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Rikard’s voice was noticeably cooler when he asked, “What did you tell her?”
Gayle blinked in confusion. “Just what you told me. I thought you wanted me to set up safe calls.”
“Yes, I did. That’s fine. I’m sorry. I thought you meant you’d discussed me.”
“Well, but we did. I mean, that was part of the deal for her doing the safe calls, that I had to dish about how my date went. I didn’t say anything bad, though. Just about how good-looking you were, and how your voice made my stomach do back flips, and—”
“Back flips, hmm?”
“At least. Possibly an Olympic floor routine.”
“What about after your call?”
“I worked on the song for my audition next week. I’m trying out for Into the Woods.”
“What song are you singing?”
“I thought I’d sing ‘Not a Day Goes By’ from—”
“Merrily We Roll Along. Good choice.”
Gail sat upright in surprise. “You know it?”
“A cautionary tale about a composer who gives up everything that matters in a fruitless pursuit of meaningless fame and fortune, by one of the greats of American musical
theatre? It would be surprising if I didn’t know it.”
“Oh, right. Because you’re a composer.”
“Bring your music with you. I’d like you to sing for me.”
Her cheeks heated. “I’m not that good.”
“I’m not expecting a concert. And it will be good practice for obeying me even when my orders make you a little uncomfortable, and push you outside your comfort zone.”
“Oh. When you put it that way…”
He chuckled, sending another shiver quivering through her. “And speaking of pushing you outside your comfort zone, I’d like you to wear that leather miniskirt again, but no panties, and no pantyhose. So that if I wanted to, at any moment, I could reach up under it and put my fingers inside you, teasing you until you trembled and came on my hand.”
Gayle’s breath caught, her breasts tightening and heat pooling between her legs at his suggestive words.
“Did you hear me, Gayle?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I heard you.”
He chuckled again. “Ah. Imagining my fingers inside you already, are you? Stroking in and out, sliding between your slick folds, then pressing deep, my thumb rubbing your clit—”
She gasped, her legs falling open and her head lolling back as waves of warmth crested within her. She shuddered, and cupped her pulsing flesh through the heavy interference of her jeans.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“I’m the only one allowed to touch you,” he cautioned, as if he knew where her hand was and what she was doing.
“But I’m—”
“That’s an order, Gayle.”
Reluctantly, she lifted her hand away from her hot, throbbing crotch. “Yes, Master Rikard.”
