Epilogue

When Richie woke up he was in his suite. One of the last things he remembered was being fucked a third time, and though it was almost painful, it had been a good long while since he had such a forceful orgasm. He remembered pulsing endlessly inside the woman – damn, why wouldn’t she tell him her name? – and when all the blood rushed from his head, he grew dizzy and giddy.

He thought he remembered her slow, even breathing beside him, and must have drifted off himself, for he had no recollection of getting back to his suite. He noticed he was wrapped in a hotel robe, so at least her thugs didn’t bring him back here nude. Yawning widely, he stretched and smiled. What a hell of a night. He hoped to meet up with her again today, and perhaps take her up on her offer.

Doing with her whatever he wanted.

He had a list of ideas that started with watching her pleasure herself until she was trembling. Then he’d take her roughly, fucking her until she passed out. He had much better control of his cock when he was on top. He was so frustrated that he didn’t get to touch her last night, that he might have to spend an hour just lightly twisting her nipples. Another hour flicking her clit. He’d wind her hair around his wrist and bare her neck to him, marking her the way she did him.

What the hell was he thinking? She didn’t tell him her name, didn’t even let him really see her, so all he had to go by was what he saw by the pool. “Fuck it,” he said, sitting up. She wasn’t the only one who could get people to do what he wanted. He hissed as the terrycloth robe slid across his sensitive cock. The thoughts he was having about this woman woke up the one part of his body he was sure would sleep for a week. Chuckling to himself, he carefully got out of bed. He knew his body, and what he needed was a cold shower.

After showering and dressing in loose clothing, he went down to the lobby. Once the clerk at the front desk had finished with the patrons he was checking in, Richie approached. “Excuse me, but I’m trying to find out the name of one of the guests I met by the pool yesterday.”

The clerk looked down his aquiline nose at Richie. “Sir, we pride ourselves on our discretion,” he said. “Of course we will be unable to furnish you with that information.”

Richie was undeterred. “Could I leave a message for her with you?”

“For whom?” the clerk countered, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you what she looks like, and…”

“Sir,” the clerk said, his patience wearing thin, “we are not a messenger service. Good day, sir.” He turned away and began sorting through papers on the desk.

Discouraged, Richie slapped the desk and turned away, heading back up to his room. The concierge approached him tentatively, smiling shyly. “Excuse me, Mr. Sambora?” she asked, looking up at him with huge, scared, sky-blue eyes. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Karl.” She smiled tentatively. “Perhaps I could help you?”

Richie smiled, dimples flashing. “What about discretion and all that?”

The concierge, Wendy, smiled widely this time. “That’s a crock, if you don’t mind my saying so. He only helps out the women,” she said. “I would be happy to try to help you.”



Kathryn sighed as she packed the last of her clothing into her suitcase. One of the benefits of taking holiday at a nudist retreat was that there was very little to pack. She called down for her driver, and was soon off for the airport, and the Air France flight that would take her home. She never took her own jet when flying with her staff. She preferred to travel with them.

As she buckled into her first-class seat and looked out the window at sunny, beautiful Mexico she sighed. She never thought the interlude with Richard would be so stuck in her mind. Her other lovers were ports in the storm. She really enjoyed herself with Richard. She almost wished she had slipped him her card before he was taken back to his room, but it was better this way. So she told herself.

She sighed in annoyance when she heard someone messing with the bags in the compartment over her head. She turned her head and saw a man’s midsection – a deep red t-shirt tucked into a slim-fitting pair of black jeans. She gazed with appreciation at his form and smiled at the memory of Richie’s beautiful body under hers last night.

Kathryn had just turned to look out the window again, when the man dropped heavily into the seat next to her, and leaned in until his lips were practically in her ear.

“Good afternoon, Kathryn,” he said softly.

Kathryn turned, shocked. She lowered her sunglasses and gazed into his face. His eyes were indeed the same chocolate brown as his hair. “Richard?”

Richie ran a hand over Kathryn’s hair, down her neck, and across to her breast squeezing firmly.

