Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  And as if on cue, there was a knock at the door—our room service. I directed Rebecca and Jacob to crawl on all fours to the space on the other side of the king-sized bed to hide from the delivery boy. “Don’t come out until I say the coast is clear,” I said.

  But when I opened the door, I was stunned to find Reginald standing there with the rolling metal cart that carried our meals. “Good evening, madam,” he said with a wink and a bow. “I have brought your dinner. I must say, it is quite a lot of food for just one person. Do you perhaps have guests?”

  I decided to evade that question for the moment and test the waters instead. “Why, Reginald! What are you doing here? The bell desk said you’d gone home for the evening.”

  “Home for me is just the dorm on the far side of the resort. It’s not far for me to go to come back to work.”

  I raised one eyebrow at him, suspicious. Something told me that low-paying bellboy work wasn’t what had brought him to my room at all.

  He caught my drift immediately. “And when I heard you had ordered so much food, I just had to come and find out why.” Reginald raised his own eyebrows suggestively. “The callaloo that is served here on the resort is my mother’s old-time family recipe, by the way. She made by far the best callaloo on the island. Very, very spicy.”

  Reginald swept past me, pushing the cart before him. He removed each chrome lid from each steaming dish with a flourish, and spent too much time arranging the plates on the dining table. He seemed to be searching for reasons to stay in my suite as long as possible, and kept casting alluring glances in my direction.

  Excellent. He was playing right into my hands—as I’m sure he intended to.

  “Tell me, Reginald,” I cooed. “You’re not really back at work right now, are you?”

  He blushed underneath his beautiful coffee-colored skin. “Alas, no. I am here for my own selfish reasons only. And also I feel a little guilty for what I took from you this afternoon.” He reached into his deep apron pocket and produced my Rabbit vibrator. “I was wrong to take this from you,” he said. “I wonder if perhaps you have already missed it?”

  I smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about how much I needed this right now.”

  Reginald placed the Rabbit in my outstretched hand. My fingers closed around it, savoring its cool, slightly sticky resin surface. “Thank you for returning it, Reginald. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

  Reginald gave me a slow, single nod to show he understood. He finished fussing over the food, and pushed the empty service cart towards the doorway. But then he stopped short.

  He turned around to face me, his expression blank. But the slow, sensual movement of his limbs gave his true intentions away. “Will you be requiring anything further, madam?” he asked, his gaze sweeping my body from stem to stern.

  “Why yes, there is one more thing,” I replied in a husky voice. “My friends and I are having a little dinner party. It would be lovely if you would consider joining us.”

  Reginald grinned a mile wide. “My pleasure,” he said, giving me another one of his gentlemanly, Old World-style bows. “I am at your service. Anything that you and your friends desire, I shall provide. You need only say the word.”

  “Good,” I said. “Follow me, please.”

  I guided Reginald over to the far side of the suite, where Rebecca and her Congressman lover waited patiently on all fours, like two immovable, naked human tables. “We were just getting ready for dinner, you see,” I purred. “You’re just in time.”

  Chapter 17

  A very large, very pointy tent was rapidly forming in Reginald’s red polyester bellboy trousers.

  “Shall I serve dinner now?” he asked. “I think know the most delicious way possible for you and your friends to enjoy our wonderful island cuisine.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, eager to see what Reginald had in mind. “Go ahead.”

  “I think perhaps the young gentleman here would like to start out with some nice warm callaloo and a side of fried plantains,” Reginald offered. He took the bowl of steaming hot callalloo from the table and began to ladle it onto Rebecca’s bare back. She hissed as the hot, spicy stew scalded her skin—but she didn’t tell him to stop, either. Instead, she arched her body downward like a cat’s, creating a little bowl of sorts in the middle of her back where the aromatic island dish began to pool. Once there was a healthy serving of callaloo filling up the hollow of Rebecca’s long, lithe backside, Reginald decorated the edges of her back with a ring of crispy fried plantains. The effect was a beautiful, artfully arranged serving of St. Lucian haute cuisine, as neat and lovely as anything served in the resort’s four-star restaurant—only the serving plate was an attractive young woman’s soft, milky skin instead of cold, hard porcelain.

