Danny’s needs and desires were par for the course here, especially for guys like him who didn’t have much luck with the kind of girls he wanted—gorgeous model types. So his first fantasy would be a beach tryst with a beautiful bikini-clad babe, progressing from there to a multiple cheerleader fantasy and other similar scenarios. Compared to Jenna, guiding Danny was a breeze—Brent could practically do it in his sleep. But he did have a goal for Danny—he hoped by the time Danny left he’d be more confident, smoother with the ladies, and as they ate, he casually gave the guy some pointers without making it obvious that’s what he was doing.

Just as he was schooling Danny on how to approach a woman, though, his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Just a second,” he said, annoyed at the interruption. But given that the staff didn’t usually bother guides during meetings, he thought he’d better check it.

Glancing down, he saw a text from the front desk: Jenna Banks asking for your #. Says important. OK to give?

Hmm. Never a dull moment with Jenna. She’d been on his mind all afternoon since her sumptuously sexy performance at the Grotto.

He sent back a quick OK, then returned to his conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, as Brent was going over some basic fantasy rules, his phone vibrated again. He paused to pull it out and take a look, surprised to see Jenna wasn’t calling but had sent him something.

Was it . . . a video? He didn’t use most of the fancy gadgets on his phone, so he wasn’t sure, but when he clicked, it was indeed a video—of Jenna stretched out on her bed in only a pretty pair of lace panties, again caressing her breasts. His chest tightened instantly and he pushed the pause button, looking to Danny. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to sound completely calm and professional. “I’m afraid I have to take this.”

Brent hurried away across the patio onto a more private sundeck, empty now that night had fallen. Then he resumed watching the video of Jenna—in total awe.

She massaged her tits so sweetly, so sensually—he knew she wasn’t just acting for the camera. She was truly making herself feel good. And though thoughts of her had kept him moderately hard all day, now he stiffened further.

Next, she reached beside her and—ah—drew his little present into the picture. He watched, utterly captivated, as she raked the pink shaft up over one nipple, then the other, playing, experimenting for him. As she let the fake cock glide down over her beautifully bare torso, she watched its progress, sensually sliding her tongue across her upper lip before she dipped the toy between her legs. Yes, baby, that’s so hot. His erection grew.

He waited patiently—but also eagerly—until she set the vibrator aside and used both dainty hands to ease those sexy panties down her thighs, then off. So, so pretty, Jenna. So sexy and hot. Then she parted her legs—toward the camera. Damn. Nice.

With her moist tongue still poised against that soft upper lip, she positioned the vibrator’s tip at her opening, and as she pushed the head into her sweet pussy, clenching her teeth and letting out a small groan, Brent’s stomach contracted. Fuck. He felt this too much. Way too much. He had to move to a bench at the deck’s edge and sit down.

When she pushed the toy all the way in with a heart-stopping sigh, Brent felt almost as if he were sinking into her. The sight stole his breath.

And then she began to slide the fake cock in and out, in and out, moaning softly with each inward drive, and he felt weak watching her pleasure herself for him.

Soon she turned the vibrator on, and those moans grew deeper. His cock ached and he began to sweat despite the sea breeze. He’d selected a toy that came with a nub at the base, designed to stimulate her clit with each deep thrust, and it was easy to tell it was working, especially when she stopped the in-and-out strokes and instead just left it all the way in, simply working the base of the cock against her clit now.

As Brent watched, his focus moved gradually from her cunt to her face. The screen was small, of course, but he could still see how much she had opened herself to him, in every way. The blood drained from his cheeks and his dick felt like it would burst from behind the zipper of his khakis as she moaned and groaned—until finally she came, in a barrage of hot little breaths and then the longer, higher sobs he’d heard from her before.

When the video ended, he simply sat there for a long minute.

Damn—she was so dirty now. Truly a bad girl. He could barely fathom the difference in her from when she’d first arrived.

Except that . . . her surrender, her sexuality, were still too attached to him.

He’d felt much more in control of the whole situation after managing to keep his cock in his pants today at the Grotto, but then—shit—he’d had to go writing that note, telling her he’d imagine her using the toy. If she’d simply used it by herself, on her own, he’d have felt one step closer to making her newfound naughtiness independent of him—but as it was, just the opposite had happened.