“We meet again,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

** THE END **

Four

When the woman straddled Richie’s chest, the feel of her naked pussy on his skin made him growl. He could feel her wetness on him, and never wanted his hands free as much as he did now. If she would cut his ties, he would reach up to mold his hands to her breasts, worrying the tips, pulling on them gently, stretching them, urging her to slide back and impale herself on his throbbing cock… but all thoughts were driven from his brain when the woman raised the bottom of the hood. She had his full attention as she rose up on her knees and edged forward until he could smell her arousal. She was so close he could practically taste her.

“I assume you know what to do with this,” she said, gently swiping her swollen folds across his chin. Too late, he tilted his head and reached his tongue out for her, encountering nothing but air. “Yes,” she murmured appreciatively, “I see that you do.”

Kathryn levered up again, straddling Richie’s shoulders and bracing herself against the headboard. She lowered herself by degrees to his hot mouth. She could feel his breath tickling her sensitive lips a split second before he drove his tongue up and into her. Kathryn let out a gasp when he curled his tongue, instinctively searching for the most sensitive spot. He scraped his teeth on her clit, and she shattered – the build up of two weeks’ celibacy finally catching up with her.

Richie ate greedily, licking and sucking until she pulled away. He licked his lips and smiled; maybe she would return the favor, and give him some relief. The smile fell away when she covered his face back up with the hood and climbed off the bed. He was incredulous when he heard the unmistakable high-pitched metallic tick of a lighter clicking open – from across the room. The rasp of a flint wheel, the acrid smell of expensive tobacco and the hollow clack when the lighter flipped closed were followed by a long appreciative sigh.

“You have a very clever mouth, my dear Richard.” Kathryn shivered deliciously as she sat and smoked. His erection hadn’t flagged at all. “I wonder if your fingers would be just as clever, given what you do.” She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “It is a shame you’re your arms are bound behind you.” She stood and stretched and padded over to the bed. Now that the edge was off her cravings, both for sex and nicotine, she could relax and enjoy herself.

She climbed up onto the bed, and knelt next to his hip. She caressed the bruise she left there. “For now, however, you are at my mercy.”

Kathryn straddled his waist, being careful not to rub against his cock, and covered his chest with soft kisses and licks, leaving no inch of skin untouched. She took her time, laving each freckle and tugging on each little patch of hair.

Kathryn kissed her way up his neck, enjoying the way his pulse flickered under her lips. She raised the hem of the hood again slid her lips against his. When he parted his lips, she took her time, fucking his mouth slowly with her tongue. She finally broke the kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Cherie, your lips are so plump and my flavor on them is delicious,” she murmured against him, before taking his mouth again.

Riche’s cock was rock-hard and he didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t relieve the pressure. No, that wasn’t exactly true; he knew just what would happen – he’d go off like a damned teenager. Her mouth was strong and sensual, and when she took his lip between her teeth, he thought he would pass out from the pleasure. He just wished he could see her. Or use his hands.

Kathryn slid down over his cock, the head sliding along her wet slit, until she was straddling his thighs. She lowered her face to his hardness, but instead of taking his cock into her mouth, she lightly licked the underside from balls to tip; licking him with long strokes like he was an ice cream cone.

Richie moaned in need, but she wasn’t ready to give him his release yet. It would be soon, though, for her own need was starting to build again, and she would need to cum again soon. Kathryn scooted back further, so she was between his shins, and made love to Richie’s thighs, giving great sucking kisses up and down their lengths. His cock throbbed insistently against her cheek when she came to the top of his legs, and she took pity on him, finally lowering her mouth over him.

When her lips brushed his skin, it drove him mad. Unable to see, every sensor on his hyper-aware skin was firing. Her breath, whisper soft, set him on fire.

She slid her lips up just as gently, and a muffled sob escaped Richie’s lips. Kathryn stopped what she was doing and roughly licked his tip in slow, wide strokes before circling it with her wet tongue. He bucked his hips and she pulled away from him slightly. When he whimpered, Kathryn knew he had had enough teasing. She slowly drew his cock into her mouth; moaning with every inch she swallowed. His skin felt like silk against her tongue, and she couldn’t wait to feel the rough, bumpy steel hidden just underneath push into her. She held him in her mouth for a moment and drew upwards, sucking hard. Her descent this time was slower, and she didn’t stop until her nose was buried in the thick thatch of black hair at the apex of his thighs. She inhaled the musky scent of him and moaned in pleasure.

