Madison Layle - The Pirate Masters

“And save her life,” the other one added, his deeper voice and the words he spoke making her shudder.

James pulled Dana into an embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up into his eyes and tried for a smile. “It’s okay.”

“Undress her.” Dana closed her eyes at the sound of that deep bass. “Slowly.”

“You son of a bitch,” James hissed under his breath, but the gunmen had moved close enough to hear.

The one in the navy bandana poked James in the back. “Don’t be a hypocrite, lover boy. You want to see her body as much as we do. Now, do as you’re told.”

Dana clutched James’ shirt, staring up into his angry eyes. If this wasn’t real, the man was a damn fine actor. “It’s okay,” she murmured again, and this time she realized she meant it. The guns, the other men, the orders to comply-they all combined to remove all responsibility from her for what was about to happen. She felt strangely liberated. It was almost cathartic. And the idea of being caught in flagrante delicto , watched, and made to perform was both unnerving and titillating at the same time.

James’ gaze softened to something tender and passionate.

He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb caressing away the quiver of her bottom lip. He bent down and gave her a chaste kiss. Then the soft purr of her zipper sounded as James slid the tab down her back.

Her pulse began to race.

“Slowly,” Mr. Deep Voice repeated.

Dana held her breath as James slipped his thumbs under the spaghetti straps of her gown and tugged them off her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so the instant the material dropped away, cool air beaded her nipples. Her fingers ached from their death grip on James’ shirt, which was now hopelessly wrinkled.

James touched her wrists, saying, “Let go, my dear,” and she realized she’d not only closed her eyes again, but that her dress hung from her elbows while she clung to him.

Blinking up at him, she forced her fingers to open, letting go and dropping her arms. The dress fell to the floor, a puddle of silky satin around her feet.

James settled his hands on her hips where the final lacy scrap of material remained to keep her modesty intact.

Before he could remove her panties, though, she focused on the buttons of his shirt. She was determined not to be the only one sans clothes. One by one she undid them and then tugged the tails from his slacks. James had a nice body, soft skin over hard muscle-a fine line of hair teased her gaze, leading from his navel down to disappear beneath his pants. Fascinated, distracted for the moment, she reached out to trace the trail with a fingertip and heard him hiss.

His shirt joined her dress on the floor. She reached for his pants, but then heard the door to their room shut and the lock engage. It was enough to make her look around to find the gunmen. They were on the move, circling around for a better view, one to either side.

She and James stood close together at the foot of his bed.

As the gunmen took up positions behind her on either side of that bed, she lost sight of them and returned her gaze to James who, she discovered, was staring down at her. Mixed emotions of concern and desire were evident in his hazel eyes.

She rose up on tiptoe and initiated a kiss that he quickly deepened into something much more hot and urgent.

It was almost enough to make her forget about the armed voyeurs in the room, until that deep bass voice returned.

“Stop stalling, James. I said undress her. That means everything.”

Her breath hitched when the kiss stopped and James obeyed the command by slowly easing her panties down her thighs.

The one in the navy bandana seemed content to watch while the other gunmen continued to give the orders. “Nice ass. Go ahead and touch her. Pull her against your body.”

James did as he was told. His palms cradled her butt, held her close enough that she had no doubt about his arousal. Despite their lack of solitude, or maybe because of it, James was as turned on as she was.

“Bet that sexy body of hers feels good enough to make a man hard as granite, huh?”

James hugged her tighter and didn’t answer. The other gunman snickered though.

Mr. Deep Voice continued to give commands, his tone quiet, almost sultry. “Turn her around for us, James. Very good. Now, gently knead those breasts.”

When James’ hands closed around her breasts, she leaned back against him and closed her eyes, unable to look at the two men watching him fondle her. But doing so did not prevent the effects their presence had on her body. Her nipples tightened. Her pussy creamed, and she began to pant softly with unrequited need.

Without prompting, James pressed soft kisses along her shoulder and neck, brushed her hair out of his way, and caught her earlobe between his teeth.

She gave him a soft sigh of approval and tilted her head while he suckled it. When had her ears become such an erogenous zone?

“Spread her legs.” The gunman’s voice now was almost a whisper-the sexiest fucking murmur she’d ever heard.

She didn’t wait for James to force her legs apart. She spread her stance willingly and kept her eyes closed, reveling in the sensations of James’ touch and the others’ gazes.

“Touch her. Tell us how wet she is.”

James slid one hand from her breasts, down across her nervous tummy, and gently through the trimmed curls of her pubic hair. When he ran a fingertip across her clit and between her labia, she moaned and tilted her hips toward his touch.

“Tell us…”

“She’s very moist,” James answered. “Hot and wet.”

“Go ahead. Dip a finger or two inside that pussy. I know you want to tell us if she’s tight.”

James pinched her nipple with one hand while he obeyed the pirate’s command with his other. Two fingers entered her, and her breath hissed through gritted teeth.

“Mmm, I think she likes that.” The remark came from Mr. Navy Bandana, although Dana didn’t open her eyes to look at him.

“Yes,” James said, plumbing her depths at a steady pace. For a second, she thought he’d answered for her. It was true; she did like the feel of his fingers pushing inside to stretch and rub her inner walls. But then he continued. “She’s very tight.”

The deeper bass returned. “You want to fuck her, don’t you, James?”

“Yes.”

“She wants you to, as well.”

At that, Dana’s eyes shot open, and she stared at the pirate in the burgundy bandana.

Brazenly holding her gaze, he commanded, “Finger-fuck her harder, James. Rub that clit.”

James immediately complied, and Dana gasped, reaching behind her to claw at James for support.

He bent his head to kiss and suck hard on her neck, while his fingers pumped rapidly into her body, his thumb nudging and flicking her clit. She whimpered from the increased assault on her senses, never once looking away from the man who controlled their every move.

Something deep inside her recognized the stranger’s dominant nature, was attracted to it.

James worked her up until an orgasm was all but inevitable. Just before it happened, just before she could tumble over that invisible cliff, the pirate said, “Stop.”

James not only ceased, he pulled out of her, and stood behind her panting from his own aroused desire. She frowned, irked by her thwarted climax.

“Bend over,” came the next command, this one clearly aimed at her. She obeyed, but did so with slow challenge, her pique not yet appeased. The pirate’s only reaction was a mild tilt of his head and slight curve of his lips.

As she dipped forward, she watched both pirates sit on the bed, their backs against the headboard, one leg from each left bent over opposite edges of the mattress. Their guns lay on their thighs, still in hand, still aimed in their general direction.