Such warmth permeated her at the startling sight that she abandoned her girlfriend’s breast. The move led her to rest her head on the plump mound she’d just deserted—but her playmate seemed undaunted, simply looping her arm around Jenna from behind to begin tweaking and twirling one of Jenna’s nipples between her fingertips.

Jenna watched in awe as Brent’s new companion—younger, clearly sexy—bent to take his cock into his mouth. Her pussy jolted at the sight, almost violently—but she still managed not to come. Brent lifted his head, his face wet with her juices, to meet her gaze.

“So hot,” she breathed, and immediately saw the heat and relief mingling in his eyes—he’d obviously cared if this aroused her; he’d obviously worried it would not.

As if in reply, Brent smoothly inserted two fingers into her cunt, making her sob—just as the man who’d caressed her breast before now did so again, still suckling the other girl’s tit. Thus both of Jenna’s breasts were fondled as Brent fucked her with his fingers—but for the moment, he turned his eyes on what took place between his legs.

Jenna had never seen one man sucking another’s cock before and the vision transfixed her—especially since Brent’s low groans told her how deep his pleasure ran. And as the younger guy slid his mouth capably up and down Brent’s erection, it hit her: Good Lord, could that be Ryan, the cute waiter she’d met early in her stay? But before she could ponder it further, Brent turned suddenly back to her parted slit, burying his face there with a wild fury that made her cry out.

She watched Brent pump his rock-hard column into that male mouth as, at her pussy, he latched on to her swollen clit, sucking deep and rhythmic. Still mesmerized by the cocksucking, she writhed bra zenly against Brent now, getting closer and closer—oh God, yes, it was coming—and then finally she was screaming as the orgasm rocked her body involuntarily, as the whole scene seemed to collapse around her in a glorious, replete climax she couldn’t have imagined.

The moment the waves of intense pleasure faded, Brent released her clit and let out a hot, low groan, whispered the words, “Fuck—now,” and thrust harder into his male lover’s mouth, coming. She’d never gotten to see that before—Brent coming with someone other than her—and it was an amazing, arousing sight that made her skin prickle and her pussy pulse anew. She practically wanted to come again herself, just witnessing the obscenely hot vision.

When it was over, Brent’s cheek came to rest on her bare thigh. She stroked his hair and let her head fall back against the divan, eyes closing, and sensed their other companions drifting away to seek greener pastures now that they’d both reached orgasm.

But Jenna needed to be closer to him now, and since, all around them, half-clothed bodies sprinkled not only the furniture but the carpet as well, she eased herself to the floor with Brent to lie down, drawing his head to her chest.

Around them, the sex party raged on—they lay in the middle of what had become a tangled mass of bodies and hands and revealed private parts.

As he shifted to take in the rest of the room, Jenna stirred, soon lifting her head, peering down into his eyes. He reached up to pull her sparkly mask back into place—it had gotten skewed in sleep. “We can’t have you revealing your identity, can we, Lady Jenna?” he whispered teasingly.

Instead of replying to what he’d said, she simply rasped, “I want more,” and reached down to slide her cool palm over his cock, now nearly half hard.

The touch, and her need, took away all his amusement. “Then more you shall have. Take whatever you like.”

And then Jenna began to kiss him. He’d gotten far too attached to that simple affection with her, but for now, he indulged fully, meeting her tongue with his, letting her feel his desire.

Soon she was pulling him to sit upright in the middle of the floor, then lifting her brocade skirt to straddle him. His erection was stiff and full now, and he released a low growl when she skimmed her wet slit provocatively up and down his length, just before—God yes—she lowered herself onto him. They both groaned and her head fell back, and he liked knowing he felt bigger inside her in this position.

“Am I huge in you, sunshine?” he asked throatily near her ear.

She drew back slightly, bit her lip, and sounded lost in passion. “Impossibly so.”

She began to ride him then, purring and moaning as she found her rhythm. He molded one hand to her ass under the dress; the other he used to knead her breast—before bending to suckle it. He loved her tight nipple on his tongue, between his lips—the sensation stretched straight to his groin.

