And she also just plain couldn’t wait to see him. For hours last night she’d worried he wasn’t going to respond to her naughty video and she’d even begun to regret how audacious she’d been. But then her phone had finally rung, and she’d gotten that delicious text that had made her hot and wet all over again.
She really felt a bit like a colonial castaway in her fancy frock. Although no underwear other than a corset had been provided, she was well able to imagine that if she were shipwrecked, she’d quickly abandon most of the heavy undergarments of the period anyway. The antique-looking corset shoved her breasts upward, but didn’t cover them, leaving deep cleavage atop the dress’s low-cut bodice. Trimmed in white lace, the dress wasn’t completely accurate for the time, but close enough, with a black ribbon crisscrossing down the front. Buttons spanned the back seam of the dress and she’d been unable to do them all the way up, but the dress still held together well enough, albeit loosely at the shoulders. Narrow sleeves extended just past her elbows, from which several inches of white lace drooped prettily.
It felt odd but somehow exotic to be wearing such a formal gown while barefoot, digging her toes into the sand. Sitting in the shade of a large banyan tree, she reached for a banana from the pile of fruit next to the trunk, also containing plums, mangoes, and oranges, along with a knife—which made her grin, wondering if she’d also been so fortunate to have that wash up onto shore with her. Her convenient shipwreck luck had also provided an open, corked bottle of wine, so she washed down her banana with it.
It was as she took a last sip that she glanced up to see the most amazing vision—a dark wooden pirate ship had just come into view in the distance, complete with the Jolly Roger flying high! The sight sent chills skittering up her arms and down her spine—this suddenly felt much more real, as if she’d truly stepped back in time.
As the pirate ship slowly neared the shore, her heartbeat kicked up—she wasn’t sure if it was due to seeing pirates or . . . seeing Brent. Not being with him—really being with him—for two days had felt like an eternity. Even if last night had helped. She bit her lip, remembering his message and picturing him getting himself off while watching her. The emotions that had rushed through her had run so much deeper than a mere physical attraction.
Oh God, I love him.
She knew it was true—because she felt both giddy and miserable when she thought about it.
But as she’d been telling herself for the past couple of days, now was not the time to brood over it. Now was the time to enjoy him—every inch of him. Do not sulk. Instead, soak him up. Take him inside you, both physically and mentally. She was simply in too deep here to run from the feelings or push them away now—her emotions were tied up intrinsically with everything else taking place at the Hotel Erotique.
Her heart was in her throat by the time anchors were dropped over the sides of the ship. And wow, it was just hitting her that the resort had its own real, full-size Spanish galleon! A moment later, a smaller rowboat was lowered to the water for bringing the passengers—in this case, her pirate!—to shore.
The galleon was anchored far enough away that she couldn’t clearly see the smaller vessel’s inhabitants until it came bounding over the waves breaking just off the beach. And then her heart really did flip-flops in her chest. Oh my. The boat held three hot, sexy men all in pirate garb, and one of them was indeed Brent. She rose to go meet them as the rowboat glided up onto the sand, and soon all three pirates marched toward her.
Brent wore a long navy blue captain’s coat, no shirt underneath, with historically accurate-looking breeches and leather knee boots. A strip of red cloth was tied around his head and he sported a day’s dark stubble on his chin; a long dagger hung from his belt as he strode up the beach with authority. And mmm, Brent did pirate very well.
She barely even looked at the two men flanking him, but as they grew close, she recognized the long-haired one as dangerous Zack from the dungeon and was pretty sure she’d seen the other—with dark, messy hair and a profusion of muscles—somewhere here, but she couldn’t quite place him.
Only once they got close enough to make eye contact, however, did Jenna remember that they were pirates and that, in terms of the fantasy, she probably shouldn’t be tramping so happily toward them. Unless . . . “Have you come to rescue me?” she asked hopefully, falling into her character with sudden and shocking ease.
