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Chapter 1 - The Arrival The late afternoon sun spilled into the hotel suite, flooding the room with a golden warmth. Veronika stood on the balcony, forearms resting lightly on the railing, gazing out over the turquoise lagoon of Mauritius. The breeze played with her light brown hair, lifting the silky strands off her bare shoulders, sunlight catching the faint golden tones.

She was twenty-three, Norwegian, and built like every man's summer fantasy, a body that made blood rush to cocks without a word being spoken. Her big, clear blue eyes seemed almost too innocent for the thoughts she could provoke. Her lips, plump, soft, and naturally pouting, looked as if they'd been designed to wrap around a cock, sliding up and down slowly, sealing tight, wet and warm, taking a man deeper until his thighs trembled.

The cream-colored sundress floated just above mid-thigh, cinched snugly at the waist so the gentle curve of her hips swelled under it. Thin straps left her shoulders bare, the fabric light enough that it clung where the wind pressed it against her body. Beneath it, her bra cupped her tits high and firm, the full round curve of each one visible through the dress, the kind of shape that made a man's mind wander to how they'd look spilling out, bouncing in his hands, nipples stiff against his tongue.

Her ass was a masterpiece of round, tight perfection, two distinct peach-shaped cheeks that filled the back of her dress just right, swaying gently whenever she moved. Each curve promised the grip of hands and the snap of hips pounding her from behind. The wind pressed the fabric to her ass now, revealing just enough contour to make any man below on the beach pause mid-step and stare up.

She sighed softly, taking in the beauty of the island, utterly unaware that her own beauty was the kind that ruined men.

It hadn't even been an hour since they'd arrived. The moment Veronika walked into the cool marble lobby between her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Halvorsen, late sixties, neat and proper, dressed for comfort, they looked like the perfect, respectable couple on holiday. But Veronika? She didn't just stand out, she shattered the air around her.

The bellman by the luggage cart stopped mid-lift, his eyes locking instantly on the sway of her hips. A man seated at the bar froze with his glass halfway to his mouth, staring openly at her legs and up to the hem of her dress. At the reception desk, two male staff members straightened their backs and fixed polite smiles, but their eyes lingered too long on her tits before forcing themselves up to her face.

She moved with that kind of natural poise that came from being raised proper, legs close together, steps light, chin slightly lifted. She smiled warmly at each person she spoke to, completely unaware that half the men were eye-fucking her with the kind of hunger that imagined her bent over the counter, dress up around her waist, her little asshole stretched open on a thick cock.

When the receptionist asked for passports, she bent slightly to reach into her bag. The hem of her dress lifted just enough to show more of her thighs and the swell of her ass. Behind her, the bellman's eyes narrowed, tracing the tight outline under the thin fabric. The older Frenchman in line behind them let his gaze linger openly until his wife caught him and hissed his name, snapping him out of it. She would smooth the front of her dress with both hands, pressing the fabric against her tits without realizing it gave a perfect outline of her curves. She'd adjust the hem when she sat, tugging it down over her thighs, unaware that the motion made it ride up in the back. She'd tilt her head when listening to someone, exposing the delicate slope of her neck, the kind of sight that made men imagine holding her there while they fed her cock until her eyes watered.

Check-in finished, the bellman insisted on rolling their luggage to the suite, though it was barely a five-minute walk. He stood behind her in the elevator, eyes fixed on the curve of her ass in the reflection of the doors.

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