Couples, trios, and other configurations fucked all around them—the string quartet could barely be heard above all the moans and groans and dirty whispers—but for Brent, there was only Jenna, looking beautifully naughty and eager as he pumped up into her. “Ride me, baby,” he growled, and she ground her pussy on him harder.

Damn, she was so sexy, his Little Mary Sunshine gone bad—and he yearned to give her more and more pleasure.

Just behind her stood Zack with two girls—both guests, Brent thought, since he didn’t recognize them—who knelt before him and took turns going down on him. And Brent knew Zack well enough to know his overriding sexual preference was, indeed, having his cock sucked. So as the two girls began kissing one another, seeming to forget the large phallus in their midst, Brent met his gaze, silently summoning him.

When an erect, veined cock suddenly appeared at eye level next to Jenna, she glanced up, looking slightly taken aback. So Brent was glad when Zack briefly lifted his mask to give her a quick wink hello, knowing it would put her at ease for what he hoped would happen next.

Lowering her eyes back to Brent, her expression was a charming mix of daring and sheepishness. So he would help her along.

As they fucked, he reached up, took hold of Zack’s hard-on, and drew it toward Jenna’s mouth.

He couldn’t decide whether or not to be surprised when she parted her lips willingly—but as they closed over Zack’s cock, it was all Brent could do not to come.

Above, Zack groaned, beginning to glide gingerly in and out, and Brent’s limbs actually grew weak watching her suck another guy this way, just a few inches from his face, while he moved in her below.

A few minutes later, Jenna extracted the shaft from her swollen lips—then guided it toward Brent’s mouth.

He didn’t hesitate. What Jenna wanted tonight, he would gladly give her. He opened wide, let her feed Zack’s erection to him. He welcomed the fullness in his mouth, no stranger to the sensation—and he kept his eyes on Jenna as he worked, pleased with how awestruck she appeared. Her eyes, her lips, were incredibly close, and just like when it was her mouth being fucked, something about the nearness made it ultimately more intense.

“I want him to come in your mouth,” she said, undulating on him wetly. And everything inside him clenched at sharing this fresh, new dirty lust with her.

He sucked Zack with more vigor, and within seconds, Zack was thrusting, sliding his length roughly toward Brent’s throat. Jenna looked enthralled, growing more and more excited, and Brent only hoped Zack exploded before he did, since he was having a hard time holding back now.

He sucked harder, deeper. Felt dirty, dirty, dirty—all for sweet Jenna, with her, in response to her. She moaned, clearly entranced and on the edge herself. While, above him, Zack began to emit a low groan, murmuring, “Shit, yeah, almost, almost,” and Brent reached up to gently squeeze his balls.

“Hell yeah,” Zack bit off—then shot his come to the back of Brent’s mouth. Brent swallowed, again, again, taking it all in, his eyes shutting in the heat of the moment—after which he heard Jenna sobbing and knew she was coming on him, too.

Oh God, oh fuck—he couldn’t hold it in anymore, either, and just as Zack fired a last arc of semen into his throat, Brent erupted inside Jenna’s body, moaning around the erection filling his mouth.

Jenna could barely process all that had just happened. As Zack pulled his wet shaft away, she stared at Brent, thinking—Oh my God, I’ve never experienced anything so intense in my life. And she’d done it with him, and she knew, whether or not he’d admit it, he felt the same way. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in his kiss.

“Doing okay, honey?” he asked softly.

And that’s when it hit her—Oh Lord, I’ve just taken part in an orgy. A real, true-life, freaking orgy! But she had no regrets, because she’d been with Brent. And somehow that made everything—anything—okay. “Yeah, I am. I can’t believe it, but I really am.”

Yet she suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore. The rest of the room writhed in raucous abandon, but she felt . . . well, that she’d experienced the full measure of what she could here. “Can we take off, though? Go to your place or something?”

To her relief, he didn’t show the slightest reluctance. “Yeah, let’s go.” And a moment later, he was taking her hand, whisking her past the pulsing mass of bodies toward the door.