When she moaned around him, her tonsils vibrating against his length, Richie lost control, bucking his hips wildly, fucking her mouth. She let him, gripping his hips to help set the pace. They eventually found a rhythm together, and within minutes, he came in her throat. She sucked greedily, like he did for her earlier, and stopped when he started to shake. Smiling, she lay her head on his chest and waited for him to recover.

When his breathing regulated somewhat, Kathryn began stroking his chest in small circles. Her light touch had Richie squirming and jerking from side to side. Undaunted, she played her fingertips over his nipples, flicking the nail-heads with her manicured nails. Richie hissed and his head fell to one side, exposing his neck and a small slice of his chin.

Kathryn hitched herself up and held his head, grasping the hood firmly. She licked his neck, nibbling on the sweet spot behind his ear, and running her tongue along his ear. She smiled at the hole in his lobe, and fleetingly wondered what he wore there.

Pushing the hood up a little, up over his cheekbone, she continued kissing his face; across his stubbled cheek, down to his chin until he turned his head and met his mouth with hers.

“I want to touch you,” he said, when she broke the kiss.

“Ah, Richard, but tonight is not about what you want,” she answered, licking the corner of his mouth. “Tonight is about me. Perhaps we shall meet again, and you may do with me what you like, oui? But not tonight.”

Kathryn’s hand slid down the long, hard length of his chest to his cock, which was starting to stir again. She climbed back onto his thighs, still pumping him. When he was hard again, she quickly raised up and impaled herself on him, reveling in the feel of his flesh against hers.

When Richie gasped, Kathryn chuckled and raised her hips again, so he slid out. “Alas, that was all the skin-on-skin you will get tonight, cherie.” She reached under the mattress and pulled out a condom. After rolling it on slowly, Kathryn guided him home. She leaned back very slightly, and began to rock.

Richie, due to the way his legs were bound, couldn’t do much more than enjoy the sensation of this woman riding him. When he felt the tightening in his balls start, he surprised the woman riding him by levering off the bed slightly, and scooting down. He was pleased at the gasp of shock that escaped her lips. Richie was now able to bend his knees somewhat and meet her thrust for thrust, which made only increased his desire. Their bodies slapped noisily together, faster and faster as their passion climbed.

Kathryn leaned forward, trying for more pressure on her clit. She growled in frustration and jumped off Richie.

“What happened?” he said frantically wanting her riding him again.

Kathryn angrily snapped her knife open, and sliced the bonds at Richie’s feet. She grabbed his calves and demanded, “Bend your knees, Richard,” and pushed his feet up roughly, until his knees were bent up nearly to his chest. She stood with one foot on either side of his hips and braced herself on his taut calves. She lowered herself slowly, sitting on his cock, sliding down its length until her clit was rubbing in Richie’s thick pubic hair. Her knees pressed against Richie’s thighs, and she purred when he tensed against the pressure. Her arms were flexed as she used them to lever herself up and down along Richie’s engorged cock. She groaned in pleasure as each downward stroke ground her clit into the coarse hair.

Her motions increased until her feet started to tingle. She knew it would only be a matter of minutes until the hot fire of her orgasm was rushing through her. She raised herself almost to the point of disengaging, then slammed down hard, screaming as her clit slammed into Richie’s hair. She did it again, and felt Richie’s legs tighten. Three more slams, and they crested together, crying out at the same time.

Kathryn rode him a little longer, as his erection hadn’t waned yet, and a second sizzle passed through her. She shuddered and sighed, and long minutes later, gently extricating herself from him. Richie straightened out his legs and sighed himself. Kathryn rested her head on Richie’s shoulder. “You were wonderful,” she said.

He chuckled. “I didn’t do anything but lie there.”

“Which is exactly what I wanted.” She kissed his neck. “Merci, Richard.”

Three

“Hello, Richard,” Kathryn finally said in a low voice. His head jerked in the direction of the sound, and his struggling lessened.

He knew that voice.