  Rebecca began to sway a little bit from the effort to keep the hot food from rolling off her back. Jacob glanced over his shoulder in my direction, his expression quizzical. Like a good little Slave, he was awaiting my instructions.

  “Slave, you may eat your meal now,” I said. “But you are not to use your hands. Only your mouth. Hurry up, it’s getting cold.”

  Jacob obeyed. He leaned over Rebecca’s body, and got started on the fun by lapping up the callaloo with his tongue. Taking brief paused between licks to gobble up the plaintains, Jacob lapped and sucked and munched until the thick, hearty stew had almost disappeared from Rebecca’s body, leaving only a thin, curry-colored film on her skin. Rebecca bleated and cooed with pleasure as Jacob nudged, smacked, and tickled his way across her backside with his mouth, lips, tongue, and the tip of his nose. Just before he was about to lick the platter clean, so to speak, Jacob turned to look at me over his shoulder, his expression plaintive.

  “Do you wish to speak, Slave?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “You may do so,” I said.

  “Mistress, may I please have a drink of water? This has got to be the spiciest stew I’ve ever tasted. My mouth is on fire.”

  I’d been noshing on my own bowl of callaloo while I watched the proceedings, so I knew full well just how potent the stuff was—my own mouth felt like a nuclear inferno.

  I had my own ideas on just how to put that fire out, however. “No, Slave,” I said. “You may not have a drink of water. But I know an even better way for you to take care of that raging fire in your mouth.”

  Reginald beamed at me as he dished me up another plate, this one piled high with fried conch and jerk chicken. I could tell he already knew exactly what I had in mind. And by the look on his face (and on his crotch), he was anxious to start doing to me exactly the same thing I was about to instruct Jacob to do to Rebecca.

  Jacob was still frozen on all fours, waiting patiently for my instructions. I decided to tease him a bit more before giving them. I finished my helping of jerk chicken and fried conch, taking care to smack my lips and lick my fingers as often and as sensuously as possible, all the while never breaking Jacob’s gaze. I handed Reginald my empty plate, and started doing my own little striptease for everyone present—but especially Jacob.

  I unbuttoned the bodice of my cocktail dress first, making each motion into a miniature dance. I sashayed the short dress sleeves off slowly, then used them as a mock-boa, dangling them over my outstretched arms while shaking and shimmying my whole body like an old-time burlesque performer. The dress’ flowing skirt portion was next—I simply loosened the drawstring at my waist and the dress fell off my body like a dropping stage curtain. Jacob’s eyes sparkled when he saw that I wore no panties—something I’d decided to do throughout my stay on the island so I could enjoy the full effect of the tropical breezes on my pussy.

  Reginald, however, didn’t seem surprised at my commando crotch at all. Maybe that meant all island women skipped out on skivvies.

  When in Rome. . .I laughed to myself and began to work on the tricky front clasp on my new white-lace demi-bra. After several tries, the plastic clasp finally popped open, and I released one
globe, then the other from their cups. I gave each breast a playful squeeze, then rotated them separately in another tribute to the days of burlesque. As my final tease, I dipped my finger in the dregs of my callaloo bowl and then used it to draw a spicy brown design on my belly that pointed straight downward to my nether regions. Jacob licked his lips in anticipation of lapping that spicy callaloo off my body, just as he had with Rebecca.

  But I had other plans for him.

  I took the last bit of callaloo from the bowl and shoved it in Jacob’s mouth with my fingers. “Slave, you will now proceed to eat Rebecca’s pussy,” I commanded. “That will be the best way I know to take care of the raging fire in your mouth, and give the lady some pleasure in the process.”

  Rebecca squealed with delight, and positioned herself so her plump, curved rump was right in front of Jacob’s face. He spread her cheeks and dove right in. Rebecca cried out the instant his tongue touched her most sensitive parts—the spicy callaloo was burning her up in all the right places.