Once outside in the warm tropical air, they made their way to the nearby beach, where Jenna stopped to shed her period shoes. They walked hand in hand, Brent holding both their masks, until Jenna looked up at him to say, “Is it all right for Lord Sexingham to leave his own party?”

He let out a light laugh, looking as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. “Not really, but they’ll get by without me.”

“I’m sorry to make you break so many rules,” she said.

He grinned down at her in the moonlight. “No you’re not,” he scolded. Then he stopped, dropped the masks to the sand, lifted his hands to her face, and kissed her for a very long time.

“Did I do okay at the masquerade?” she asked against his broad chest.

Above her, he let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “You have to ask, sunshine? You were fucking phenomenal.” Then he used one bent finger to lift her chin so that she met his gaze. “But this fantasy was about doing what you wanted, not what I wanted you to do. It was about total freedom.”

“Then it worked, because that’s exactly what I felt.”

As was so often the case, he looked pleased. “Good.”

“That said,” she reasoned, now that the excitement was over, “I’m not sure how this is going to translate into my real life. I don’t see many more orgies in my future.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in just a hint of a smile. “I’m not suggesting that this would even be wise in real life. But I wanted you to experience it, to know that you can. And I . . . wanted to see you that way,” he admitted. “That part was selfish.”

“I don’t mind,” she whispered.

Cuddling back up to his warm body, she noticed the initials on his arm once more. And the closer she felt to him, it seemed, the more she longed to know about the one woman Brent Powers had ever fallen in love with. Biting her lip, she reached out to gently run her fingertips over the tattoo. “What happened with Deena?” she asked.

But he didn’t respond.

She waited for a long moment, yet he still remained quiet, eyes on the ceiling, as if she’d never asked.

Given that the two of them had grown close, whether he liked it or not, she didn’t hide her disappointment. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

“She died,” he said.

Oh no. “Oh. God. I’m sorry, Brent.” Then she whispered, “How?”

This time, when he hesitated, she didn’t dare press him—she could see how hard it was for him to share this, but that he was trying now. “An accident. On the highway. A semi lost control.”

Jenna’s heart constricted. “God, that’s awful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They say it was quick, though—no pain.” Yet then his eyebrows knit.

“What?” she asked.

He gave his head a short shake—but then he confided in her further. “We’d fought that day. About sex. She was . . . kind of like you.”

“Like me?”

He met her gaze briefly. “She’d had some bad experiences growing up, and she wasn’t very comfortable with sex. But I wasn’t mature enough to get it at the time—and I was mad she was always rejecting my advances, always acting turned off.” He stopped, sighed. “So we argued. And so I’ve always known she was mad at me—hurt by me—when she died. And worse, she had every right to be, because I was acting like an asshole.”

Jenna blinked, shocked, putting pieces together. At the risk of overestimating her importance to Brent, she whispered, “Is that why? Why you insisted on fixing my problems?”

His face changed then, going dark, looking even sadder somehow. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.” Then he let out a rough breath, appearing disgusted with himself. “Shit—I kind of wondered why it was so damn important to me, so . . . hell. Maybe.”

“Maybe you wanted to . . . give me what you weren’t able to give her?” Jenna suggested cautiously.

Brent’s only response was to close his eyes—and then she saw a tear leak free, rolling down his cheek.

Oh God. Oh God, her heart broke for him. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Yet then he seemed to shake off the more brutal emotions. “No, it’s okay,” he said, reaching up to wipe the wetness from his face. “I just hadn’t realized it, but you’re probably right.”

Despite herself, Jenna still wanted to know more. She wasn’t sure she should keep prying at this point, yet . . . “When did Deena die?”

“The April before I graduated from college.”

Oh, wow. That explained a lot. Like why he’d looked so unhappy in those graduation pictures. And could it also explain . . . ? “That was . . . right before you came here. Right?”

He nodded against the pillow. “I came that summer.”

She simply looked at him, wondering if he truly couldn’t see what she suddenly saw. She raised on one elbow to peer down at him. “You came here to get away from her death,” she said.

Yet he only shrugged. “Sure I did. It was a good distraction. A different lifestyle, a different world.”

“But you never left, Brent. You came here to hide from it and you never stopped.”