“Yes, I think you recognize my voice, mais oui? Are you surprised that I know who you are? I know all about you. Please, you will hurt yourself if you should fall. Be still.” In the hours between their meeting at the pool, and the delivery of Richie to her suite, her team had put together quite an extensive, erotic dossier on Mr. Sambora’s foibles, fetishes, and fantasies. It was amazing how much information there was out there to be had if one had the means and the motivation.

Kathryn had an abundance of both.

“I do not care about your celebrity or your money. I have more than enough of both. I care only about your body, and what it can do for me.” Her voice had gotten huskier as she approached Richie. He could smell the sea on her skin; a tangy, slightly salty aroma that smelled like heaven. “Do you know where you are?” she asked, curiously, her voice a caress in the air. She reached over to unwind the scarf from his neck and removed the panties.

Richie cleared his throat several times, and tried to salivate. “What do you want?” he croaked. He knew where he was: tied up on some strange woman’s bed. The more he said that in his head, the less bad it sounded. Shit, he thought.

Kathryn’s answering chuckle was throaty and sensual. “Why I thought I made that perfectly obvious, my dear Richard,” she answered. She slid her hand up his leg again, kneading and massaging his cock through his pants. This time, he didn’t fight the sensations invading his body. He gave himself over to it, to see if he could submit to her. It disgusted and pleased him to find that that he could. “You are what I want,” she said. Kathryn watched Richie’s hooded head start to thrash back and forth a bit before he remembered the rope around his neck and stilled. She quickly removed that binding and gently rubbed his neck. He moaned appreciatively.

“Ah, you are thinking, ‘why did she not just show interest at the pool?’ oui? We could have had a nice dinner, a pleasant interlude.” When he did nothing more than grunt, she sat on the edge of the bed and ran a light hand along the opening of his shirt. The soft white cotton was undone nearly to his navel. She flipped open the last two buttons and spread the shirt wide. “It is a pity to hide such perfection,” she purred to herself.

Richie rolled to his other side, to get away from her probing fingertips before he pressed into them. He was losing the battle against yearning for her touch. He was turned on by this woman having total control over him – more than he thought could be possible. And she was right, he wanted to know why she was going through this elaborate plot. He should be perturbed by her seemingly innate ability to read his thoughts, but he couldn’t muster up even an ounce of bother.

“To answer your unvoiced question, that is not what I wanted. I wanted to know the feel of your body without all the trappings that go with it. And I am accustomed to getting what I want.”

Kathryn padded to the other side of the bed so she could see the pulse point at Richie’s throat. It was throbbing so quickly, she thought it might jump out of his neck. She touched his chest again, feeling his heart race beneath her palm, and this time he made no attempt to roll away. He also hadn’t demanded to be let free, which told her that she owed a substantial bonus to her fact finders for getting this particular fantasy right. “I can tell you are arguing with yourself. You want to give in to me, but are fighting against it. A most interesting dilemma you face, no? If you fight, you do not get to live out your fantasy. If you give in?” She let the sentence trail away as she stroked his chest.

Richie didn’t want to be aroused by all of this. He really didn’t. At least that’s what he told himself. He knew he should be outraged, humiliated, or at the very least scared to death. But, he wasn’t. He knew he was in no real danger. If she wanted him hurt, this woman’s thugs would have hurt him. Clearly the men were paid to simply bring him to her. He recalled her feigned disinterest at the pool, and chuckled inwardly. Never in a thousand years would he have imagined this would happen.

Her gentle yet insistent touch on his chest, her fingers’ play over his nipples, had his cock springing to attention inside his light cotton trousers. From his current trussed up position, he couldn’t do anything to hide his reaction to her touch.

“Ah,” Kathryn said approvingly. “I see that you are losing the battle to give in, but you are fighting most valiantly, dear Richard. Would it help you to know that if you give in, the rewards will be great? I can promise you, the rewards will be utterly unforgettable.” She slid her hand up his chest and grabbed his chin under the mask, turning his head toward her. Slowly, she traced his lips with her finger.

“Unforgettable,” she promised. “But,” she shrugged though he could not see her, “if you are not interested, if you truly do not want this, simply say the word, and you will be back in your suite.”

