Chapter 5

Danielle

I stand underneath the water and let it scour the salt from my flesh. Nothing can remove the sensation of Holden’s fingers biting into my skin, the thickness of him inside me, or the warmth of his cum dripping from my pussy.

Every second of it was too good to be true.

I can’t believe this has seriously happened.

He recognized me this afternoon, and he wants to see me again tonight at the banquet.

My heart won’t quit doing flip-flops.

This was the last thing I’d expected.

All I’d wanted was a chance to be with him, even if he didn’t realize who I was behind the mask. An opportunity to get my obsession with him out of my system, but this was complicated.

He knew who I was, weird that he’d called me Dani though, and that meant things were about to change in a big way.

I step under the water and let it run through my hair and down my spine. Tonight, I’ll look perfect. I’ll do my hair and choose the most tempting dress for the banquet.

This afternoon changed me. I’ve never been emotionally inhibited, and the fact that we experienced that together makes it so much more difficult not to fall harder for Holden.

I’m already in too deep.

I sigh and scrub my hair, then wash the rest of my body, paying special attention to my breasts, my ass, my mound. God, just touching it reminds me of him inside me.

He was a little rougher than I anticipated.

Holden strikes me as the kind of man who takes control but is gentle. On the beach, he was all stick and hardly any sugar. And I do love the stick.

I laugh and shake my head, then shut off the water and get out.

I’ve got about an hour and a half before the start of the banquet—a notice was taped to my door when Holden dropped me off. He walked me all the way to the door.

I rub my arms, still smiling, then roll my eyes at myself in the mirror over the marble sink. “You’re going to regret this,” I say, jabbing a finger at my reflection. “You should never have come here.”

But I can’t muster the guilt to back up the statement.

I’m over the fucking moon.

And now, it’s time to prepare.

I dry and style my hair, leave it loose and curled, then cream up my entire body and slip into the sexiest dress I can find. It’s open-backed, and the straps crisscross over my breasts, lifting them and covering only my nipples. It descends into a form-fitting mini.

I slip into high heels, painfully high and not what I’m used to, then totter over to the dressing table and rifle through the drawers. There’s D&G perfume, MAC makeup, everything a clued-up girl could want.

I’m not that clued up. I spritz on some perfume and do my best with the makeup. It’s not flawless, but I look pretty darn hot.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror again and smoosh my breasts together. I’ll drive him crazy with this. I drove him crazy this afternoon, but this is naughtier than naked.

It’s sparse, revealing.

He could pull my skirt up and have his way with me right there, in front of everyone.

Is that even a thing? Maybe this is a normal banquet and I’m totally over—uh—under-dressed?

I fix my mask into place and inhale. Effect complete. I’m ready for him.

A bell rings in the distance, and goosebumps rise on my skin. This is it. I’m about to attend my first ever banquet—possibly an orgy. I don’t even care about the other people that’ll be there. I don’t care about the sex.

It’s Holden. It’s all Holden.

I leave the villa behind and teeter across the sand in my heels. “Bad idea,” I mutter. I’m Bambi on hot coals, right now. “Well, that’s a nice thought.” Gosh, these nerves have totally affected me.

Holden Long. Holden. Mr. Long.

I bite my bottom lip.

Is it love or an obsession? I don’t care anymore.

The pathway to the banquet hall is lit by fairy lights in palm trees. Soft laughter and music echoes from the entrance, and something else, too. The wet slap of bodies, moans, and grunts. Yeah, it’s definitely a banquet of food and flesh.

A feast of both.

And I’ll be his dinner tonight.

I enter the hall, and my senses are totally overwhelmed.

Candles light a central table upon which food of every kind is arranged on silver and gold platters. Two smaller tables flank that central piece, both with women lying atop them, sushi arranged artfully on their bodies.

Sofas face the tables, pressed back against the walls, and people lounge on them. One woman sits astride a man’s face and rocks back and forth, one breast out of her dress, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She’s caught in her own moment.

There’s sex everywhere.

Sex against the walls and on the floors. A billionaire devours a woman’s pussy on the table, knocking all the sushi aside in the process.

Doorways lead off the main hall, into candlelit rooms I’m tempted to explore. But I don’t.

I need to find Holden.

I walk a few paces into the room and stop, staring. Two men take one woman on a raised dais at the end of the hall. She suckles greedily on one fat cock while another pounds her cunt. The man behind her inserts his thumb into her ass and she keens, judders on the spot. Her legs go weak.

She’s coming.

The thought is surreal. It drifts out of the pit of my brain.

My pussy tingles.

What would that be like? Two men at once?

I’ll never find out, of course. I belong to Holden, and he’s all I’ll ever want. He staked his claim this afternoon.

Still, I can’t help but stare.

The platinum-blonde caught between two men, dripping her own cum, pounded from both ends. God, it’s hot.

I shake my head to clear it and set off walking again. I won’t get anywhere watching these people.

I want to find Mr. Long.

My nipples pucker beneath the thin strips of fabric that crisscross my chest. The thought of him is enough to illicit that reaction. That and the groans from every corner.

I leave the main hall behind and enter the first room.

It’s decorated in purple velvet and matching candles.

A woman lies on a sofa, masked, her double Ds on display. A man stands above her and drips hot wax onto her belly. “You like that, baby?” he asks. He’s naked, erect, ready for her.

“Yes,” she hisses the reply. “More wax, and then you fuck me.” She’s got a Southern twang to her accent.

The man spots me and beckons. “Come,” he says. “Kiss her. Fuck her. She wants it.”

I shake my head once and step back, out of the room.

Holden. I only want Holden.

The man and woman turn back to each other. He places the candle to one side, then kneels on the sofa and slowly parts her legs. “My cunt,” he says. “You want some dick, girl?”

“Yes, please,” she whines and plays with her clit.

He presses his dick—not as long or thick as Holden’s—into her pussy with a groan. “Fuck, so tight. That’s right.”

I finally tear myself away from the sight and walk off. I brace myself against the wall. This is all too much for me. The sex, the smell of it on the air, heady and sweet, and what happened this afternoon.

I’m so fucking horny I could scream. And he’s nowhere around!

He promised he’d come. He said he’d meet me at the banquet.

But what if he’s changed his mind? What if he’s angry that he let go?

I can’t lose this now.

I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll make a deal. It will only be for this one weekend. We’ll pretend it never happened when we’re back in New York.

Can I really do that though? Pretend after he made me come so hard I actually squirted?

I walk farther and farther down a long hall. I peek into one door and the room beyond is quiet and empty, lit by white candles, an empty sofa waiting a guest. Ahead of me is an exit that leads to the beach.

I lean against the wall and catch my breath.

If he doesn’t turn up in the next ten minutes, I’ll leave. I’ll go home, flick my own damn bean, and fall asleep.

If he doesn’t come, it means he doesn’t want this to go on.

I can handle that. Can’t I?