Well, he’d have to think about how to change that—but for now, the horny guy in him just played the video again and got a monster hard-on as he watched it a second time.

After which he finally returned to Danny and cold barbeque with an apology—but no matter what he did after that, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jenna.

The truth was, he wanted to call her, or just go to her room. He wanted to fuck her brains out. He wanted to give her what she’d begged for today. Begged. Jenna. She’d gotten so good, so fast, at expressing her desires. “My dirty, dirty girl,” he whispered toward the tiny screen on his phone.

He wanted to fuck her tonight—but he couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

Tomorrow she’d have another fantasy. And he’d be involved—yet so would others, so at least it wouldn’t be . . . intimate.

Then again, somehow the harem fantasy had turned intimate between them, and even the dungeon fantasy, by the time it was over, had felt very much like they were the only two in the room. But he’d at least try to make tomorrow’s fantasy different. He was giving her something he thought would appeal to everything inside her—but in the end, this time, he wouldn’t give her . . . him. He’d just decided that part, right now. He wouldn’t fuck her tomorrow. He’d keep reinforcing that this wasn’t about him—it was only about her. Even if it killed him.

And it might, he decided as he finally unzipped his pants and took out his straining cock.

Dick in hand, he watched her again, fucking herself to ecstasy—the only difference now being that he came with her this time.

And then—hell, he knew he shouldn’t do it, shouldn’t respond at all, but she had opened herself to him, so much, so completely. She’d put herself out there in a way that . . . well, it had to be scary for her, and he was so enormously proud of her for pushing her fears aside time after time. So he sent her a simple text message:

Jenna sat on the isolated beach at the far end of the island, her pussy humming with anticipation. Wearing the emerald green colonial-style dress she’d found in the trunk, she pulled up the skirt to keep from getting too hot, then glanced back down at the invitation she’d received earlier. She wasn’t exactly sure what would happen here, but she was already entranced. This was the first fantasy she’d faced without fear—only excitement. The eighteenth-century was one of her favorite time periods, and she was particularly immersed in the era right now—back in real life—while she penned her pirate anthology. Had Brent planned something piratical for her? She didn’t know—but couldn’t wait to find out.

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.

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 rhythm 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.

“Zack, let our pretty wench feel your cock on her tits.” She was just processing Brent’s words when he added, “And Rico, climb onto the tree and fuck her.” Jenna drew in her breath as a passing breeze set her skin tingling all over.

And yet . . . no Brent? Apparently not, right now.

But somehow he’d finally done it, filled her with enough brazen desire that it didn’t matter anymore.

Rico, the Latin now technically becoming her lover, boosted himself onto the log with the agility of a cat. This time, she didn’t even have to be told to spread her legs—she simply did it, letting them drop over the sides of the tree so that she straddled it, waiting while rough and sexy Rico unbuttoned his period-style breeches and an impressive phallus popped free. She bit her lip at the sight—thick and slightly curved, it was smaller than Brent’s but ample indeed.

As Rico knelt between her legs, Zack stepped up beside her and their gazes met. She remembered him whispering dirty things to her the other night and sensed he might be recalling the same. When his hand cupped her breast, she tensed—but again, all she felt was pleasure, pure and thick, washing through her. And when Rico lifted her thighs, bringing them across his own, then smoothly slid his hard cock into her cunt, that pleasure increased tenfold, nearly swallowing her.

Low moans left her with each even stroke he delivered and she lay content to soak up the filling sensation. A hot, “Ohhh,” echoed from her when Zack leaned in to do what Brent had said, running the length of his stiff shaft over her breast. She watched both cocks pleasure her, acceptant and grateful, aware that her entire body felt cradled in a warm, dirty delight she’d never experienced.

A few feet away, Brent observed, and though she tried to keep her focus on Zack and Rico, she knew she reaped far more joy from the same source as yesterday—Brent’s eyes on her. It was almost as if his gaze touched her, caressed her, supported her, reassured her. In a strange way, it was almost as good as if he were inside her, as if he were teasing her tits with his erection. Not quite, of course—but not a bad substitute.