Brent’s eyes narrowed on her darkly, and she sensed—with still more excitement—that she would soon be ravished. “What have we here?” he asked, looking downright predatory. “We come looking for treasure and get a comely wench in the bargain.” He spoke with a light pirate’s accent, and—oh boy—even that made her cunt weep with lust.
“A wench, sir?” she asked, acting offended. “I will thank you to remember you’re addressing a lady.”
Brent let out a hearty pirate’s laugh, but she could see in his eyes his true amusement over how she’d warmed to her role, even embellishing it. But the dress had told her she was surely a member of upper-class society.
“A lady, are you?” he asked, sounding insultingly skeptical.
She added more details to her persona. “Indeed, sir. I was sailing to meet my husband at his sugarcane plantation in Jamaica. He is very wealthy and will reward you handsomely for my safe delivery there.”
“Well, my lady,” he said, injecting sarcasm into the words, “be a good wench and we may consent to drop you in Jamaica, but I can’t promise you’ll be safe in our hands.”
She pressed a palm to her chest in faux shock. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
“We’ve been at sea a long while and there’s something we’re in far greater need of than gold or silver right now.”
She played dumb, but also began to act uneasy. “Well, whatever form of payment you desire, my husband will gladly give it. Name your price.”
“Our price, wench, rests between your creamy thighs.”
At this, Jenna’s pussy swelled and her breasts heaved lightly against the tight corset shoving them upward. Gasping, she feigned pure horror. “You—you cannot mean . . . to defile me.”
Brent’s gaze sparkled on her beneath the hot sun. “Depends on how you look at it, I suppose. What you call defiling we see as pleasuring. And we do indeed intend to pleasure you, deeply, my lady. With all the cock you can handle.”
When Jenna sucked in her breath this time, she wasn’t faking it. She’d just had to tell him yesterday how much she craved his cock, tossing around the word like it was light and casual, hadn’t she? In an instant, however, she understood that she was to get way more than just his cock in this fantasy—and that remained daunting. Very daunting. Her tight corset was making it difficult to breathe.
“What do you say to that, my lady?” he finally asked, his expression threatening. Even though she knew he was simply playing a role, her stomach churned lightly—because he’d been playing a role in the dungeon, too, but it had also seemed very real. She had to wonder—her trepidation returning, damn it—what her commanding guide had in store for her now.
When she didn’t reply, he went on. “My crew and I will gladly deliver you to your husband—all you need to do is spread your legs.”
“No,” she said, “I cannot.” Then she turned away. She didn’t exactly mean the words yet she wasn’t sure she wanted what he had planned for her here, either. Meaning . . . more than him—other guys, too. Inside her. And she’d ultimately reaped pleasure from that in the dungeon, but it hadn’t come easily. Perhaps it had been stupid of her to look so merrily forward to this—thinking only of Brent, Brent, Brent. She’d somehow forgotten to see the big picture here.
“Well, my lovely wench,” Brent said, “if that’s your decision, so be it.”
She spun to face him again, surprised.
That’s when he added, “What you do not choose to give, we’ll simply take.”
Their eyes locked just before he moved toward her in a rush. Instinctively, she lifted her arms
in front of her and Brent grabbed tight to both wrists. She found herself struggling, not against Brent but against the lusty pirate he’d become. Before she knew it, she’d toppled to her knees and he came down with her, pushing her to her back in the warm sand.
Pinning her arms to the beach on each side of her head, he kissed her—hard. And whatever strange combination of reactions she felt in that moment—worry, lust, intimidation, nervousness—it all fell away and she suffered nothing but the joy of being beneath him, taking his hot kisses and returning them with everything inside her.
