Total Abandon

by Opal Carew

  Craig glanced toward Aimee, and she smiled and nodded. He prowled over her and pressed his huge cock to her opening. She gasped as he thrust straight in. She wrapped her arms around his big broad shoulders.

  “Fuck me. Hard.”

  He grinned and kissed her nose. Then he drew back and thrust again. And again. He pounded into her, catapulting her to another orgasm. She clung to his shoulders as she moaned, waves of pleasure washing through her. He tensed and groaned.

  Craig rolled to her side and lay beside her. As her breathing returned to normal, she heard moaning and glanced around. James’ cock thrust in and out of Aimee on the other side of the swim raft.

  She felt no jealousy watching James fucking Aimee.

  But what if she knew he was her Fantasy Stranger. Would she feel jealous then? What if she knew it was Craig?

  What if Aimee suggested putting on a mask to be with Sandra’s Fantasy Stranger? The very thought sent jealousy surging through her.

  * * *

  Sandra watched the shore whipping past as the boat raced across the water.

  “Are you asking me to tell you who the Fantasy Stranger is?” Aimee asked.

  Sandra pursed her lips. “No, that’s not it. I just … I don’t understand why I’m feeling this way. If I know who it is, will I stop obsessing over him? Or will it only make it worse?”

  “What if these feelings you have for the Fantasy Stranger are real?”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. If they were real, why wouldn’t I feel them when I’m with the man without the mask?”

  Aimee shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the Fantasy Stranger isn’t either James or Craig.”

  Sandra raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you brought a third man to the island?”

  “Well, why not?” Aimee grinned. “You liked the two you saw. Would it have been wrong of me to have a spare tucked away for a special occasion?”

  “Yes, it would be wrong.” Sandra leaned back in her seat.

  Aimee glanced toward her. “Why?”

  “Well, because I’d never met him.”

  Aimee turned the boat in a wide curve, and Sandra saw the marina ahead.

  “You’d never met Craig before and I thought you hadn’t met James.”

  “But I did meet them before I had sex with them.”

  “Well, that’s exactly the point, honey.” Aimee slowed the boat as they approached the dock. “You had met them. So neither of them fit the sex with a stranger role.”

  “Are you saying the Fantasy Stranger isn’t James or Craig?”

  “I’m not really saying anything. You said you didn’t want to know who he was. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

  Aimee pulled the boat into the slip and turned off the engine, then hopped onto the dock and tossed a loop over the cleat. Sandra stood up and handed the luggage to her.

  Sandra wasn’t sure if Aimee was just playing with her or seriously trying to tell her that the Fantasy Stranger was a third man. She didn’t really believe that, though, because he just felt too … familiar. Even the first time, it had been as if her body knew him, though since it was the first time she’d made love in more than a year, her reeling senses had been in too tumultuous a state to really know what was real and imagined.

  She hopped out of the boat and followed Aimee as she dragged the cooler, with the luggage atop, to the car.

  But that familiarity, that sense of knowing him, had her pretty convinced it was James, even though when he was her Fantasy Stranger, his cock seemed bigger. More like Craig’s. But that really could be a trick of her mind.

  * * *

  Sandra tossed and turned that night, thoughts of her Fantasy Stranger filling her mind.

  All the fantastic sex she’d had with James and Craig—being captured by Craig, overpowered by him, sandwiched between both men—should have given her enough fantasies to fill her mind with wonder. But her thoughts kept wandering back to being in the arms of her Fantasy Stranger. She longed to feel the tenderness of his touch again. To feel his lips brush against her neck. To feel his arms around her, holding her tight to his solid body.

  She ached for him.

  Finally, she fell asleep, and dreamed of him. Hot … steamy … intense dreams. He touched her with a gentle passion that stirred her soul. His body joined with hers, filling her with intense desire. He made her feel cherished and … loved.