He said nothing; not wanting this to end. Not yet.

She left him then and slid open the nightstand drawer. Richie heard a ‘snick’ and wondered what the hell she was up to now. “I will not cut you if you hold very still,” Kathryn said. “You look extremely uncomfortable; I seek only to relieve some of that distress.”

Thinking she retrieved a knife to cut his bonds, he relaxed. When she grabbed his belt and neatly sliced through it before tearing it from its loops, he jumped. A half a second later, he felt a breeze as his pants were sliced from hip to cuff on one side. The womanleaned over, and licked a trail from his ankle to his hipbone, then marked him, sucking his flesh until a purple bruise formed. Richie’s head was spinning, and his breathing became labored. Losing his sense of sight only served to heighten his sense of touch. God help him.

“Other side, s'il vous plaît!” she said melodiously, but Richie didn’t budge. Kathryn laughed at his obstinacy. He was determined to fight? Fine. She was determined to win.

The woman ran the flat edge of the blade along his leg, the cold steel making Richie shiver. He sucked in a breath but didn’t say a word, and didn’t move. He felt the knife move away, and for a moment thought that he had grossly miscalculated, that she was tiring of his show of reluctance.

When Kathryn bodily shoved him over onto his other side, Richie let out a surprised shout. “Oui,” she said, smugly, “I am more than just a pretty package. I know how to use what I have.” With Richie lying on his other side, Kathryn slit that side of his trousers too, and left a mark on that hip. She pulled the slashed material away and discarded it, allowing his erection to bob freely. “Most impressive,” she said, tracing its ridges with her finger. “I thought it might be, having seen it at rest, but awake it is truly something.”

Richie’s mouth was dry. It took all his concentration not to lean into her touch. He longed for nothing more than for her to grab onto him and pump him until he came. Instead, he tried to shrink back, to keep up the façade that this wasn’t a wonderfully erotic experience, and his most base, dark fantasy come true. He lost track of whether he was winning or losing his internal battle. Judging by the state of his arousal, he thought it didn’t really matter. He was getting close to the point of no return; he had to make a decision: go all-in and give into the fantasy, or demand to be let go.

The decision was taken from him when she encircled him with her hands. She gripped his base with one hand and swirled the thumb of her other hand around his slit. When a moan escaped his lips, a self-satisfied smile crept across Kathryn’s features. She worked him until he was on the brink of release then backed away. Under the hood, Richie clamped his lips together, refusing to cry out in frustration.

Considering his bound form, she tapped her lips with a finger. “Ce n'est pas la bonne,” she said, frowning. “Not good at all.” She pulled on his bonds, making him jerk this way and that. The arch of his back was getting uncomfortable, but he would not say anything, lest the woman remove the bindings altogether and spoil the fantasy.

Kathryn traced the bunched muscles of his shoulders and back, feeling the tension and strain there. Not all of it was due to his restraints, but she did not want this to be an unpleasant experience for him. She retrieved her knife and cut away the rope that bound Richie’s wrists to his legs.

He let out a groan of appreciation as he straightened, and stretched his torso, causing his cock to thrust upwards. He felt her cut the cord at his legs as well, and it never occurred to Richie to try to stand.

Kathryn smiled at his stretching and removed his socks and shoes, then sliced the rope she held in two and used the pieces to tie Richie’s feet to the footboard’s posts. “Can’t have you trying to get away, now can we, my pet?”

Richie swallowed hard and shook his head.

“Very good,” Kathryn said.

Two

After a late dinner at a neighboring hotel (he still didn’t like the idea of eating nude, as he was a bit of a slob) Richie walked into his hotel room and was immediately set upon by four well-built masked men. One grabbed his arms, another put a hood over his head. The third man wound a cord around his legs, hobbling him. The last man tied his wrists together behind his back. The men worked in silence with brutal efficiency, the whole encounter taking less than half a minute. Before Richie could get his bearings, all four bodily picked him up. He struggled and squirmed but to no avail, and was man-handled out of the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelled, scared out of his mind. “Let me go!”

“Shut up,” one of the assailants hissed, “or we’ll make you shut up.”

