He was so different from my idea of what a pirate was. His hand was rough as it cupped one of my breasts, but the touch was warm and gentle. He kissed...the nipple, sucking on it until it flushed a deep rose red. Instinctively, I rubbed my hips against his thigh in mounting desperation for release. The passion he was rousing in me was becoming almost too much to take. When had Andrew ever made me feel like this?He shifted his attention to the other breast. Arching my back in encouragement with a. Sounds like one of the great epic final confrontations doesn't it. Well it was extremely anti-climactic. Up way past his bedtime, the collector, my original mark, and the tormentor and rapist of my beloved, was snoring fast asleep in his favorite leather club chair inside his private black museum. I crept up to him and held the gun an inch from his head but it just didn't seem sporting to kill my penultimate arch rival that way. So instead, I took a last good look around to admire his. More

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