Double Daddy Trouble

“Listen,” he said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look down at me, his eyes flashing. “If you agree to spend a week with me on Mirabella, I’ll close the deal. No strings attached. Jeff gets his yacht, you get your cut, and I get what I want.”

“And what is that?” I breathed.

“You,” he growled, sliding two fingers inside my dripping pussy.

I cried out and bucked my hips against him, my eyes rolling back in my head. He kissed me, swallowing my moans as he fucked me with his fingers, pumping in and out. I hadn’t had anyone inside me in years. I was so tight, so wet. My body ached for him, for a release.

“Oh fuck,” I mumbled. “Oh God. Bruin.”

“So fucking tight,” he whispered, his breath hot and ticklish on my neck. “Just like I always imagined you’d be.”

Like he’d always imagined? All this time that I lusted after him, fantasized about him, he wanted me, too? For how long? All these questions rushed through my head, mingling with the waves of powerful pleasure Bruin wracked through me. He stroked that deep, dark, delicious spot inside me. The part that nobody had ever touched before. I was losing control, my whole body shaking. Bruin held me up against the wall as I started to go limp, my climax quickly approaching.

“Fuck,” I murmured, my heart pounding. It had been so fucking long.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Jillian?” he asked softly.

“Yes. Oh God, it feels so good,” I whimpered. I was so close.

“You want to come,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear. I shivered.

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Bruin. I want it.”

And all at once, he stopped. He pulled away, my climax interrupted as I struggled to stay on my feet. I stared at him with wide, confused eyes. Why did he stop? What happened? I wanted to drop to my knees and beg him to touch me again, to make me come the way I knew he could. But instead he merely smirked, raising his fingers to his mouth to suck my sweet juices off. He looked pleased with himself, but that flash of danger still lit up his blue eyes.

“If you want that deal, if you want to spend those seven days with me onboard, you have one chance. Tomorrow, show up before push-off, or the deal is moot,” he said, his voice rough.

“What?” I asked, still reeling from disappointment.

“Nine in the morning,” he said, and with that, he walked out of the room and left me standing breathless and alone, my body still shaking.

“Damn it,” I swore. I knew I had no choice. He had me right where he wanted me.

Thirteen

Bruin

My teeth nipped at her neck as she squirmed in my grasp in bed, my strong hands guiding her around as she kicked at the sheets and let her hands feel my body. My name was on her lips every few seconds, a hot, breathy gasp that made me harder with every syllable. I worked my stiff cock toward her slick lips and sank into her, pinning her wrists to her sides as my every sense went wild, overwhelmed with her. She was sweeter than anyone I’d ever tasted, and the piercing gasp she cried out as I penetrated her was enough to bring me to my knees.

I groaned at the sound of my alarm going off, early in the morning. As usual, the sun wasn’t up yet, and as if on reflex, I rolled out of bed, preparing myself to get my running outfit on and get that out of the way as I watched the sunrise.

But when I stood up, I realized I had an erection so stiff I might as well have been inside Jillian already. I ran my hand through my tousled, bedhead hair and groaned. The thought of Jillian really wasn’t cutting me any breaks. I went to the bathroom to splash cold water in my face while I waited for my erection to lessen, but it was taking its damn time, and my whole body was keyed up.

I gave some serious thought to skipping my morning routine and instead spending some time in the shower, massaging my cock at full mast until I could release myself in the steaming-hot water.

But with the prospect of seeing Jillian in person today, I wasn’t going to let that happen. I kept my body disciplined, obedient to my will, even when it wanted something more than it had wanted anything in a long, long time.

So I slipped into my shorts and tank top, jogged one last time around my usual beachside path, watched the stunning Florida sunrise kiss my body with morning light, got back to the yacht, and showered off.

I didn’t care about being overly professional, this time. Once I was out of the shower, I dressed myself in deep blue jeans, brown dock shoes, and a tight-fitting white henley, all top-of-the-line designer brands from my last visit to Milan.

All I had to do now was wait, and the morning routine was good for keeping my mind from getting agitated. Because if there was one thing that had frustrated my younger self more than anything in the world, it was waiting around. I could have paced around the yacht like a caged animal if I’d wanted to, easily.

But that wasn’t me anymore. That was a younger man. I was experienced with my body and my mind, and I knew how to handle both.

And if I had my way, I’d be handling Jillian’s before the day was over.

After I was dressed and had put on a spray of Italian cologne, keeping up the theme, I headed to the dining room, where Miguel already had a mug of fine Jamaican coffee brewing for me. It was a brand I’d gotten a taste for during a two-week stay on the island a few years back, and starting each day with the smell of it still brought me back to that drop of paradise in the Caribbean. The mug Miguel had by the machine was handmade in the same place, too.