This finally got his attention. He arched a brow and she felt his muscles tense. “Okay, who’s the psychology major here?”

Jenna wasn’t sure how to proceed. She didn’t want to be hard on him, but the fact was—his girlfriend had died a very long time ago. He should be over it by now. So she was as honest with him as he’d been with her about confronting her issues. “Maybe you should quit trying to dodge this, because I think I’m right. I think you’ve been . . . hiding here all this time.”

“Hiding from what?” he snapped.

She tilted her head and didn’t let his tone deter her. “I’m not sure. Love? The fear of loving somebody that much again and losing them? The fear of hurting somebody and never having the chance to fix it? The fear of living the life you’d planned with her—without her? Maybe all of that? Am I getting close?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and she knew she’d pissed him off. He still held her in a loose embrace, but the tenderness of it had faded. Finally, he looked her in the eye and said, “I don’t hide from anything, Jenna. You should know that by now.”

“I should know that just because you’re all big and tough and sexy?” she asked, still feeling bold. “Talk about being in denial. All I can say is . . . sex doctor, heal thyself.”

Brent knew there was truth in her words. He’d always known it. He’d just chosen not to think about it. Now he had only himself to blame for getting so close to someone that they could see it.

“Jenna,” he quietly explained, “there are times when it’s possible to . . . recognize what you’re doing, and know why, and even realize that maybe it doesn’t seem like the best thing . . . but if you function fine that way, maybe you decide it is the best thing—for you. I’m happy here, so why would I change that—no matter what brought me here?” Maybe that would shut her up.

Unfortunately not. “I could ask you the same question about my issues. I was fine, happy, content—but you insisted on fixing me anyway. And I feel better about myself inside than I have in years. I thought I was fine when I came here, and I could have lived that way forever without any real problems—but you made me better. Better than I knew I could be.”

“Apples and oranges,” he said decidedly.

“I disagree,” she replied. “I think . . . you’re afraid of the world beyond this island. I think you’re afraid of all the ways there are to hurt and get hurt if you indulge in a relationship that goes deeper than sex.”

Okay, that was it. He’d tried to be nice about this, but she’d just pushed him too far. Still, he tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “I think you’re butting into something that’s not your business, sunshine.”

“Maybe I care about you,” she shot back at him.

Shit. “Don’t go there, Jenna,” he warned.

“What? Why?”

So he’d have to explain this, too, huh? Fine. “Because that was my exact fear all along. It’s why a guide should not take part in your fantasies. And I fucked up a lot more by . . . by all this talking and getting to know you. You’re not supposed to care about me.”

She spoke more softly. “What if it’s too late for that?”

His chest tightened. He’d been trying to ignore the ramifications of getting close to her, trying to just ride it out like she’d said—and that’s exactly what he was going to keep doing now. “You need to push it aside,” he told her unequivocally. “Just like all the other emotions you’ve needed to push aside this week to free yourself sexually.”

She let out a sigh, pursed her lips, and said, “What if I . . . haven’t really pushed them aside very much?”

Hell. He had no choice. He had to lower the boom here, once and for all. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he spoke gently—but the words would still wound her. “Jenna, let me say this plainly. I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and yeah, I’ve taken some special satisfaction in helping you overcome your issues. But I never should have talked so openly with you. And I shouldn’t have you in my bed right now. Because despite enjoying your company a great deal, this is still my job.”

She looked tougher than he might have expected—more challenged than hurt. “Right now?” she asked. “Having me in your bed is your job?”

“Kind of. Because you needed extra attention, extra prodding—you know that. Getting closer to you helped me find out what you needed.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice coming out too soft. It made his stomach pinch, but he had to ignore that and go on.

“And, if you recall, you would only consent to going through with the fantasies if I took part in them. So I didn’t exactly have a choice if I wanted to help you.”

Next to him, she bit her lip and looked down, clearly embarrassed to remember that part.

And shit—he felt like an ass. “Don’t be mad at me,” he said. “This doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

“Friends,” she repeated, as if the word were ridiculous.

And she was right—it was. Hell.

