Now I waited impatiently for her in the dungeon. I’d lit a fire to warm the room. She was going to be naked for a good, long time….
The door creaked open and then her head appeared around it, her eyes going wide as she glanced around. She seemed so nervous... she normally strutted in here, full of confidence. Is she playing the innocent to turn me on? If she was, it was working.
She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She was wearing an ivory satin robe that covered her down to her knees: why so shy, all of a sudden? Christina normally loved to run through the house in just her underwear, teasing the guards into looking.
That warning bell at the back of my mind again. She’d changed, somehow, since the accident. But: it’s okay. It’s Christina, after all. “Take it off,” I ordered, the lust making my voice thick and slow as honey.
She unbelted the robe. Hesitated. And then, in a little show of courage that made my heart ache, she suddenly flung the robe back off her shoulders and let it slither to the floor.
I’d said to wear something for me and she couldn’t have chosen better. Her creamy breasts—I swore they looked bigger—looked amazing in silky bra cups the color of a lush forest, edged with gold thread. What really drove me crazy was the delicate gold ribbon that joined the cups. It was tied together in a bow, the ends hanging tantalizingly down. One little tug and she’d be revealed. The panties matched: a simple triangle of green fabric that concealed her, but that could be stripped away by pulling on the golden bows at her hips.
I’d seen her in lingerie a hundred times but she’d never looked like this. Alluring and yet innocent. Seductive and yet good. I realized that she wasn’t wearing heels or stockings, like she usually did, and it made her seem not just smaller but more naive. As if she wasn’t Christina, the vampish sex partner, but some civilian who’d wandered in here by mistake. The idea made my cock almost painfully hard in my pants.
I beckoned her over to me.
33
Hailey
THE TILES were freezing beneath my bare feet. But with each slow step I took towards him, with each second his gaze soaked into me, I could feel the heat strumming and building, melting me from the inside out. By the time I reached him, I felt like I was on fire and the tiles felt pleasantly cool.
I glanced around and my breathing went tight. I’m really here. Deep underground, where no one could hear me scream. This time, there’d be no interruption, no rescue….
And this time, I hadn’t wandered down here by accident. He’d told me to come down here and I’d obeyed. Willingly.
I had to, I told myself. For the mission. But as the broad sweep of his chest filled my vision, as my fingertips tingled with the need to touch him, to smooth my hands over the soft cotton of his shirt and feel the hot muscle underneath... I knew that wasn’t the reason.
He slid a hand over my bare back, making me gasp, and then buried his fingers in my hair. He tugged gently, just enough to make me tilt my head back to look up at him.
I swallowed. God, the raw heat in his eyes, like he wanted to devour me whole. What had he seen, out there in the garden?
He moved his head down and I closed my eyes. But he didn’t kiss me: not quite. He stopped when our lips were just barely touching and stroked, drawing my lower lip down and opening me, and then letting it go, again and again.
The intimacy of it was amazing: our breathing fell in time and my lips became so sensitive that it felt like I could feel his whole body, all of his size and strength, in that one tiny contact. With each brush of his lips, the pleasure rose and spun, making me heady...but what made me go weak was the way I could feel him struggling with himself. He wanted to just full-on kiss me, to bury his tongue in me and ravish me, but he was forcing himself to keep everything locked down and controlled, to make it a choreographed dance with exact steps.
And he was losing the fight. First one big hand grabbed mine, then the other. He stood there, his muscled body trembling, his hands kneading my smaller ones as his lips stroked and stroked….
... and paused….
He suddenly whirled around and flung me onto the four poster bed. I landed on my back, legs kicking. Before I could speak, he was marching towards me, using his foot to pull something out from under the bed. I leaned over and looked. A wooden box, filled with everything from colored ropes to brutal-looking black leather straps. He’s going to tie me up. And before I’d even finished thinking it, he took out what looked like a long, black satin ribbon. Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me.