the combination of warmth and readiness for him.
Holden shudders forward a step then halts. “All of it.”
He’s feet away from me, and he’s rock hard in his chinos, the outline of his cock pulling at the fabric. A wet patch spreads there—pre-cum dripping for me.
I clench and moan, softly.
“Now!” he growls again.
I obey him and drop the other strap, my clipped nails catching on the cotton. I drag it down and step out of the puddle of fabric at my feet. I’m naked except for the mask.
This is the moment I’ve waited for.
Holden undoes his shirt, button by button, and I lose my breath again.
Abs lead into a V that disappears beneath the hem of those chinos. He strips off his shirt, and his muscles ripple. He’s got tattoo sleeves, tribal decorations I’ve glimpsed only once or twice before.
On his left pec, he bears a tattoo of two men, standing back to back, their fists raised. It’s a silhouette, but it must mean something to him. If I’d had a chance to know him, as I’d wanted to all along, maybe I’d understand.
Right now, I don’t care too much.
He’s half-naked.
Holden Long is half-naked in front of me, and all my fantasies are about to come true.
Chapter 4
Joey
Shit, this wasn’t meant to happen.
I got an invite for this chick, Danielle, because my twin brother is infatuated with her. He sent me a picture of her one night, fully clothed because Holden isn’t a fucking dog, and told me all about his new nanny. How he needs to talk to me about this little problem he has with her.