  Once I was satisfied with Jacob and Rebecca’s latest tryst, I cast my eyes over at Reginald. It was high time he and I got in on the fun, too. Reginald caught my meaning right away—I didn’t even have to speak. He was completely out of his bellboy’s uniform before I could blink. The sight of his huge, coffee-colored cock had me wetter than a tropical storm.

  I picked up my Rabbit from the endtable and tested the batteries. The toy buzzed and whirred like a motorcycle engine.

  Time to get busy.

  I knelt down behind Jacob’s rump and motioned for Reginald to do the same behind me. Before he did so, though, he made a point to make a stop in front of me so he could lick the dripping callaloo design from my belly from underneath. When he was finished, he used the tip of his tongue to make a long, wet trail around my body from my belly button to my backside as he took up his position behind me.

  I licked the whirring Rabbit up and down the shaft to lubricate it, and got a mind-blowing buzz in the process. My whole body tingled with arousal, and the scent of my sex mixed with the heady spices of the callaloo and jerk chicken were overpowering. My hotel suite had become a sexy island café.

  I spread Jacob’s cheeks touched the tip of the Rabbit to the entrance of his back passage, just to test his reaction. Instead of resisting, Jacob relaxed and rotated his hips so the Rabbit could get a bit more leverage. I pressed it against him softly, letting him enjoy the feeling of its vibrating tip against the sweaty red rosette of his anus. Once the opening was slick enough with my saliva and Jacob’s own secretions, I eased the Rabbit’s tip inside.

  I turned up the vibration setting on the Rabbit and also switched on the Rabbit’s “ear” appendage, which I pressed against Jacob’s prostate. He groaned with pleasure, and pressed himself even harder against the whirring appliance. Meanwhile, the Rhode Island Congressman had stepped up the intensity of his tongue-lapping on Rebecca’s clit in time with his own increased arousal. Rebecca was coming over and over again, bleating and kicking and purring as her hips bucked and her legs vibrated with her exploding orgasms. Jacob laughed heartily into Rebecca’s pussy each time she came, thoroughly entertained at how wild she’d become.

  I took this as my cue to go full-throttle on him.

  I set the Rabbit on ‘MAX’ and pushed home.

  The Congressman cried out—he hadn’t been expecting it quite so soon. But he soon got used to the idea. Once his back passage had stretched enough to accommodate the Rabbit comfortably, Jacob set his own rhythm, bucking and grinding to the same beat as the pulses that were already rocking Rebecca’s body. I barely had to apply my own strokes at all—the Congressman was so eager to be fucked, he practically fucked himself. The Rabbit was just along for the ride.

  The three of us together were moving as one giant sexual being, our strokes and undulations a carefully conducted sensual symphony. Our collective pleasure was almost complete—there was just one thing missing.

  Reginald pinpointed the exact note in the symphony where he and his magnificent instrument should make their entrance. Without asking my permission, he slid his giant cock into my sheath on the downbeat, and reached around to finger my clit on the upbeat. He filled me up fuller and tighter than I’d ever been filled before, and likely would be ever again. Reginald’s cock was truly one for the record books, and he knew exactly how to use it. He banged me so long and hard that my entire body shook from each thrust, and my cervix felt as if it were being attacked by battering ram. It was rough sex in the fullest sense of the term—and I couldn’t get enough of it. I was on the verge of coming by Reginald’s third thrust, and I floated onto another plane while one blazing orgasm after another rocked my body.

  For a split second I wished that Reginald would abandon his aspirations to become a barrister and just devote his life to his considerable talent for satisfying women.

  As I paused to catch my breath between orgasms, my eyes surveyed the amazing landscape—four bodies of varying sizes, shapes, and ages, moving together as one in pursuit of the same goal—ultimate pleasure. The sweat-dewy skin, the open mouths, half-closed eyes, the heady, musky smell of mingled body secretions, arousal and desire all acted together to form the ultimate aphrodisiac; I came again just from taking in the sights and smells from all the rollicking, heaving bodies.

