by C. L. Riley
I pull back enough to issue a warning, “Uh uh, sexy girl. I’m in charge here. Let me work that magic.”
“You’re torturing me.”
“That’s the plan.”
She lets out a loud sigh, followed by a moan when I suck her clit into my mouth and slide two fingers into her tight entrance. Even soaking wet, she’s so fucking tight, her channel gripping my fingers as I keep my pace steady, no longer going easy on her hard button.
In fact, I’m relentless as I suck, nip, and lick, propelling her closer to the peak. I’m grateful I don’t have more hair; she’d scalp me with her overzealous hands. Lucky for my head, she reaches her zenith and flies off, reaching that state of orgasmic nirvana everyone wishes for.
Magical mission accomplished.
She continues to writhe, and I drink in her essence, my lips and chin covered in her release. I’ve never tasted anything more exquisite. I plaster kisses down her inner thighs and lick under her knees, making her giggle.
“Stop! You’re tickling me.”
“What would you like me to do instead?” I’m curious to find out if she’s thinking along the same lines as I am. We seem to spend a great deal of time on the same page when it comes to our sexual adventures.
“How about you fuck me?” She doesn’t hesitate and rolls over, presenting her gorgeous ass to me like a gift.
Snatching up the lotion, I complete my task, soothing the rest of her hot skin. She’s a vision of sultry perfection, propped on her elbows, bottom in the air. With my hands still gloved in lotion, I massage her bottom. After a few minutes, I give her a tentative slap, checking her response before standing to get rid of the only thing separating my cock from her cunt.
With the pants off at last, I rise up behind her, teasing her puckered rosebud with my thumb. She pushes back impaling herself on my thickest digit.
Fuck. Is she implying what I think?
“Better be careful what you ask for, babe.” I move my thumb in and out, making her squirm.
Deciding to up the ante, I slap her butt cheek with my free hand. Not too hard, but enough to test her.
“Oh yes…I’ve been such a bad, bad girl.”
Ah fuck. No she did not just say that. My cock twitches its approval.
I’ve wanted to see her ass jiggle under my palm since the first time I saw her, and I can tell by how easily her ass blooms pink after just one light slap that I’ll have it matching her sunburn in no time.
Testing my theory, I bring my palm down again, harder. She rocks forward and whimpers.
“You need a safe word. Something you can say if you want me to stop.” I’m not planning to overdo things tonight, but regardless, she needs an out.
“Dog,” she suggests.
“Dog?” I wasn’t expecting that one.
“You call me Cat, so dog is the opposite.”
“Dog is it. You ready?”
“Have been. You’re the one stopping to chat.”
Appreciating her boldness, I don’t keep her waiting. My next swat is even harder. A handprint appears almost immediately, and I admire my work but not for long. I bring my hand down, over and over, while my thumb picks up tempo, stretching her.
She moans and shudders, and I continue with little restraint. Her ass jiggles and shakes as I’d imagined. I’m close to losing it. When I reach ten strikes total, I stop, despite my desire for more. Using the lotion, I massage her crimson bottom a second time.
Unable to resist, I lean over and run my tongue from her soaking slit, up through her ass cheeks, and finish with it replacing my thumb. To accommodate her obvious urges, I stab my tongue into her ass, wielding it like a weapon.
The sounds coming from her are guttural and wild. She’s past any semblance of control and is operating at that animalistic level where all inhibitions and sanity are squashed. Gripping her rosy ass cheeks, I thrust inside her pussy, forgetting all about my intentions to take things slow and easy. My Cadie Cat prefers it rough, sunburn or not.
Who am I to deny her?
It doesn’t take long before I’m grunting and growling, my own inner animal clawing for complete control.
“I’m going to come all over your cock,” she hisses, circling her hips and pressing back. “Fuck me harder. Hurt me.”
Fucking hell.
I plow into her, the intensity of my thrusts knocking her forward. I grip her hip with one hand and grab a handful of hair with the other, yanking her head back and holding her steady while I continue my assault. My balls slap against her clit, and I’m so deep inside her, I know my piercing is hitting that magic spot.
My whole body tingles and my balls tighten to the point of pain. There’s no holding back, not anymore.
When I explode, deep inside her, my body goes rigid and my cock pulses, flooding her.
“Fuck babe, fuck,” I grind out, my teeth clenched. “This is my fucking pussy. No one touches it but me.”
I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure she’s sobbing as her cunt strangles my cock. We’re both coated in sweat and lotion. I release her hair and her head drops. I fall across her, my chest resting on her back. We both pant, struggling to slow our breathing.
My exhaustion rises from within me, refusing to be ignored. I collapse onto my side and pull Cadie down with me, tucking her trembling body against mine.
The strangest and longest day I can remember comes to its crashing conclusion.
My eyes close and the world is swallowed by darkness.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cadie
“When I’m left on my own. I’m my own worst enemy.”
-Ronnie Wood
The last two weeks have been pure bliss with Shag. Even the taping hasn’t been all bad. Sure the girls continue to throw themselves at him, but for some reason, our ruthless director hasn’t pushed for Shag to get overtly sexual. A brief kiss here and there has been the extent of any contact other than the girls pawing at him, groping his muscles, and grabbing his ass.
