by Amy Brent
“Oh god… am I… peeing… cumming… oh hell… shit… oh shit…” She held on tight to my neck as her body shuddered like an earthquake, her ass coming off the table, her knees spread as clear juices shot from deep within her. After a moment, she let go a long breath and fell limp in my arms. I let my hand slide from her cunt, but she did not release my cock.
“Are you okay?” I asked, studying her face, which was covered with sweat. I remembered her now. The hot girl in the bar… we went to her room and fucked like little rabbits… I was going to call, but I never saw her again because I met Genevieve the following week.
Cassandra Casey.
I’ll be damned.
She was the woman who was always at the edges of my mind.
Even after all this time.
She finally opened her eyes and gazed into mine. She put her fingertips on my cheek and pulled me close for our first kiss in many years.
Then, whispering in my ear, she said, “Can I fuck you now?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Cassandra
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
“You so fucking beautiful.”
The moment Devin said those words—and slid his fingers inside me and curled them up to hit my G-spot—the memories came rushing back.
Only one other man had ever told me that I was “fucking beautiful”.
The boy from UCLA, the one with the big dick and the massage fetish.
Kevin… Evan… Derrick… Devin. Duh.
That bearded surfer boy was Devin McMasters.
Again.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Is this a small world or what?
* * *
I didn’t think the orgasms would ever stop.
I could feel his fingers wiggling deep inside me.
His long cock was in my hand.
I just kept cumming and cumming.
And then I fucking squirted! Something I ‘d never done before in my life, but holy hell, what a feeling as that hot juice shot from my pussy like water through a firehose. It was like one of those pulsating fountains in Las Vegas.
Then, I started peeing. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t feel it coming on. It just started and I just let it go. The warm pee started to trickle out on its own, then a little more, then a little more, then it was Katie-bar-the door, Russian racehorse caliber peeing. With everything else I had going on down there, it felt fucking amazing.
When Devin finally eased the pressure off my G-spot, the orgasms started to subside. I was disappointed, but also out of breath and utterly exhausted. I glanced between my legs. I had made a huge mess, but didn’t care. Forget the fact that the towels beneath me were soaked and Devin’s arm was drenched to the elbow. I didn’t care about any of that. I only cared that I had just had the best orgasms—PLURAL—of my life.
And I had found the only man who had ever made me feel that way.
Devin McMasters…
I gazed into his eyes.
He smiled.
I smiled.
He pressed his lips to my sweaty forehead.
My hand found his cock again.
I whispered in his ear. “Can I fuck you now?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I slid sideways on the table and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of Devin’s slacks and pushed them down his narrow hips. His cock sprang free: long, hard, girthy, with thick veins along the shaft and a purple head the size of a small plumb. I leaned back so I could see it, cupped in my hand, my fingers around it, milking it back and forth from base to head.
“That feels amazing,” Devin sighed, his hands on my tits, his lips on mine, the words tumbling out over his heavy breathing. “Put me inside you.”
I slid my cunt to the edge of the table and spread my legs wide. I pulled Devin’s cock to me, swirling the large head around my hole to lube him up. I took a deep breath and pulled him closer. My pussy spread like a flower to accept his cock head, then suctioned around his shaft. I brought my legs up around him and prodded my heels into his ass.
“Fuck me hard,” I said, leaning back with my palms braced on the table, exposing my melon tits to him. Devin ripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. I licked my lips when I saw his body, all lean muscle, tanned from the sun, hairless in a manly way. Even his pubes were buzzed short, making his giant cock look even bigger as the first few inches of it disappeared inside me.
“Shit…” I moaned. “Fuck… you’re so… fucking big… my pussy… god... you feel… sooooo good…”
“I remember you now,” he said with a smile, his hips rocking back and forth, thrusting into me until he could go no more, then pulling out to do it all over again. I watched his cock slide in and out, glistening, dripping, disappearing, reappearing, like a wonderful magic trick.
“Oh god… I’m close… I’m gonna…” he said, putting his hands on my tits and giving them a squeeze. His hips moved faster. His cock was like a piston driving into me.
“I’m cumming… oh fuck… Devin… I’m…” I tossed my head back and dug my heels into his ass like a jockey prodding a horse toward the finish line. The orgasm came from my toes and my fingers and the top of my head and erupted from my cunt. My body shook, my tits flounced on my chest, my ass slapped against the table. I gushed hot juices over the length of his cock and growled his name.
“I’m…” That was all Devin could say before his body tensed and he drove his cock into me so hard it hit my cervix and made me bounce on the table.
I could feel his hot milky load filling up my box, catching me on fire, radiating throughout my body.
I could feel his cock in my pussy, my stomach, my chest, my throat.
God, I could taste his jizz on the back of my tongue.
I came again.
And again.
And again.
By the time it was over, our naked bodies were covered in oil and sweat and an assortment of bodily fluids and Devin was leaning against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder.
I could feel his hot breath on my nipples.
I put my hands on his cheeks and lifted his head.