So he flashed an irritated look of concession. “Okay, yes, damn it, I care for you, too—but . . . I can’t care in a way that goes beyond this, right here, this island. Because this is my world, my life, what I do. And in a few days, you’re going back to the world you know, the world where you belong. All this will, I hope,” he said gently, “be a pleasant memory, for us both.”

It relieved him when she nodded and said quietly, “Yes, it will be.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her then, “if everything I just said hurt you. I don’t mean to be harsh. I just needed you to know.”

“It’s all right,” she said, her voice soft but stronger now.

Good. Maybe they could get back to normal here. “Now—can we cut out all the damn psychoanalyzing for a while and just fuck?”

She blinked. “You still want to—after all this? You aren’t going to suddenly . . . push me away? Worry that I can’t handle it or something?”

He shook his head and spoke the truth. “I wouldn’t do that. I want this to be . . . what it’s been up to now—a good, satisfying thing for us both. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, come here,” he said, “and let me nibble on your pretty tits.”

And nibble he did, while she purred and sighed—but the whole while he knew with brand-new certainty that things had to change here. She’d left him no choice—she’d shown him there was no riding this out on its current course.

He’d meant what he said—he wouldn’t suddenly abandon her; he’d continue to be her guide and her lover. And he’d probably continue to feel way too much while he was doing it. But plain and simple, he’d have to make it so that her sexual world no longer revolved around him.

As for what had followed, about his relationship with her, the things he’d said had hurt her, but they hadn’t surprised her.

In fact, what had surprised her was how . . . normal things felt afterward. They’d had slow sex, him moving in her deeply, making her feel connected to him all the more. They’d slept snuggled together beneath the sheets and woken with the sun. He’d seemed happy to see her, kissing her good morning with a drowsy smile, then asking if she wanted Cheerios.

“You’re a charmer in the breakfast department, Powers,” she’d teased him. “Do all your other overnight guests put up with Cheerios and bagels?”

He’d just shrugged, looking as if there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Well?” she prodded.

“There aren’t all that many, sunshine,” he said matter-of-factly, shocking the hell out of her.

“Um, why?” She’d assumed his bungalow would be worthy of a revolving door.

“Think about it. I don’t get sexually involved with guests outside of their fantasies.”

“Except me,” she pointed out.

He ignored that. “So that leaves Hotel Erotique employees.”

“Of which there are plenty. And they’re gorgeous. And I’m sure they’re happy to share your bed.”

He shrugged again. “I used to indulge in that more when I was younger than I do now.”

“Why?”

“Guess it got old,” he said shortly. Then changed the subject. “Come on, or I might eat the last bowl of cereal and then where would you be?”

Over breakfast, Brent had told her she wouldn’t be having a fantasy today. And, of course, that had disappointed her, but she understood—last night’s had been a doozie, and the night before that had been a double dose for them both. And even though she still wanted to soak up all the sex with him she could, maybe a day off to absorb everything she’d learned last night wasn’t a bad idea. Since she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“I scheduled you a seaside massage, though,” he said. “Two o’clock.”

“Seaside?”

“Just outside the spa—under an awning—with a view of the ocean,” he explained. “It’s nice—you’ll like it.”

Now she lay on a massage table on her stomach, resting her chin on her hands to take in the scenery until the massage began. The bamboo awning sported four stone arches emerging from the soft lawn—and the only sound was the rolling tide in the distance. Brent was right—while the spa was luxurious and serene inside, for Jenna nothing beat the tranquility of being outdoors in a peaceful setting. She hadn’t spent much time thinking of the Hotel Erotique as peaceful, but her time sunbathing at the beach had indeed been that, the perfect contrast with all the wild sex. And today, it provided a nice sense of calm, offsetting the shocking new facts of Brent’s life that still swirled in her head.

“Hi, I’m Courtney.”

Jenna looked over her shoulder to see a tall, Norwegian-looking blonde in a white spa coat. “Oh, hi. No Rhoda today?”

“No Rhoda,” the girl said with a smile. “Her day off, so you’re stuck with me.”

Jenna returned the friendly smile. “Oh, that’s fine. I just assumed—since I had Rhoda a few days ago.”

