Ginger Fox Part 3
"The towel... Where’s the towel? — I turn my face, pressing my breasts, searching for the damn towel.
“There wasn’t a towel when I arrived,” he replies calmly and directly, making me look over my shoulder at Mr. Roy.
“How did I end up without a bikini?”
“You seemed more comfortable without it.” His large hands return to my back, kneading it with his fingers as if I were dough.
“Did you take off my bikini? Did you untie it?” My voice comes out angry, breathing with fury.
I try to get up again but am held in place by his fingers, which keep me down. His treacherous hands are like steel—hot and soft.
“Stay still unless you want Robert to have a front-row view of you, Miss Fox.” His other hand moves along the side of my body, and in an instant, one side of the bikini bottom’s strap is undone, and the same is done to the other side.
“Oh my God!” I look in horror at the gardener, who has returned to his roses.
Besides being topless, the bottom part of my bikini is loose, and unless I stand up to tie it, without covering my breasts, I won’t be able to get up.
“You son of a bitch!” I curse him with rage between my teeth. In response, his hand presses harder on my skin.
“I don’t see why the reaction. You seemed more comfortable after I removed the top.”
“God, I was sleeping!” I bite my arm to stifle a cry of anger.
“Like a stone, I might add, Ginger.” The sound of what must be his laughter comes out low, as dangerous as a tiger’s growl.
“I... I was tired.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I hadn’t said them.
He slides his finger along the curve of my spine, making the hairs on my neck stand up, drawing on my body with his sneaky finger until it stops at the side of my breast. Just the light touch makes me stifle a moan.
“How was your adventure, little Nautilus?” His breath is too close, almost making me feel the provocative exhalation on my neck.
I bury my face in my arm, closing my eyes, feeling my body respond to him with shivers spreading through every corner of my being when his other hand touches behind my knee. God! It’s like massaging my hair: torturous and pleasurable, with slow, gentle circles.
“Answer my question, Ginger.” My pussy tightens with each new touch, growing curious about the fingers moving slowly between my thighs.
“Where is your wife, Mr. Roy?” My teeth clamp down on my lips to stifle my moans, which are caught in my throat.
“I believe somewhere on the island, being fucked. Answer my question.” The other hand, which was toying with the side of my breast, abandons it to get tangled in my hair.
“Oh, fuck!” I curse quietly, almost crying with what he’s doing to me.
My body, with my wicked libido as an accomplice, offers itself to him on a silver platter.
“Mr. Roy... This... this... Oh, fuck!” I choke as his large hand on my thigh spreads my legs enough to slide between the lips of my vagina.
“Wrong? I believe that’s the word you’d use,” Mr. Roy’s voice enters my brain, as if he were inside my head. “A somewhat objective term.”
He keeps his hand completely flat against my vagina, making me lift my hips slightly, just enough for him to move.
“Dangerous,” I respond quietly, breathing heavily.
“To a little bird, the cat is dangerous, wanting to trap it in its claws. To the cat, it’s essential. Two different perspectives on the same situation.”
This isn’t essential; it’s deadly. He knows that in the food chain, he’s the cat, and I’m the little bird.
“People tend to be very evasive and complicated, but like this, being carried away by euphoria, we can’t hide anything at all.” One of his fingers plays with my clitoris, rubbing slowly, while another invades my damp cavity.
I grip the lounge chair tightly, unable to hold back the moan any longer. His other hand plays with my hair, tossing it aside just to massage my scalp.
" Answer me, Ginger.
" God, why are you doing this? — I close my legs, trying to stop the movements of his hand, but this only encourages him to take another finger inside my pussy, moving them slowly, still rubbing my clit.
"You're smart, Ginger, as much as you are curious. I think you know the answer.
God, I don't know! I couldn't even spell my name right now, because my brain is stagnant, paying attention only to the movements he makes.
" Jonathan... — I tighten my mouth, letting his name be whispered between my closed lips.
" You're warm, so soft and wet. — The third finger enters in the same way as the others, without warning, just dominating and possessive.
He has me, in every sense of the word, in the palm of his hand. He takes me to the precipice there, in broad daylight, with the high sun beating down on me. The gardener is distracted, unaware that I'm panting inside. The mansion, which has its windows open, allows anyone to appear at any moment and see him fucking me with his wicked fingers. This excites me, making me want him to fuck me even more. He is cynical, provocative, with a desire for control that should make me abhor him, but I can still confess anything to him, just so he doesn't stop.
"Tell me, little one, what do you want most?
Everything!
I can scream due to the electric current that threatens to approach, but I just bite my mouth, crushing my fingers in the palm of my hand.
" Please... — I'm begging, crying between low moans with the hunger he fills me with.
His finger presses my clitoris, increasing the movements of the three fingers inside me, until it gives me the feeling that he fucks me with his entire fist, and this idea should scare me, but it does the opposite, it only excites me more. I have such naughty and dirty thoughts unleashed, that I can't lock them away anymore. Jonathan brings up different feelings than the ones Baby had caused in me. She arouses my curiosity, while Jonathan awakens my demons. Which incites me to cross a danger zone between my fantasies and my sanity. My hair is thrown forward, with his hand tangling in it, massaging with pressure. His touch is fascinating and leaves me floating. Jonathan is a new world, totally different, that opens my eyes to everything I can feel, between pleasure and pain, and I should be afraid of his diabolical form, but I can't. I surrender to the monstrous way he knows every point that connects me, between new dimensions of pleasure zones. Jonathan may be a demon, he may be an angel. I don't know if I'm being swallowed too quickly for what he offers me, but I need him to increase the pace and release my pleasure.
" Play with me, Gim. And I promise to satisfy your curiosity. — His hoarse voice, so choked with dangerous promises, deceives me, torturing me more in search of his answer, moving my head, with his hand stuck in my hair, sinking his fingers until his hand is smeared with the viscous liquid that runs from my pussy.
" God... Yes! — I answer loudly, with a crying voice, moaning between madness, giving Jonathan what he asks of me.
I am happy to have pleased him, feeling the exhaustion of my nerves with the hard beats that his fist begins to make, increasing the rhythm of his fingers, fucking me deep. My legs tremble and I bite my arm, sinking my teeth into it, holding back the scream that comes strong, just like the orgasm, twisting me with spasms. My hips buck up, crushing my thighs to trap his hand, convulsing with accelerated breathing, squirting in his hand until I feel my own brain thrown out of my body. There is nothing left, just the full satisfaction of pleasure. My hips lower, returning to their previous position, my weak knees sliding down the lounger, my legs limp.
I release my teeth from my arm, leaving a string of spit that joins them. My face is sweaty from being stuffy, my cheeks hot, with a few curls stuck to my forehead. I tilt my face to the side, looking at the devilish man who is watching me. I close my eyes when I feel his fingers coming out of me, little by little, like a final provocation. I open my eyes to see his white predatory smile. The hand that is tangled in my hair traces a short path, removing the lock of curl from my face, thus leaving my vision clearer, so I can look at him. He returns his hand to his head, lowering his glasses and straightening them on his face. The shiny and sticky fingers, which are on my leg, rise until they stop near his mouth, and without rushing he sucks them one by one.
"Enjoy our private game, Miss Ginger. Enjoy it as a gift." He moves his arm under the lounger, lifting the top of the bikini with the towel.
Calmly getting up, he extends it over my back. I am lost, not knowing exactly what I accepted, watching him walk away, until he disappears inside the mansion.
"What did you go to do, Ginger?" I close my eyes, cursing my damn curiosity, which brought me here. But now I am too far away to go back.