What She Needs (17 page)

Either way, nothing could have stopped him in that moment. Right now, he wanted what he wanted. To dominate some more. He’d made her
take
tonight—now he wanted to make her
give
.

So when she gazed up at him so pretty and open and innocent, he took her face in his hands and said, unsmiling, voice low, “Suck my cock, slave girl.”

It stiffened him almost painfully when sweet Jenna didn’t even hesitate. She simply moved down his body until she reached his already erect shaft, gently closing her hand around it. He sighed, drew in his breath. God, he
really
wanted this, really wanted to see and feel her mouth on him. “That’s right,” he urged softly. “Suck it.”

And . . . mmm, that’s what she did, sinking her warm mouth over the tip of his cock, then taking him farther, deeper, soon beginning to slide her lips up and down his rigid length.

He watched her, felt the power of her affections moving through him, and . . .
fuck
. What the hell was he feeling? Something too . . . tender, too soft. He ran his hands through her hair, felt the slow passion inside her as she found a steady rhythm, heard himself whispering, “So good, baby. So good.”

Such sweetness wasn’t what he’d intended when he’d told her to suck him—but something about her pulled at his heart. Even during the harem fantasy, there’d been moments when he’d let himself feel more gentle than he’d intended—and of course, he knew, again, this was exactly why guides never fucked their own guests.
But you’re in this now, and you’ll just have to work it out, that’s all.

As she sucked him some more, he remembered again how incredibly hot and beautiful she’d been with the other girls, all of them in their chiffon costumes looking like any man’s dream come true. She was beginning to change, his Little Miss Sunshine, beginning to let go of her old sexual ideas. Even though they had a long road ahead, she was already experiencing things, because of him, that she never would have otherwise. And
that
made him feel powerful.

So when she looked up, her mouth stretched obscenely around the circumference of his thick shaft but her eyes still remarkably innocent, giving—hell, it pushed him over the edge in a way he hadn’t seen coming. “Oh God, Jenna,” he moaned, then did his best to physically lift her from his cock without being forceful—he didn’t want to come in her mouth; he didn’t think she could take that and it wasn’t important to him.

“What?” she asked, looking worried.

“I’m gonna come,” he growled. “Push your tits together for me.”

Again, without hesitation, she did it.

And he took his throbbing cock in hand and helped himself the last bit of the way there, then groaned his pleasure as his hot semen shot onto her pretty breasts in three intense bursts.

She was breathing hard, looking down at her come-spattered tits as well, and it dawned on him that maybe—probably—no one had ever ejaculated with her like this before and she likely thought it was kinky as hell, like everything else he did with her. Releasing his dick, he cupped her breasts in his palms and said, “They look amazing this way.”

“They do?” All innocence.

He simply nodded. “Hot. Dirty. It turns me on sometimes to come like that.” Then he met her gaze. “And it would turn me on even more to watch you rub it in.”

She sucked in her breath. And he almost thought of rescinding the request—this wasn’t part of the plan, after all, and she surely needed some downtime, some safe time, without his sexual demands.

But he didn’t. Because even if it wasn’t part of the original strategy, this was no time to start letting her make choices or feel less submissive to him—it was too early for that and could cause her to regress.

So he simply looked at her, prodding her with his eyes.

And she slowly reached up and used both hands to gingerly massage his semen into her skin. It practically gave him another hard-on already to see her chest, tits, wet and shiny with his juices. “Sleep with it that way, me
on
you,” he told her.

Again, she visibly pulled in her breath—but he said no more, growing quickly drowsy again. His eyes fell shut, yet that naughty vision of Jenna wet with his come stayed in his mind as he slept.

 

 

He awoke the next morning still in the harem room, still with Jenna cuddled against him. Damn, he must have been more tired than he’d thought. He guessed when the cleanup crew had peeked in to find them still there, they’d gone away, and he was glad. In all the evenings he’d spent in the sheik role, this was the first time he’d woken up the next day still amid the scattered pillows with a sexy harem girl in his arms.

“Morning,” she said, those blue eyes easing open.

“Morning,” he returned, trying not to put any particular emotion in his voice.

But then her arms looped around his neck and she proceeded to kiss him, and just like in the schoolroom, he couldn’t resist. So he kissed her back for a long, hot, pleasant minute, even lifting his palm to cradle one bare breast—but when the kisses ended and she smiled into his eyes, he knew he had to put a stop to this. Because she was looking sort of . . . romantic. And in some other setting, some other world, he might have been inclined to do the same, but he had to snap out of it. He was her guide, her tutor. That was it.

So he sat up, out of her grasp, and pulled his pants together in front while making small talk. “You should go get some more sleep,” he said, “since you’ll need to stay well rested for your upcoming fantasies.”

She sat up beside him. “Do I have any homework this time?”

He held in his smile. It didn’t surprise him to learn Jenna really
was
a good student—apparently, once she committed to something, even “sex school,” she intended to do a good job. And she was doing a
very
good job already. “Homework,” he said, pondering it. “Let’s keep this simple. I just want you to think about the various pleasures you experienced last night, and I want you to quit being
aghast
about it. You did admirably well—you were fucking amazing, actually—but we still have a long way to go and you need to be ready for it.”

Meeting her gaze, he could see his last words clearly concerned her a little. And maybe that was good, given the next fantasy he had slated for her.

“The next one won’t be so soft, sunshine. You should prepare yourself for that.”

 

 

Jenna lay stretched out on a wicker chaise on her balcony that afternoon, doing her homework, even if it was all in the mind. But what she kept coming back to was his warning. Not so soft? He’d thought the harem fantasy had been
soft
?

