All Mine (2 page)

I kicked the heavy teak
door shut behind us. "End of the line, Jenna." The hollow tones
from behind the mask gave the words menace.

I eased you from my shoulder and
placed you on the foot of the bed. There was a small wooden chair
tucked under a nearby vanity, and I used it to wedge under the
doorknob.

You’d put up a good struggle
downstairs, and you were not one to simply cry and plead. At some
point you might slip out of my hands. If you did, that chair
slowing you down might be the split second I needed to regain
control.

Your eyes challenged me
over the tape on your mouth. You seemed more angry than afraid, but
my sudden reach made you flinch.

"Relax, Jenna. I’m just
taking the tape off your mouth. Don’t struggle, or it’ll hurt like
a bitch coming off."

I worked a corner of the
tape with slow care, peeling it away from the faint dampness of
your full lips.

"Who the fuck are you?"
you demanded, glaring at me. I was ridiculously pleased that you
were the fighter I thought you’d be.

"Would you like to see my
face, Jenna? I can’t show you all of it. That would break the rules
and spoil the fun. But you can see a little."

Slowly I unfastened the
Death mask at the back of my head and removed it, propping it on
the vanity chair to watch us with hollow eyes.

Underneath I wore a second
mask of thin, black cloth that went Zorro-style over my eyes and
head. My nose and mouth were uncovered. That was going to be very
important as our "date" progressed. My longish black hair was hot
and damp from being under the heavy mask, but nothing like the heat
and excitement still building between my legs.

You had ignored my
unmasking in favor of quickly testing the tape around your wrists.
It was firm and tight, not just for show. Then your angry eyes
swept over my half-concealed face.

Here was the payoff, the
moment of truth. Your pupils dilated until the green was just a
thin, gleaming ring around them. All the remaining tan drained from
your face, leaving it white.

The half-mask was just a
formality now. There was no going back.

A tiny sound started and
died in your throat. The moments stretched between us before I
spoke.

"Don’t worry, Jenna. I’m
not saying I won’t hurt you, but I’m not going to kill you just
because you might think you know who I am. Who would you tell, and
who will believe you? "

I couldn’t read what was going on
behind your eyes. Faint color stole back to your cheeks.

"What do you want?" you
asked. I heard the tremble in your voice. We both understood what
was at stake now.

"You said it yourself. I’m
your last trick-or-treater. I want something sweet. I know a lot of
things about you, Jenna. I’ve waited a long, long time for
this."

I let my gaze caress you,
my eyes going where my hands and tongue planned to
follow.

A deeper flush stained
your cheeks. Your words were strange and slow, as though speaking
from a script half-remembered. "If you know what’s good for you,
then get out. My husband just went to the store --"

"-- no, he didn’t
--"

"-- and I’m going to
scream my head off --"

"-- I hope you do
--"

"-- and if you touch me,
I’ll call the police when you leave and --"

"-- and tell them what?
That you couldn’t tell the difference between a child and a grown
man? That Death dropped by and screwed you for candy?
Please."

Now I was getting into it,
warming up to the dialogue. My balls ached for you under the cloak.
I tried not to think about that just yet.

"So I think maybe we'll
just keep this between us, and --"

With cat-like speed you
were off the bed and making a dive for the door. I was expecting
it, but damn, you were fast. Only your taped hands and my longer
legs gave me the advantage I needed to overtake you.

I blocked the door with my
body and caught you in mid-leap. Your thick curls made a good
handle. I pulled your head back and buried my face in your throat,
nuzzling and licking at your soft, sweet skin.

Under my lips I felt the staccato beat
of your pulse as I pressed against your throat. I let you feel my
teeth against your neck as I growled against that silky, vulnerable
flesh.

Your body tensed as though
you might be thinking about trying again for my balls. I bit hard
into the strongest part of your pulse, almost enough to break the
skin. We froze in tableau, each of us wary of the damage the other
might do.

I reached down to pull the
dagger out of my boot. It looked remarkably like yours, but it was
no costume accessory. I’d owned it for less than a day and already
nicked myself twice.

Your breath caught as I
pressed the cool steel with light pressure under your ear, dimpling
the flesh. Your throat stretched taut as you tried not to
move.

"It would be a real shame,
but I won’t hesitate to hurt you just enough to get what I want,
Jenna," I said.

"Can’t you just rob us and
leave it at that?" you asked breathlessly. "There are a lot of nice
things in the house. I have my engagement diamond, almost two
carats, and --"

I used the point of the
dagger to brush your hair back from your face. Whatever it said
about me, I loved how you shuddered at the touch of it.

"I have the most valuable
thing in this house in my arms. I don’t want to hurt you, at least
not much. Make me feel appreciated. You might even enjoy
it."

Using the dagger tip as a
tiny devil’s prod, I steered you back to sit on the foot of the
bed.

"Lie back. Arms over your
head. Leave your feet on the floor." Your mouth opened as though to
protest or plead, but I shook my head.

"You’re wasting your
breath. Arms over your head. Nice and easy. I want to enjoy
this."

Biting at your soft lower lip, you
stretched out on the bed, raising your arms slowly over your head.
Your eyes never left mine as I watched you, mesmerized by the grace
of your body. But when I leaned to reach for you, the spell was
broken as you jerked into a protective fetal position.

"Be still. I’m just taking
off your sash." I unknotted the long, red silk scarf that was
double-swathed around your hips, unfurling it from your waist.
After I twisted it, I had a soft, makeshift rope several feet
long.