“Well, I promise to take good care of you,” Courtney said. Then she reached for a bottle of massage oil on a teakwood cart. “You can rest your head in the headrest or enjoy the view, whichever you like. Just let me know if the pressure is good, or too hard, or if anything I do feels uncomfortable.”

Jenna nodded, then settled in for relaxation. She sighed in pleasure as Courtney massaged warm, fruit-scented oil into her shoulders, which had gotten a little sore lately—maybe from the times her arms had been bound. “Mmm, that’s nice,” Jenna told her.

“Good,” Courtney replied. “People often get more of a workout here than they expect, so a few massages during your stay can keep you limber and comfortable during recreation.” She said it as smoothly as if Jenna had come here to play tennis.

Courtney proceeded working her magic slowly down Jenna’s back, and eventually folded down the white sheet covering her to begin kneading her ass. Rhoda hadn’t done that. But it felt nice, so Jenna didn’t protest.

The massage progressed down her legs to her feet, and then back up—to her ass again. She bit her lip as she began to feel the response in her pussy and anal area. Was she supposed to be feeling it there?

Up to now, the massage had truly relaxed Jenna, and despite the new sensations, she remained mostly relaxed, so she decided to go with the flow—for now anyway.

As Courtney’s skilled hands worked, her fingers seeming to stretch closer and closer to Jenna’s cunt, she asked, “Does everything I’m doing feel good?”

Jenna didn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Do you want to turn over?”

Oh. Okay. Now Jenna got it. This was just like at the Grotto—another unannounced fantasy. Maybe it was a fantasy meant to relax as well as titillate her, or maybe Brent was stuck on convincing her she liked sex with girls as much as with guys. Either way, knowing he was somewhere watching, as he’d been at the Grotto, instantly increased her arousal, and her sense of adventure.

“Sure,” Jenna replied easily now that she understood the situation. As she carefully shifted to lie on her back, she found herself peeking around the area beyond the awning, wondering where Brent might be. She didn’t see him, but for all she knew, he was doing a better job of hiding this time, with binoculars—or maybe even watching through a secret video camera somewhere.

The move left her uncovered by the sheet, naked and exposed on the table. Courtney smiled easily down at her, the same as if this were a normal massage, and said, “Shall I take my coat off? I’m wearing pretty lingerie underneath.”

“All right,” Jenna said.

And Courtney smoothly pulled at the placket, undoing all the snaps at once, then let it fall to the ground behind her. She wore a lacy bra and thong in a pale shade of peach. Her body was predictably thin, her breasts medium and high, and a tattoo of an elaborate, multicolored butterfly decorated the skin just below her navel.

“I’ll take off more if you like,” Courtney offered in a friendly manner when she saw Jenna checking her out.

But Jenna wasn’t in the mood for a full-blown lesbian encounter today—not even for Brent—so in just as pleasant a tone, she replied, “No, the lingerie is good, thanks.”

Courtney nodded in response, then squeezed more oil into her hands. “Relax,” she breathed as she bent over Jenna, firmly yet gently massaging Jenna’s tits. Jenna closed her eyes and sucked in her breath, allowing herself to feel the pleasure spreading through her. She thought of Brent watching somewhere and let out a soft, “Mmm . . . ,” both content and aroused.

Courtney worked the warm oil into Jenna’s breasts for a long while, until Jenna’s pussy had turned equally as heated. Finally, her firm, kneading touches moved down over Jenna’s belly and onto her hips. Jenna bit her lip when Courtney reached her upper thighs—she felt that part of the massage deep in her cunt, soon releasing a small moan.

When she opened her eyes, Courtney smiled gently down on her, still moving her palms over Jenna’s legs. She found herself smiling back as a light, salty breeze washed over her. It was shockingly easy to let Courtney make her feel good, mostly because . . . she could so easily imagine Brent’s gaze on her. Just like at the Grotto, just like every other fantasy where someone else had been touching her or fucking her. If Brent wasn’t the one directly pleasuring her with his hands or cock, he pleasured her in another way—with his eyes.