I expected things to have heated up by now, but the dates have been barely pushing a PG13 rating.
My friendship with Jagger has continued with Shag’s begrudging approval, and Omar and his new security buddy, Jace, have spent a good amount of time hanging out with Shag and me as well. Every now and then, when I’m with Jagger, I catch him looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. Longing maybe? I’m not sure. It’s almost like he wants to tell me something but can’t.
Worrying about Jagger’s feelings isn’t on my main agenda. I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but it’s all about Shag. These could be our final weeks as lovers, depending on our parents’ pending nuptials.
Keeping Shag organized and adding to the ‘shagging number’ every chance I get has kept me plenty busy. I can almost believe our relationship will work, counting once again, on our parents tossing in the towel on their vows. We’ve both been too occupied with the show and each other to call home. For all I know, the two older lovebirds have called it quits, giving us the green light.
I wish I could somehow trigger a flashing red light for Shag’s sake.
He has his third and hopefully final date with Lila tomorrow and is dreading it. He confronted her about stealing his song during date one and she actually apologized, but refused to give up the guilty party who leaked the lyrics. Besides that tense, initial conversation, her tactics for impressing Shag have been subdued, totally not what I’d anticipated. Shag’s baffled too, unsure what to think about her passive approach.
There is a single consistency with her, though. She always wants to spend their dates with the surfing instructor, and the guest celebrities have yet to select a different date option. So they’ve been snorkeling and body surfing so far, both activities under Rick’s supervision. Dullsville.
So I’m actually planning to skip tomorrow’s rendezvous and get caught up on my notes and charts. I may see if I can talk with Jagger alone too. As much as I try to convince myself his strange behavior doesn’t
bother me. It does. I guess I’m more worried than I care to admit. I need to at least ask what’s on his mind.
That’s what friends do, right?
As for date comparisons, none have been truly exciting, and Lila’s were without question tamer than Harlow’s sole outing with Shag; after which, she was booted onto a boat and sent out to sea.
I’m lying. Actually, she took a flight home, leaving two remaining from the Tainted Trio. I’ve now tagged them the Dishonorable Duo. Shag finds my labels for the contestants hilarious.
Back to Harlow…the celebrity guest for her episode arranged for a séance with one of Hollywood’s most sought after mediums, Angel Allen. The event took place in a cave. Talk about unsettling. According to the spiritualist, who happened to be wearing a skintight, leopard print, mini dress, we learned our resident Goth Girl was not Shag’s destiny.
Did I mention each one of Angel Allen’s fingers was weighted down with a diamond ring?
The séance business must be booming.
Anyway, after dismissing Harlow, the medium went on to make a bold statement, assuring Shag, the woman for him was on indeed the island. When he scoffed, she pointed out that the woman in question had a secret to share, a secret involving the tragic death of a loved one.
I almost lost it.
Sharing the details of my mother’s accident isn’t on the menu. No way. Until I know for certain Shag is my future, those details will remained buried with my mom, in the past, where they belong.
“Hey, babe. Have you heard from anyone back home?” Shag plops into the patio chair next to me, stopping my scattered thoughts.
I love our villa’s back patio. There’s an open yard and I can see the ocean beyond a row of palm trees in the distance. Omar is prowling the grounds with Bo and Drew, ensuring me and Shag get our alone time. They’ve upped their patrols, considering Shag’s recent paranoia. He’s suggested several times over the past week that someone is watching us.
I have to admit. His wariness is rubbing off on me. I’ve caught myself peering over my own shoulder a time or two.
Stop it! You’re being ridiculous. I admonish silently.
Fighting the insane urge to check our surroundings, I pick up my phone and stare at the screen. “No. I haven’t heard anything from anyone. I was planning to call my dad tonight. I’m surprised our parents haven’t been harassing us.”
The more I think about it, the less it makes sense. My dad is nosy and controlling. A new job with my future step-brother is front page news in his mind.
In that case, why hasn’t he called?
“I haven’t heard from Slyder or anyone in the band either.” Shag picks up his own phone. “I talked with Slyder the first night and everything seemed to be working fine. Jagger is a fucking billionaire with businesses to manage around the globe. There’s no way he’d put up with shoddy service.”
We both go to use our phones at the same time. Not only is it impossible to call out, but I can’t get any internet access.
I’ve been so into Shag, my job, and exploring the island, logging on hasn’t been a priority. Shag is my boss. Robin and Josh are mad at me. There’s really no one for me to connect with. I assumed if Shag’s label had any concerns they’d go through William.
“Nothing,” Shag confirms the connectionless status. “Being with you on this island has become my world. Oh…and the show,” he adds with a lopsided grin.
His humor isn’t near enough to stop my worries. “Don’t you think it’s weird? I wonder if anyone else’s technology is malfunctioning.”
“I can call Omar. I call him all the time. I call you.”
“He’s here. I’m here. Maybe we can only contact people on the island. How would that work?”
“That’s beyond my musician’s pay grade, but I’m guessing there are ways to block access to satellites, if you know what you’re doing and have the money to pull something like that off.”
