by Kira Blakely
The girl in the mirror doesn’t look like me, or at least, not the ‘me’ I’m used to. Her long, tan legs scoop up into an ass that looks like twin bubbles beneath this cloying fabric, and her narrow midriff curve is accentuated by the dress. Her breasts gleam with a sheen of island sweat, peeking out from beneath the thin, silky neckline.
I square my shoulders and bury my nerves, but they pop up right away. I slip on the glittering mask, which leaves only my lips and eyes exposed, then walk to the exit and open the door.
The helper dude smiles encouragement and offers his arm again but doesn’t comment on my appearance. It kinda makes me feel good. Like I’ll fit in or like it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He gives me a quizzical look. “To the party, Miss Henderson.” He leads me down the long, wooden path, and the low hum of laughter and talk drifts on the air, alongside a rhythmic beat of music.
The sun is an orange orb, dipping toward the horizon and long shadows chase across the grass. We head down toward the beach again, and step onto the sand. I’m still barefoot, but I’m not the only one.
My assistant steps back and out of view, leaving me to mingle with the guests.
And there are so many guests.
Men in jeans and shirts or suits, all wearing masks in differing colors. Women in dresses similar to mine, with their own glittering masks. Waiters swerve between them in uniforms, carrying trays of drinks and bite-sized appetizers.
The music echoes down the beach, complemented by the gentle wash of waves on the sand. I grasp a wicker chair from a row nearby and ease myself into it, accept a flute of champagne from one of the waiters – also masked.
Mystery is in the air, and something else, too. It’s in the glances of the women, some of whom saunter over to the masked men, swaying their hips. It’s in the gentle caresses doled out by the men, sweeping fingers down backs, or resting them on necks or faces.
I swallow panic. Where the hell is Becky?
I glug back some of the alcohol and search for her in the crowd but I can’t tell who is who. The back of my neck prickles, I spin around, and meet the crystal blue gaze of a man nearby. He leans casually against the bar, and his gaze sweeps up and down my body, dancing over it.
My insides tighten and I jerk upright.
He tilts his head to one side, raises a finger, beckons.
I can’t shake my head. I can’t do anything but stare at him.
He’s taller than most of the men at the party, and he fills out his shirt. His biceps tug at his sleeves, his thighs are encased in a pair of beige slacks, and I force myself not to focus on his bulge.
He tugs fingers through wavy brown hair, which looks soft as silk by the light of the flickering torches pegged in the sand, and he won’t quit watching me.
Another tightening inside my body, but this is different. It’s hot and tingly, and oh, god, I actually want to go over to him. Am I crazy? I came all the way out here, but now… it’s so out there, so in my face, and I’m struggling to catch up.
A moan breaks the moment, and I look over at the source.
Two steps from me, a couple are wrapped around each other. The masked man holds one of the woman’s legs up, exposing her pussy to the warm dusk breeze. He runs two fingers between her lips, and she moans again.
I’m frozen. My heart races, my body responds – nipples pucker, tingling deep within my core. Oh, god, why is this so hot? It’s so hot!
The masked man inserts two fingers inside his partner and she slaps her hands down on his shoulders, clings to him, and lets out a feral growl this time.
Heat creeps up my neck, accompanied by the acute awareness that masked blue-eyes watches me, still.
The couple topple to the sand. He rips down the slope of her neckline and suckles on her right breast, still working his fingers deep inside her. His dick is already out, glistening with pre-cum. She fumbles for it, grasps it between her thighs, and starts stroking his shaft. The man’s breath hitches.
It’s all too much for me. Wetness drips between my thighs. I feel the need to stay and watch, even though it’s not like anything I’ve witnessed before. What if someone grabs me just like he grabbed her? Am I about to have public sex with a stranger for my first time?
I hesitate, spare one glance for the masked man by the bar, and then I run for the palm trees, away from the noises of sex and toward the crash of waves.