Courtney continued the deep yet tender massage, and Jenna didn’t hide her physical response—as Courtney’s touch echoed between her legs, Jenna moaned appreciatively and envisioned how hard Brent was getting.

When Courtney’s kneading edged its way down onto her inner thighs, Jenna let her legs part. Her moans came louder as her pussy began to pulse. She felt open to the experience because Brent had taught her to be, and because she knew he was enjoying this, probably even more than she was.

Courtney turned away from the table to return a few seconds later with a vibrator the color of orange sherbet. Like the one Brent had sent her, it was shaped like a penis, only it also came complete with balls, and the bump near the base designed for clit stimulation was larger and more protruding.

Jenna thought Courtney would insert the toy in her cunt, but instead, after turning it on to create a light buzzing noise, she ran it in a circle over one of Jenna’s breasts.

“Oh, it’s warm,” Jenna said, surprised.

Courtney’s expression stayed as calm and pleasant as before. “It’s been heated.”

“Mmm,” Jenna purred at the strange sensation as Courtney rubbed the vibrator over Jenna’s other tit.

Soon, she glided the vibrating phallus slowly down Jenna’s stomach—and then she pulled it away, squeezing oil onto it and rubbing it in with her free hand. “Remember, it’ll feel warm,” Courtney cautioned—then she smoothly slid the fake cock into Jenna’s pussy.

It went in with slick ease and Jenna gasped at the sudden fullness, along with the promised warmth. Heat spread through her cheeks as she adjusted to the size as well as the riveting vibrations.

“Good?” Courtney checked.

“Mmm hmm,” Jenna breathed, but it came out sounding a bit excited.

When Courtney began to slip the toy in and out of Jenna’s wetness, Jenna’s arousal grew, and soon she was biting her lower lip, softly meeting each warm thrust. She shut her eyes, wondering about Brent’s exact view—could he easily see the vibrator moving in her pink folds?—as she grew aware of the fake balls pressing against her perineum, as well as that pronounced bump jutting into her clit with each inward drive. It was hard to believe this was her, Jenna Banks, letting another woman fuck her with a vibrator—but Brent had truly transformed her.

She loved knowing he was witnessing her pleasure—which increased quickly, given the angle of that naughty nub against her clit. Her body began to meet Courtney’s plunging toy harder, harder, needing it deeper, her clit longing for still more firm pressure. Until soon Courtney switched motions—no longer sliding the vibrator inward but instead inserting it to the hilt and simply grinding the bump against Jenna’s needy clit. Mmm, yes, that was good—and she realized she’d ended up using a similar action with the toy from Brent when she’d videotaped herself.

Her breath came labored, shakier, as she neared climax. And then she heard herself moaning—lightly, but then louder—and then the orgasm struck, and she fucked the humming toy in Courtney’s hand, aware that the soft, gentle pleasure from moments before had turned raw and intense and completely unrestrained. She gripped both edges of the massage table as she propelled her torso against the toy cock with abandon, her body urging her to absorb every ounce of hot delight.

When finally she went still, she felt a bit strange. It was over, and where was Brent? Even at the grotto, when she’d come, she’d known exactly where he was. Without him right here, she suffered an unsettling loneliness—but she had to push that away.

Because she was at the Hotel Erotique where sex was an emotionless sport. And because Brent was watching, experiencing this with her, even if she couldn’t see him.

Courtney extracted the vibrator, turned it off, then smiled down at Jenna—looking more aroused to her now than she had before. “I hope that was as enjoyable as it looked.”

Jenna felt numb, still coming down from the orgasm in what suddenly felt like a foreign environment without Brent. “It was,” she managed honestly. “Thank you.”

Courtney leaned over her closely then, her breasts nearly spilling from her bra as she said, “It was truly my pleasure. If there’s anything else I can do to please you, I’m happy to. Anything. Just name it.”

Courtney was pretty, and clearly excited now. Jenna knew she could prolong the game, lengthen the fantasy, if she desired. Part of her was tempted. Having turned Courtney on left her feeling hot, and a little bit curious where such an invitation might lead. And yet, again . . . where was Brent? If she could see him right now, she’d gladly move forward with this.