  As he moved inside her, heat built within her … then exploded in exultant waves of bliss. She awoke in the throes of a powerful orgasm that washed through her body as she shuddered in ecstasy.

  As she lay gasping on the bed, memories of his body pressed tight to hers still quivering through her brain, she realized she had to get over this fantasy.

  She needed to stay grounded in reality. The whole problem with her marriage had been that she’d gotten lost in the fantasy of love and happily-ever-after. It’s not that she didn’t believe in those things, but they should be based on fact. On real feelings, for a real man.

  And her Fantasy Stranger wasn’t real. These strong feelings she had were probably just a result of the mask heightening her other senses, making things feel more intimate. The feelings she had for the Fantasy Stranger were no more real than the love she’d thought she’d felt for her ex-husband.

  As long as she kept that in perspective, everything would be fine.

  And the best way to do that would be to focus on a real man.

  * * *

  Sandra glanced at Aimee over her sandwich. “Remember our conversation about Devlin last week? How he’s resisting starting up something with me?”

  “You mean, how he’s resisting your feminine wiles and how you’d really like to totally submit to him?” Aimee grinned. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Okay, well … Do you think I’d be a really bad person if I … you know, sort of seduced him into it?”

  Aimee’s gaze locked with hers and she smiled broadly. “Not at all. I think it would be brilliant.”

  “Even though he told me he didn’t want to endanger our friendship?”

  Aimee shrugged. “Look, you have one opinion about this, he has another. There’s nothing wrong with trying to convince a person to change his mind, right?”

  Sandra smiled. “That’s what I was thinking.” She sipped her drink. “I’d need your help.”

  “You’ve got it. What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, first … You have a key to Devlin’s apartment, right?”

  * * *

  On Friday evening, as the setting sun cast the clouds a deep orange against the backdrop of a rich blue sky, Devlin walked toward the front door of his apartment building. His cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Aimee.”

  “Hey, there. What’s up?”

  “Are you on your way home?”

  He turned his key in the lock and pushed open the front door, then stepped from the warm outside air into the air-conditioned lobby.

  “Yeah, I just stepped inside. Why?” He strode to the elevator and pushed the call button. The elevator on the right opened immediately and he stepped inside.

  “Well, I left a surprise in your apartment. I wanted to make sure you found it.”

  He and Aimee had exchanged keys quite a while ago, for emergencies and to take care of each other’s places when one of them went on vacations or business trips. Plants, mail, that kind of thing.

  “A surprise? But it’s not my birthday. What’s up?” He stepped off the elevator and headed toward his apartment.

  “You’ll see. Just make sure you go right up. Okay?”

  “Sure. Do you want me to call you after I find out what it is?” He stopped outside his door and reached into his pocket for his keys.

  Aimee giggled. “Um … no, that’s okay. Later will be fine.” Then she hung up.

  Devlin had no idea what that was all about.

  Curious, he opened the door and glanced around.
He didn’t see anything in the living room or dining room. He went into the kitchen, but there was no surprise there. Then he spotted a note on the fridge held by a round blue magnet.

  Look in the bedroom.

  Devlin walked down the hall and stopped outside his bedroom. The door was closed. He hadn’t left it that way. He turned the knob and pushed open the door, then peered inside.

  His gaze darted immediately to the bed.

  Sandra.

  His heart raced.

  Naked.

  He sucked in a lungful of air.

  And tied up.

  Seventeen

  Devlin grabbed the doorjamb and concentrated on breathing, his gaze locked on the intensely erotic sight of Sandra with her arms spread out wide above her head, her wrists bound to the headboard, and her legs spread open and bound to the footboard. A leather collar was around her neck.

  “I know I’m your prisoner,” she said. “You can do anything you want to me and I can’t stop you. There’s no point in me resisting.”

  His cock twitched in his pants, fully engorged.

  Resisting? But he had to resist. He couldn’t make love to her. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much she wanted him to.