Chapter 4
Nicholas
She’s running. The young blonde who caught my eye runs from the visions of sex and satisfaction, toward the line of palms. It has to be her first time here.
I follow.
I’ve never seen something I’ve wanted and not gone for it. I want her. I want her body against mine, her pussy tightening on my cock as I pulse inside her. Raw, skin on skin. I want it and I’m going to get it.
I stride across the sand, drawn on by her temerity. She seems innocent, the wide-eyed look, the flush which crept up her neck at the moans. Fucking perfection. I’ll make her groan and writhe just like that.
I catch up to her beneath the palms. She leans against one of them, her head tilted back to expose an expanse of succulent neck, her eyes closed. One hand is between her legs, pressed against the fabric of her teeny tiny dress.
“It’s only worse if you run,” I say.
She gasps and opens her eyes, snaps her arms to her sides. “W-what?”
“Delayed gratification. It made you hot, seeing them like that,” I say. “Why run?”
“I – It’s my first time,” she says. Her voice is smooth and sweet, almost musical, but not too high-pitched. A fine wine.
“I’ll show you around,” I say, and gesture to the picnic spot up ahead. Blankets have already been laid out on the sand, between the torches, next to baskets. None of the partygoers have moved over to them yet. They’re all high on the arrival.
“No, I mean –” She sucks in a breath and chews on one full bottom lip. “It’s my first time ever… having sex. I’m a virgin.”
My cock stiffens, immediately, desperate to be free and claim her. “That’s good,” I say, and take a single step closer. “You want to lose it.” That has to be why she’s here.
“Yes,” she says.
I don’t ask why. It’s not important, right now, only that she wants this. Her breasts rise and fall rapidly, she breathes hard and glances down at the front of my pants. She presses her lips together.
“You don’t mind?” she asks, softly. “That I’m a – that it’s my first time?”
I close the distance between us in two strides and press my body against hers, my crotch into her abdomen. “Does it feel like I mind?” I capture her dainty wrists in my fingers, encircle them and pin them above her head. I grind into her, real slow, and her eyelids flutter.
“Oh – my,” she whispers.
“I’ll take it for you,” I say.
Her lips part, she nods ever so slightly, and I release her from the tree, and lead her back to the beach where the blankets wait. I slip her dress off her shoulders and expose perky tits, tan lines from a bikini cutting across her skin, pale triangles around pink nipples, and her pussy, hairless.
The gentle thrum of music and the ocean itself provide the perfect backdrop.
I take her hand and place it on my dick, still trapped by my pants.
She gasps. “It’s big. It’s too –”
I unzip the pants for her, draw out my length and place her hand on it. It’s big, all right, thick and hungry for her, already wet from the anticipation of claiming her first time, claiming her virginity as mine.
She strokes my shaft, runs fingers over my head. I take her hand again, this time to guide her down onto the blanket. She lies back, brown eyes wide, her lips parted. I can’t see the rest of her face, but I can tell this rocks her world, her very existence.
“I –” she stammers and looks down at her body, her tits bouncing slightly, so full and begging to be touched, to
be sucked and licked.
“I’ll go slow,” I say, and lie down on top of her. Christ, it’s been so fucking long since I’ve had a woman, especially one who’s this gorgeous, untouched, and smells of ocean, champagne, and light, floral perfume.
I’m already throbbing for her, fucking aching to be inside her and feel the velvet warmth of her walls, the tight wetness.
I brace myself on my elbows, then reach between us and slide my fingers between her pussy lips. She’s swollen and dripping, so wet she’s already dripped all over her thighs. We haven’t even kissed yet and she’s this ready for me.
She trembles.
I stroke her clitoris, a gentle flick made slippery with her own juices.
She throws her arms around my neck and cries out.
“That’s right,” I say. “I’m going to make you come.” I kiss her cheek open mouthed, and trail a line of hot kisses to her ear lobe, then suck it. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t remember yourself,” I whisper, and circle her clit. “You’re mine now.”
