by Renee Rose
It’s a mix of terror and heady anticipation.
At the bottom of the stairs, the door opens into a dark room that takes me a moment to process as we stand there. Red area lights and small spotlights highlight pieces of furniture where—
Gulp.
People are engaged in a variety of kinky activities, and are outright having sex, all around the large room.
Let me add I’ve never seen people having sex in real life. I’ve never even seen another person naked who isn’t an infant or one of my brothers.
Saying I’ve lived a sheltered life is not only an understatement, it’s an insult. Because the more I learn about the world, the stronger my anger simmers over my family and what they’ve subjected us kids to.
Feelings of which also fly in the face of my faith and trigger a swirling abyss of guilt and confusion within me.
I’ve barely started unpacking all of that over these past ten months of freedom and rebirth. Maybe the last thing I need right now is a relationship with a sexy older guy who seems to be the singular answer to almost every last one of my prayers.
Then again, this isn’t a relationship. Even though I’m already getting the admittedly irrational impression that if Tiberius has his way, we will absolutely be having a ‘relationship.’
He releases his grip on me to stand behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “What do you think?” he whispers in my right ear, raising the good kind of gooseflesh all over my body. “Anything you’d like to try?”
His words gently seep into my consciousness as my brain struggles to… process everything. I don’t even realize I’m speaking until after I have. “Yes.”
His sexy, low, rumbling chuckle warms me as my cock surges again. “What strikes your fancy, baby? What would you like to try?”
My mouth feels like cotton and I can’t articulate the mass of desires rolling through my mind.
Instead, I slowly nod. “Yes.”
He chuckles again. I didn’t know it was possible to become addicted to a sound.
I feel his cool breath against my ear. “Let’s step inside, and I’ll show you a world you never dreamed existed.” His arm settles around my shoulders and he starts guiding me into the space. “Your world is about to change in ways you can’t possibly fathom.”
One thing’s for sure—I know he’s absolutely right.
Chapter 7
Intoxicating.
Baker’s scent is already imprinted upon my senses. It doesn’t help that his wide-eyed wonder is sexy as fuck. My cock and fangs both want to be buried inside him.
Right now.
Where to start, though? From the way his pulse thrums, to the scent of his arousal, everything tells me I’ve hit upon a long-repressed desire he’s now aware can become reality.
I slowly guide him through the space to one of the black leather sofas that’s currently unoccupied. As we settle into our seats, with him tucked carefully against my side and my arm still draped around his shoulders, I’m not certain he’s even aware that we’ve moved. His focus flutters from vignette to vignette, trying to take in everything at once, overwhelming his brain almost to blue-screen status.
That’s fine. I’m looking forward to witnessing his journey and being the one to guide him through it. It restores a sense of wonder in myself I never dreamed possible to recapture.
I feel excited in a way I haven’t in longer than I’d care to admit.
Why this human at this time? With the veil between the living and dead so thin this time of year, perhaps it’s Fate finally tossing me a softball to knock out of the park.
If I can continue to woo him and don’t manage to scare him off.
In my mind, I’m already planning how best to reveal my darker truths to him. The last thing I want to do is wipe his mind after the reveal, because I’d rather die than harm him. That means I need to carefully woo him and twine him—willingly—around me so tightly that he never wants to release me.
Yep. This is definitely more than mere infatuation or sexual desire roiling my soul.
On the far side of the space, Reynolds, a vampire I’m not very familiar with but have seen at the club a few times before, prepares to scene with a young woman I don’t recognize. Considering she wears a collar around her neck, and matching black leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles, I’m guessing she belongs to him. They’re at one of the St. Andrew’s Crosses and he’s stripped her naked, except for her black stiletto heels. From the variety of items he’s lined up on the implement rack next to him, I think it’s safe to assume he’s no rank amateur.
Baker’s leaning into me now and the heat from his body washes through me, warming me to my very core in a way I haven’t felt in too damned long. Not even from other human partners I’ve had.
Like only he can penetrate my outer shell.
Isn’t that one more sign we’re meant to be?
I deeply inhale, savoring his scent. I can’t help dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “Questions, baby?”
He slowly nods. “Yeah. I can’t think of any right now, though.”
Nuzzling the top of his head, I draw him even closer to my side and he willingly presses against me. “He’s going to do an impact play scene with her.”
Reynolds pulls the woman into his arms and slants his lips over hers in a long, deep kiss. Then he slowly turns her so she’s facing the cross, and clips her wrist and ankle cuffs to it.
Terror fills Baker’s voice. “Is… is he going to hurt her?”
I force myself not to laugh. “Only in the ways she wants him to.”
To violate consent here in the club and harm a human in the process is literally an automatic death sentence. Lucius and Selene viciously enforce that rule, too. Even though they’re not present tonight, everyone who plays down here knows if they don’t follow that rule, one of us will enforce it for our king.
Without hesitation.
With so many willing humans around, including employees who are paid to be available for that purpose, it’s inexcusable for any vampire to force a human against their will.
