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CHAPTERONE
Isaac
I traila finger along her delicate collarbone, then down her chest to the valley between her breasts. She’s laying on her back but the surgeon’s genius ensures her breasts remain pert and bulbous. I bend my head to press the flat of my tongue against the surprisingly soft and taut skin, and lick from the right side of her ribcage up to the deep pink of her nipple, which I suck softly into my mouth.
“God!” She gasps, her back arching, pressing the firm dome into my face. “Isaac, baby, you’re killing me.”
I push her chest back down to the floor and shift my weight above her. We’re lying naked on the deck of the Hemingway Villa, the most luxurious sea villa on the resort, and my cock wastes no time in resting between her legs.
“Keep still, my love,” I say, my tongue lapping at the hard peak, my cock nudging at her entrance.
“I’m going to come before you’re even inside me,” she moans.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” I reply, licking down into the valley and across to her left nipple.
Her head flips to the side as though she’s in pain. I gently bite down on the skin of her left breast, eliciting a gasp of frustration.
“Please, Isaac. I mean it. You can’t do this to me.”
“You’re so impatient, my love. I’m just getting started.”
She grinds her hips against me in an attempt to hurry me along, so I take both her hands and pin them to the ground behind her head.
“Patience,” I growl at her.
A tear rolls down her cheek. “Please…” she whispers.
I lean forward and lick the salty track away. “You break my heart.”
She lifts her head and bites into my neck, chasing it with hot kisses. The mixture of pain and her expert caress sets me on fire, and for a second I forget my need for control. My hips jut forward without thought and she seizes the moment. Her legs spread and she hooks her ankles behind my back, pulling herself up and onto my cock with a cry of release.
“You fucking—” I splutter, as the sensation of being inside this gorgeous woman overtakes me.
“What, Isaac? What am I?” she pants, as she meets my thrusts with her strong, Tracy Anderson-toned hips.
“You’re a fucking vampire,” I groan, working her faster. “Biting my neck like that.”
“You asked for it,” she replies, breathily. “You know you shouldn’t tease me. I lose my mind.”
I move inside her, hard and deep. This is what I love about older women. They know exactly what they’re doing. There’s no nervous fumbling, no fear of asking for what they want, no second-guessing what they need. Older women know the language; they speak it fluently. Especially this one, Paris Navitsky. And they don’t take any shit. I can skip the tasting stage and go straight for the full bottle. I get better quality sex, all the time, unlike the other guys who go for women with hardly any experience at all. That’s not for me. The idea of breaking in a virgin positively turns me off. No.This. This is what I live for. A good woman who wants good sex and nothing else.
“This is incredible, Isaac,” she breathes out.
“You are incredible,” I reply, slanting my mouth across hers. I know when she’s about to come. Her voice turns all breathy and desperate-sounding, and I live for it. “That’s it, my love,” I say, coaxing the climax out of her. That’s another thing I love about older women. Their orgasms seem to be more powerful; they can be felt a mile away. When Paris finally erupts, she comes off the floor. Her legs unravel and I raise myself up on my knees, one hand spanning her lower back, supporting her as I thrust my way through her climax. She clenches down hard with a cry and I go from zero to sixty in half a second, dumping myself inside her with the force of a ten-ton truck.
I remain on my knees, the muscles bulging out of my thighs as she comes down from her high.
“You made me come too fast, Paris,” I snap.
“Then we’ll have to reconvene again soon,” she replies, lazily, her face smug and sated. “I have to meet Roman at the gate in thirty minutes.”
I pull out and wipe her and me with the Egyptian cotton Starling Key branded towel lying beside us. “Where’s he dragging you to today?”
“Lunch with Jamaica Miles, she’s the wife of a potential investor and a supreme bitch. She’s from New York society. Thinks she’s better than everybody else. It’ll be a win if I can get through lunch without spitting in her food.”
“Sounds like fun. Wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall to watch you play nice with someone you don’t like.”
Paris lowers her eyes to my face and reaches for my hands. “I wish you could be a fly on the wall. I hate leaving you to go and do Roman’s dirty work.”
