Page 31 of Doggy Style

Preston

Yessi’s taste still lingers on my lips. I can’t wait to get her to the hotel. Cuffs has to stay at the clinic for treatment, but the doctor hopes he’ll make a full recovery. After I leave a deposit at the vet, Yessi and I hightail it out of there.

I call for a taxi. As we wait for it to arrive, I pin Yessi against the side of the building and kiss her like I’ve just returned from deployment. I never had a girlfriend waiting for me back home while I was stationed overseas. Not that I planned it that way or anything, it just never worked out like that. I used to be so jealous of the men who came home to their loving wives waiting for them when our carrier rolled into port. Some of the wives would hold up signs that read, I love my Marine. Those lucky devil dogs would run off the carrier first, sweep their women into their arms, and kiss them like there was no tomorrow.

And I would go home alone and get on a dating app to get laid. But it was just sex, no emotion involved, and it got old quick.

I nip at Yessi’s lower lip after another passionate kiss. “You’re so incredibly hot. I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you.”

She kisses me back and rubs her hands over my biceps. “Same here, even though I couldn’t stand you. Besides, you’re not out of the doghouse yet. You’re still on probation until you agree to stop selling puppies.”

I laugh and kiss her again, gripping her incredible ass.

A taxi pulls up, and we immediately climb into the back seat and start making out like teenagers. I don’t know what it is about Yessi, but I can’t get enough of her. She isn’t shy or timid in the least, aggressively kissing me back like she doesn’t care that the cabbie can see. Just days ago, we were mortal enemies, and now I hope we’re about to become lovers.

We finally arrive at the hotel. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see our bags at the valet stand. Guess tipping the limo driver handsomely definitely helped. We step into the breathtaking lobby, and I marvel at the million-dollar view of the ocean outside. When the world gets insane, and I lose my way, Hawai’i has always had a way of recalibrating me. Even though I moved around a lot as a military brat, no place has ever felt more like home to me.

The front desk attendant waves me over with a broad smile. I walk over to him with Yessi by my side.

“Aloha, Preston Evans. Welcome to the Kahala. Thank you for staying with us.” He types something and adds, “I have reservations for two rooms.”

Yessi whispers in my ear, “Cancel mine.”

Yeah, baby.

“Actually, we’ll only be needing one room. Could I upgrade to one of your suites?”

“Of course, sir. We have our largest beach suite available if you’d like? It’s steps away from the sand.”

Fuck yeah. Maybe we can go skinny-dipping in the ocean. “That would be wonderful. We’ll take it.”

“Would you like the bellman to bring up your bags?”

No, because I plan to throw Yessi against the wall and fuck her the second I get to the room.

“No, thanks. I got them.”

I tip the bellman for keeping our bags and grab them from the luggage cart.

Once inside the elevator, I kiss Yessi again, pressing my hard cock between her thighs. I want to fuck her right here in the elevator, but once I notice the camera in the corner, I decide doing that would be an absolutely terrible idea.

I have zero desire to make yet another sex tape. I want to keep Yessi all to myself.

The elevator arrives on our floor, and after I struggle with the stupid key card, the door opens. I don’t even stop to admire the opulence of our suite or the pristine sand of the beautiful beachfront right outside our room. The only beauty I’m interested in appreciating is Yessi.

I pick her up, carry her into the bedroom, and place her on the bed.

I pause to truly appreciate her physical beauty. She renders me speechless. Her body is perfection—ample breasts, a tiny waist, and a gorgeous, lush ass.

Her long eyelashes flutter, and I stare into her eyes, which are the hue of rich cognac. She’s already shed the sweatshirt she was wearing on the plane, and she’s clad in a tight black tank top and dark jeans. I can’t wait to discover every inch of her body.

I lean over her and pull her tank top off over her head. Her skin is tan and flawless, covered only by lacy lingerie. She’s a work of art, her incredible body adorned with intricate ink. She has some seriously kick-ass tattoos, not the usual girly ones. Hers are fierce, fascinating, and feminine.

Just like her.

I trace the ink on her body down to her hip. Her chest rises when I touch her. I can’t wait to see her ripe nipples under her bra and to suck on her tits, but I want to tease her first.

I haven’t felt this kind of anticipation or hunger for a woman since I can’t remember when. My sex life over the past few months has consisted of swipe rights through dating apps, shopping from an endless catalog of women. As horrible as it sounds, I don’t even remember most of them.