He was smiling.
“What?” I asked.
He gazed into my eyes and sighed.
He said, “It’s so fucking good to see you again.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Devin
Saturday morning.
The sun was shining.
The birds were singing.
The smell of pine and mountain air wafted through the open window on the warm, gentle breeze.
Little specks of dust danced in the rays of the bright sunshine beaming across the teak floor.
The chipmunks…
Jeez, I was sounding like a freakin’ Disney movie…
What the hell was wrong with me?
It was because of the woman sleeping next to me, the woman who had made love to me all night long. The woman who had made me do things and feel things that I had long forgotten how to do and feel.
It was too early to say that I loved this woman, but I sure liked her.
A lot.
I liked the way she made me feel.
I liked the things she made me think.
I liked the feeling of her skin beneath my fingers.
The taste of her lips on my tongue.
The fullness of her breasts.
The pink moisture of her...
The satellite phone I kept in a cradle next to the bed buzzed. I picked it up and slid out of bed, then tiptoed quietly to the bathroom. I glanced at Cassandra for a moment, then eased the door shut and sat on the toilet to take a leak and answer the phone.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“Devin, it’s Ben.”
“No shit,” I said, rubbing my eyes as I yawned into the phone. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“It’s almost nine,” he said, sound
ing rushed. “The guests are lining up to meet with you. It’s selection day. Get your ass down here now!”
“Shit,” I moaned, my mood firmly soured. Selection day was the day that I met privately with each guest to determine which of them would benefit from my healing touch. The truth was, I had no magic powers or healing touch. Nor could I read anyone’s chi or aura. I simply asked each woman to tell me about her life in one minute or less, and then laid my hands on her cheeks like some old-timey faith healer I’d seen on TV as a kid. If she had a real shit story to tell—abusive husband, shitty kids, nobody who loved her the way she deserved to be loved—I felt sorry for her and invited her for a private session. That was it. My big secret was that I was a sucker for a sob story.
But, if she made eyes at me and talked about how long it had been since she had orgasmed and asked how long my fingers were, I passed her off to one of my “highly-trained” assistants who could pop her cork like a bottle of wine at a bridal shower.
“Dev? Devin? Are you listening to me?” Ben’s voice had a sense of urgency I’d never heard before.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’ll take a shower and be right there.”
“One more thing,” he said, his voice going down a notch. “She’s here.”
I frowned as a feeling of dread worked its way up my spine. “She?”
“Genevieve,” Ben said, whispering as if he were afraid to speak her name aloud. It wasn’t like she was a monster or anything. To the contrary, Genevieve was one of the sweetest, most caring woman I’d ever met. I owed my life and fortune to her. Ben and I—and the entire staff—just liked things better when she wasn’t around.
Genevieve was French and just sounded like a condescending bitch, even when she was paying you a compliment. She could also be a bit of a stickler for the old ways of doing things. And didn’t mind saying so in front of whoever might be listening. “She’s here, in my office,” Ben whispered. “And she looks pissed.”
“Okay,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Push the selections back an hour. It’s time you, me and Genevieve had a little chat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY: Cassandra
I woke up alone in Devin’s bed just after nine, disappointed that he wasn’t there to take care of the little tingle that was happening between my legs. It was probably for the best. My entire body was sore, especially in all the right places. We had carried on like horny, drunken teenagers for hours. There wasn’t anything we didn’t do. It was as if we had years to catch up on, all in one night.
There was a scribbled note on the nightstand that said he had to leave and would find me later. I lay there for a few minutes, stretching the sleep from my limbs, thinking about him, about us. I wondered if there was an us or was it just wishful thinking on my part. Surely, Devin McMasters had no shortage of women lined up to service him. What would he want with me, a matronly divorce lawyer from San Diego? Okay, fine, I wasn’t exactly matronly, but you know what I meant.
Why would he one milk cow when he had practically every dairy in the world at his disposal?
Sure, we had a great time catching up, but that didn’t mean we had a future of any kind. I had always been a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” kind of girl. Why should Devin be any different?
Because you care, moron…
Because you’ve never forgotten him…
Because you’ve never stopped hoping that someday you would meet him again…
And now you have…
So, Cassandra Casey, what comes next?
“Beats the shit out of me,” I said as I tossed the sheet aside and strutted naked to the shower. Thinking about Devin had caused the little tingle in my cunt to build to an itch. Maybe I’d have a little morning delight with Devin’s homemade soap. Then, I’d worry about what came next.
* * *
I took a shower at Devin’s villa, made myself happy with his special soap, then went back to our suite to look for Lulu and put on fresh clothes for the day. I had stuffed the panties I’d worn the day before—which were crusty and stank to high heaven—in a trashcan outside on the patio. I hoped they wouldn’t attract a bear, but there was no way I was going to bring them back to the room for Lulu to make fun of. I did not need “Cassandra Stinky Panties” added to the list of nicknames Lulu had given me over the years, whether deserved or not.
