Just then, a deep groan echoed from Brent’s mouth—vibrating through the deepest part of her pussy—and she looked down to see . . . oh—oh God.
Brent was no longer alone. Another masked man held Brent’s erect cock in his hand.
Chapter 13
Jenna had lifted her right foot to the divan at some point and now Brent shifted as well, angling his body to one side, even as he ate her pussy. He moved from his knees to his ass, legs spread, knees bent, breeches open, his beautiful cock jutting like an obelisk through another guy’s fist.
Such warmth permeated her at the startling sight that she abandoned her girlfriend’s breast. The move led her to rest her head on the plump mound she’d just deserted—but her playmate seemed undaunted, simply looping her arm around Jenna from behind to begin tweaking and twirling one of Jenna’s nipples between her fingertips.
Jenna watched in awe as Brent’s new companion—younger, clearly sexy—bent to take his cock into his mouth. Her pussy jolted at the sight, almost violently—but she still managed not to come. Brent lifted his head, his face wet with her juices, to meet her gaze.
“So hot,” she breathed, and immediately saw the heat and relief mingling in his eyes—he’d obviously cared if this aroused her; he’d obviously worried it would not.
As if in reply, Brent smoothly inserted two fingers into her cunt, making her sob—just as the man who’d caressed her breast before now did so again, still suckling the other girl’s tit. Thus both of Jenna’s breasts were fondled as Brent fucked her with his fingers—but for the moment, he turned his eyes on what took place between his legs.
Jenna had never seen one man sucking another’s cock before and the vision transfixed her—especially since Brent’s low groans told her how deep his pleasure ran. And as the younger guy slid his mouth capably up and down Brent’s erection, it hit her: Good Lord, could that be Ryan, the cute waiter she’d met early in her stay? But before she could ponder it further, Brent turned suddenly back to her parted slit, burying his face there with a wild fury that made her cry out.
She watched Brent pump his rock-hard column into that male mouth as, at her pussy, he latched on to her swollen clit, sucking deep and rhythmic. Still mesmerized by the cocksucking, she writhed bra zenly against Brent now, getting closer and closer—oh God, yes, it was coming—and then finally she was screaming as the orgasm rocked her body involuntarily, as the whole scene seemed to collapse around her in a glorious, replete climax she couldn’t have imagined.
The moment the waves of intense pleasure faded, Brent released her clit and let out a hot, low groan, whispered the words, “Fuck—now,” and thrust harder into his male lover’s mouth, coming. She’d never gotten to see that before—Brent coming with someone other than her—and it was an amazing, arousing sight that made her skin prickle and her pussy pulse anew. She practically wanted to come again herself, just witnessing the obscenely hot vision.
When it was over, Brent’s cheek came to rest on her bare thigh. She stroked his hair and let her head fall back against the divan, eyes closing, and sensed their other companions drifting away to seek greener pastures now that they’d both reached orgasm.
But Jenna needed to be closer to him now, and since, all around them, half-clothed bodies sprinkled not only the furniture but the carpet as well, she eased herself to the floor with Brent to lie down, drawing his head to her chest.
When Brent opened his eyes after a short, orgasm-induced sleep—which he didn’t usually fall prey to, but he’d been more sexually active this week than usual—he found “Lady Jenna” curled up in his arms, her bodice still pulled low. His cock flopped lazily from the opening in his pants, reminding him: She’d watched Ryan suck him off. And she’d loved it. He couldn’t have imagined such a response from Jenna even a few days ago and simply recalling the look in her eyes made his dick begin perking back to life.
Around them, the sex party raged on—they lay in the middle of what had become a tangled mass of bodies and hands and revealed private parts.
As he shifted to take in the rest of the room, Jenna stirred, soon lifting her head, peering down into his eyes. He reached up to pull her sparkly mask back into place—it had gotten skewed in sleep. “We can’t have you revealing your identity, can we, Lady Jenna?” he whispered teasingly.
