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“You made a noise,” he said. “Perhaps this is a challenging task after all?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Finish your salad. We will begin again. And since the task is more challenging than you expected, I think you deserve a reward if you complete it. What reward shall I give you?”
His blue eyes glittered with desire, and the ambrosia of power, as he pondered his answer out loud.
“You seem to be having trouble sitting. Perhaps I should investigate, and do a thorough probing between your legs to determine what is causing the problem.”
Gayle bit her lip to keep from moaning. Hot liquid ran down the inside crease of her thigh, to pool beneath her ass on the supple leather of her skirt. She wriggled her hips, imagining his gloved fingers pressing between her folds, slipping inside her, stretching her opening as he slowly added fingers, until his entire hand forced its way over the ridge of muscle into her vagina.
Her vision was blurring, her breath coming sharp and fast. Her nipples were so tight they hurt. And all she could do was shovel strawberries and lettuce into her mouth as fast as possible, to end this torture.
“You’re not savoring your food,” Rikard warned her. “If I think you’re not appreciating it, I’ll have to give you a second helping.”
Gayle wanted to scream in frustration, but she didn’t make a sound. She slowed the pace of her eating, her trembling hand making it difficult to carry the salad to her mouth, and slowing her even further.
She’d never felt so turned on in her life.
“Very good.”
She glowed, warmed by his praise. All she wanted was to please him, to make him happy. Then he would reward her. But pleasing him was its own reward. He’d gone to so much trouble to put together a nice lunch for her. The least she could do was enjoy it properly.
Her tongue swept out, licking the dressing from her lips. Looking deep into his eyes, she opened her mouth and sucked the dressing from the tines of her fork.
His eyes darkened, and she could hear his labored breathing in the silence of the kitchen.
“You seem to enjoy that salad dressing,” he said, a rough huskiness marring the smooth fluidity of his voice. “Perhaps I should anoint you with it, drizzle it on your breasts, let it drip onto your thighs. Then I could lick it off you.”
Gayle fisted her free hand, her nails digging into her palm. The sharp pain distracted her from phantom sensations of liquid running across her skin, followed by a warm, wet tongue.
Triumphantly, she popped the last slice of strawberry into her mouth, and laid her fork down with a clatter.
“Excellent,” Rikard purred. “You have done very well. And that was a challenge, indeed. Come here.”
He held out his hand. Gayle rose, unsteady on quivering legs, and tottered over to his side. He drew her onto his lap, her leather skirt squeaking softly as it slid across his leather pants. His gloved hand cupped her hip, anchoring her yet burning her with the heat of his banked passion.
His velvety voice was low and strained as he asked, “I know I said I would not touch you sexually until we’d established trust, but am I right in thinking that’s what you want me to do now?”
She nodded.
“You may speak now. Your challenge is completed.”
“Yes, Master. Please. Touch me.”
“Where?”
“Put your fingers inside me. Make me come in your hand.”
He smiled tightly, recognizing his own words. Then he reached beneath her skirt, his gloved fingers trailing lightly up the inside of her thigh. They were soft, and warm, and everything she’d dreamed of.
Gayle’s head tipped back and she moaned, arching against his supporting arm behind her back, lifting her hips and spreading her legs. His fingers brushed her clit, and she gasped, jolted by a sharp rush of pleasure. He worked his way between her folds by touch, guided by her breathy moans. Then his fingers slid over the edge of her opening, and she cried out, “Master!”
He pressed two fingers inside her, thrusting up to the second knuckle.
“Yes! Yes! More!”
A third finger joined the other two on the next thrust, stretching her to the edge of pain. His thumb worked her clit, sliding over and around it, his glove wet with her fluids, as his fingers stroked in and out. He found her nerves and pressed them against the bone, wrenching a scream of ecstasy from her.