She digs her nails into my shirt, and I like it that way. She’s naked, and I’ve got my shirt and pants on, just my dick out, seeking her.
I place it at her slick yet tiny entrance and guide it slowly.
She tenses and I move away from her ear, back to her lips. “Slow,” I promise, then part her lips with mine and taste her mouth. “Slow. Say you want it. I want to hear you say it.”
“I want it,” she whispers. “I’m yours. Take me.”
Chapter 5
Heather
“Take it,” I say again, and cling to him.
The distant groans of the sex party down the beach rise and fall, some lost beneath the thump of music, others rising to greet us. God, I’ve never wanted anything as much in my life. But I’m scared.
The nerves have redoubled, but the need for him is stronger. My skin prickles, goosebumps rise, and I anticipate the pain.
He enters me bit by bit, slow as he promised. He sheathes himself inside me – a sharp pang of pain, followed by the pleasure, radiating alongside it.
I bite down on my lip and keep from crying out. It’s hot and sore and so good, nothing like I expected. As the waves crash on the sand, pleasure rolls over me.
The masked man with piercing blue eyes, now slightly glazed, halts his thrust and waits. He studies my face with care, gauges my reaction.
He’s worried he’s hurting you.
I swallow. “I’m fine,” I manage, because the need chokes me up.
He doesn’t hesitate, moves inside me, filling me up and gliding. His shirt scrapes against my bare chest, and tickles me. I squirm and wrap my legs around him instinctively.
I’m in shock, caught between breaths and pulse racing. This is happening. It’s actually happening.
He strokes my hair, then tugs on it lightly, and thrusts a little harder.
I cry out and tighten my grip on him, kiss him again, probe his mouth, tasting, needing more, more, more. His tongue tastes of champagne and I inhale him, reveling in the smell, the taste, the brush of his tongue against mine.
“More,” I groan. “Faster.” It springs from my lips. “I’m ready.”
He increases the pressure, braces his knees and drives into me, deeper than before, stretching me, increasing both pain and pleasure with those strong thrusts, his dick claiming the soft, warm core no one has taken before.
“Mine,” he grunts, and thrusts deep again, spearing me with ecstasy, his pubic hair grazing my clit and taking me higher still. He halts and I blink – it can’t possibly be over, can it?
He presses a finger to my lips, just below my mask. “You’re mine.”
“Uh huh,” I say.
“I mean it. You don’t touch anyone else this weekend. You’re mine,” he repeats. “My forbidden vixen.”
“Okay,” I say, and tighten around him. This talk builds that pressure inside me, feeding a furnace.
“Say you’re mine.” His dick is the center point of my existence right now, and it’s so hard. He can take the pleasure away or bring more, and I want all of it. I want everything he has to offer. He cups my cheek in his hand, then strokes my bottom lip.
He bends down, sucks on it and pulls, then pounds into me again.
“Oh, god, I’m yours. I’m yours, Daddy.” Shit, what? Did I just call him –?
“Daddy,” he growls, “I like that. You’ll call me that from now on. I’m Daddy, and you’re my vixen.”
I writhe beneath him and reach for the buttons of his shirt. I tear at them, but my fingers shake too much to get them open. He uses one hand and rips the shirt open – buttons ping off into the sand.
His chest is an expanse of muscle, knotted and slick with sweat. Beads trace down his pecs and drip onto my breasts. I grab them and massage – I want to feel good, I want to feel everything.
Daddy watches me from behind the mask, his eyes glinting by the torchlight. All I have to go on are his lips, not too thin, not too full, now parted, his tongue resting between his teeth, and those eyes. He devours me with them and moves inside me again.
He’s on both elbows, angling his body so his abdomen presses against my clit with every thrust. He’s deep, so deep, and he’s taking me somewhere I’ve never gone before with a man.
I arch my back off the sand, press my breasts into him. My eyes roll back in my head.
“Daddy,” I groan. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” I chant the mantra over and over.
He captures my lips again and kisses me hard. “Good,” he growls. “Good girl. Come for me.”
