One

Kathryn was wealthy.

Obscenely wealthy.

She always could get anything or anyone she ever wanted. Ever since she was a little girl, she was so stunningly beautiful, and her English-born father so powerful, people bent over backwards to give this princess of Paris whatever it was that she wished. The men in her life were no different. All she had to do was look at something longingly, and it was miraculously procured for her.

It was how she got her first horse. She batted her long, curled eyelashes at her grandfather at the tender age of six, and commented on how the roan’s hair was almost exactly the same shade as hers. Two days later, the creature was in their stable. It worked with her first car, a shiny red Alpha Romeo she charmed from her father when they were in Italy, and just happened to be passing a showroom on her sixteenth birthday. It worked with her first man, who was so exquisite it made her soul ache. She had him convinced she loved him, and he turned himself over to her without a second thought. It became second nature for her to come to expect the finer things in life, and when they didn’t come easily, to make them come by any means necessary.

When she was older, and on her own, Kathryn surrounded herself with people who were utterly devoted to making her happy. She paid them handsomely, and treated them exceptionally well, and for that, she earned their undying loyalty. It was amazing the limits to which her people would go.

As she sat in a chaise by the pool at the gorgeous Hidden Beach Resort, she gazed up at the cerulean Mexican sky and smiled. The sky always seemed bluer here, at the perfect playground for the wickedly rich. All around her, under the chlorine aroma, was the stench of wealth. Kathryn had on dark sunglasses but nothing else, opting to take advantage of the resort’s nudist setting. Her thick chestnut tresses were piled atop her head, held in place by jeweled clips. The long line of her neck was encircled with a slender gold chain, from which a delicate cross dangled. It was the first piece of jewelry her father ever gave her, and of all the trinkets and baubles she owned, it was her very favorite piece.

She had brought a book with her poolside, some thick French-authored romance, to hide the fact she was hunting. It was no fun if the prey knew they were being pursued. She would turn a page every few minutes to keep up the illusion that she was reading, but her eyes never saw a word.

Kathryn had been in Mexico for close to two weeks now, without taking a lover. For her, this was unusual, for she had a voracious sexual appetite, and she was now hungry, starving for an encounter. She was almost to the point that just any man would do.

She lowered the book to her lap, and slid her sunglasses down her nose. Her hazel eyes skipped over the bodies of the pretty people spread out before her like her own personal smorgasbord. There seemed to be so many different men to choose from, but when she looked closer, she saw they were really all the same. They all had the bleached-blond look of poseurs pretending to be playboys, and were clearly there just to gawk at the naked women. She sighed. There was no challenge in these men. Any would be easy conquests. Worse, there were none here that would be anything other than merely adequate in bed.

She deserved more. She deserved the best. From the time she was old enough to understand the spoken word, she had heard these words from her father. They became her mantra.

Kathryn closed her book and slid her long, tanned legs over the side of her chaise. Perhaps she would find a worthy specimen later in the day. She could always have her people go out and get something for her. It wouldn’t be the first time she relied on her devoted workers to do so. Their taste was almost as perfect as hers. She had just slipped her coral-tipped toes into her Blahniks when the most interesting prey sauntered into view.
He was spectacular, even to her jaded eye. He was tall and broad, and had a mane of brown hair that glinted with gold in the sun. His eyes were hidden behind wide, dark sunglasses, so she couldn’t see them but she would wager that they were the same rich chocolate color as his hair.

Disappointingly, the man wore short-legged swimming trunks, leaving his strong, tanned thighs nearly but not completely bare. Clearly he was American. For all their boldness, they were ridiculously prudish about some things. Studying the bulge in his trunks, he most certainly would be a sight to behold if he would only stop being so damned foreign. At least, she thought, he did not put on a shirt. His chest was broad and he had a smattering of hair sprinkled across a wide mahogany expanse. His biceps were cut and inked; two of her very favorite things.

The man clearly worked out; his abs and pecs had the chiseled look of someone who spent hours in the gym. Kathryn smiled inwardly. He would be strong. That would make him more of challenge. Strong men seldom enjoyed being prey; they much preferred the role of predator.

She pushed her sunglasses back up and settled back onto her chaise to watch his walk. He had the slow, confident gait of a man who knew his presence attracted the attention of others. He had a warm smile of greeting for any man that made eye contact and a wink for the women. Kathryn discreetly signaled the man sitting in the chair closest to her, and he made a show of looking at his watch, putting on an expression of dismay, and gathering his belongings to leave.

As the man passed Richie, he nodded. “Good afternoon,” he said.

Richie smiled. “Hey.” He couldn’t believe his luck. The chair the man was vacating was next to a magnificent brunette with bronzed skin. Lots of bronzed skin. Her legs, long and slender, met at the tiniest triangle of hair. Her hard, flat stomach spanned upwards, her torso taut and lean. Her breasts were beautiful, the natural oval shape a refreshing change from the perfectly spherical ones he was used to seeing in LA.

“Perhaps you are dressing me with your eyes, monsieur?” the woman said, with a light French accent.

Richie chuckled. “My apologies, mademoiselle.”

She shrugged indifferently and lowered her sunglasses to look him up and down. “You are American, oui?”

He spread his towel onto the chair next to her and sat on the edge of the seat, bracing his forearms on his spread knees. “Yes. What gave it away?”

She flapped a hand at him. “You come to a nudist resort, yet you are not nude.” She looked pointedly at the juncture of his deliciously hair legs and pushed her sunglasses back up once again. “Pity.” She reclined her chair back and reopened her book; though she had no intention of reading. “You are too big, too tanned to be English; you must be American,” she said with a bored tone.

Richie thought he had read the signals the woman was giving off as interest, but he was clearly mistaken. Oh well, he thought. He didn’t come to Mexico looking for a liaison. He came to relax. He specifically chose this resort, so he could relax in the way he was most comfortable. His friends laughed, but there was something to be said about hanging out nude, so to speak. He knew he looked good, fifty or not, and from the blasé way people were reacting to the beautiful naked bodies on display, he had nothing he needed to worry about here.

Sliding a sidelong look at the woman on the chaise, not sure if he was hoping she was watching him from behind those dark sunglasses or not, he slowly lowered his trunks and stepped out of them. He stretched out on the chaise and sighed contentedly, letting the sun warm his weary muscles.

Kathryn’s pulse kicked up. Beneath his tanned cheeks, the faintest blush had tinged his features as he stripped down. Breathtaking, she thought. She scanned his form as he relaxed into his chair. The thick length of his cock, impressive even in its present limp state, was draped across his thigh. Yes, she thought, he would do quite nicely. She removed the clips from her hair and shook out the long tresses, a signal to her man at the bar that she had finally selected her plaything for the night.