  His gaze glided over her full, perfectly formed breasts, the tight nipples thrusting straight up, then down to her pussy with the neatly trimmed heart shape, and his hormones ricocheted through him. Intense heat settled in his groin and his cock ached desperately.

  All resistance ebbed from him. He had no choice. He had to have her.

  He grabbed the knot of his tie and pulled it downward as he stepped toward her, then tugged it over his head and tossed it aside. He unfastened the top couple of buttons of his shirt, making it easier to breath, then tugged off his shirt and dropped it to the floor.

  As he unfastened his belt, he hesitated. What if she recognized him as her Fantasy Stranger? His cock inside her. The way he touched her. Surely she’d know.

  She arched her naked body in a slow-motion surge against the bonds. His cock strained harder against the cloth binding it. He flung open his belt, unzipped his pants, and dropped them to the floor.

  He’d act differently. He wouldn’t let her know he was the same man. As her Fantasy Stranger, he’d been gentle and loving. A tender lover. Now she wanted a captor. Someone to ravage her. He would play her fantasy to the hilt.

  He thrust his gray boxers to the floor and tossed aside his socks, then stepped beside her.

  Her eyes widened as her gaze took in his erection.

  “Oh, my God. It’s so big.”

  His cock twitched at the admiration in her voice.

  “The better to fuck you with, my dear.” He pressed his cockhead to her mouth and she licked the end. Then he pushed between her lips. The feel of her hot moist mouth surrounding him made him groan. He wrapped his hand around her head and curled his fingers in her long black hair, then pulled her forward, filling her with his cock. She gagged a little and he drew back, then glided forward slowly. She relaxed and he pushed half his shaft into her mouth, then stopped. She squeezed him and he groaned.

  Still cupping her head, he drew back a little.

  “Now suck it.”

  She obeyed and heat surged through him. He had to stop himself from thrusting deep, to feel her heat all around him. His balls tightened as she sucked, excitement speeding through every cell. Then he erupted into her, intense pleasure ripping through his body.

  He drew back, his deflated cock dropping from her mouth. She ran her tongue around her lips and gazed up at him, hunger in her eyes.

  Oh, God, he wanted her.

  He wanted to dive on top of her right now, knowing his cock would surge to full height at the first touch of her body against his. Even now, it swelled.

  But it would be over too fast. He wanted more.

  “You are very complacent, and I like a little fight in my women.” He unfastened the cord attaching her wrist straps to the headboard, then moved to the foot of the bed and unfastened her ankles from the footboard. He hooked his finger through the ring of her collar and drew her forward. “Maybe a little punishment will enliven your spirit.”

  He led her into the kitchen, then leaned her over the wooden table. He drew her arms over the other side of the table and used the rope to attach her wrists to the table legs, holding her in place. Walking around behind her, he gazed at her delicious ass on display in front of him. He leaned down and eased her legs apart, then bound them to the table, too.

  He stood up and his blood flooded to his groin at seeing her legs wide apart, her round, firm ass parted slightly to reveal her moist folds. He wanted to run his fingers over them, then thrust inside her silky opening. Then he wanted to press his cock to her and drive into her … straight to heaven.

  But he held back.

  He placed his hands on the small of her back, then ran them up to her shoulder blades and around until he brushed the sides of her breasts. He pushed under her, between the soft flesh of her mounds and the cool wood of the table, finding her nipples. They were hard and distended.

  “You like the cold, hard table against your breasts, don’t you?”

  When she didn’t answer, he gently grasped her hair and coiled it around his hand, then drew her head back a little. He kissed her arched neck.

  “You like the table against your breasts, don’t you?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  With his free hand, he stroked under her breast, then cupped it and squeezed.

  “You like me touching your breast … squeezing it. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Her word came out deep and throaty.

  He stroked around her hips and over her round ass.

  “You like me touching you here?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And here?” He stroked between her cheeks and over her slit. Slick moisture coated his fingertips.

  “Oh, God, yes.”