When he shoved his knee between her thighs, she let out a moan and sank deeper into every sensation. Soon he freed her wrists, and she ran her fingers through his hair, digging them into his broad shoulders. At the same time, he captured her breasts in his grip, making her cry out at the rough caress—then he yanked the dress from her shoulders, where it was already loose, until her tits were on display. A growl erupted from his throat just before he latched his mouth on to one tightly engorged nipple, sucking deeply, wildly, making her sob as she wriggled beneath him, her pussy flooding with heat.
He moved hungrily to the other breast, the stubble on his chin abrading her soft flesh, but she didn’t care—it compared nothing to the powerful need he sent spilling through her.
One moment he’d nearly doused her arousal with his threats of multiple lovers—the next he’d completely restored it, driving her even wilder than she’d been to begin with.
“Oh! God—yes!” she heard herself cry as he sucked her tit almost painfully. Her delight overrode that, and as the intense sun burned down on them, all she wanted was more—more of whatever Brent wanted to give her.
Finally, when he released her tender nipple from his mouth, his breathing labored, he peered down at her. “You’ve become more agreeable, I see.”
She was just as breathless, admitting, “So I have.”
When Brent looked deep into her eyes she felt it everywhere, moving through her like hot liquid. “Have you been a long while without a man, my lady?”
Continuing to meet his gaze, she thought of the last two days without him inside her. “It . . . feels that way.”
She knew his next deeply spoken words were about more than his role—they were about what was coming, about preparing her for it. “Then give in to your body’s needs and think of nothing else.”
Rolling off her, he bent to scoop her into his arms. With her dress still falling off, revealing her higher-than-normal breasts, he carried her a short distance across the wide beach until lowering her to the sand, on her feet, next to an old fallen tree. The sun had bleached its trunk nearly white, the remaining remnants of branches nothing but snarled twists of wood. The other pirates joined them and given that her tits were visible, she probably should have felt more embarrassed—but clearly her stay here was having an impact, since she was much more concerned with the need coursing through her now.
Not bothering to be gentle, Brent pushed her against the thick tree stretching across the beach and growled, “Bend over, wench.”
She did so, at the waist, resting her stomach on the smooth tree. She was rewarded almost instantly by the sensation of his hard-on pressing into the center of her ass through their clothes. The sound of her harsh breath mingled with the crash of the tide as she waited—silently begging, Please, please!—for Brent to fuck her.
She let out an almost gleeful sigh when his strong hands pushed up under her dress, sliding smoothly up her thighs and onto her bare bottom.
“Lift her skirt,” she heard him tell one of the other guys. She couldn’t even see which one obliged but felt the sea breeze waft over her skin as the weight of the long dress settled around her waist. In response, Brent let out a small groan and said, “Mmm, look at this pretty, round ass.” When he resumed rubbing the rock-hard column of his shaft there, she wiggled against him, unable to help herself.
Seconds later, he leaned forward, warming her back with his front, until he whispered in her ear. “Ready yourself for pleasure, my lady. Deep pleasure.” And when he began to massage her rear, she couldn’t hold in her moan. Her swollen pussy pulsed and her breasts ached, and any touch helped fill the rough need he’d built in her.
“Now fuck her,” Brent said.
And just as she was registering that he’d made the demand of someone else—new hands molded to her hips and a hard shaft plunged inside her. Despite herself, her body arched, her head dropped back automatically, and pleasure roared through her as her long, low sob echoed through the air. Oh God. So hot, so filling. Brent had primed her, aroused her, and now—oh Lord, it truly seemed any cock would do!
Jenna caught her breath—adjusting to having another man inside her, adjusting to the strange satisfaction it brought—just as that man began to move in and out, pumping, pumping. And God help her, she moved with him, fucking him back.
Just then, Brent appeared in front of her on the other side of the dead tree. Closer to standing upright than bent over now, she still leaned forward into the wood, holding on to it for balance—so she only had to lift her gaze to meet his eyes. She tried to read them, but all she could decipher with certainty was passion.
