her was
confusing. It made her mouth go dry and shattered the last thread of her
resistance.
She was his captive. There was no
disputing it. She did as she was told, feeling again the cool leather of the
seats against her legs and butt. She was in the seat behind the driver’s seat,
the bench seat that faced backward.
She heard him get into the car,
smelled the heat of his presence, tingled.
She felt the Master lean over her.
She felt the stubble of his whiskers, the heat of his skin, the unexpected
brush of his body against hers. He locked his hands around her waist and bodily
lifted her back into the rear seat. He squeezed her waist slightly, possessive,
then brushed his mouth across hers lightly.
She felt her lips part in yearning
for more.
If she hadn’t been blindfolded,
she would have closed her eyes. She might have swooned. Her entire body was on
fire, desire simmering beneath her skin.
What did he look like? She
desperately wanted to know.
The Master ran his hands over her
body as if appreciating her, pausing to tease her nipples, before fastening the
seatbelt again around her hips. He tightened it more than the Countess had,
binding her to the seat. She opened her mouth to ask or protest, but his finger
landed solidly against her mouth.
Leather against her lips.
His lips against her ear.
She was melting with lust for him,
and she didn’t know anything about him.
“Don’t make me gag you before I’m
ready,” he whispered, a dark threat in his words.
Joanna gasped, which obviously
amused him.
He licked her ear quickly, blew on
the dampness and made her shiver. He chuckled and she heard him take the
opposite seat. She felt his gaze upon her and wished she knew what to do.
“Ankles together, always,” he
commanded.
Joanna put her ankles together.
“Knees apart.”
She spread her knees wide, knowing
he’d have to see the wet heat of her, the slick invitation that showed his
effect upon her. She was glad to be shaved then, glad he could see every
glistening fold.
She heard him catch his breath.
He moved to the seat beside her in
one quick fluid move. She was sure he must move like a great cat, all power and
elegance. Strength held in check. She was sure his eyes must simmer with
sensual heat, that he was muscled and strong, and so sexy that women stopped in
the street to salivate at the sight of him.
Like she was now.
Maybe he looked just like Mike.
His fingertip touched her lips
again. “Lips always parted,” he murmured and she opened her mouth a little. He
ran that leather clad finger across her bottom lip. “Not gaping. Welcoming.”
She couldn’t resist. She had to
say something. “Yes, Master.”
“Naughty again,” he said, but
there was that thread of amusement in his voice. Joanna sensed that she could
break the rules, so long as she did it in a way that amused him. She heard the
sound of Rafael returning, realized the door of the car must still be open.
In the next moment, she realized
she was wrong about the rules.
“Thank you, Rafael,” the Master
said. He returned to the opposite seat, his heat fading from her side. Joanna
had an instant to fear that he was leaving her, then she heard the click of a
camera shutter.
And saw the illumination of a
flash.
He was doing it! She cried out in
dismay, but the Master had anticipated her.
“Bad girl,” he said sternly and
leather slapped across her breast. She gasped at the sting, knew it must have
been one of his gloves, then felt him slide into the seat beside her once more.
He clapped one gloved hand over
her mouth, condemning her to silence as he pressed her head back against the
headrest. She struggled but he had a grip like iron.
“Very bad,” he whispered and
Joanna trembled deep down inside. “I think our little journalist has had her
fill of our games.”
Joanna struggled, wanting to prove
him wrong, realizing that her choice was precisely wrong. She let herself go
limp, unable to argue her case when he had
confusing. It made her mouth go dry and shattered the last thread of her
resistance.
She was his captive. There was no
disputing it. She did as she was told, feeling again the cool leather of the
seats against her legs and butt. She was in the seat behind the driver’s seat,
the bench seat that faced backward.
She heard him get into the car,
smelled the heat of his presence, tingled.
She felt the Master lean over her.
She felt the stubble of his whiskers, the heat of his skin, the unexpected
brush of his body against hers. He locked his hands around her waist and bodily
lifted her back into the rear seat. He squeezed her waist slightly, possessive,
then brushed his mouth across hers lightly.
She felt her lips part in yearning
for more.
If she hadn’t been blindfolded,
she would have closed her eyes. She might have swooned. Her entire body was on
fire, desire simmering beneath her skin.
What did he look like? She
desperately wanted to know.
The Master ran his hands over her
body as if appreciating her, pausing to tease her nipples, before fastening the
seatbelt again around her hips. He tightened it more than the Countess had,
binding her to the seat. She opened her mouth to ask or protest, but his finger
landed solidly against her mouth.
Leather against her lips.
His lips against her ear.
She was melting with lust for him,
and she didn’t know anything about him.
“Don’t make me gag you before I’m
ready,” he whispered, a dark threat in his words.
Joanna gasped, which obviously
amused him.
He licked her ear quickly, blew on
the dampness and made her shiver. He chuckled and she heard him take the
opposite seat. She felt his gaze upon her and wished she knew what to do.
“Ankles together, always,” he
commanded.
Joanna put her ankles together.
“Knees apart.”
She spread her knees wide, knowing
he’d have to see the wet heat of her, the slick invitation that showed his
effect upon her. She was glad to be shaved then, glad he could see every
glistening fold.
She heard him catch his breath.
He moved to the seat beside her in
one quick fluid move. She was sure he must move like a great cat, all power and
elegance. Strength held in check. She was sure his eyes must simmer with
sensual heat, that he was muscled and strong, and so sexy that women stopped in
the street to salivate at the sight of him.
Like she was now.
Maybe he looked just like Mike.
His fingertip touched her lips
again. “Lips always parted,” he murmured and she opened her mouth a little. He
ran that leather clad finger across her bottom lip. “Not gaping. Welcoming.”
She couldn’t resist. She had to
say something. “Yes, Master.”
“Naughty again,” he said, but
there was that thread of amusement in his voice. Joanna sensed that she could
break the rules, so long as she did it in a way that amused him. She heard the
sound of Rafael returning, realized the door of the car must still be open.
In the next moment, she realized
she was wrong about the rules.
“Thank you, Rafael,” the Master
said. He returned to the opposite seat, his heat fading from her side. Joanna
had an instant to fear that he was leaving her, then she heard the click of a
camera shutter.
And saw the illumination of a
flash.
He was doing it! She cried out in
dismay, but the Master had anticipated her.
“Bad girl,” he said sternly and
leather slapped across her breast. She gasped at the sting, knew it must have
been one of his gloves, then felt him slide into the seat beside her once more.
He clapped one gloved hand over
her mouth, condemning her to silence as he pressed her head back against the
headrest. She struggled but he had a grip like iron.
“Very bad,” he whispered and
Joanna trembled deep down inside. “I think our little journalist has had her
fill of our games.”
Joanna struggled, wanting to prove
him wrong, realizing that her choice was precisely wrong. She let herself go
limp, unable to argue her case when he had
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