Sandra sat next to Creighton in a late model black Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Roadster convertible. The soft sounds of Kenny G echoed from the speakers, the warm sun shone through the open roof against her face and shoulders. Her hair hung loose, blowing freely in the breeze from the drive, the sights serene and breathtaking. The yacht had anchored in Nice where Creighton met with a delivery boy who brought the car to him. They drove along the middle coast road, he told her was known as Moyenne Corniche, or Highway 7, passing through Ezevillage and Grande Corniche. Creighton told her they would stop in Fontvieille for lunch before going into Monaco to meet with his sister’s seamstress. Sandra felt relaxed and happier than she ever remembered feeling. France was a marvelous place and she could easily envision herself coming back here. “What are you thinking?” he asked her over the sounds of the saxophone from the stereo and the wind from the drive.“I was thinking about how beautiful Fr

Sandra found herself standing on top of a small stool, a pair of white shoes poking out from beneath it, so the gown was extended to its full length. The train was draped around the small platform in front of the mirrors, that had been covered with thick black cloth, to prevent reflection from the camera’s flash. She had yet to see how she looked, other than from her own perspective, but assumed it would be wonderful just from everyone’s expression. The veil was a wreath of white silk flowers and rhinestones with a long lace trail that hung down to her hips. It was slipped carefully over the bun that Marie had pinned her hair in, and a pair of pearl earrings and matching necklace had been used to complete the picture. Marie told Creighton there were gloves, but she would rather Sandra hold them with the bouquet as not to hide the beautiful ring she wore.The pictures took another forty-five minutes to complete, and by the time she was allowed to step down from the stool, Sandra found

“Tell the captain to pull anchor,” Creighton ordered as soon as they stepped on board his yacht. “We’re leaving immediately. Miss Dennis and I will have supper in our room.” Garman nodded in acknowledgement of Creighton’s orders and left the deck while the two walked into the parlor.“How long before we get…where are we going?” Sandra asked as he shut the glass door.“Hyères. It’s a port south of here. It’s not somewhere that we can easily be followed, at least not as quickly as they found us here and not a place I normally visit, so we should be able to throw the boys off our track.” He led them to the leather sofa and continued to hold her hand as they sat down together.“How did they find us?” she asked while the roar of the ship’s engines started.“Something else you should know,” he said glancing down at their conjoined fingers rather than at her. “I own the hotel you were staying at. It wasn’t difficult to find me in France. I’m either there or here.” Sandra’s eyes widened as sh

“I need you to not be mad at me anymore,” he whispered, wrapping her in his warm embrace, moving her hips down to meet his thrusts. “I could never stay mad at you,” she assured him. “It’s just that these feelings I have for you scare the hell out of me.”“I feel exactly the same about you. Please don’t be frightened. We’ll work this out together.” He thrust into her harder and quicker, causing her to moan again. “I need you Sandra. Please my love, cum with me.” She moaned again as he whispered his plea to her, his hard thrusting grew more urgent, water splashing against the side of the tub, the bubbles from the jets tickling her hips as she moved.His fingers began searching and found the hidden, pulsating nub of her clitoris, rubbing and tugging gently until she started to moan. Within a few moments, she was feeling the dizziness increase, her climax imminent, and she clung to him, lifting herself off him and quickly ramming back down to absorb full contact of him as his hips thru

He pulled her wrists forward and secured them within the leather restraints, then stepped back, admiring his handiwork. He slowly smiled at her, reaching for the plug-in massager her grandfather uses and plugged it in next to the bed.“Know what this is?” he asked, and she looked at the long handle with the ball on the end.“It’s a massager,” she told him. “My grandfather used it after he injured his knee.” Creighton laughed and switched it on.“Not exactly the same thing,” he told her, pressing the round ball against her breast. She gasped in surprise, watching him smile. “I’m going to put this between your legs and force you to cum. Once you have, I’m going to stop until you calm down and do it again,” he told her. “After I’ve had my fill of watching you, I’m going to love you while you’re tied up. When I’m finished, I’ll unfasten you and you can sleep if you want.”“And if I don’t want to?” she asked bravely, feeling the moisture already begin to pool between her legs. He smiled at