“I have money, man,” Richie said, fear making him babble. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen. You don’t have to do this.”

The captor at his head let out a bark of laughter, and cuffed him on the head hard enough to make him see stars. “I said shut up,” he growled. “Next hit makes you bleed.”

Richie did as he was directed to; hoping that by staying quiet he could glean details about the men who grabbed him, or where or HOW he was being taken. He heard the ding of the elevator, and when they stepped in, grunting with the effort of holding Richie’s weight up, their voices were hollow. They must be in the service elevator, not the opulently appointed ones that went to the lobby. For long minutes, Richie waited for an opportunity to get free, but the men’s hold on him didn’t lessen one bit. He was going to have to think of something else.

Finally, the doors opened, and the men stepped out. Richie couldn’t hear the footfalls of his hijackers, so they either were wearing soft-soled shoes or were on carpet. He had been in enough hotels to know that they weren’t in the kitchens or the basement. They must be on another floor. A few moments later, he heard a discreet knock on a door.

“Room service,” one of the men said in a low voice, making the others chuckle. Richie almost recognized that voice. He wracked his brain, trying to put a name or a face to that voice. He nearly had it when he heard the door open.

The men who held him brought him through one room and into another before dropping him roughly on a mostly soft surface. It was a firm mattress. A bed. For half a heartbeat, he wondered if it was his friends who set him up. It was his birthday after all, but this didn’t feel like something they’d do. Sure, they’d hunt him down in Mexico and kidnap him, but they wouldn’t hit him and certainly would have burst into laughter long before now.

As the men looped a rope through the bindings around his hands and attached it to that around his ankles, he shuddered.

No, this was definitely for real.

He heard the men leave the room, and conduct a muted conversation with someone. He couldn’t make out any words, but he could tell there was a woman among them. A door somewhere opened and closed, and a long silence followed. Then the door to the room he was in, a bedroom he assumed, opened and closed. He sensed someone walking toward him and flinched away from the sound. A single feminine chuckle was the only response. At least it was a woman. That was good.

Where the fuck did that thought come from? It was alright to be grabbed, bound and taken, as long it was a woman? He had to do some serious re-evaluating of what was okay. Once he got out of this.

A gentle hand ran up his leg from knee to thigh then cupped him intimately. Richie was just scared enough that the gesture had no effect on him. She was insistent, though, and after a few minutes, and despite his best efforts, he started to respond. He told himself it was just the biology of friction, and not the situation, that was making him hard. He didn’t want to dig too deeply into why he found this situation erotic.

A moment later, Richie felt something loop around his neck. He struggled for a minute, once again afraid of whatever was happening to him. “Shhh,” a soothing voice cooed. He felt something soft brush the hood against his cheek – a hand? A breast? – before feeling a gentle tug as the binding around his neck tightened.

Kathryn stepped back to admire her handiwork. She wasn’t as proficient in knot-tying as the heavies she employed, but she knew her way around a rope. Satisfied that he would not be able to free himself, she now only had to worry about him calling out for help, though he had not yet done so. She smiled. Perhaps he wasn’t as resisting as he pretended?

She opened a dresser drawer and extracted a pair of panties, and a long, gauzy scarf. She gently pried Richie’s mouth open and stuffed the panties inside, making sure he could still breathe. He would be no good to her passed out from lack of oxygen. She wound the scarf around his head, securing it tightly against the impromptu gag.

With a final pat on his cock, and a hard squeeze for good measure, she went into the bathroom and started the shower.

Richie couldn’t believe what was happening to him. This sort of shit didn’t happen to fifty-year-old men. It was reserved for the naïve teenagers who went abroad for Spring Break, wasn’t it? He, a world traveler, should have been more aware of his surroundings. He never suspected that something would happen here.

But what exactly had happened? He was grabbed, trussed up like a damned fucking pig, and left on a bed while his captor, a woman he assumed he didn’t know went to take a leisurely shower? After groping his cock? He tested the bonds at his neck, but they held fast. He still couldn’t move his arms or legs, and he couldn’t work the wad of silk out of his mouth. With nothing to do but wait, he had ample time to consider his present situation and examine his reaction to her hands on his body.