As Reynolds begins his scene with his submissive, I sense Baker’s already elevated pulse thrumming, his body practically vibrating with excitement. Knowing Baker’s focus is locked on that scene in particular, I carefully explain what’s going on, making sure to point out things that might not be obvious to my precious little newbie.
Like how when Reynolds reaches around her body and cups her breasts, the way her butt adorably wiggles against him and how her body tenses is a sure sign he’s likely pinching her nipples.
I force my hands not to wander over Baker’s body. I bet if I brushed my fingers along the front of his shirt and across his adorable pecs, I’d find his nipples are hard.
From the unmistakable scent of pre-cum wafting from him, I’m positive his cock’s hard, too.
As Reynolds scenes with his submissive, Baker clings to me, until he’s literally sitting in my lap, his arms wrapped around my neck.
I’m not certain he even realizes he’s doing it but I’m not about to stop him, either. I wrap my arms around him and continue whispering in his ear while Reynolds flogs his submissive with a suede mop flogger. To the uninitiated it looks painful, but that kind of flogger would only hurt someone if you hit them in the eye, or accidentally caught a piercing and ripped it out, or something like that.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Baker whispers.
My right hand settles between his shoulders, at the base of his neck, and I start gently kneading his muscles. “Not that kind of flogger. It’s more like a thuddy kind of massage.”
“I thought whips like that were painful?”
I struggle not to laugh because I don’t want him to think that I’m making fun of him. “For starters, that’s a flogger, not a whip. And yes, some floggers can be painful, but that one has really soft, suede falls.”
“Oh.”
“I have one like it, if you’re interested in seeing it.” While mos
t of my toys are at home in my private playroom, I keep a bag here at the club, just in case I ever play with someone.
He nods, but his gaze remains fixed on the scene before us.
Reynolds switches from the flogger to a riding crop, slowly layering stroke after stroke up and down across the backs of his submissive’s thighs, red welts appearing in their wake. She squirms and tests her restraints with each impact but doesn’t even come close to safewording. With my hearing, I know her squeals and cries indicate pleasure in the pain she’s enduring.
Baker’s fingers curl and tighten, digging into my jacket and making my cock twitch. His low, breathy voice makes my cock throb. “How can you say he’s not hurting her?”
“Because she has a safeword. She can immediately stop everything if she wants to.”
“She… can?”
“Yes.” I can’t help nuzzling his ear. It’d be so easy to trail my lips down his neck, to his pulse point, and—
“How does she do that? Safeword?”
He’s fucking adorable. “All she has to do is say her safeword. The default here is red, yellow, and green. Like a stoplight. They might have a different safeword they use, but whatever it is, if she says it, he has to stop.”
I never knew my self-restraint was so fucking strong. I could easily stand, carry Baker over to a vacant spanking bench, strip him naked so I can see every inch of his gorgeous little body, and show him how good pain can feel.
How one can come to crave it.
And crave inflicting it.
Not just because it sweetens the taste of his blood, either, but because I love inflicting pain on a willing partner.
Speaking of sweetening blood—Reynolds steps behind his submissive and pulls her hair away from her neck, about to go in to feed. I quickly turn Baker’s face toward me because I don’t want to have to resort to thralling him into forgetting what he saw.
Instead, I kiss him.
When he draws back I let him, but then his hands are on the back of my head, his lips are on mine, and he’s kissing me.
I take over and lightly sweep my tongue over the seam of his lips, requesting entrance. His lips part for me with a soft moan that I swallow even as, from across the room, my sensitive hearing picks up the woman’s soft squeal that devolves into a moan of pleasure as Reynolds’ fangs pierce her flesh. When I glance that way, I see he’s got one arm around her, his hand between her legs and playing with her clit as he feeds, to amplify her pleasure and the taste of her.
The tang of fresh blood pierces my brain, making me fight to keep my fangs from sliding down and drawing some fresh from the source of my new possession.
The boy doesn’t know it yet, but he is already mine. Tasting his mouth tells me he’s sweet, earthy, warm, reminding me of a fresh-baked dinner roll straight from the oven, comforting and delicious in his searing heat. Like I could devour every ounce of him and never feel sated.
I don’t end our kiss until I’m certain Reynolds has finished feeding and it’s safe for Baker to look around again. I rest my forehead against Baker’s and cup the back of his head with my hand even as I avoid staring into his eyes.
Because it’s too easy, too tempting to thrall him right now and make him mine.
That’s not what I want.
I want him to want me as much or more as I now want him.
“Interested in trying anything, baby?” I ask.
He nods, his forehead never breaking contact with mine.
“What do you want to try first?”
He takes a deep breath and slowly looks me in the eyes. “Everything, as long as it’s only with you.”
Chapter 8
That kiss.
My first real kiss.
My first romantic kiss.
It’s like Tiberius breathed part of his soul into me. My body feels lighter, like if he released me, I’d float to the ceiling.
I’m going to blame this on being drunk even if I’m not. It’s infinitely easier to side-step my fear and turn myself over to this hunk. Tiberius is a solid mountain I cling to for safety while a tsunami of anxiety and desire threatens to suck me under and drown me in my old fears.
