The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

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“Ricardo,” she purred, and pulled free from his fevered clutches. “You’re making it extremely hard on me.”

His flashing black eyes twinkled with amusement. “Sí. And you make hard-on for me. See?” Proudly he stepped back, revealing the tented front of his velvet robe. Slowly, like a master unveiling a work of art, he pulled loose the belt and opened the robe, exposing his erect demands. His sleek cock was the color of sandalwood.

Tempted, Honey eyed him for a long moment. Ricardo Prado was about the most appealing hunk of man she had encountered lately. Just over six feet of hardened flesh, tapered waist, slim hips, muscular thighs, with curly black hair and a boyish, devil-may-care charm that had won her over within moments of their meeting in Mexico City at the National Soccer Championships. Hailed as one of the world’s greatest players, a natural successor to the sensational Pele, Ricardo was to be the subject of her next exclusive and internationally published article. But ever since their arrival back at her palatial home in Hillsborough, California, his mind had been more on in-depth screwing than on in-depth interviewing.

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