He was no novice when it came to sexual fantasies. Hell, he’d had more of them, and fulfilled more of them, than any man had the right to. This though, was almost straight out of the deepest, darkest corner of his soul. He was always the aggressor. The chaser. The hunter. The dom. He always wondered what it would be like to be utterly powerless. To have someone take complete and total advantage of him. He would play out different scenarios in his head on long, lonely nights, never quite trusting any of his partners enough to see if they would indulge him.

Richie had no reason to trust this woman, whoever she was. In fact, he had every reason not to trust her. Why, then, was he not trying harder to get loose and escape? Because deep, way deep down inside where he kept his secrets, secrets even Jon didn’t know he had, the idea of being taken by a total stranger and used for sex was exciting. He didn’t want it to be, though. He wanted to feel violated, indignant, angry. Perhaps on some level he did, but he was more aroused and intrigued than anything.

When the shower stopped, his pulse kicked up. He wasn’t sure of what that said about him. He should be raising a fuss. He should be fighting against her the first chance he got, so he could get the hell out of there. One not-so-small part of him, however, wanted to stay and let this play out. Richie was so lost in thought that he didn’t register the sound of the door opening, or of the sweetly-scented steam billowing into the room.

Kathryn looked at the man on the bed. Even trussed up as he was, he was beautiful. All hard angles, smooth planes, and rigid muscles. She watched him for a minute, wondering what was going on in his head. Wondered more what he would do once she started. Would he fight? Smiling, she walked over to the side of the bed.

It was time to find out.

One

Kathryn was wealthy.

Obscenely wealthy.

She always could get anything or anyone she ever wanted. Ever since she was a little girl, she was so stunningly beautiful, and her English-born father so powerful, people bent over backwards to give this princess of Paris whatever it was that she wished. The men in her life were no different. All she had to do was look at something longingly, and it was miraculously procured for her.

It was how she got her first horse. She batted her long, curled eyelashes at her grandfather at the tender age of six, and commented on how the roan’s hair was almost exactly the same shade as hers. Two days later, the creature was in their stable. It worked with her first car, a shiny red Alpha Romeo she charmed from her father when they were in Italy, and just happened to be passing a showroom on her sixteenth birthday. It worked with her first man, who was so exquisite it made her soul ache. She had him convinced she loved him, and he turned himself over to her without a second thought. It became second nature for her to come to expect the finer things in life, and when they didn’t come easily, to make them come by any means necessary.

When she was older, and on her own, Kathryn surrounded herself with people who were utterly devoted to making her happy. She paid them handsomely, and treated them exceptionally well, and for that, she earned their undying loyalty. It was amazing the limits to which her people would go.

As she sat in a chaise by the pool at the gorgeous Hidden Beach Resort, she gazed up at the cerulean Mexican sky and smiled. The sky always seemed bluer here, at the perfect playground for the wickedly rich. All around her, under the chlorine aroma, was the stench of wealth. Kathryn had on dark sunglasses but nothing else, opting to take advantage of the resort’s nudist setting. Her thick chestnut tresses were piled atop her head, held in place by jeweled clips. The long line of her neck was encircled with a slender gold chain, from which a delicate cross dangled. It was the first piece of jewelry her father ever gave her, and of all the trinkets and baubles she owned, it was her very favorite piece.

She had brought a book with her poolside, some thick French-authored romance, to hide the fact she was hunting. It was no fun if the prey knew they were being pursued. She would turn a page every few minutes to keep up the illusion that she was reading, but her eyes never saw a word.

Kathryn had been in Mexico for close to two weeks now, without taking a lover. For her, this was unusual, for she had a voracious sexual appetite, and she was now hungry, starving for an encounter. She was almost to the point that just any man would do.

She lowered the book to her lap, and slid her sunglasses down her nose. Her hazel eyes skipped over the bodies of the pretty people spread out before her like her own personal smorgasbord. There seemed to be so many different men to choose from, but when she looked closer, she saw they were really all the same. They all had the bleached-blond look of poseurs pretending to be playboys, and were clearly there just to gawk at the naked women. She sighed. There was no challenge in these men. Any would be easy conquests. Worse, there were none here that would be anything other than merely adequate in bed.

