Page 58 of Wicked Games

Lord Radfoot looked from me to Richard and back again. He held up his hand as he measured his words carefully. “Are we breaking character here? Or is this still part of it?”

Breaking character?

What was Mike talking about?

Mike?

My heart began to race. Why did I just refer to him by a Christian name? And not even his proper one. His name was Lord Arthur Radfoot and it was highly improper of me to even think of his Christian name. But why did Mike sound right?

I could feel anxiety begin to twist and turn in my stomach. The hysteria must be returning. The confusion felt worse than before. My corset felt tight and began to itch as I felt a bead of sweat trickle between my breasts.

I began remembering Lord Radfoot in strange attire. We were both on an actor’s stage together but not Shakespeare’s Globe like I had seen in books. There were people all around us. Rose was there but I remembered calling her by a different name. Jane! I remembered calling her Jane.

I tried to block out the memories. They were not real. Just fantasies and dreams brought on by my hysteria.

London. Cars. Jeans. Coffee. Noise. Cell phones. School. Friends. Martinis. My flat. Dancing. Internet. Noise. America. Television. Pizza. Fitbit. Noise. Electric light. Computers. Game of Thrones. Disneyland. My parents.

It all swirled around my head like a fast-spinning carousel filled with noise and flashes of color.

It’s not real.

This is not real.

It’s not real.

This is not real.

“Sure, I like Lizzie. Who wouldn’t? She’s hot and also great, but I can’t compete with billions of pounds, can I?” snarked Mike.

The corners of Richard’s mouth lifted. No one would call it a smile. “No, you can’t. Then there’s that nasty little business from that trip you took last year to Thailand.”

Mike paled. All bravado left him. “How could you possibly know about that?”

“As you said, it’s hard to compete with billions of dollars. Money buys a man a lot of things but one of the most important is information. Leverage over those around him. The power to do whatever the fuck he pleases,” responded Richard coolly.

Mike slumped back into his chair. “Fine. You’ve made your point, Richard.”

“I haven’t but this will.”

I was barely following their conversation. Nothing made sense to me right now. I rubbed my temple. I could feel the hysteria building. I longed for the blessedly quiet fog to return. Things were so much more peaceful inside my head when I focused on what Richard wanted and not on trying to decipher the meaning behind my strange dreams and seeming memories.

I needed his guiding hand. I needed his instruction on how to stop these spinning thoughts.

“Elizabeth, please come here.”

Grateful for his command, I left my seat where I was perched a little away and to the side of them and approached him, stopping when I was standing directly in front of his seated form.

“Get on your knees.”

I didn’t stop to even think about the request. Lifting my skirts, I immediately fell to my knees, arranging my skirts about me.

Yes. This is what I need, to follow his command. I don’t need to think, only obey.

I watched as Richard freed his cock from his trousers. Focusing on the rhythmic pump of his hand as he fisted the shaft and began to move it up and down, up and down, cooled my hysteria and shifted my thoughts to between my legs.

“Open your mouth.”

Mike stood. “Fuck you, Richard.” He started to storm out of the parlor.

---