  He drew his hand away, then smacked lightly across her buttock. She gasped.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Um … I…”

  He smacked again, a little harder this time. Then he stroked over her rosy cheek, then he smacked the other cheek.

  “I think you like it.”

  His fingers trailed over her slit again, and she moaned.

  He smacked her bottom again, then stroked. Smacked, then stroked.

  “Do you like it?” He slid his fingers inside her slit.

  “Yes.”

  He pushed deeper.

  “Oh, yes.”

  He drew his fingers out, then grabbed a chair, and sat down. He leaned forward and drew her cheeks apart, then licked along her slit. She moaned.

  “Oh, please fuck me.”

  He stood up and smacked her bottom, a little harder this time. The rosiness turned deeper pink.

  “No demands. You’re my prisoner, remember?”

  He stood up and left the room.

  * * *

  Sandra groaned as she heard him leave. The hunger inside her demanded to be satisfied, but she could do nothing with her arms and legs bound. If she could she would have chased after him, demand that he satisfy her. Or see to it herself. But she could do neither. The ache burned within her.

  A few moments later, she heard him enter the room again. His hand glided over her ass in a gentle caress, so different from the firm slaps he’d administered earlier. The sensations had been sharp and stinging … and incredibly erotic.

  She considered goading him into slapping her ass again, but the idea of letting him lead won out.

  He stepped in front of her, his massive cock in his hand. He brought it to her lips and she opened for him. His cockhead slid inside and she took it.

  “Suck,” he commanded.

  She obeyed, squeezing the mushroom-shaped flesh inside her mouth, then sucking hard. After a moment, he pulled free.

  “Good.” He walked around behind her, then his hand stroked over her ass again.


  Then smack. Her cheek burned and heat flushed through her. She arched her ass toward him. He smacked again and she groaned. His fingers stroked over her slit, then glided into her. He leaned in and licked her again as his finger found her clit and stroked lightly.

  “Oh, yes.” It felt erotic and intense.

  His fingers pulled free, then glided between her cheeks to her back opening. He pushed one slick fingertip into her. Slowly. Then a second. After a couple of moments, he swirled his fingers around, then pushed deeper. He pulled them away, then something bigger pressed against her. Thicker than a finger, and hard. But not as thick as his cock. It pushed inside a little, then stopped. Then it pushed a little deeper.

  “Relax,” he urged.

  She drew in a deep breath and let the tension ease from her. Whatever it was pushed in deeper, then stopped. He swirled it around in her ass. It felt sexy and wicked. And incredibly good.

  His fingers stroked over her slit and dipped inside her. The combination of sensations flooded her with wild longing. Her breathing increased as the pleasure increased. As she moaned, his fingers slipped free. She moaned in frustration.

  He left the room again, leaving the thing still embedded in her ass.

  * * *

  Devlin waited in the other room for what felt like forever, but his watch showed it as five minutes. He stepped into the kitchen again, his gaze resting on her curved ass, the vivid purple circle resting flat on her ass cheeks the only evidence of the butt plug inside her. At the thought of that silicone cone inside her tight opening, his cock twitched.

  He walked up behind her and sat down on the chair, her ass parted in front of him. He grasped the base of the butt plug and swirled it in a spiral. She moaned. He leaned forward and licked her slit, tasting her sweet, slick nectar. God, he loved feeling her under his tongue. Loved the whimpers of pleasure she made.

  He leaned back and stroked her slit, then dragged his damp fingers over his cock, glazing it in her moisture. He didn’t touch her at all, just stared at her. She squirmed, clearly feeling his hot gaze boring into her.

  He stroked over her round ass, then smacked several times, enjoying the rosy blush of her flesh. Unable to stand the intense burn inside himself any longer, he stood up and pressed his cock to her opening, then drove forward. His cock plunged into her, deep and hard. She gasped and moaned. He grasped her hips, then drew back and thrust again. Her passage massaged his aching cock as he surged forward. She squeezed around him and he moaned.