Spellbound, Boundless Series, Book 4

Ch. 7

I'd had amazing sexual experiences with one-night stands previously but casual sex never interested me. I'd depart with a heavy ache and profound emptiness, which turned to immense guilt. Unfortunately, the hotel business had supported my trysts. It was easy to acquire an empty suite, seduce a woman, and leave her—then I'd make my way to my penthouse apartment in mid-town Boston.

However, The Shaman suite was mine for the week. And Karin, sleeping loudly beside me, wasn't so easy to rouse and remove. My mistake was returning to my room to have her sign the NDA that I kept on my tablet. With a stylus as a mock pen, she signed the document, attested to her birth date, and I emailed her a copy so she could remember the penalty for revealing all the unspeakable things I planned to do to her.

Completely transactional and unromantic—as I'd preferred.

Karin, excited that she was about to fuck a millionaire, marveled at the spacious room, pulling the dress straps down her shoulders and sliding off the cheap, stretchable, figure-forming dress. She'd kept her heels on. I'd wondered how many times she'd performed such a strip tease. Countless. Her ease and confidence in her body when she revealed each inch of perfectly tanned flesh proved her experience.

As her dress slid down, she exposed exquisite, natural breasts—perky pink nipples ripe for the tasting. I licked my lips, preparing to take one in my wet mouth. I leaned forward. My hot breath made her flesh pimple. She gasped, shuddering under my hands.

Pushing me back, she smiled as her hands trailed down her torso. She took off her g-string and sidestepped out of the minuscule fabric. I shuddered when she latched onto my belt and undid the buckle faster and rougher than anyone ever had before.

She had practice. Lots and lots of practice.

After she unfastened my pants, she pulled my v-neck sweater up my torso and I instantly raised my arms. Once I was naked, I pulled her to me, feeling her skin against mine. She tried to kiss me, but I resisted. Too intimate. I wanted a good fuck. To forget about Perla—and Lana, who wanted to be Perla. 

The whole night had been ruined by Lana's admission. I needed a woman who was an individual: an intelligent, strong-willed risk-taker who wanted to conquer the world alongside me.

I kissed Karin's neck, opening my mouth to take a nip at the pulsating vein. She moaned, pulled my hips toward her mound as she rose up on her toes, and ground herself into me. Her hard nipples pricked my chest, my flesh rising in response to the stimuli. A low growl escaped my throat.

Pulling away, I lowered my slacks and briefs and joined our feverish bodies. She dropped to her knees and gripped my cock. I watched her bob up and down my length. I grimaced in pleasure and disgust at the sight, trying to enjoy it—mostly feeling torn between want and revulsion. The act of Karin lapping and sucking transported me to a better time—when I had spent a day with Perla on my yacht. 

I wanted Perla to want me like this. Her body, held against mine as we swam, danced, and fished, fit like a missing puzzle piece. It was one of the most peaceful times, despite the tempest building back in Boston. And then I thought of Lana, wishing she were the one at my feet, taking me in as if I were the only man who could nourish her with my release.

When my manhood was free from Karin's hot mouth, I gripped her mane and pulled her away. She stood, and I carried her to the bedroom. She giggled when I dropped her on the bed. She laid on her back, caressing her nipples with her manicured fingertips. A pointy red fingernail scratched at the nub while she seductively bit her lip.

From the bedside table drawer, I retrieved a condom. She watched me, expectant—her legs wide as she mewled in supplication for my return. As I sheathed myself with the rubber and stroked myself to maintain my hardness, she touched herself.