ones.”
“I’m sorry you had to suffer, but I appreciate the result.”
“I think you’ll appreciate the rest of what I have planned
for you, too. Finish your wine, and we’ll go upstairs.”
Her heart and lungs picked up a rapid rhythm, and her
panties grew damp. “To the playroom?”
“Yes.”
She tossed back her wine, then shoved her chair away from the
table and jumped to her feet. “I’m ready.”
Rikard’s gaze slid down to her breasts, and her pebbled
nipples, before skimming down to her pussy. “I bet you are.”
Heat flamed her cheeks, but she couldn’t protest, because he
was right. She was ready for him to take her right here and now. Waiting was
going to be an exquisite torture.
Placing her hand in his gloved grasp, she allowed him to
lead her upstairs. The first thing she saw upon entering the playroom was a
scarlet fandango dress draped across one of the tables.
“Put on the dress.”
Gayle obediently stripped down to her underwear, then
hesitated, looking a question at Master Rikard.
“Only the dress,” he clarified.
She pulled off the bra and panties, as well, then lifted the
layers of satin ruffles over her head and slithered into the dress. It clung to
her chest, then flared out over her hips to cascade in a ruffled fall down past
her knees.
Rikard picked up a black cloak that had been laid out beside
the dress, and swirled it around his shoulders.
“I am Zorro, the masked avenger of the oppressed people of
Los Angeles. You are the lovely and spirited Consuela, owner of the taverna.
You are cooperating with the evil Don Rafael, to try and trap Zorro, and now
Zorro has trapped you.”
“But I’m not evil, right? Don Rafael has something on me to
force me to cooperate with him.”
Rikard’s slow smile promised a wealth of torturous delights.
“That is what Zorro needs to determine, using all the skills at his disposal.”
He uncoiled a huge bullwhip, and cracked it three
times—tracing two horizontal slashes and a diagonal slash connecting them in
the air. Gayle shivered, picturing the whip connecting with her flesh and
carving the trademark Z into her skin. Or perhaps he’d take a page from Antonio
Banderas’ Zorro and use the whip to strip away her gown, leaving her bare
before him.
Instead, he lunged forward, grabbing her wrists. He cracked
the whip, coiling the tail of it around the wooden frame that had been mounted
to the wall since her last visit, then used the remaining length to lash her
wrists together, binding her to the frame. Gayle gave a halfhearted tug against
the restraint, not at all eager to escape. Her rapid breathing threatened to
spill her breasts out of the low-cut dress, and she felt the first beads of moisture
pooling between her legs.
Rikard crushed his body against hers, his hard thighs
forcing her legs apart, while his gloved hands skimmed from her bound wrists
down her arms to her flattened breasts.
“I’ll scream,” she whispered. “Don Rafael’s men will come
running to investigate.”
“Not if I silence you first.”
His mouth captured hers, his kiss hard and merciless. But
she didn’t scream. She could barely breathe.
She returned his kiss, opening her mouth to draw his tongue
inside as she tipped her hips, straining to press her throbbing pussy against
the solid bulge in his leather pants.
Rikard’s kiss softened, his lips nibbling hers instead of
grinding against them. One of his hands glided up to cradle the back of her
neck, supporting her head as he tilted it to deepen his kiss. His other hand
drifted down to her hip. Tugging on her thigh, he lifted her leg up to his
waist.
He reached beneath her billowing skirt and cupped her ass.
The smooth leather of his glove caressed her skin, and she moaned into his
mouth. Hot fluid dripped down her standing leg. She rolled her hips, wide open
and pressed against him.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted him out of those pants and
inside her. Whimpering a protest, she struggled
“I’m sorry you had to suffer, but I appreciate the result.”
“I think you’ll appreciate the rest of what I have planned
for you, too. Finish your wine, and we’ll go upstairs.”
Her heart and lungs picked up a rapid rhythm, and her
panties grew damp. “To the playroom?”
“Yes.”
She tossed back her wine, then shoved her chair away from the
table and jumped to her feet. “I’m ready.”
Rikard’s gaze slid down to her breasts, and her pebbled
nipples, before skimming down to her pussy. “I bet you are.”
Heat flamed her cheeks, but she couldn’t protest, because he
was right. She was ready for him to take her right here and now. Waiting was
going to be an exquisite torture.
Placing her hand in his gloved grasp, she allowed him to
lead her upstairs. The first thing she saw upon entering the playroom was a
scarlet fandango dress draped across one of the tables.
“Put on the dress.”
Gayle obediently stripped down to her underwear, then
hesitated, looking a question at Master Rikard.
“Only the dress,” he clarified.
She pulled off the bra and panties, as well, then lifted the
layers of satin ruffles over her head and slithered into the dress. It clung to
her chest, then flared out over her hips to cascade in a ruffled fall down past
her knees.
Rikard picked up a black cloak that had been laid out beside
the dress, and swirled it around his shoulders.
“I am Zorro, the masked avenger of the oppressed people of
Los Angeles. You are the lovely and spirited Consuela, owner of the taverna.
You are cooperating with the evil Don Rafael, to try and trap Zorro, and now
Zorro has trapped you.”
“But I’m not evil, right? Don Rafael has something on me to
force me to cooperate with him.”
Rikard’s slow smile promised a wealth of torturous delights.
“That is what Zorro needs to determine, using all the skills at his disposal.”
He uncoiled a huge bullwhip, and cracked it three
times—tracing two horizontal slashes and a diagonal slash connecting them in
the air. Gayle shivered, picturing the whip connecting with her flesh and
carving the trademark Z into her skin. Or perhaps he’d take a page from Antonio
Banderas’ Zorro and use the whip to strip away her gown, leaving her bare
before him.
Instead, he lunged forward, grabbing her wrists. He cracked
the whip, coiling the tail of it around the wooden frame that had been mounted
to the wall since her last visit, then used the remaining length to lash her
wrists together, binding her to the frame. Gayle gave a halfhearted tug against
the restraint, not at all eager to escape. Her rapid breathing threatened to
spill her breasts out of the low-cut dress, and she felt the first beads of moisture
pooling between her legs.
Rikard crushed his body against hers, his hard thighs
forcing her legs apart, while his gloved hands skimmed from her bound wrists
down her arms to her flattened breasts.
“I’ll scream,” she whispered. “Don Rafael’s men will come
running to investigate.”
“Not if I silence you first.”
His mouth captured hers, his kiss hard and merciless. But
she didn’t scream. She could barely breathe.
She returned his kiss, opening her mouth to draw his tongue
inside as she tipped her hips, straining to press her throbbing pussy against
the solid bulge in his leather pants.
Rikard’s kiss softened, his lips nibbling hers instead of
grinding against them. One of his hands glided up to cradle the back of her
neck, supporting her head as he tilted it to deepen his kiss. His other hand
drifted down to her hip. Tugging on her thigh, he lifted her leg up to his
waist.
He reached beneath her billowing skirt and cupped her ass.
The smooth leather of his glove caressed her skin, and she moaned into his
mouth. Hot fluid dripped down her standing leg. She rolled her hips, wide open
and pressed against him.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted him out of those pants and
inside her. Whimpering a protest, she struggled
Similar Books
