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.