Chapter Six

Rose

I've always been an early riser, and the morning after wild sex with a naked, hunky Santa Claus— otherwise known as Stuart Goldman, the billionaire—is no different.

I blink away the crust of sleep and glare around the room, vaguely remembering how I was delivered by valets to this address the night before. Does this place even have an address? Probably not. That would ruin the, ahem, mystique.

My eyes shift over to Stuart, who is still fast asleep but smiling softly. I can see the outline of his rock-hard dick under the sheets, creating a good-sized tent under there, and I wonder what he's dreaming about.

I don't want to wake him, and I could certainly make his morning by taking him into my mouth right now but I do need a minute to collect my thoughts before this sexcapade continues. Last night was crazy, and if I keep letting all of this snowball forward, I'm going to get crushed by the sudden tsunami of things I've done.

I can't believe that I'm here, that I came last night, wrapped around Stuart Goldman's shaft, and I need to decompress. I need to integrate this development.

I slip on my Mystique Island mask and one of the simple white dresses they provided for my weekend here. I leave behind the villa, commanding myself to note landmarks so I can find my way back without needing to ask some naked rando for help.

The beach is beautiful, a ribbon of white sand tied around the deep blue ocean beyond. I pass several other structures—cabanas, beach houses, villas, all types of residential buildings—and even though it's just after sunrise, I can already hear that some visitors are wide awake and having a sloppy breakfast inside. One man has his bedroom window wide open, and a chorus of satisfied shrieks and moans from at least two different women, maybe three, travels from it.

I've never understood the appeal of group sex, yet here I am, on a sex island for billionaires.

I suck my lower lip into my mouth, suddenly doubting myself, and wrap my fingers around my crucifix.

What would Mom and Dad say if they could see me now?

"Probably nothing," I grumble to myself bitterly, angry that I'm worried about what they might think after the terrible childhood I received from them.

My only solace was church in those days. I tried to create myself a second family out of preachers and kids at Sunday school. But even they went away over time, leaving me to fend for myself.

I was twelve by the time the state picked me up and placed me with foster parents, and twelve is way too late to fix anything. My foster parents were emotionally abusive perfectionists, anyway, and I gave up on finding that family element I so desperately needed. That I still need.

Last night was the first time in a long time that I felt truly accepted somewhere, especially when he laid me down in that bed. I felt precious to him. Not just a woman. Not just a pussy. Not even just a gift. But someone he really wants...

"Because he had sex with you?" I ask myself aloud. "Wake up, Rose."

I know what men are like. That's why I kept my virginity to myself for so long.

I pass more anonymous sex on the beach but I don't look at it closely. I don't want anyone to think I'm interested. It only exacerbates this feeling I have. Nothing here matters. It's all just sex.

I'm not ready to go back to Stuart's villa yet, I realize. I'm not ready to face him, and that giant erection lurking under the sheets.

This morning, I was ready to gobble that thing down, and why? Have I been totally brainwashed by Mystique Island already? Is there horny gas in the air? Maybe a sexy chemical in all the food and water? I don't know but I don't like it. I want to feel like myself again. I don't know who this wild woman is.

I climb onto an outcropping not far from the villa and receive a solid view of the debauchery on the beach—at eight in the morning, these animals.

I settle and cross my legs, taking a deep breath to think about who I am and what I'm doing here. Who I want to be, and what I want to happen next. Last night is already done. I lost my virginity to someone I barely know who invited me directly to this sex island. But I don't have to stay if I don't want to.

Do I want to?

I'm still torn on whether I should stay when the villa door behind me swings open and Stuart himself comes sauntering out, no mask, wearing white linen pants and no shirt. My eyes absorb his powerful thighs and chiseled torso, then make their way up to those sparkling gray eyes, which are always so delighted to see me.

I sigh. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know what I feel, other than different. And sore.

"Hey, Stuart," I say, lacing my arms around my knees and pulling them close, as if shielding my body from him.

He nods up to me. "Mind if I join you?"

"I suppose not."

His brow furrows and he settles himself onto the rock beside me. "I woke up and you were gone. I was worried."

"Well, I'm still here," I tell him. "I just don't know if I want to stay. I feel silly for coming."

"What?" He tilts his head and glares at me. "We both came. A lot. You shouldn't feel silly for that."

"No, coming here," I explain with a little smile.

I wish I didn't want him so badly. This never would've happened if I'd been able to resist the offer but it was the last chance I'd ever have, and I had to take it. "It's not really me. I'm not like this. I'm not wild. I don't party."

Across the distant beach, more and more masked visitors arrive, some strolling nude, others in island attire. But almost none of them are uninvolved in a sex act. Even the ones who look uninvolved are probably being voyeurs, like me and Stuart right now, I guess.

"None of us are really like this," Stuart says, rubbing my back. I lean into it, comforted by his touch. "This is a vacation. The real world isn't like this."

"Last night, you tied me up and put your dick inside me before you ever even kissed me," I say, even though I liked it a lot at the time. Now, I’m insulted. It wasn't romantic at all!

“But you liked it,” Stuart purrs, and I blush.

I guess that’s true. Stuart leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. "I could have put any woman in the world on that Wish List, and I put you." He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses me once more, deep and wet now, with nothing gentle about it, then pulls away again. He's winded by it and so am I. "I know I didn't kiss you. Maybe I should have. I was so excited... And I've never wanted anything more than I want you here, Rose. That's why I asked for you. You were the only person I needed here."

I crinkle my nose. "You're not going to go down to the beach and masturbate on some three-way or something?" I have to ask. "You're not going to ask me to go down on you while you go down on some other girl at the same time?"

"Damn straight," Stuart says. "Rose, I know you. You might not think so but I do. I wouldn't do that to you. I know what you want—and I can give it to you."

"You can?" I whisper. I blink up at him and purse my lips, so certain that it can't ever be true. That's just not my life. I wasn't fated to ever be happy like that. Satisfied. Loved.

"Of course I can. You're the only one, Rose. Don't be scared." His palm runs down the smooth skin of my thigh, then his other hand, presses my knees open and exposes the crotch of my panties.

He strokes over the damp fabric at the apex of my thighs. I don't know how I got so wet so fast.

He leans close and whispers against my ear, "I know what you want." His breath stirs my hair and I shudder. His finger strokes harder over my button, still covered, and I grind against his finger, forgetting the beach. "And I can give it to you."