But because he was the necessary ingredient here, she mainly felt the need to find him. See his reaction. Maybe fuck his brains out.

“That’s an enticing offer,” Jenna admitted to her newest Hotel Erotique playmate, “but I’ll have to decline.”

Courtney looked disappointed even as she kept her pleasant expression. “Are you sure? I thought we were getting along so well.”

“We were—are,” Jenna promised. “And you’re beautiful. But . . . I have to go now.”

A few minutes later, Jenna exited the spa in a pair of her new Hotel Erotique shorts and a cami. She found herself watching for Brent at every step, waiting and hoping for him to appear from behind a potted plant or a palm tree. When she’d arrived at the main pool with still no sign of him, she reached in her bag and pulled out her cell phone, dialing the same number to which she’d sent her naughty video.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding totally casual. Not like a man who was . . . well, fighting a massive hard-on or anything.

“It’s Jenna. Where are you?”

“Uh, home.”

“Home?” she asked. She couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Yeah, I’m working from my home office this afternoon, going over the profile of a guest arriving in a few days. Why?”

Jenna sank onto the nearest available lounge chair. All around her, people luxuriated in the sun, bartenders mixed drinks in the nearby tiki bar, and music played, but she felt . . . isolated, as if she were suddenly somewhere very far away from it all, completely alone. “You’re working right now?” she managed.

“Yeah. Why, sunshine? What’s wrong?”

Jenna’s heart rose to her throat. “I just came from my massage,” she informed him.

“Ah,” he said, suddenly sounding playful, amused. “Did you enjoy it?”

Her chest tightened until she could barely speak. “I . . . thought I did.”

“Uh . . . what does that mean?” He suddenly sounded as confused as she felt.

“It means I assumed . . . you were there. Somewhere. Or watching through a hidden camera or something. Are you telling me you weren’t?”

He stayed silent for a moment and Jenna’s chest hurt so much she feared it would burst. “No, honey, I wasn’t.”

“I see.”

“It’s not customary for your guide to be at or observing all your fantasies.”

“You always have before. Even at the Grotto,” she reminded him.

“I was at the Grotto to see how things went, to gauge your progress. I never actually meant for you to know I was there—I just fucked up and didn’t stay out of sight well enough.”

“Hmm,” she said. Because it was all she could say. Other words completely eluded her, trapped in her throat by the anger beginning to spread all through her. He’d done this on purpose. He’d just reminded her last night, after all, that she’d only agreed to all of this on the condition that he would be part of her fantasies—it was very clear to them both that she wanted, needed, him there. He’d done this to remind her she was only a job to him, a project.

“Jenna, are you okay?”

She suddenly found her voice. “Other than the fact that I feel completely betrayed and abandoned? Sure—I’m just fine.”

She heard him blow out his breath on the other end of the line. “Jenna, please don’t feel that way. This was the same as any other fantasy—meant to bring you pleasure and expand your horizons in a new direction. Nothing more, nothing less. If it brought you the intended pleasure, then mission accomplished and you should be happy about that.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” she snapped. Then, as the full measure of his betrayal hit her, she simply pushed the disconnect button.

She couldn’t bear to talk to him any longer if he was going to argue with her about it, tell her she was wrong to have the emotions she did. She’d done something sexual with Courtney that she wouldn’t have—plain and simple—if she’d known Brent really wasn’t involved in any way. It made the experience feel . . . empty. No, worse. She almost even found it a little repulsive.

Because she just wasn’t like the other people here. Try as she might, she hadn’t come here for the sole purpose of getting off. After all of this, sex, to her, still meant more. At the very least, it meant sharing something intimate with someone she trusted. And she’d trusted Brent so, so much. She’d trusted him with . . . everything, with all of her—her emotions, her thoughts, her past, her body, her pleasure. She’d trusted him and he’d just . . . abandoned her.

No, that was a lie—she wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t, because she loved him.

Yet she hated what he’d done to her, and she was going to make damn sure it didn’t happen again. She was done with this, done with him! And she was getting the hell out of the Hotel Erotique, once and for all.