  And what sights there were to see! This was time in my life I’d had the opportunity to see, up-close-and-personal, what fucking actually looks like. From my vantage point just behind Jacob’s shoulder, in addition to the luscious sight of my shiny latex Rabbit buggering his well-toned rump, I could get a full view of the Congressman’s swollen, purple cock sliding its way in and out of Rebecca’s slick, pink pussy, each thrust in perfect counterpoint to the thrusts Reginald was giving me from behind.

  But alas, such a beautiful sight couldn’t last forever. With one last, enormous thrust, both Reginald and Jacob exploded, bringing the rollicking, bouncing, many-headed sex monster that our bodies had jointly become to a slow, grinding halt. I saw stars as the biggest orgasm yet sent me over a precipice; from somewhere far, far away, I could hear the whimpers and cries of Rebecca’s final climax mingling with my own.

  The four of us collapsed together onto the plush carpeting, each of us spooning and snuggling with whichever person was closest until we all fell into a delightful, deep, postcoital sleep.

  ****

  When I awakened, it was the dead of night. The moon had risen high in the sky, and the only light in my hotel suite was a dim beam of moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains. Someone had transferred me from the floor to the bed while I slept. I rolled to my side and discovered that Rebecca was asleep beside me in the bed, but Reginald and Jacob were both gone.

  I rolled out of bed to relieve myself. As I headed for the bathroom, I caught sight of the pile of pink “While You Were Out” messages that I’d picked up from the front desk before Rebecca and Jacob arrived—and then forgotten about. Someone had arranged them into three neat stacks on the bedside table, just barely discernible in the dim moonlight. On a whim I gathered up the three stacks and carried them with me into the bathroom to look over while I was on the toilet.

  I gingerly stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me before flipping the lightswitch so I wouldn’t wake Rebecca. Once the glaring fluorescent lights were on, though, I was stunned to find that someone had taken a thick black Magic Marker to all the message slips, blacking over all the information they contained. I tried holding the message slips up to the light to see if I could read the writing from the other side, to no avail. Whoever had done this—Reginald or Jacob, I could only assume—didn’t want me to know who else was waiting for me and my sexual services here at the resort.

  Damn it. My whole plan for career resurgence was wrecked before it had even begun.

  I crumpled the message slips into a ball. I dashed out of the bathroom without even bothering to pee, and flipped on the suite’s overhead light.

  Rebecca immediately s
tirred in the bed, rubbing her eyes and glancing about the room frantically; it was obvious she’d forgotten where she was.

  “Wha?” she mumbled. “Wh-where am I? Where’s Jacob? What’s going on?” She lifted up the covers and seemed shocked at her nakedness. She was even more shocked at mine.

  “Jasmine, what are you doing here?” she squealed. “And why are you naked?” She surveyed the surroundings—the luxury hotel suite and Plantation décor; the room service cart and the crumbs of our pre-coital island feast. “Is this some kind of weird dream?”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes, exasperated. “Rebecca, you need to wake up.” I found the overturned ice bucket and took it to the bathroom to fill it with cold water; I came back to the bed and splashed some of it in Rebecca’s face.

  She came to immediately. “Oh my God, Jasmine. We had sex.”

  “Actually, you and Jacob had sex. I just told him what to do with you.”

  “Same difference,” she sighed. She stood up and stretched. “Where the hell is Jacob, anyway? It’s not like him to fuck and run.”

  “I was about to ask you that question,” I said. I handed her the crumpled wad of ruined message slips. “You don’t happen to know anything about this, do you?”

  Rebecca flipped through the slips of paper, clearly disappointed. “No, I don’t. Who would have blacked out all the information? Jacob and I were really looking forward to using these to set up some killer ménages with you.”

  “Why would somebody want to put a stop to that?” I wondered. “And who could have done it?” I’d first thought it had been Reginald, but then thought better of it. He had no reason to do such a thing, did he? What could he possibly want with my personal life? Reginald didn’t even want to know my real name.