I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
Even more than my freedom from my family.
Tiberius stands, lifting me with him before carefully setting me on my feet. With a protective arm around my shoulders, he walks me across the room to a vacant bench in a far corner. When he starts covering ground rules with me, I can’t help staring into his gorgeous blue eyes, and everything he says pretty much goes over my head.
“Understand?” he asks, and I nod. I could be signing my life away to him for all I know.
Shockingly enough, I don’t even care.
He smiles and reaches out, cupping my chin. “I need to grab my bag. Stay right here.”
I nod. He steps over to a suit-clad man standing watch a few feet away, whom I assume works here. After a brief word with him—and both of them glancing my way, which appears to be Tiberius asking him to keep an eye on me—Tiberius sprints away, apparently moving faster than any human is capable of.
But I don’t really have the brain cells to process that right now. I turn around, watching as, at another station, a well-dressed woman in boots and a black leather corset starts tying up a naked man who looks almost as hunky as Tiberius. And the man’s cock is hard and—
Gulp!
I’m still staring at the well-endowed guy’s erection, around which the woman is slowly wrapping red rope, when Tiberius returns with a black bag. He pulls one of the implement stands over and opens the bag, withdrawing a variety of things that look terrifyingly sexy and hanging them on the hooks lining each side of the rack.
It must be the near terror on my face that makes Tiberius chuckle. “Don’t worry, baby. Anything you don’t want me to use on you, I won’t.”
I don’t recognize my own voice. “Can I touch them?”
“Certainly.”
He stands there, arms casually crossed over his chest as I finger one of the floggers. It looks very similar to the one I saw in use earlier, with a black handle and red suede falls. It’s difficult to believe how soft and pliant it feels slipping between my fingers. It certainly doesn’t appear evil in this context.
I summon bravery. “What does this feel like?” I ask him.
“Would you like me to demonstrate to you over your shirt?” His rich, cultured British accent slips like sweet, warm butter across my skin.
I nod a little more eagerly than is probably wise, but over my shirt, that sounds safe, right?
He has me straddle the padded bench and lean forward on my hands, rounding my shoulders as I do. Plucking the flogger from the rack, he steps in front of me. With the bundle of leather draped over his other hand, he holds it close to my face. The falls spill over his palm, the red suede drawing my attention. A whiff of leather floats to me and I know it’s now my new favorite scent.
“What are your safewords?” he asks.
I know we covered this already but I struggle to recall them. I want to stare up into his eyes all night and let him have his way with me.
Finally, I manage to make my mouth and brain connect and work together. “Red, yellow, and green.”
“Good boy,” he purrs, making my cock painfully press against my zipper.
Those two words stroke something deep inside me that’s never been touched before. If I die at this moment, it’s literally fine. I’ve never felt happier than I do right now.
I can’t remember ever being praised by my family. The first several weeks at my job, I had difficulty accepting compliments from people there, especially the bakery owner. I was so certain everyone was lying to me, or about to deliver some sort judgment against me. Only after carefully watching others over several months did I realize this was yet another of those “normal” things I missed out on because of my toxic upbringing.
Tiberius walks around behind me. Even though I’m anticipat
ing his touch, I still flinch when his hand settles between my shoulder blades.
“Where are we, baby? Give me a color.”
The music and sounds of others playing around us fade away as I close my eyes. The world disappears, leaving us in a sexy bubble I hope never pops.
All I hear and focus on is the sound of his voice. “Green, Sir.”
From his sharp intake of breath, I know that was the perfect answer. He must have leaned in, because his whispered reply speaks into my ear. “My very good boy.” He lightly nips the shell of my ear, making me gasp, shiver.
I want his hands and mouth roaming all over my body. I want him to do to me all the things I watched on my phone.
I want him.
Maybe he won’t be my forever, but I will forever regret it if I don’t at least offer myself to him for tonight. This man formed as a fantasy in my brain and here he is, in the flesh, offering to make all my darkest fantasies come true.
What idiot would turn that down?
Not me, that’s for sure.
His hand slides up to cup the nape of my neck. Then through my shirt, I feel the weight of the falls settle on my lower back, slowly trailing up and down my spine.
But it’s his hand cupping my neck that I focus on. The contact.
Other than shaking hands, and the occasional, friendly hug from someone at work, I’m sorely lacking in human contact. In my family, only little children and married folks get hugs, unless it’s girls hugging girls.
Girls hugging boys, even their siblings, was actively discouraged.
When a wave of familiar anger blasts through me, I quickly shove it back. My ghosts have no business, no right to be here tonight.
Tonight is my night.
The hand on my neck slides up to the back of my head, where he buries his fingers in my hair and starts massaging my scalp. I’m a little embarrassed by the moan that rolls free, but I can’t help it. It feels sooo darned good.
Meanwhile, the falls disappear from my back and then lightly land, tentatively, testing me, I’m certain. Between his fingers massaging my scalp, and that, I quickly sink into a dark, velvety cocoon of pleasure. Even my uncomfortably aching cock fades to the background as that sweet, soft pleasure flows and spreads through me.
