by Kira Blakely
“I wasn’t ready back then.”
“But you are now? Girl, you don’t even know this dude,” Becky replies.
“What the hell? You’re the one who told me to do this in the first place,” I say.
Becky presses her lips together, releases them slowly. “Yeah, I did. I just didn’t think you’d jump right into this one guy. If you were going to do that, you should’ve just let Jake get it.”
“Whatever,” I say. “This is crazy. You got me the invitation and now you’re acting weird.”
“I just don’t think Jake would approve of your new soulmate. This is just supposed to be a sex thing.”
“Jake? Who gives a fuck about what Jake would think!? I’m not his girlfriend anymore. God, you know what? For once in my life I’m actually enjoying myself. I’m feeling things I didn’t think were possible. I –”
“Feeling things?!”
And just like that, I’ve reached my limit. It’s none of her business what I feel. Friends are supposed to be supportive and this is the opposite of that.
“Get out,” I say. “Get out of my space.”
“Heather –”
“Now!” I point to the door, and the towel drops from my hair and falls to the floorboard.
Becky hesitates, shakes her head at me one last time, then slips off the end of the chaise lounge. “Just – just be careful, Heather. You’re in over your head here.” And then she leaves, trailing her effusive Chanel No. 5 and all the attitude I thought I liked about her.
I stare at the open front door, silently cursing myself, the villa, and Becky.
But not Daddy, no. If anything, my longing for him has grown stronger. I can’t wait until tonight.
Chapter 10
Nicholas
It’s been an hour since I fucked her tight pussy on the beach and I can’t get her off my mind. I’ve got to have more and I’ve got to have it now. Her body is supple, and so right beneath my fingers.
I open the front door of my villa and walk barefoot down the path toward the sand of the beach. It’s afternoon, and most of the beachgoers have retired for an afternoon siesta or a private fiesta.
I massage my forehead and try put thoughts of her aside.
The connection we have doesn’t make sense. Apart from her vulnerable admission on the beach before her first time, we’ve hardly talked. It’s purely physical or chemical, but still, I want more.
I want to know more. This is dangerous territory.
I traipse down the beach and toward the cabana, where they’ll serve me whatever the hell I want. All it is, is a soda at this point. Tonight, there’s another party in the main hall but I can’t wait to see her until then.
I halt in front of the bar and smile at the mixologist behind it.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he says. “What can I get for you?”
“A soda,” I reply. “And directions to a woman’s villa.” Christ, I don’t even know her name. “She’s blonde, tall, tan, and I fucked her on the beach this afternoon.” Timidity wasn’t a thing on Mystique, and I always got to the point.
“I think I know who you’re talking about, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t reveal that information. Unless she specifically tells you which villa she’s in and invites you to it, it’s classified. Which soda, sir? A Pepsi?”
“Trust me, she wants to see me again,” I reply, but it sounds like bullshit, even to me. That’s likely what other men would say and I’m not like other men.
“Pepsi, sir?” the mixologist asks, his tan as flawless as his too-white teeth.
A kernel of irritation pops in my chest. Fuck it, I really want to see her again. Now, even if it has to be with this fucking mask on my face. God, how I long to rip hers off and reveal what’s underneath, to know who I’m fucking, and how beautiful she is. A face to suit the taste and smell of her.
I open my mouth to reply but a hand lands on my forearm and I stall, look down,
Dainty fingers, nails cut short and clear, which lead to a long elegant hand, a tanned forearm and up to the shoulder I’ve already kissed.
It’s my girl.
“There you are,” I say, and smile at her.
She leads me away from the bar and to one of the tables in front of it. She doesn’t smile.
“What’s going on?” I ask, and a flicker of concern dislodges the immediate lust which slid into place at the sight of her. I drag a chair out for her and she sits down.
“It’s – nothing. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.” She shakes her head, then presses her fingers to her lips. “No, nothing.”
“Talk to me,” I say, and take her hand. “We’ve shared more than words. It’s time we share those, too.”
“I – I had a fight with a friend. She’s the one who convinced me to come here in the first place. She got me the invite because of – well, because I’ve recently gone through a messy break up.”
Jealousy flares within me, an instant kick back. “A break up,” I say, and stroke the back of her hand. Her skin is delicate and I picture kissing her fingers, sucking them again. I focus on her words instead. “What happened?”
“He cheated on me. I wouldn’t sleep with him and he cheated on me because of it, and Bec – my friend, thinks I’m getting over it too fast or something by sleeping with you.” She leaves those full, kissable lips open for a second, then closes them again.
“That makes no sense,” I reply, smoothly. “She got you an invite to this island but believes you shouldn’t do what you came here to do? Bullshit. Sounds like this friend is an asshole. The ex, too. Any man who cheats is a dog. Why waste time in a relationship if you’re not happy? Why cheat?”
Vixen stiffens, her dark eyes widen, then relax. She shrugs her shoulders. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. You know what? I just want to forget about all of this. Daddy, do you want to get out of here? My villa is close.”
I study her, fully taking in the red dress, cropped, tight and clinging to her curves for the first time. She’s got on high heels, too, and her tan legs have never looked longer or more appealing.
I rise and hold out a hand. “My villa’s closer,” I say. “We can talk more there.”
Chapter 11
Heather
Daddy leads me up the path to his villa, between two lines of hedges, which shield it from the beach. It’s private, quiet, and already, my pulse races. We’re alone here and this is as close as we’ve come to actual privacy.
What if he wants us to take off our masks? Will I hesitate? Now that it comes down to it, I’m not one hundred percent sure I’ll rip it off and reveal myself to him. What if he doesn’t like the way I look underneath?
Daddy opens the front door of the villa, then steps back for me to enter.
I do and gasp at the size of the place. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out on a wraparound porch and a view of the ocean, shielded only by palm trees here or there. The living room is spacious and the furniture simplistic, white sofas on hardwood floors, cream-colored walls, no TV.
“Take a seat,” he says. “Can I get you something to drink?’
I stroll to one of the sofas and lower myself onto it. “I’m not sure. What time is it? The party this evening –”
“We don’t have to go to that,” he says, and shuts the front door. He locks it, too, and a thrill chases up my spine.
“We don’t.”
“No. The only reason I’d go is to see you and you’re already here.” He walks to the sofa and sits down beside me, places his strong, tan hand on my bare thigh and squeezes, gently. “This afternoon was phenomenal. I’ve never come like that in my life.”
I lose my breath.
“There’s something about you,” he says. “Something that drives my body wild. It’s new to me.”
“Me, too,” I whisper. He’s close enough to taste again, and he slides his hand up my thigh to the hem of my dress. “I can’t think when I’m around you.”
He smiles, a slow twist of those lips, the sa
me ones that have tasted and kissed my lips and my pussy. “You don’t need to think about anything,” he says. “Just relax.” His fingers creep beneath my dress and toward my bare skin.
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.