Well, she understood that in a way—all the female curves, the lulling music, the soft fabrics and equally soft touches—but it had been a lot to handle at once. So it hadn’t
felt
soft. Utterly
seductive
, maybe, but not soft. So what was coming tonight?

Although maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about what was coming as what had already been.
Concentrate on your homework
.

She still couldn’t quite believe she’d fooled around with other girls. Or let
them
fool around with
her
anyway—she hadn’t exactly taken an active role. Still, even Shannon had never done that—other than one drunken bump-and-grind fest with a stripper in New Orleans at Kevin’s prodding. Shannon had been red-faced telling her about it afterward, but had finally summed it up with, “What can I say? Something about it was really hot.”

Jenna had concluded that a drunk Shannon was not a great judge of what was hot—but now she got it, sort of. Probably far more than Shannon did, actually. There was a world of pleasures to be experienced out there, and many of them simply weren’t . . . traditional, not what anyone in her suburban neighborhood growing up had been raised to think was normal, by a long shot. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel good. It had. And she supposed that here, at the Hotel Erotique, it
was
normal. Maybe Brent really
did
know exactly what she needed.

So as she peered out over the vast Caribbean waters in the distance, sparkling in the sunlight, she made herself a vow. Whatever was coming, she would take it. She wouldn’t use her safeword. Whatever sex Brent thrust upon her, she would endure it. For him. And even for herself. If she could do what she’d done last night and come out feeling better, stronger, for it—instead of just freaked out and ashamed like she probably would have a few days ago—she could do anything he wanted her to. She would show him just how sexual she could be.

Not that she was sure when this had become about Brent. From the beginning, she supposed, at that first dinner. But if getting a little caught up in him was necessary to make her break out of her sexual shell, so be it. In fact, that was probably the only way this
could
happen. And when she left here, maybe she’d surprise herself and discover she
could
have casual sex more easily now; maybe she’d find she could appreciate it solely for the physical pleasure it brought, not the emotional part. Maybe.

Just then, a knock came on her door. She barely heard it from the balcony, but rose on bare feet to go answer. She opened it to find only a small black gift bag, which she picked up and took inside. Reaching into black tissue paper, she found a velvet jewelry box with a white envelope—and being a girl, she couldn’t resist opening the box first.

But, lifting the lid, she didn’t know what she was seeing. The little pieces of silver jewelry came in a pair, like earrings—but they weren’t earrings. Although they were circular, open-ended, and unadorned. She sighed. God, she should have known a box from Brent wouldn’t contain anything simple.

Which left her no choice but to rip into the white envelope, seeking answers.

Oh boy.
Just when you thought things couldn’t get any weirder around here
. Nipple rings? Was he serious?
Oh, what are you thinking—of course he is
.

And, of course, he’d never know if she didn’t put them on yet—she could keep them in the box right up until the next fantasy and he’d never know.

But . . . maybe she was curious.

And maybe she was truly starting to trust him more—at least about what brought her pleasure.

Hell, when else in her life would she have a good reason to put on
nipple rings
, for heaven’s sake?

So, taking a deep breath, she carried the box into the bathroom to stand before the large mirror atop the sink. Then she reached up, drawing down the straps of the cami she wore and the bra underneath.

It struck her then how everyone had seemed so taken by her boobs last night. They weren’t the perkiest pieces of her anatomy, which had always bothered her, but . . . they
were
ample and round, with large pink nipples that, as Brent had noticed, often stayed erect whether or not she was consciously aroused. So maybe they were . . . more striking than she’d ever realized.

In fact, now that she thought about it, some of the harem girls’ breasts hadn’t been as firm and porn-perfect as she might have expected, either, so . . . hmm. Maybe it meant breasts didn’t have to be perfect to be appealing.

But she hadn’t come in here just to analyze her tits.

Tits
, she thought then, a little surprised at herself. She really
had
adapted to Brent’s way of talking—shockingly fast. She could only blame it on the aura of lust and debauchery in the air here.

Finally, she reached into the small velvet box and drew out one of the nipple rings—a simple silver circle with tiny round balls on each end. Playing with it a bit, she discovered it was flexible, as he’d implied, and could be adjusted. As usual, her nipples were already pointing prominently, so she slipped the ring on her right nipple, then squeezed it enough to make it cling there.

After which she looked in the mirror, then bit her lip.

Amused by the thought, she put on the other ring and looked again, unable to deny that feeling kinky was kind of
hot
.

Although she didn’t think feeling kinky was the sole goal of the jewelry—the idea, he’d let her know, was to be physically aware of it. So she reached up, squeezing each ring a little tighter, until she suffered a soft pinching sensation that echoed through her pussy. That’s when she realized the constant pressure of the rings probably
kept
a woman’s nipples hard for as long as she wore them. Which likely kept her just slightly aroused for the duration. And that was probably the
real
purpose behind them.

Hmm. Well, she would see about that.

 

 

Jenna waited all afternoon to get a fantasy invitation—but it never came. And the whole while, her nipples stayed beaded tightly in the rings, keeping her very aware of them, making her wish she had Brent here to play with them or suck them like last night.

Finally, she put on a sundress, deciding to venture to one of the resort’s restaurants for dinner. Given that she
was
at the Hotel Erotique, she wore one of her thinner, prettier bras underneath—and felt unduly sexy to leave the room with her nipples jutting through the pale blue fabric of her dress, knowing she still wore the nipple rings. Her pussy tingled within her lacy thong—not her usual undies, but another of the items bought specifically for her trip. Her only disappointment was knowing Brent wouldn’t see them.