Threading it through the
tape at your wrists, it was easy to pull your wrists higher and
tighter. I knotted the other end of the scarf through a slat of the
headboard.

God, what a picture you
made. You looked every inch the kidnapped pirate maiden, ready to
be taken at the pleasure of your captor.

"Now that there won’t be
any more distractions, we can get to know each other."

The dagger made it easy to
slice away the half-dozen buttons on your white shirt, slipping the
silky material aside without any hurry. I was teasing myself as
much as you. It was like unwrapping the best present under the
Christmas tree.

There were black lace
panties down below, but up here it was a sheer, flesh-colored bra
restraining those beautiful, firm breasts. I cut through the scrap
of lace between the cups, then through the thin straps over your
shoulder.

Your ripe, plum-colored
nipples stood out in sharp relief on the creaminess of your
breasts. The flat of the blade was a perfect tool to stroke over
them. They hardened into thick, soft peaks.

"Do you rather I call
these your breasts or your tits, Jenna?" I asked as I teased
them.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came
out.

The bedroom was quiet as you tried to
decide if one answer was more dangerous than another. I turned the
dagger and used the very tip of the blade to gently prick the
sensitive tips of your nipples.

"Breasts," you said at
once.

"Then I’ll call them tits.
Ask me to suck on your pretty tits, Jenna. Ask me nice."

My voice came out gritty
and thick. I had the dagger, and you were tied, but you still had
power over me.

A slow flush had spread up
your throat to your face.

"You’re an
asshole!"

"Probably," I agreed as I
danced the dagger over your hard, juicy nipples again. "But that
doesn’t change anything. Ask me nice, Jenna. I’m sure you have a
needle somewhere in the house. These would look nice pierced, don’t
you think?"

I used the sharp tip to prick your
nipples again, a little harder this time.

"Please suck me." Your
voice was sullen, but your eyes smoldered.

"Suck you where? On your
tits?"

"Yes."

"Say it right, Jenna.
‘Please suck on my tits’ is what I want to hear."

"Please suck on my tits,"
you repeated, your flush approaching the red of the
quilt.

"I don’t know if I’d call
that asking nicely, but okay. I don’t have all night to
wait."

I eased myself down on top
of you, squeezing your breasts like melons being tested for
ripeness. Fuck it. I wasn’t there to be gentle. You could get that
from your respectable husband. Look where that had gotten
him.

You squirmed under my
hands, but there was nowhere to go as I plundered your breasts. The
black gloves looked sinister and just right against your skin. I
cupped them together into an impressive bulge in my palms, pushing
the dark tips close to each other.

Opening my mouth wide, I
inhaled your nipples into my mouth, sucking hard. I smelled and
tasted you, clean skin and a faint whiff of Versace. I groaned and
sucked harder.

You’d stopped moving under
me, but when I started to nip and bite, your body jerked under my
mouth. I smiled against your flesh, nibbling harder. Your nipples
throbbed and stretched as my mouth closed in another slow, hard
suck.

Your breath quickened, and
there was a trip-hammer beat of your heart under my lips. I slid a
hand down over your hips, worming under the short hem of the
leather skirt, groping you greedily.

The black lace panties
were still framing the warmth between your legs, but that was easy
to fix. One good rip was all it took. So long, Vickie’s
Secret.

My gloved fingers found
and stroked the soft mat of silky fur in the V between your thighs,
then went on to the warm, smooth groove. Your breathing had already
told me that my play at your breasts was having its effect. It
never hurt to have a little more confirmation.

When I touched between
your legs, my fingertips glided into a sleek, warm pool of wetness.
I let your damp nipples slip from my mouth, raising up to look at
you. Your eyes were still blazing, but now with arousal as well as
anger.

"Jenna, Jenna." I
pretended to be disappointed. "What kind of girl are you to get all
wet at a time like this? What would your mother say? What would
your
husband
say?"

I put the soaked leather
over your lips, silencing whatever protest about to form. You tried
to turn your face away. My fingers followed, rubbing your creamy
juices over your mouth and under your nose, letting you enjoy the
scent of the leather mixed with your own personal
perfume.

"Pussy juice doesn’t lie."
I dipped down for another quick taste of your nipples. "You like
having these, don’t you? I’ve watched you for a long time. I’ve
seen how you show them off and use them to get noticed. It makes
life easy, doesn’t it?"

"Then someone like me
comes along. I don’t like being played with. Fucking little tease."
A throb of real anger underscored my harsh words.

I probed between our
bodies, jerking at the pushed-up skirt until the snap broke at the
waist. With rough motions I stripped it from you and tossed it
away. It joined the same heap as the ruined white shirt and scraps
of lace that used to be panties and a bra.

"You can leave the boots
on," I said. "In fact, I insist."

"You aren't going to get
away with this. You can take that to the bank." Your voice was
gritty, and I smiled. Even with nothing but the boots to give you
dignity, you were still trying to regain the upper hand. This
evening was turning out to be a revelation about you, more
exhilarating than I’d dared to hope.

"You’re spunky, but you’re
still wrong," I said, stealing tonight's first real kiss from those
beautiful lips.

After an instant of
resistance your mouth accepted me, soft and yielding. Your tongue
hesitated and then brushed over mine. I put aside my plans for the
moment, thrilled to feel that silkiness coaxing me into your mouth.
The gentle, firm sucking on my tongue made me think of putting
something else there instead.

There was a flare of hot
pain in my mouth as your teeth suddenly closed hard on my trapped
tongue. God damn it. You'd lured me in like a sucker, but it was my
own fault to fall for such an obvious ploy.