So she alternated between watching the thick phallus filling her moist, tight opening below and studying the other erect cock caressing her nipples or sliding over the softer part of her breasts—and she found it utterly hot when Zack positioned his body to lay his shaft flat between her tits, then used his hands to push them up around it, fucking her that way. But the thing that thrilled her most of all was the constant sight of Brent in her peripheral vision, taking it all in, experiencing it with her.

Both Zack and Rico growled and groaned their pleasure and she thought it made a lovely little erotic symphony—reminding her how wild she was now; that she was with two men at once and being watched by a third; that she had suddenly become a dirty, dirty girl and—to her shock—she liked it. But when another male sound echoed from her left, she turned her eyes past Zack’s firm body to Brent, whose face now filled with deep want, and whose dick was freed from his pants, in his hand.

Oh God, that was hot. To see him touch himself—for her. It was what his message last night had made her envision and was nearly enough to make her come, even without direct attention to her clit. She bit her lip, watching him watch her, and loved letting it send a whole new hot, naughty sensation vibrating through her body.

Soon her gaze focused tight on his big, masterful cock, so stiff and huge in his fist. Mmm, God, she wanted it. In an entirely different way than she wanted Rico’s or Zack’s. This ran deeper, like she imagined an addiction might feel.

She heard her breathing increase, becoming more rapid—and that changed the pace of the sex. What had been, for a time, moving slow and hot now grew faster, rougher. Rico’s thrusts drove deeper and came with small, heated grunts. In turn, Zack kneaded her breasts with more intensity, then rubbed his rigid length more brusquely over one tit.

The change fired more pleasure through Jenna’s body, escalating her arousal to a fever pitch—it took only a moment given all she’d been through today, this week—and when she looked over at Brent again, their gazes locked in torrid lust. Oh God, how she wanted him! How she wanted that cock of his!

Dropping her gaze to it again—oh, oh Lord . . . with one penis in her pussy and another at her tits, she actually longed for a third. Found herself hungry for it. Truly hungry—she wanted it in her mouth. She felt wild for it between her lips, desperate for it to fill her, be inside her, however or wherever it could go. With her eyes on his majestic erection, her lips parted, wider, wider, from pure instinct and need. And, mouth still open in bold invitation, she cast him a look of pure yearning, silently pleading with him to put his cock inside.

Brent appeared just as desperate, his eyes half shut, his jaw lax, as he gazed at her gaping mouth, then her eyes—just before he lightly shook his head, refusing her unspoken appeal.

Jenna closed her eyes, crushed and left feeling amazingly empty given the erection still thrusting between her legs. God, why didn’t he want to? How could he say no to her—now?

That’s when his deep, lusty voice broke through the other sounds around her. “It’s so hot to watch you be fucked, my dirty little wench,” he said, dark, seductive, still affecting just a hint of his pirate accent. “I love to see your wet cunt swallow that cock, to hear the way you purr and moan.”

And somehow, just that helped. Again, not a physical touch—but now it was as if his voice reached out to her instead. “You make my cock so fucking hard, my lady,” he added with a sexy glint in his eye. And she had no idea why he wasn’t fucking her—or touching her, or something—but, incredibly, just the dirty words he spoke so warmly were enough to make her feel close to him. She knew he’d felt her need, and this was how he was feeding it.

“Put the wench on her hands and knees on the beach,” he said, and she wondered what he had in store for her next. Jenna didn’t fight or resist as the other two men lifted her down from the fallen tree trunk and gently pushed her to her knees in the soft, hot sand. She planted her hands in front of her, bending over, thinking—Please, Brent, fuck me. You, not anyone else. It’s you my body craves.

“Very good, my lady,” Brent said, fully back in character now. “Such cooperation may get you to Jamaica yet.” And when he moved near her, she was sure her silent begging had been answered—but Brent merely bent down to lift the long emerald skirting back up over her ass.

How obscene must she look right now? But it didn’t bother her; it only made her feel like an object of erotic desire—in a good way. She’d always believed being objectified was horrible, but she was slowly learning that, sometimes, it was exactly what she wanted: to be desired solely for sex, for her sexual self. It made her feel free of all the mental chains that had kept her from fully enjoying her own sexual nature up to now.

“Zack, fuck that pretty pink pussy,” Brent said, stepping back to one side of her. “And Rico, fuck her soft little mouth.”

Part of Jenna’s heart broke. He really, truly wasn’t going to be with her in any way? What was wrong?