She deserved more. She deserved the best. From the time she was old enough to understand the spoken word, she had heard these words from her father. They became her mantra.

Kathryn closed her book and slid her long, tanned legs over the side of her chaise. Perhaps she would find a worthy specimen later in the day. She could always have her people go out and get something for her. It wouldn’t be the first time she relied on her devoted workers to do so. Their taste was almost as perfect as hers. She had just slipped her coral-tipped toes into her Blahniks when the most interesting prey sauntered into view.
He was spectacular, even to her jaded eye. He was tall and broad, and had a mane of brown hair that glinted with gold in the sun. His eyes were hidden behind wide, dark sunglasses, so she couldn’t see them but she would wager that they were the same rich chocolate color as his hair.

Disappointingly, the man wore short-legged swimming trunks, leaving his strong, tanned thighs nearly but not completely bare. Clearly he was American. For all their boldness, they were ridiculously prudish about some things. Studying the bulge in his trunks, he most certainly would be a sight to behold if he would only stop being so damned foreign. At least, she thought, he did not put on a shirt. His chest was broad and he had a smattering of hair sprinkled across a wide mahogany expanse. His biceps were cut and inked; two of her very favorite things.

The man clearly worked out; his abs and pecs had the chiseled look of someone who spent hours in the gym. Kathryn smiled inwardly. He would be strong. That would make him more of challenge. Strong men seldom enjoyed being prey; they much preferred the role of predator.

She pushed her sunglasses back up and settled back onto her chaise to watch his walk. He had the slow, confident gait of a man who knew his presence attracted the attention of others. He had a warm smile of greeting for any man that made eye contact and a wink for the women. Kathryn discreetly signaled the man sitting in the chair closest to her, and he made a show of looking at his watch, putting on an expression of dismay, and gathering his belongings to leave.

As the man passed Richie, he nodded. “Good afternoon,” he said.

Richie smiled. “Hey.” He couldn’t believe his luck. The chair the man was vacating was next to a magnificent brunette with bronzed skin. Lots of bronzed skin. Her legs, long and slender, met at the tiniest triangle of hair. Her hard, flat stomach spanned upwards, her torso taut and lean. Her breasts were beautiful, the natural oval shape a refreshing change from the perfectly spherical ones he was used to seeing in LA.

“Perhaps you are dressing me with your eyes, monsieur?” the woman said, with a light French accent.

Richie chuckled. “My apologies, mademoiselle.”

She shrugged indifferently and lowered her sunglasses to look him up and down. “You are American, oui?”

He spread his towel onto the chair next to her and sat on the edge of the seat, bracing his forearms on his spread knees. “Yes. What gave it away?”

She flapped a hand at him. “You come to a nudist resort, yet you are not nude.” She looked pointedly at the juncture of his deliciously hair legs and pushed her sunglasses back up once again. “Pity.” She reclined her chair back and reopened her book; though she had no intention of reading. “You are too big, too tanned to be English; you must be American,” she said with a bored tone.

Richie thought he had read the signals the woman was giving off as interest, but he was clearly mistaken. Oh well, he thought. He didn’t come to Mexico looking for a liaison. He came to relax. He specifically chose this resort, so he could relax in the way he was most comfortable. His friends laughed, but there was something to be said about hanging out nude, so to speak. He knew he looked good, fifty or not, and from the blasé way people were reacting to the beautiful naked bodies on display, he had nothing he needed to worry about here.

Sliding a sidelong look at the woman on the chaise, not sure if he was hoping she was watching him from behind those dark sunglasses or not, he slowly lowered his trunks and stepped out of them. He stretched out on the chaise and sighed contentedly, letting the sun warm his weary muscles.

Kathryn’s pulse kicked up. Beneath his tanned cheeks, the faintest blush had tinged his features as he stripped down. Breathtaking, she thought. She scanned his form as he relaxed into his chair. The thick length of his cock, impressive even in its present limp state, was draped across his thigh. Yes, she thought, he would do quite nicely. She removed the clips from her hair and shook out the long tresses, a signal to her man at the bar that she had finally selected her plaything for the night.