Instead of replying to what he’d said, she simply rasped, “I want more,” and reached down to slide her cool palm over his cock, now nearly half hard.
The touch, and her need, took away all his amusement. “Then more you shall have. Take whatever you like.”
And then Jenna began to kiss him. He’d gotten far too attached to that simple affection with her, but for now, he indulged fully, meeting her tongue with his, letting her feel his desire.
Soon she was pulling him to sit upright in the middle of the floor, then lifting her brocade skirt to straddle him. His erection was stiff and full now, and he released a low growl when she skimmed her wet slit provocatively up and down his length, just before—God yes—she lowered herself onto him. They both groaned and her head fell back, and he liked knowing he felt bigger inside her in this position.
“Am I huge in you, sunshine?” he asked throatily near her ear.
She drew back slightly, bit her lip, and sounded lost in passion. “Impossibly so.”
She began to ride him then, purring and moaning as she found her rhythm. He molded one hand to her ass under the dress; the other he used to knead her breast—before bending to suckle it. He loved her tight nipple on his tongue, between his lips—the sensation stretched straight to his groin.
Couples, trios, and other configurations fucked all around them—the string quartet could barely be heard above all the moans and groans and dirty whispers—but for Brent, there was only Jenna, looking beautifully naughty and eager as he pumped up into her. “Ride me, baby,” he growled, and she ground her pussy on him harder.
Damn, she was so sexy, his Little Mary Sunshine gone bad—and he yearned to give her more and more pleasure.
Just behind her stood Zack with two girls—both guests, Brent thought, since he didn’t recognize them—who knelt before him and took turns going down on him. And Brent knew Zack well enough to know his overriding sexual preference was, indeed, having his cock sucked. So as the two girls began kissing one another, seeming to forget the large phallus in their midst, Brent met his gaze, silently summoning him.
When an erect, veined cock suddenly appeared at eye level next to Jenna, she glanced up, looking slightly taken aback. So Brent was glad when Zack briefly lifted his mask to give her a quick wink hello, knowing it would put her at ease for what he hoped would happen next.
Lowering her eyes back to Brent, her expression was a charming mix of daring and sheepishness. So he would help her along.
As they fucked, he reached up, took hold of Zack’s hard-on, and drew it toward Jenna’s mouth.
He couldn’t decide whether or not to be surprised when she parted her lips willingly—but as they closed over Zack’s cock, it was all Brent could do not to come.
Above, Zack groaned, beginning to glide gingerly in and out, and Brent’s limbs actually grew weak watching her suck another guy this way, just a few inches from his face, while he moved in her below.
A few minutes later, Jenna extracted the shaft from her swollen lips—then guided it toward Brent’s mouth.
He didn’t hesitate. What Jenna wanted tonight, he would gladly give her. He opened wide, let her feed Zack’s erection to him. He welcomed the fullness in his mouth, no stranger to the sensation—and he kept his eyes on Jenna as he worked, pleased with how awestruck she appeared. Her eyes, her lips, were incredibly close, and just like when it was her mouth being fucked, something about the nearness made it ultimately more intense.
“I want him to come in your mouth,” she said, undulating on him wetly. And everything inside him clenched at sharing this fresh, new dirty lust with her.
He sucked Zack with more vigor, and within s
econds, Zack was thrusting, sliding his length roughly toward Brent’s throat. Jenna looked enthralled, growing more and more excited, and Brent only hoped Zack exploded before he did, since he was having a hard time holding back now.
He sucked harder, deeper. Felt dirty, dirty, dirty—all for sweet Jenna, with her, in response to her. She moaned, clearly entranced and on the edge herself. While, above him, Zack began to emit a low groan, murmuring, “Shit, yeah, almost, almost,” and Brent reached up to gently squeeze his balls.
“Hell yeah,” Zack bit off—then shot his come to the back of Brent’s mouth. Brent swallowed, again, again, taking it all in, his eyes shutting in the heat of the moment—after which he heard Jenna sobbing and knew she was coming on him, too.