I found Lulu in the dining room, finishing off a short stack of pancakes and sipping English tea. She gave me the curious eye as I sat down and flagged over the waiter to order scrambled eggs, bacon, a side of wheat toast, orange juice and coffee.
“What?” I asked as the waiter filled my coffee cup before walking away.
“Where were you all night?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me. “I almost came looking for you in the middle of the night, but then I just went back to sleep.”
“Your concern is overwhelming,” I said, rolling my eyes. There were a dozen women scattered about the other tables. They kept glancing our way, some giving me hard stares of jealousy while others pointed and whispered. I blew out a long sigh and smiled. “Let’s just say I was being… entertained.”
Lulu gave me a sideways look and lowered her voice. “You spent the night with him?” Her mouth dropped open like a broken mailbox door. “You weren’t supposed to spend the night with him. Oh my god…”
I stirred creamer into my coffee and frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Can we help you?” She shot daggers with her eyes at a table of women who were practically leaning in to eavesdrop. The women quickly got up and walked away, as if they were scurrying away from a bar fight, which was actually a pretty good analogy knowing Lulu.
“You spent the night with Devin McMasters?” she asked.
I smiled from over the coffee cup. “I thought that’s what The One did,” I said, shrugging with my eyes like it was no big deal. “Spent the night rubbing her Yoni all over the Master’s cock and balls.”
“No fucking way,” she screamed, covering her mouth with her hands. “You seriously slept with him? You spent the whole night in his bed?”
I frowned because her astonishment confused me. I set the cup on the table and leaned in to lower my voice in hopes she would lower hers. “Do you remember the story I told you about the boy from UCLA? The one with the big cock and the massage fetish?” Lulu’s eyes widened. Her head bobbed slowly. “That was Devin McMasters.”
“Holy shit,” she said again. She reached across the table to grab my hands. “You slept with Devin McMasters before he was Devin McMasters?”
“Shhh…. I did,” I said proudly, ignoring the stares of the women sitting at a table by the window. “And I slept with him afterward, too.”
“Okay,” she said, pulling her hands back so the waiter could deliver my food. “Eat your breakfast, quickly, then tell me everything.”
“Everything?” I asked, sticking out my tongue, curling it slowly across my top lip.
“Yes, you horny bitch,” she said, a devious smile on her face. “EVERYTHING!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Devin
“Devin, darling,” Genevieve said in her heavily-accented English as I strolled into Ben’s office to find her sitting behind his desk. She was still beautiful in her sixties; thin but not skinny, perfectly-coiffed hair that looked naturally blonde, flawless skin, perfect makeup (her companion Pascal was also her makeup artist and hair stylist, quite convenient), bright blue eyes, pert lips, dazzling white teeth. Other than tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, she didn’t look a day over forty-five.
She was dressed to the nines in a royal blue designer pants suit and white silk blouse. Her ears, fingers, wrists, and neck dripped with expensive jewels that our partnership had afforded her.
Ben was sitting in one of the highbacked visitor’s chairs in front of the desk with his legs crossed and a cup of coffee perched precariously on his knee. He glanced at me when I came in, but didn’t say anything. I could see that his eyes were tight with tension. His lips we
re pulled back across his teeth in a smile that looked painful to hold. Ben wasn’t a fan of Genevieve and she was not a fan of his. I spent as much time keeping the peace between the two as I did trying to avoid them.
Genevieve held out her hand like the queen she was and turned her cheek to me. I cupped her long fingers in my hand, kissed her jeweled knuckles, then leaned down to kiss her cheeks without actually touching them. She gave me time to pour myself a cup of coffee from the service on the desk and get situated in the chair next to Ben before starting the sermon.
“So, where have you been?” she asked.
I took a careful sip of coffee and gave her a little shrug. “I’ve been good,” I said. I glanced around the room. “Where is Pascal? Will we not be graced with his presence this weekend?”
“Pascal is waiting for me in San Diego,” she said, leaning forward to put her elbows on the desk. She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. She gave me a look that walked the line between smugness and condescension. What Ben called, “her resting bitch face.”
“Pity, we will miss seeing him, won’t we, Ben,” I said with a smile. Ben didn’t answer. His focus seemed to be on the coffee cup balancing on his knee rather than the pending conversation. I got the feeling he’d been preached to already and had remained just to watch me squirm.
Genevieve said, “Pascal is waiting in San Diego because I’m speaking there this weekend at a women’s awareness seminar. He is getting everything ready for me.”
“Women’s awareness of what?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “Pardon?”
“You said you were speaking at a women’s awareness seminar,” I said, feigning interest. I looked at Ben, trying to pull him into the game, and pushed my eyebrows up. “I’m just wondering what women need to be aware of. Wouldn’t you like to know that, Ben, so you could be aware of it, too?”
I saw her right eye twitch, which was a sign that she was not amused. She forced a smile and studied me with her eyes. “You’re certainly in a good mood this morning.” She cut her eyes at Ben. “What the fuck’s going on?”