When his hands rose to her breasts, she sighed and whispered, “Yes.” And when he leaned in to kiss her—deep tongue kisses that permeated her soul—while another man drove his cock into her cunt, she’d never felt so utterly consumed with heat.
This was different than the dungeon. There, she’d been fearful and worried, fighting everything so hard—but now, she very quickly accepted the pure, overwhelming pleasure of the fantasy. She sank into it fully, meeting the cock that fucked her from behind, meeting the warm mouth that kissed her lips in front. Since she was standing, each stroke bored into her more intensely, stretching all through her.
She moaned into Brent’s mouth as he caressed her tits and lightly pinched her nipples. Sensation pulsed through her whole body, out through her fingers and toes, up into her scalp, and soon she struggled to stay on her feet. When her knees gave way, Brent caught her in his arms, as did the unseen lover behind her. And even just that, being in the arms of two men, felt so bizarre and wondrous that she quit thinking and simply went with utter abandon wherever Brent wanted her to go.
“Turn her around,” Brent instructed, and she felt her body being rotated, then Brent’s able grip at her waist as he hoisted her ass onto the sun-washed tree. It gave her a chance to see that the man so capably fucking her was Zack, who’d done so in the dungeon as well. He made a hot pirate, wearing a flowy white shirt, open across his chest, and through his long hair she spied a silver hoop in one ear. His erection remained upright, sprouting from undone pants, near the cutlass strapped to his side. Now Jenna knew what she’d felt pressing against her thigh—which told her the knives were fake, even if impressive visually.
The other pirate stood nearby, and she got a longer look at him now, too. He appeared to be of Latin descent, also sporting an earring. He wore only a black vest over tan breeches and black boots, and tattoos spanned his biceps. His dark eyes were as lust-filled as her own surely were, and a large bulge stretched upward at his crotch.
“Eat her pussy, Rico,” Brent demanded, and the Latin man came toward her. And then it hit her—Rico! Their waiter that first night in the gazebo. But he looked . . . well, different now, to say the least.
One of Brent’s arms was anchored around her waist, but he used his free hand to gather the skirt of her dress, pulling it briskly up. “Spread,” he whispered darkly in her ear, so she parted her legs.
Rico stooped down and leaned in, immediately devouring her—and she cried out, not expecting him to start out with such hungry eagerness. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been eaten with such bold gusto before—she seemed to feel his tongue, teeth, and lips everywhere at once, stretching from the bottom of her cunt to the top.
Broken cries left her throat as her body responded involuntarily, her pelvis lifting, contracting in a jagged, unsteady r
hythm she couldn’t control. Brent held her tight from behind and she clutched at his arm and relished the feel of his masculine body supporting her. Soon she lifted her feet onto the smooth log, allowing her to spread wider, feel it all more intensely. She bit her lip as she watched her new Latin lover go down on her.
She’d never even spoken to him, but that didn’t impede the hot pulsations echoing through her body, growing wilder each second. Wet sounds rose from where he worked and she met his tongue with her clit—again, again—moaning at each new burst of heat. Brent massaged one breast, then the other, kissing her neck, gently biting her shoulder.
She gasped when she knew orgasm was approaching. “Mmm, yes,” she murmured, nearly breathless, eyes falling shut, her head dropping back to Brent’s chest. And then—“Oh. God. Now,” she murmured just before the tumultuous climax hit, rocking her body, again taking all her control—but Brent still held her as she screamed her release.
When finally it passed and limp exhaustion came, the delicious pressure between her legs ceased and she loved recovering in Brent’s embrace. He let her rest that way for a long, tranquil moment—before saying, “Lie back on the tree, sunshine.”
She opened her eyes and peered over her shoulder at him, aware he’d broken out of character. But he didn’t seem to have noticed—he was easing away from her, yet still supporting her, helping her recline until her head rested against a large branch, broken off only inches above where it began, providing a good headrest. Her dress remained pulled to the top of her thighs and falling down over her breasts.
What She Needs Page 22