Yet then she sensed pirate Zack kneeling behind her in the sand, his hands at her hips. Pirate Rico then dropped to his knees in front of her. And Brent stood to the side, again just a vague image in her peripheral vision—but oh God, for him, suddenly, again, she wanted this. Whether he was really a part of it or not. She wanted to be that dirty, that filled. She wanted him to watch. She wanted to feel it for him.

She cried out as Zack plunged inside her from behind—and, oh Lord, the position made him feel bigger. She bit her lip, adjusting. Then she saw Rico’s sturdy cock before her eyes, in his hand—ready.

Releasing a hot breath, she opened her mouth and let him slide inside. He went slow, gentle, clearly understanding that this was a lot for her to take. She wanted it to be Brent. Just as she wanted the man behind her to be Brent, too. Impossible as it was, that’s how she thought of it in a way. Neither man was Brent, yet they did his bidding, responded to his commands. They fucked her because he said to.

And oh God, how the two pirates filled her. It was almost overwhelming, and at moments, she forgot all about Brent because her senses were on overload—her body was being pummeled from front and back, top and bottom, and all she could do was take in the sensations and endure the way they echoed through her. Sex, she had learned here, was about so much more than certain body parts—at times, she truly felt it everywhere at once, as if her entire being was getting fucked.

But, of course, the longer it went on—oh hell, she was back to feeling Brent again. His gaze, his intent interest, the sexual aura that radiated from him. And—mmm, God, yes—coming back to him, emotionally, made it all even better. When she felt him studying her every move and reaction, her pleasure grew still more intense.

She shut her eyes and threw herself into the acts of sucking and fucking. She listened to the sound of the crashing tide mix with her own deep sounds of pleasure as her hands and knees sank deeper into the gritty sand. Her face felt flushed, her stomach sweaty beneath the corset. It all felt so overpoweringly good, and she needed Brent to see that, feel that. She wanted desperately to make him come.

“You’re doing so good, honey,” he said deeply, his voice nearly making her come instead. “That’s right, Jenna. Suck that cock. Feel everything that’s happening to you. Don’t think about anything else.”

“Zack,” he said then, “rub her clit.”

When the pirate behind her did as Brent instructed, she nearly collapsed in the sand. But somehow she stayed up on her hands and knees, even weak as she’d become. Fresh, new, wild pleasure expanded rapidly through every inch of her body and she cried out around Rico’s erection. Her body rocked and her tits swayed beneath her. And, oh . . . mmm . . . nothing mattered but coming now. She screamed louder. Sucked deeper. Thrust harder.

And then—oh God, oh God—she came. So, so hard. Screaming and sobbing around the cock in her mouth, letting it all flow through her in hot rivers of pleasure that energized and drained her all at once.

Until finally it was done.

And she automatically released the erection from between her lips.

Brent didn’t object, saying only, “That was good, honey—you did so good.”

But then Rico’s cock was in his fist and he was looking to Brent for direction—and much to Jenna’s surprise, Brent simply said, “In the sand.”

And Rico didn’t exactly look thrilled, but said nothing, simply turning toward the ocean, working his erection madly—until finally he groaned and shot three arcs of white semen into the air.

“You, too, Zack,” Brent instructed, again catching her off guard. Zack still pumped into her, grunting and groaning—but on Brent’s command, he cursed softly, went still, then slowly pulled out. A moment later, she saw him yards away, on his knees, taking care of himself the way Rico just had.

The next thing Jenna knew, she lay on the beach exhausted, physically replete. Oh Lord. It was over. Over. She didn’t see her two lovers anywhere and wondered how they’d disappeared so fast and if she was suddenly alone here—when she found Brent towering over her.

His cock was back in his pants—but he still looked like a pirate who might ravish her. Which she wouldn’t have minded at all. Only . . . she knew now, that wasn’t happening. He’d worked too hard to keep it from happening. And she still didn’t understand why.

Brent scooped Jenna up and carried her the few yards back to the sun-washed tree. Lowering them both to the sand, he leaned back against the trunk, keeping his arms wrapped around her from behind.

This was a fantasy originally planned to be about submission, and even though she’d advanced beyond needing that anymore, he’d proceeded anyway, knowing she’d enjoy the historical aspects. It had also turned into a good opportunity to have her be with other guys, without him being one of her lovers.

