Chapter 5

Rainier

There’s a literal clusterfuck occurring all around us now, an alternate reality of faceless sex, but I can’t bear to part with the virginal, voluptuous brunette in the black sequined mask and no lipstick. She’s so raw and magnetic. As I slip out of her, the banquet hall clicks back into focus though, and I remember that we aren’t the only two people in the world, and we are expected to part ways now. Most couples do, anyway.

But I don’t want to. She’s bowed in front of me, crumpled against this table, and I just savagely filled her. In all honesty, I lost control.

“I was rougher than I needed to be,” I say to her, placing my palm on her bare back and stroking her. “I got carried away.”

“It was perfect,” she croaks, and I laugh. She props herself up on her elbows, and I slide my arms around her, helping her stand up off the table entirely.

“I’m going to call you my good girl, then,” I tell her, and she beams up at me. For a moment, the way her face looks, all lit up and proud of herself, and those shimmering hazel eyes behind the mask—but it couldn’t be. This woman is much bustier than Ella, and Ella would never be here. She’s having Thanksgiving dinner with her family right now.

I need to get my goddamn assistant out of my head! Now I’m seeing her everywhere.

“And what shall I call you?” she wonders.

“Mr. H.”

“Mr. H,” she repeats musically. “I like it.”

In the distance, Rex’s voice floats over the milieu. “Rainier!” he bellows.

I grimace. Rex isn’t as handsome as I am, nor as emotionally strong, nor as intelligent, nor as considerate. Jesus Christ, man. If you’re going to be an alpha, there’s a responsibility that comes with that. He’s starting to get on my last nerve.

Maybe it’s time that I diversify my interests.

“I really want to get out of here,” Good Girl says, strangely adamant. “Do you want to walk me, or am I going alone?”

Weighing whether I want to watch Rex repeatedly try to get his dick into Good Girl, or take her for a balmy evening stroll myself, the choice is easy. “Let’s go.” I grip her hand and we exit the dining hall, out onto a wooden walkway surrounded by sand and trees. “Are you comfortable?” I wonder, unable to forget her nudity. Her heavy breasts swing and bounce with every step, still so youthful and perky.

“Not exactly,” she confesses, slipping her heels off. “That’s better.”

“Did you just need to get out of there?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“I didn’t need to be in there anymore,” Good Girl says. “I got what I came for. Now I’m going to get a bath and a good night’s sleep.”

I guffaw out loud. I can’t help it. “What?”

“What?” she echoes, glowering at me, tits still swaying graciously with every step of her bare feet. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Most people come here for the decadence of it all,” I explain to her. “No one is supposed to sleep. You eat and you drink and you fuck and you lay on the beach and you dance and that’s about it. There is no such thing as... going to an event, having sex with one person, and going home. There’s no such thing as a good night’s sleep here.”

“I deserve only the best,” she informs me, sounding smooth and strong. She almost sounds like me when she says it. “And you were the very best man in that entire room.”

A perplexed smile crawls up one side of my lip. I’m not disagreeing but how did she know that? “I’m a scoundrel,” I say. “You wasted your virginity on me, Good Girl.”

She laughs—a light, musical thing—and my heart inexplicably tightens. Her laugh... It sounds like—

But there is no way she could possibly be on this island, I remind myself. You’re losing it, man. Look at this girl. She’s a brunette, yeah, but she’s not Ella. Good Girl is wild. Wild and busty.

It strikes me suddenly and deeply and for the second time since I met her: I have to see her face. I’ve never taken off a single woman’s mask before, but I’m unmasking this one. I’m going to unmask her tonight, in fact. I promise myself this.

“My villa is right over there,” I say, gesturing as we stroll. “Do you just want to get a shower and a good night’s sleep there?”

“No, I don’t.” But she still has on a teasing smile as she says it. “I know I won’t get any sleep in the same bed with you, Mr. H— Mr. H.” How strange. For a moment, it sounded like she knew my name and was about to say it. “And I don’t want to sleep with my mask on tonight.”

“Oh, come on.” I nudge her with my arm and reach down, lacing my fingers through hers. it feels natural to do so and I tug her along the walkway, toward my villa. She resists and yields almost in the same gesture. “What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a big deal,” she reassures me. “You’d understand if someone wanted to tell me all about your identity.”

“I don’t think so,” I tell her, and I’m being honest here. “I don’t think I would.”

“Your choice,” she says flippantly. “Was that man calling your name? Rainier?”

“I suppose tonight is a night of firsts for both of us, then,” I say, ignoring her question. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we are getting ahead of ourselves. “Your first time with a man, and my first time wanting to get to know a woman here.” We close in on my villa and I gesture again. “Here we are.”

“Is it really the first time you’ve wanted to know a woman?” she wonders. “How long have you been coming here?”

“Eight years,” I answer, stretching open the front door and bowing for her passage. “And no, never. But there’s something about you.”

She hesitates, then steps past me. I watch her amazing ass swing from side to side as she enters my villa. Little does she know, I will have her again before the night is out.

And I will get her mask off, too.

“You’re just bedazzled by my virginity,” she insists. “You don’t need to know who I am.”

“We’ll see.” My eyes track her as if she’s prey... only in the sense that I will have her. “Go to the bathtub and I’ll bathe you there.”

She freezes and her eyes flick to me. Again, she reminds me of Ella. There’s something in that doe-like expression on her face. “I don’t think so,” she says. “Not yet. I’ll bathe myself.”

I stride across the room and cup her chin with my fingers. She stiffens and her neck stretches. She looks directly into my eyes and heat thrums between us. “You’ll get in that bathtub right now and spread your legs,” I command her, steady and even. My woman needs to know that, if she’s with me, I’m in control.

“Yes, sir,” Good Girl breathes, and I guide her to the bathroom. She settles obediently into the tub and spreads her legs wide for me. I try to ignore how hard I want to be between them right now, and focus instead on running her a nice, warm bath. We don’t speak as I lather the sponge and work it over her body, gently adoring her with every swipe, every scrub. I circle her taut nipples with the rough sponge and watch them depress and then spring back. I gaze wonderingly as the bubbles course down her breasts, down her flat, slick belly, and into the water again. I run the soapy sponge over her legs, her inner thighs, then soak it in the water and graze it between her labia. I know that I just rode her hard, and she’s probably raw from all the orgasms so far, but I can’t resist.

“You’re so good for me,” I tell her, stroking harder, and I feel her hips shift and grind, feel her respond to me. “I want to make you feel good, Good Girl...” I start pumping harder, forgetting that I want to know who she is, forgetting that I want this to last longer than a few days. The water froths between her legs and she whimpers and bucks and my sleeve is soaking wet. I drop the sponge and put my fingers on her clit, driving her orgasm home with precision. Her spine stiffens, her neck loosens, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her thighs lift out of the water as her pussy pulses around my fingers and my dick gets a deep surge of adrenaline and blood.

“Oh, Good Girl.” I draw my wet hand out of the bath and flick it, spent and invigorated at once. “I have to know your name.”