“See if Omar can access the Internet or call home,” I urge, my curiosity turning to panic.
“Let me try a text,” I say, while he calls for Omar to join us.
I can text Shag, which I have done often since arriving, but can’t text my dad.
Omar lumbers up, leaving Drew and Bo to handle watch duty. “What’s up?” He glances from Shag to me.
Shag answers first, “I was hoping you could tell us. Does your phone work? Can you call home?”
“I tried a few times but assumed there were connection issues. This island is off the grid, and I’ve been busy.”
“What about Bo and Drew? I’m sure Drew wants to talk with his girlfriend,” I press, my chest tightening, a sure sign of my escalating anxiety.
“Drew complained once, but I told him to focus on work. He knows better than bother me twice about personal stuff.” He once again looks at Shag and then back at me. “Before you two make more out of this than there probably is, I’ll talk with Jace and Jagger tomorrow. Okay?”
He starts to turn and stops. “Now that you mention it. Jagger makes calls all the time. I know he’s calling off the island.”
“See!” I’m on my feet, searching the grounds for any sign of an intruder. “There is something going on. Call William. Now!”
Omar drops into the other chair while Shag fires off a text to William.
It takes him five minutes to get to us. He listens as Shag explains our dilemma, his expression growing increasingly grave. “You really didn’t read your contract, did you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Shag’s on his feet now too, leaning against the stone wall that surrounds our patio. “Quit playing games and tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I move to his side.
William sighs. “Shit, man. I figured you guys knew.” His gaze darts my direction and a wave of guilt crashes over me.
After the first disaster with the voting process, I should have gone over Shag’s contract with a magnifying glass, but no. I’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of us reuniting that I’d placed my PA responsibilities on the back burner. Misty would have been all over the document with a highlighter.
Not me.
I was all over Shag’s dick with my pussy.
And I’d suffered the worst sunburn of my life. Between the pain, the pain pills, and Shag’s shagging, I wasn’t myself.
Who am I trying to convince?
Because, bottom line: no excuse is acceptable. It is my fault. I should have been on top of things. “I’m sorry. I dropped the ball,” I admit my mistake.
“It’s not your fault. We’ve been kinda busy, you know. Plus, you were hurting.” Shag squeezes my hand, obviously without thinking.
Omar shakes his head and shoots us a warning glance. Thankfully, William is staring skyward, like he’s searching the stars for an answer that will satisfy Shag.
“What should we know?” Shag demands. “I’m tired of all these fucking secrets.”
It’s William’s turn to shake his head. “Nothing was secret. It was all there, in the fine print, for you to read. But since you didn’t, I’ll spell it out. Once the show started, outside communication was limited. Contestants, crew, judges, you and your staff, everyone but a few key people were given local access only. It’s a preventative measure to keep the show’s progress under wraps, and we don’t want anyone here reading advance press or predictions.”
I kind of see their reasoning but wonder why it was designated for the small print portion in a lengthy contract and not discussed at our first cast and crew meeting. “What about emergencies? How will I know if something happens to my father?”
“We have people stateside, monitoring families, friends, and social media. Believe me, you’d know.”
Shag paces away before spinning back around. “You make it sound like we’re in some military compound, being experimented on. I don’t fucking like it. You’ve got surveillance on our families? You don’t think that’s a little extreme?”
“We’re doing s
omething new here. Roping a Rock Star is breaking barriers.”
Now I’m angry again. “What are you talking about? The show hasn’t even aired yet, and so far, a séance is about the most exciting date Shag’s been on. Besides the talent show, the rest been barely yawn worthy.”
Now don’t get me wrong. I am thrilled with the tamer tone, but I don’t see how it’s any different or an improvement over similar reality programming.
“Trust me. It’s going to blow your mind,” William gloats. “Now, if you don’t mind. I’m exhausted. Are we good?” He faces Shag not me.
Shag glares down at the shorter man. “No, but does it matter?”
William doesn’t reply, just gives us another head shake and opens the gate, disappearing into the night.
“I guess that explains why we haven’t heard from our parents,” I say. “And I agree with you, it’s like we’re test subjects. I feel like there’s more we don’t know and aren’t going to like.”
Omar responds before Shag. “I think it’s time to put my new friendship with Jace to the test.”
I get the impression Omar is looking forward to spending time with his new friend. He only just met the guy and can’t seem to stay away from him. Could he be…? No. Maybe?
Why am I even thinking along these lines?
I wait for him to leave and turn to Shag. “How much do you know about your bodyguard’s sex life?”
“Where did that come from?” He raises a brow. “He’s always working. I guess I never thought much about it. Why?”
“I think he’s shagging his new security buddy.”
“No way. You think?”
I nod. I also think my visit to Jagger is more crucial than ever now. I need more answers than what William provided.
I want the truth beneath the half-truths.
* * *
Shag
Boogy-boarding with my ex isn’t my idea of fun.
For the moment, I have a reprieve while Rick-the-Dick—me and Cadie’s latest nickname for the water sports guy—shows Lila some new board maneuvers.
