Chapter 3

Rainier

My secret haven gleams beneath the Caribbean sun, as far as the eye can see. In every direction sprawls white sand beaches, deep blue sea, jungle, and villas. My private jet departed from the Mystique Island airstrip not long ago, and my valet leads me to a customized suite with a deep in-ground Jacuzzi and beams for aerial yoga. The place is truly perfect. The owner of the island—a global power player by the name of di Reyes, they say—goes above and beyond to provide perfection to perfectionists.

I’ve actually never met the man myself, though I’ve heard that he is always watching from the shadows. Enjoying the show.

I head inside and shower and change, refreshing myself from the day of travel. My mask is provided, along with a tailored suit from one of my favorite designers, free of charge. The monthly dues are astronomical, but completely worth it. You get back everything you pay and so much more. Stepping from the shower with beads of hot water still tracing down my torso, I towel off and change into the suit on my bed. The shirt is a rich, silky blue, contrasting with my onyx hair and bronze skin like the designer was given a picture of me first. I shave and slap cologne onto my jaw and neck.

Finally, I’m ready for the mask. It doesn’t hide as much of my face as I would like. The mask scoops down around my cheekbones, barely disguising the structure of my face, and my eyes are fully exposed. My mouth is fully exposed.

Of course, it has to be. There’s plenty of things to see. And plenty of things to eat.

My valet returns to the villa and wishes to guide me to the Thanksgiving banquet, but I turn him away. I’ve been coming to Mystique Island for eight years now. I know my way around. Their main event is always held at the same massive beach house.

As I stroll toward the Mystique mansion, I pass a threesome in the sand, then multiple random couples in a halo around the entrance.

In some ways, perhaps I’ve been emotionally stunted by all this, but I can’t regret the mind-blowing things I’ve seen and done here. I don’t know any woman wild and unpredictable enough to satisfy me as much as a thousand would.

The beach house is decorated seasonally, and I traipse along a walk lined by pumpkins and husks of corn. How quaint. I have to appreciate di Reyes’ attention to detail. The owner must be a festive type, because he’s always throwing holiday celebrations. I have to wonder what will be on my plate this Thanksgiving. Definitely going to be hotter than a turkey.

A familiar male voice calls out from behind me. “Rainier!”

I twist as Rex McKenzie slaps an open palm on my shoulder, beaming. Rex and I are much alike. Both well-moneyed alphas, both built with dark hair. But there is a difference in Rex. Where I believe in excellence, he gets more through persistence. He’s not as strong as I am, either—emotionally, I mean. Physically, he’s not as handsome, either—but he certainly does try. And I have to say, as a look, it works. At least, it works for me.

“You mean Mr. H,” I remind him. We’re supposed to be anonymous here. The glamour is ruined if the girl I’m riding suddenly asks me for an internship.

“Right, right.” Rex laughs and releases my shoulder. “Excited to be back for another year.” This is only Rex’s second year on Mystique Island. Last year, he went nuts. He told me he was going to try to make sure to get some invitees and try to take them for himself. That’s a rather selfish way to see the island, but there’s no talking to Rex when he wants something. His emotional weakness keeps him from any growth.

The doors stand open at the top of the pathway, and we cross the threshold, into a warm atmosphere bubbling with chatter, mostly amongst men in masks. Where are the women?

Wait. I see them.

Nude, masked women stretch across the long, wide banquet table. Some lie on their stomachs and some on their backs. Some have their legs stretched open already, some kneel on their knees with their asses in the air. It’s a smorgasbord and dozens of men are already lined up or seated there, burying their mouths on whatever hole is exposed, then moving on to another.

“Thirsty, gentlemen?” a waiter wonders, extending a platter of champagne flutes toward us.

“Insatiably,” Rex replies, rubbing his hands together and pushing past the waiter, toward the bar of women.

“Excuse my partner,” I tell the waiter, clapping him on the shoulder and bowing slightly to show respect. “He’s new.”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter says. I bid him a good night and step by.

Near the end of the table, I see one plate no one is devouring. I can’t imagine why. Her ass is amazingly fleshy, pillowed out beneath her hips, and her breasts are plump and firm. I’ve never seen a more natural curve in my life. Her hair is a wild and loose brunette, and her lips are distinctly bare of lipstick, like she yearns to be kissed as well as fucked. She wears nothing but sequined black pumps and a sequined black mask.

My cock springs to attention and I make a bee-line for this neglected honeypot. Finally, I can drown all my anxieties in some stranger’s tight, wet pussy, and stop nearly assaulting my poor assistant.

I saunter over to the waiting woman, her wide, gossamer thighs cocked in the air, her pussy unopened. She lies next to a dark-haired woman who is also unattended, eyes closed, legs up, waiting. The other women on the table are otherwise in various stages of sex. One is having her ass eaten and doesn’t notice me at all, nor does her partner. One is being furiously ridden by a man whose pants are still fully on. Another is eating out his plate.

“Don’t bother with that one,” the last man grunts from between a blonde’s thighs. His tongue fans eagerly over her clam and she whimpers and writhes.

My eyes shift to the busty brunette. I don’t even see the unattended woman beside her. I want to feel her naked lips on mine. I want my fingers in that hair.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask him, not giving his opinion much credence. My hand goes to the buckle on my belt. My hard dick presses against my zipper, ready. And the brunette is wet. I can see her lips shimmering, and I haven’t even spread them open yet. Someone needs to get on her now.

“She won’t let anyone touch her.” I almost can’t hear his words as he grinds his face on snatch. “Too scared. You should just go home, sweetheart.” He stands, opens his pants, and slides his erection into the blonde with no preamble at all, just pounding away instantly. “This ain’t the place for a meek type,” he pants.

The brunette’s throat bobs as she swallows heavily and I lean closer still. I reach out and skate my fingers along her kneecap. She steels herself against my touch, as if it’s too much to bear. “Is that right?” I ask her, peering down at the beautiful woman in the mask. That delicate jaw and those pouty raw lips... For the first time in eight years, I want to slide off an invitee’s mask and learn more. “Are you scared?” My fingers travel down her smooth thigh and her legs crack open obediently for me. An intense rush of blood straightens and lengthens my cock. The brunette presses her lips together, then releases them again.

“No,” she whispers. “I’m waiting.”

I trace one fingertip over her sweet labia and open her soaked pussy lips. My finger grazes her clit as it goes and I lick the juices off. “Waiting for me?” I wonder. She’s dizzying. She tastes like fucking honey.

“Yes,” the brunette answers, and I grin, settling into the chair in front of her.

I bow my head and skate the tip of my tongue over her pink slit, flicking the hard clit at her apex. Her body jolts and I let out a husky laugh against her plump, bright pussy lips. She must be throbbing for release. And she was waiting for me...

“Well,” I breathe against her. “Can’t let dinner get cold.”

I spread her open wider with two fingers in a V and lap my tongue hard up and down her cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispers dizzily. “It’s really happening. It’s really happening. Oh, god.”

I lap at her harder and her fingers twist in my hair. She whimpers and begs and my dick feels like it’s going to split like the Hulk. I unzip and set him loose, grasping myself and working my hand up and down my own shaft for some relief. A man takes the seat next to me and starts eating out the girl beside mine, but I don’t notice. I can’t even think. I drown in this perfect pussy.