Oh God, oh fuck—he couldn’t hold it in anymore, either, and just as Zack fired a last arc of semen into his throat, Brent erupted inside Jenna’s body, moaning around the erection filling his mouth.
Jenna could barely process all that had just happened. As Zack pulled his wet shaft away, she stared at Brent, thinking—Oh my God, I’ve never experienced anything so intense in my life. And she’d done it with him, and she knew, whether or not he’d admit it, he felt the same way. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in his kiss.
“Doing okay, honey?” he asked softly.
And that’s when it hit her—Oh Lord, I’ve just taken part in an orgy. A real, true-life, freaking orgy! But she had no regrets, because she’d been with Brent. And somehow that made everything—anything—okay. “Yeah, I am. I can’t believe it, but I really am.”
Yet she suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore. The rest of the room writhed in raucous abandon, but she felt . . . well, that she’d experienced the full measure of what she could here. “Can we take off, though? Go to your place or something?”
To her relief, he didn’t show the slightest reluctance. “Yeah, let’s go.” And a moment later, he was taking her hand, whisking her past the pulsing mass of bodies toward the door.
Once outside in the warm tropical air, they made their way to the nearby beach, where Jenna stopped to shed her period shoes. They walked hand in hand, Brent holding both their masks, until Jenna looked up at him to say, “Is it all right for Lord Sexingham to leave his own party?”
He let out a light laugh, looking as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. “Not really, but they’ll get by without me.”
“I’m sorry to make you break so many rules,” she said.
He grinned down at her in the moonlight. “No you’re not,” he scolded. Then he stopped, dropped the masks to the sand, lifted his hands to her face, and kissed her for a very long time.
They lay in Brent’s bed, snuggling. Upon reaching his bungalow, they’d said little—both tired, she guessed—but they’d undressed each other very slowly, then wordlessly crawled beneath his sheets. She still wore her stockings, though, and she sensed that Brent especially liked them.
“Did I do okay at the masquerade?” she asked against his broad chest.
Above her, he let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “You have to ask, sunshine? You were fucking phenomenal.” Then he used one bent finger to lift her chin so that she met his gaze. “But this fantasy was about doing what you wanted, not what I wanted you to do. It was about total freedom.”
“Then it worked, because that’s exactly what I felt.”
As was so often the case, he looked pleased. “Good.”
“That said,” she reasoned, now that the excitement was over, “I’m not sure how this is going to translate into my real life. I don’t see many more orgies in my future.”
The corners of his mouth turned up in just a hint of a smile. “I’m not suggesting that this would even be wise in real life. But I wanted you to experience it, to know that you can. And I . . . wanted to see you that way,” he admitted. “That part was selfish.”
“I don’t mind,” she whispered.
Cuddling back up to his warm body, she noticed the initials on his arm once more. And the closer she felt to him, it seemed, the more she longed to know about the one woman Brent Powers had ever fallen in love with. Biting her lip, she reached out to gently run her fingertips over the tattoo. “What happened with Deena?” she asked.
But he didn’t respond.
She waited for a long moment, yet he still remained quiet, eyes on the ceiling, as if she’d never asked.
Given that the two of them had grown close, whether he liked it or not, she didn’t hide her disappointment. “You’re really not going to tell me?”
“She died,” he said.
Oh no. “Oh. God. I’m sorry, Brent.” Then she whispered, “How?”
This time, when he hesitated, she didn’t dare press him—she could see how hard it was for him to share this, but that he was trying now. “An accident. On the highway. A semi lost control.”
Jenna’s heart constricted. “God, that’s awful.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “They say it was quick, though—no pain.” Yet then his eyebrows knit.
“What?” she asked.
He gave his head a short shake—but then he confided in her further. “We’d fought that day. About sex. She was . . . kind of like you.”
“Like me?”