I tense beneath him and sail toward the crest of a wave. Everything whites out, except for him. He’s the world and he’s taking me there with even thrusts, his slick torso pressed against mine.
“Come for me,” he grunts.
I explode over the edge, crash into the waves of pleasure. They swell around me, overwhelm me, and I clench tight around his cock, massaging him, pulsing through my orgasm.
I’m frozen, eyes closed, in a stupor.
“Jesus, you’re tight.” His dick hardens further. His thrusts are desperate, fast and hard.
I rock through my orgasm and grip my breasts, my mouth open.
He sucks the tip of my tongue, then jams into me one more time. He spurts inside me, groaning as he does, a long low rumble of sound.
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes, Daddy.”
His orgasm coincides with the aftershocks of mine. He spasms inside me one last time, filling me up for the first time, then lays on top of me, breathing hard.
I inhale the sea salt and the scent of his skin, then shut my eyes.
It’s over. It’s finally over. I’m not a virgin anymore. No, I’m not. I’m his for the weekend, and I don’t even know his name.
Chapter 6
Nicholas
I stand on the wraparound porch of my villa and hold the glass of orange juice to my lips. I haven’t taken a sip since I lifted it from the tray in my living room. Thoughts from yesterday, my girl’s body beneath me, have taken me to another fucking plane of existence.
I’ve never come so hard as I did with her. I filled that pussy with all I had and I’ll do it again.
And her smell… it’s something special, a scent that unlocked a hidden desire. The floral scent, so light and fragrant, is familiar to me. I can’t place where I’ve smelled it before.
I finally take a sip of the orange juice and savor the tang on the sides of my tongue.
She’s tastier. I’ve named her my vixen, but the curiosity has already seeped through my veins. I want to know who she is.
My cell phone rings inside the villa, and I squeeze my eyes closed. “Fuck,” I mutter.
Mystique Island has a strict no cell phones policy for this exact reason. It breaks the fucking magic of the moment. I can’t disconnect from work for too long, though, and sneaking in a few calls here and there can’t hurt.
I walk back into the living room, the floors of pol
ished wood creak beneath my steps, and I lift the phone from the mantel where I left it. Jake’s number flashes on the screen.
I put down the glass of OJ, then answer. “Son,” I say. “You should be at work.”
“I am at work,” he replies, and I pre-empt the annoying whine. “Dad, it’s bullshit. This guy is a total dictator. I’m not going to handle working for him.”
“Then you’ll be out of Columbia by the end of the week,” I say.
“Can’t I just work for you?” he asks.
“No,” I reply. I’ve always hoped that my son would take over the reins at the Plug, but he’s fucking hapless currently. A couple weeks of grinding it out at a local store will put some steel in his spine.
“Seriously?” he hisses, then hangs up.
Little prick. He’s on the fast road to a wakeup call that will be very unpleasant for him, and will be none of my doing. I place the phone on the mantel again, but this time, I hold in the button on its side and turn it off.
I’ll stick to the Island’s rules from now on.
There’s a mixer on the beach – I can make out the thrum of noise from my oceanfront villa – and I snatch up my mask and put it on. Hopefully, my girl will be down there, waiting for me, and if not, I’ll fucking find her.
I need to fill her again, to feel her walls close around me, taste her mouth and that soft skin at her neck. She’ll be my drug while I’m on Mystique.
I check my reflection in the mirror and nod. Forty-two years old and I’m still working out, not a hint of gray in my hair, with a dick thick enough to please hundreds of women. Except, I don’t want hundreds of women. I learned my damn lesson years ago, when I fell for Jake’s mother and ultimately lost her.
I want no one.
Except that’s not technically true anymore. I want my girl, my vixen, and I want her now.
I head out the front door, clomp down the three wood steps that lead onto a dirt path between two hedges. I like it this way – closed off and private. I requested it from Blake, my buddy who owns the island. The idea seemed pretty fucking far out at first, but now? I won’t look back.