Rapture's Rendezvous

“My castle,” she purred sarcastically. She went to Alberto and leaned up into his face, reaching down to touch the bulge in his pants. “Don’ you think it's as purty as anyone else's castle? Huh?”

Alberto became breathless as her fingers began to work on him, then expertly unbuttoned his breeches with skilled fingers, reaching in, touching him more freely. “Yes. A castle,” he stammered, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, knowing that this was where his self-control had to be used. He moved away from her.

“Hey. What is this?” she shouted, standing with hands on hips. “You knew what we was comin’ down here for. So whut's yore game, mister?”

Alberto eyed her smugly as he rebuttoned his breeches. “Did you say . . . game . . . ?” he growled.

“I don’ play any games, mister,” she said, beginning to unbutton her dress that hung in green silken folds from around a dipped-in waist. Her breasts rose and fell, two mounds inviting Alberto to almost forget what he did have in mind. He so wanted to bury his nose between the depth of those two pieces of swollen flesh. He so wanted to place his lips on the nipples, suck hungrily from them. But first things first.

He went to Grace and grabbed her by the wrists and tightened his hold. “You know that is a lie, fair lady,” he grumbled. “You know that's the only reason you are on this ship. Just to play games.”

Grace's head snapped backward as she stared upward, studying Alberto more closely. “Wha’ do you mean?” she said softly, her green eyes flashing.

“Don't you recognize me, Grace? Huh? Don't you remember playing that little game with me once before? Then leaving me for dead out in the passageway?” he growled, furrowing his brows into a deep vee.

“You . ..” she gasped, now recognizing him. “It's the whiskers. They hide your true identity. If Sam….”

“If Sam what?” Alberto said, shaking her.

“He'll surely kill you this time,” Grace said, laughing shrilly.

“You mean if I don't kill him first,” Alberto said, laughing darkly.

“Then you mean … to … ?”

“I'm not sure yet,” Alberto said, laughing once again. Then his one hand went to her hair. He grabbed his fingers full and jerked her head back, glad to hear her groan with pain. “And before Sam has time to get here, I have to make my move,” he said. “Where's your gun, Grade girl?”

“My … gun … ?” she said, panting hard, trying to pull free, but only moaning more when her hair began to pull harder.

“Damn it,” Alberto hissed. “I'm through with your little games. Where's that damned gun?”

“Over there. On the table. Beneath … beneath that scarf.”

“Just come along with me then,” he said, moving an inch at a time, forcing her to walk with him. “I'll be the one making use of that gun this time.”

Grace began to kick and scream, but stopped when Alberto hit her across the face with the back of his free hand.

“We'll have none of that stuff,” he said darkly. “We don't want to warn Sam, now do we? We know that Sam will be here shortly to have his sick fun. Right?”

“He'll be here all right,” Grace said, wiping her red, swollen cheek. “He'll kill you. And I'll stand and laugh while he's doing it.”

“Yeah. I know you would. But you won't get a chance,” Alberto said, releasing his hold on her when he had the gun secured in his right hand. He checked for bullets and found that it was fully loaded. He motioned with it toward Grace. “Get over there. By that door. And damn it, if you make one sound when Sam starts to open that door, I won't only kill him, but you also.”

“You . . . wouldn't“

“Just try me, slut,” Alberto said. “All I have to do is remember what Sam did to me while I was in this cabin the last time, to spur me to murdering both you and him.”

Grace stumbled sideways as Alberto gave her a shove. “Now just stand there and be quiet,” he added once again, waiting. He stood, tense, listening, and when he saw the door begin to open, he reached upward with the gun, and as soon as Sam's head came into full view, Alberto came down with a full force, hitting Sam over the back of the head with the butt of the gun.

Grace gasped in disbelief beside Alberto, as Alberto kicked Sam away from the door so he could shut it. Then he leaned down and checked Sam's pulse, relieved that the bastard was still alive. He didn't want a murder rap hanging over his head before he even had the chance to get to America. He had many plans. No fool like this Sam character was going to take those plans away from him. He turned and glared toward Grace. “Now. Tear some of your garments away and use them to gag and tie Sam,” he ordered.

“I won't,” she said, setting her jaw stubbornly.

Alberto hated having to strike a woman once again, but felt he had no other choice. He went to her and struck her across the lips, flinching even himself when he saw a thin stream of blood begin to run from a corner. “Do as you're told,” he said, motioning with the gun once again.

He'stood in silence as she hurriedly tied both Sam's legs and arms and then gagged him. Alberto's pulse-beat was racing, knowing what he was going to demand of her next. There was no way he was going to leave this cabin without first getting what he had that first time come down here for. He began to tremble when she stood, challenging him with her eyes. “Now what?” she hissed, hands on hips.

“Undress,” Alberto ordered, eyes wavering.