Chapter 6

Holden

I tap the razor on the side of the sink in the bathroom and finish my clean up. I trimmed off the entire beard on Joey’s suggestion. His first words to me, the minute he entered my villa this afternoon, looking a little sunburnt, were, “What are you, a fucking grizzly bear?”

“Clean shaven,” I say. It’s been a long time coming. I usually don’t grow beards, but I’ve been so fucking busy I haven’t bothered shaving.

“Better,” Joey says, from the doorway. His arms are folded, and he leans his side and his head against the jamb. “Much better. I didn’t think you’d come this year, bro.”

“What, and miss out on all the pussy?” I snort, and he does, too.

I’m not the meaningless pussy kind of guy, whereas Joey would swim in it if he could.

“Nah, man. It’s good to see you again.” I slap on some aftershave then nod to my reflection in the mirror.

I’m looking good. I haven’t had as much time to hit the gym as I’d have liked, but I’m still cut, and the tattoos that streak down my arms and across my abdomen complete the effect. That and the Gemini tattoo on my left pec.

Joey has a matching one. Twin brothers through thick and thin.

I grab my shirt from him and slip it on.

“You’re really going to the banquet?” Joey asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.”

“You never go to the banquet.”

“So?” I frown at him. Ever since he walked in he’s been… different. Maybe being away from home has changed him. Fuck, if only I could afford to keep him in New York, but our business needs his tech savvy and his personality overseas.

“So, it’s fucking weird,” Joey replies. “Why go if you hate it.”

“Because I want to get my dick wet.” Plain and simple. The only way I’ll put my obsession with Danielle behind me is to get some strange. Masked strange. Weirdly, I’m not excited at the prospect.

I don’t want strange pussy. I want her.

“I expect you’ll be there, too,” I say. “How many will it be this time? Three? Four?” My brother is a champion when it comes to this shit. I marvel at the fact that he hasn’t become bored with the endless line of women.

“I’m not going,” Joey replies.

“What?” I button my shirt and smooth the front, then grab the mask off the marble counter beside the sink. Everything in here screams opulence, from the marble crapper to the golden faucets. “Why not?” I fix the mask onto my face. Turquoise eyes stare out of the holes.

“Just not in the mood. I fucked this afternoon,” he says.

“Only once?” It’s a joke, but Joey scowls. “Hey, man, are you okay?” I’m not big on expressing emotion, but I cuff my little bro—one minute younger—on the shoulder. “You look like you’ve had a rough day. She take it out of you?”

“You could say that.” Joey yawns and blocks it with his fist, but I don’t buy the yawn or the nonchalance. Something is up with my brother.

I don’t push, though. I’m not here to dissect his state of mind.

I’m here to fix mine.

“All right,” I say. “The bell rang a half hour ago. I’m going. Catch up with you tomorrow, bro.” I pat him on the shoulder and walk toward the door, fresh to death, ready for what will happen.

“Yeah.” Joey follows me out into the sand. “Have a good night. Don’t do anything or anyone I wouldn’t.”

“You can count on it,” I reply.

I step out into the sand and trudge toward the boardwalk, which leads up to the back of the banquet hall. An open doorway greets me and moans beckon from within. The party is already in full swing.

Christ, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to fuck anyone other than her. And that’s exactly the reason I have to do this. I can’t jeopardize what we’ve got going on at home.

I square my shoulders beneath my fitted cotton shirt, then step into the darkened hall, lit sparsely by candelabras and flickering light. I saunter down the hall and check the rooms but most are empty.

A woman leans against the wall up ahead, her breasts magnificent beneath a strappy crisscrossed dress. It barely covers her nipples, which prick at the fabric regardless and leave nothing to my imagination.

She raises her gaze and catches mine with chocolate brown eyes. Deep liquid pools of emotion that shock me to my fucking core.

It’s Danielle.

Here.

Behind that mask. In that dress. She leans against the wall as if it’s keeping her upright.

Moans drift on the air, and I stare at her.

How is this fucking possible?

Did she follow me here? Or was she invited by someone else?

The thought of some other billionaire laying his hands on her sets my blood fucking boiling. I won’t stand for that. She deserves better.

She deserves me.

“Hi,” she says and licks those plush lips, like two cushions. I want to lose myself in them. Devour them.

I can’t fucking talk. I can’t move. This was supposed to be my opportunity to get away from her, not dive right into her tight, hot pussy. And that’s exactly what I have to do now. I won’t turn away.

Not with moans drifting down the halls and the slap of flesh, the grunts of men burying their cocks deep in the women of their dreams.

This will fuck up everything.

I can’t care anymore. The heat between us is insane, zipping, building, driving me closer to her. I take her by the arm and walk her into the room beside us. It’s decked out in white candles and there’s a sofa against the wall. It’s not exactly the romantic situation I envisioned for this, but fuck it—at least there’s a fucking door.

I slam it shut behind us, then turn the key. No interruptions.

“Mr. Long,” she says.

Fuck me.

That’s already too much. She knows, and I know. “Danielle,” I reply and drag her into my arms, flattening my palms against her back. Her tits press into the cotton of my shirt. “Danielle,” I repeat, because this is fucking tangible. It’s happening.

She’s here.

I reach up and take hold of those ridiculous straps that hardly cover her body. I tug them down, and her breasts bounce free. Nipples exposed to the cool air, they pucker up even more, the skin pulling taut.

Candlelight illuminates the curves, and I can’t tear myself away.

I’m all in.

I drag my fingers down the front of her throat, then cup both her breasts in my palms. They fill my hands, perfectly, and she lets out a hiss, arching toward me.

The nanny. I’m about to fuck the nanny.

I massage her breasts and take in every reaction. Every tiny movement she makes. A gasp, the turn of her head, eyelids fluttering. She loves this.

Memories of her moaning for me, over and over again, just days ago down the hall, tangle with my reality.

I rip her skirt upward and drop down in front of her, forcibly spreading her thighs then find her naked, smooth pussy waiting for me.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” I growl.

“Only for you, Mr. Long,” she whispers.

I grab the backs of her knees, catch her ass, and lower her to the wooden boards. She gasps at the sudden motion but doesn’t complain.

“Open your legs wider, Danielle,” I say. “Nice and wide. That’s right.”

She obeys me and lifts herself on her elbows to get a good view of the show. Her eyes blaze in the holes of that damn, decorative mask. If not for the damn rules, I’d rip it off. But that mask is the only thing that keeps distance between what’s happening now and New York.

If we keep these on, I can pretend it’s never happened.

I lower myself between her legs and take in the sight of her pink swollen pussy. She’s dripping for me, slick beads dribbling from her hole and arcing down skin pebbled with goosebumps. Some of those juices have traveled all the way to her tight little asshole.

My cock is so fucking hard it’s about to break free of my jeans. I reach down and adjust it then focus on my girl again.

“You’re going to come like you’ve never come before, Danielle. You’ll never forget this night.” Fuck it, this weekend. If she’s here, she’s mine. Mind made the fuck up.

Danielle whimpers and writhes. “Please,” she says, and her legs tremble either side of my head.

I kiss the inside of one thigh and then the other. Another whimper. She’s swollen for me, desperate.

I turn my head and brush her clit with the tip of my nose.

She yelps and arches her back.

Nothing will stop me now. Nothing will keep me from claiming her as mine.