Thief of Hearts
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by Kimberly Zant
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: He came to her in the night, like a dream lover.... He bound her body, touched her, banishing all thoughts of another, until she could do nothing but embrace the erotic torments that pushed her to the heights of ecstasy. This title is a reissue.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2012 2012
eBookwise Release Date: September 2012
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [82 KB]
Reading time: 54-76 min.
Jules had awakened the night before to discover she wasn't alone. It was the most erotic, and, at the same time, the scariest, experience of her life.
She didn't know why she hadn't woken the moment he touched her. She wasn't a heavy sleeper. Usually, she woke at the slightest movement, the faintest sound.
Perhaps, in her subconscious mind, she had believed it was her boyfriend, and no threat, and that is why she remained passive and more asleep than awake until it was far too late to struggle. But her boyfriend was working out of town, had been gone for more than a week, and was not scheduled to return for yet another week.
In the end, she roused enough to remember that, but it was far too late then.
It was the tape that covered her mouth that woke her thoroughly. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she couldn't scream. When she tried to sit up, she discovered that she had been tied and before she could see who had stolen into her dreams, her eyes were covered with what must have been a silken scarf. It was tied snugly around her head, blinding her, making it difficult to hear, as well.
A voice whispered near her ear. "Don't struggle. She won't hurt you."
She didn't believe him, of course. She was still sluggish from leaping from deep sleep to wakefulness. Her mind was still grasping with the realization that it was not, as she'd thought, her boyfriend.
But she was certain she was in danger.
What did he want? To rob her? To rape her? To torture and kill?
She could believe anything but the last. She simply could not accept that as a possibility.
Unable to speak, unable to see at all, or hear more than a faint rustle of sound, she was forced to rely upon her other senses.
She felt the bed dip beneath his weight as he loomed over her.
Her heart thundered in her ears, but she reminded herself that she needed to keep her wits about her.
A strange sense of calm settled over her, slowing her heart, freeing her mind from panic so that she could think.
She realized that he must be a very large man to cause the bed to dip so that she rolled toward him. In a moment, she smelled a man's cologne and knew at once that it was not, as she'd hoped, her boyfriend's cologne. She could not put a name with it, but it was a cologne that I'd smelled before, expensive and heady to her senses. She had tried to get her boyfriend to buy some, because the smell just drove her wild, but he preferred his own brand.
She could detect no odor beneath it that would indicate a cologne bath to cover unwashed body. It seemed doubtful to her that he was some street thug or a common burglar.
Perhaps it was some college freshman performing an initiation?
Maybe not. Try though she might, she couldn't detect anything that made her think there was anyone in the room besides the two of them, and, surely, if it was that sort of game there would have been at least one witness?
After a moment, she realized that while she was trying to place the man in a mental picture, he had removed her nightgown. She had been dimly aware of something sliding along her skin, something cold, hard, thin, but she had been too distracted--too unwilling to accept what her senses told her it was.
When she felt the cool night air on her bare skin, like a whisper of breath, felt the tug of the fabric as he removed it, she began to struggle, trying to pull free, trying to strike at him with her bound hands.
"Bad girl. She told you She wouldn't hurt you. Now I'll have to punish you."
Her heart leapt into her throat and she tried to scream, struggling harder as he rolled her onto her stomach. Nothing happened for several moments. She lay stiffly, frightened, but unable to help herself.
In a moment, something slapped against the soles of her bare feet. She jerked reflexively, although it did not hurt. The slapping became rhythmic until her feet began to tingle with sensation. She could feel the blood suffusing them, making them more sensitive as the slapping continued.
When the sensitivity reached the edge of pain, he moved upwards, along her calves, her thighs, and assaulted her bare buttocks. Although she jerked once more in reaction, her terror slowly subsided as she realized it didn't hurt. What, she wondered, was he doing? What was he using?
Try though she might, she simply could not identify his 'weapon', but he continued to strike it against the soles of her feet and against her buttocks alternately until they tingled with sensation, ultra sensitive because he had brought the blood surging to those areas.
She was ashamed to admit it, even to herself, but she had almost begun to enjoy it when he stopped.
In a moment, something cold, and damp, slithered over her sensitive skin. She jumped at the sharp contrast against her now heated skin. Ice?
She wasn't sure at first, but as it cooled her heated flesh, she realized it was indeed ice.
She shivered, tried to squirm away from it, but found it was impossible to move more than an inch or so in any direction.
At last he stopped. "Shall She punish you again?" he whispered. "Or will you be a good little girl?"