by Kira Blakely
“So, it’s fucking weird,” Joey replies. “Why go if you hate it.”
“Because I want to get my dick wet.” Plain and simple. The only way I’ll put my obsession with Danielle behind me is to get some strange. Masked strange. Weirdly, I’m not excited at the prospect.
I don’t want strange pussy. I want her.
“I expect you’ll be there, too,” I say. “How many will it be this time? Three? Four?” My brother is a champion when it comes to this shit. I marvel at the fact that he hasn’t become bored with the endless line of women.
“I’m not going,” Joey replies.
“What?” I button my shirt and smooth the front, then grab the mask off the marble counter beside the sink. Everything in here screams opulence, from the marble crapper to the golden faucets. “Why not?” I fix the mask onto my face. Turquoise eyes stare out of the holes.
“Just not in the mood. I fucked this afternoon,” he says.
“Only once?” It’s a joke, but Joey scowls. “Hey, man, are you okay?” I’m not big on expressing emotion, but I cuff my little bro—one minute younger—on the shoulder. “You look like you’ve had a rough day. She take it out of you?”
“You could say that.” Joey yawns and blocks it with his fist, but I don’t buy the yawn or the nonchalance. Something is up with my brother.
I don’t push, though. I’m not here to dissect his state of mind.
I’m here to fix mine.
“All right,” I say. “The bell rang a half hour ago. I’m going. Catch up with you tomorrow, bro.” I pat him on the shoulder and walk toward the door, fresh to death, ready for what will happen.
“Yeah.” Joey follows me out into the sand. “Have a good night. Don’t do anything or anyone I wouldn’t.”
“You can count on it,” I reply.
I step out into the sand and trudge toward the boardwalk, which leads up to the back of the banquet hall. An open doorway greets me and moans beckon from within. The party is already in full swing.
Christ, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to fuck anyone other than her. And that’s exactly the reason I have to do this. I can’t jeopardize what we’ve got going on at home.
I square my shoulders beneath my fitted cotton shirt, then step into the darkened hall, lit sparsely by candelabras and flickering light. I saunter down the hall and check the rooms but most are empty.
A woman leans against the wall up ahead, her breasts magnificent beneath a strappy crisscrossed dress. It barely covers her nipples, which prick at the fabric regardless and leave nothing to my imagination.
She raises her gaze and catches mine with chocolate brown eyes. Deep liquid pools of emotion that shock me to my fucking core.
It’s Danielle.
Here.
Behind that mask. In that dress. She leans against the wall as if it’s keeping her upright.
Moans drift on the air, and I stare at her.
How is this fucking possible?
Did she follow me here? Or was she invited by someone else?
The thought of some other billionaire laying his hands on her sets my blood fucking boiling. I won’t stand for that. She deserves better.
She deserves me.
“Hi,” she says and licks those plush lips, like two cushions. I want to lose myself in them. Devour them.
I can’t fucking talk. I can’t move. This was supposed to be my opportunity to get away from her, not dive right into her tight, hot pussy. And that’s exactly what I have to do now. I won’t turn away.
Not with moans drifting down the halls and the slap of flesh, the grunts of men burying their cocks deep in the women of their dreams.
This will fuck up everything.
I can’t care anymore. The heat between us is insane, zipping, building, driving me closer to her. I take her by the arm and walk her into the room beside us. It’s decked out in white candles and there’s a sofa against the wall. It’s not exactly the romantic situation I envisioned for this, but fuck it—at least there’s a fucking door.
I slam it shut behind us, then turn the key. No interruptions.
“Mr. Long,” she says.
Fuck me.
That’s already too much. She knows, and I know. “Danielle,” I reply and drag her into my arms, flattening my palms against her back. Her tits press into the cotton of my shirt. “Danielle,” I repeat, because this is fucking tangible. It’s happening.
She’s here.
I reach up and take hold of those ridiculous straps that hardly cover her body. I tug them down, and her breasts bounce free. Nipples exposed to the cool air, they pucker up even more, the skin pulling taut.
Candlelight illuminates the curves, and I can’t tear myself away.
I’m all in.
I drag my fingers down the front of her throat, then cup both her breasts in my palms. They fill my hands, perfectly, and she lets out a hiss, arching toward me.
The nanny. I’m about to fuck the nanny.
I massage her breasts and take in every reaction. Every tiny movement she makes. A gasp, the turn of her head, eyelids fluttering. She loves this.
Memories of her moaning for me, over and over again, just days ago down the hall, tangle with my reality.
I rip her skirt upward and drop down in front of her, forcibly spreading her thighs then find her naked, smooth pussy waiting for me.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” I growl.
“Only for you, Mr. Long,” she whispers.
I grab the backs of her knees, catch her ass, and lower her to the wooden boards. She gasps at the sudden motion but doesn’t complain.
“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 ca
ptivated, 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 feel 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 wou
ld 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.