He’d felt her delight in imagining herself at the mercy of pirates, and it had pleased him greatly, especially when she’d so quickly invented her own role in the game. But his gut had pinched with knowing she wanted him and wasn’t getting him. And he’d loved how she’d thrown herself into the sex with utter abandon—but he had a feeling, again, that even without fucking her, his presence had influenced her pleasure. Shit.

And when both guys had needed to come . . . hell, usually, he would have let Zack finish the normal way, inside her—and he might have instructed Rico to ejaculate on her tits, or her ass. But something in him had frozen when the time for that had arrived.

Somehow, even as he wanted her to be with other guys—he’d discovered very unexpectedly that he hadn’t wanted another guy to come in her, or on her. He’d simply had the feeling that . . . it wasn’t the right thing to do. For her. Or for him, either. Double shit. What the fuck was that about?

It didn’t even make sense. Except that . . . for a guy like Brent, whose whole adult life had been spent at the Hotel Erotique, coming in a woman’s body, or even on it, was maybe the one truly intimate part of sex. He hadn’t even known he felt that way until this insane moment—but he’d felt that way with her before, hadn’t he, when he’d come on her tits in the harem room? It was leaving part of him in her, whether that meant inside her pussy or being rubbed into her skin. And hell—he just hadn’t wanted anyone else to do that with Jenna.

Worse still—damn it—his response had felt, startlingly, almost like . . . jealousy. He wasn’t sure, though, because he’d never actually experienced that before. At least not since . . . high school, maybe. It was all a vague notion in his mind.

“Doing okay, sunshine?” he finally whispered down to her. Sand covered her dress, but the way it still fell from her chest was hot—she looked so much like a woman who’d been taken that he yearned to be the one who’d done the taking.

She nodded up to him, appearing understandably tired, and maybe a little sad. “I’m only disappointed you didn’t join us.”

He held in his groan, but damn it . . . he wanted her. So fucking bad. He didn’t usually have this trouble—he was skilled enough to get a good hard-on but not fall apart if he didn’t get to come. Sometimes that was part of providing a good fantasy—sometimes not everyone got to come. You just hooked up with another facilitator later or took care of it yourself. Only, right now, his dick throbbed like crazy and it was all he could do not to shove her to her back in the sand and finally give her what she longed for.

Still, he found a way. Because he had to be strong here, do what was best for her in the long run. So he simply replied by saying, “Tell me your pirate fantasy.”

She bit her lip and lowered her lids slightly. “Having the captain ravish me.”

Aw, God. The expression on her face nearly buried him. So hungry now, his Jenna, so aggressive—in her own lovely way. His cock physically hurt—each pulsation so strong it became an ache. He wondered if she could see the pain on his face when he simply said—perhaps too quietly, too honestly, “Jenna, I can’t.”

Her face crumpled in distress and it made his heart hurt now, too. “Brent,” she pleaded. She said nothing more, just his name. But he felt it in his gut. How bad she wanted him, too. He’d let things go too damn far, and now she was hurting for it.

But this was no time to give in. He was a guide and facilitator. He did not get emotionally attached to guests. No matter how brutal the ache between his legs—or in his chest.

She turned in his loose embrace to peer up at him—and he simply closed his eyes to try to block it all out. “I’m sorry, honey. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“I think you know why.”

“Tell me.”

He let out a sigh. Fine, maybe it had to be said. So he’d say it, if that would start to fix it. “I’ve gotten too involved with you. You know that.” Shit, his voice still sounded way too pained.

“It’s only another week,” she argued, her tone conveying a desperation he felt in his gut. “Why not just let it play out?”

Another sigh left him. He hurt for her. He hurt for him. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

God, why wouldn’t she let it drop? “You won’t leave here with what you need,” he replied a bit more forcefully.

She simply looked at him for a long moment, her green eyes soft and gentle—and unyieldingly sure. “Maybe this is one time when you’re wrong—when I know what I need. And it’s you. Inside me.”

His cock physically lurched in his pants at her words. Damn it. He didn’t know what to do, how to make her understand.

But he had to. He had to make her see. This was how things had to be.

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” he finally said around the lump in his throat.

Then he pushed to his feet and walked away.