He met her gaze briefly. “She’d had some bad experiences growing up, and she wasn’t very comfortable with sex. But I wasn’t mature enough to get it at the time—and I was mad she was always rejecting my advances, always acting turned off.” He stopped, sighed. “So we argued. And so I’ve always known she was mad at me—hurt by me—when she died. And worse, she had every right to be, because I was acting like an asshole.”
Jenna blinked, shocked, putting pieces together. At the risk of overestimating her importance to Brent, she whispered, “Is that why? Why you insisted on fixing my problems?”
His face changed then, going dark, looking even sadder somehow. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.” Then he let out a rough breath, appearing disgusted with himself. “Shit—I kind of wondered why it was so damn important to me, so . . . hell. Maybe.”
“Maybe you wanted to . . . give me what you weren’t able to give her?” Jenna suggested cautiously.
Brent’s only response was to close his eyes—and then she saw a tear leak free, rolling down his cheek.
Oh God. Oh God, her heart broke for him. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
Yet then he seemed to shake off the more brutal emotions. “No, it’s okay,” he said, reaching up to wipe the wetness from his face. “I just hadn’t realized it, but you’re probably right.”
Despite herself, Jenna still wanted to know more. She wasn’t sure she should keep prying at this point, yet . . . “When did Deena die?”
“The April before I graduated from college.”
Oh, wow. That explained a lot. Like why he’d looked so unhappy in those graduation pictures. And could it also explain . . . ? “That was . . . right before you came here. Right?”
He nodded against the pillow. “I came that summer.”
She simply looked at him, wondering if he truly couldn’t see what she suddenly saw. She raised on one elbow to peer down at him. “You came here to get away from her death,” she said.
Yet he only shrugged. “Sure I did. It was a good distraction. A different lifestyle, a different world.”
“But you never left, Brent. You came here to hide from it and you never stopped.”
This finally got his attention. He arched a brow and she felt his muscles tense. “Okay, who’s the psychology major here?”
Jenna wasn’t sure how to proceed. She didn’t want to be hard on him, but the fact was—his girlfriend had died a very long time ago. He should be over it by now. So she was as honest with him as he’d been with her about confronting her issues. “Maybe you should quit trying to dodge this, because I think I’m right. I think you’ve been . . . hiding here all this time.”
“Hiding from what?” he snapped.
S
he tilted her head and didn’t let his tone deter her. “I’m not sure. Love? The fear of loving somebody that much again and losing them? The fear of hurting somebody and never having the chance to fix it? The fear of living the life you’d planned with her—without her? Maybe all of that? Am I getting close?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, and she knew she’d pissed him off. He still held her in a loose embrace, but the tenderness of it had faded. Finally, he looked her in the eye and said, “I don’t hide from anything, Jenna. You should know that by now.”
“I should know that just because you’re all big and tough and sexy?” she asked, still feeling bold. “Talk about being in denial. All I can say is . . . sex doctor, heal thyself.”
Brent knew there was truth in her words. He’d always known it. He’d just chosen not to think about it. Now he had only himself to blame for getting so close to someone that they could see it.
“Jenna,” he quietly explained, “there are times when it’s possible to . . . recognize what you’re doing, and know why, and even realize that maybe it doesn’t seem like the best thing . . . but if you function fine that way, maybe you decide it is the best thing—for you. I’m happy here, so why would I change that—no matter what brought me here?” Maybe that would shut her up.
Unfortunately not. “I could ask you the same question about my issues. I was fine, happy, content—but you insisted on fixing me anyway. And I feel better about myself inside than I have in years. I thought I was fine when I came here, and I could have lived that way forever without any real problems—but you made me better. Better than I knew I could be.”
“Apples and oranges,” he said decidedly.
“I disagree,” she replied. “I think . . . you’re afraid of the world beyond this island. I think you’re afraid of all the ways there are to hurt and get hurt if you indulge in a relationship that goes deeper than sex.”
Okay, that was it. He’d tried to be nice about this, but she’d just pushed him too far. Still, he tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “I think you’re butting into something that’s not your business, sunshine.”
What She Needs Page 28