The Vampire Queens Servant

by Joey W. Hill

Chapter Twenty-nine

 

  Their guests left at a courteous time for vampires, half past three in the morning. It had been a successful event, all her formal intentions accomplished, including teaching her servant another vital aspect of the role he was expected to play. He'd exceeded her expectations. Indeed, probably everyone's. Brian had learned a good deal as well. She suspected Debra would be reaping the benefits of that again before the pull of dawn claimed him. He was a handsome boy who tended to approach a new experience with thorough intensity.

  So why did she stand here in her bedchamber, feeling empty? She was in the lower one, but she'd left the passageway to it open. She hadn't commanded Jacob to come to her, though.

  When she last saw him, he'd been finishing up with the catering group. As she stood before the fire warming her hands, turning them over and over, watching the firelight play on her palms, her knuckles, she occasionally reached out with her mind to locate him.

  In the kitchen and dining room, helping with cleanup. Then out back, giving Bran and his pack scraps. The smile that curved her lips felt like a stretched wound as he helped the all-female catering staff get the crates of supplies back to their van. He had such an easy way with women. She was sure he was unintentionally giving them all sorts of fantasies. Any one of them would take him to her bed with little encouragement. Probably two or three at once. She should probably push him that way, allow him to release his frustration. Give him some time and space to get his mind around what had happened tonight.

  She tried to avoid dipping into anything more than the surface layers of his mind. But as she watched the women make any excuse to brush against him, touch his hands when they transferred the crates, she felt his politeness coupled with a complete absence of interest. Nothing toward them. But as she risked it, went deeper, she found there was something explosive below the nothing. It scalded her body, warming it even more than the aura of the flame flickering shadows over her hands.

  The force of restless, dark desire and the simmering lust had only one objective. Her. With each moment he drew closer to finishing his tasks for the evening, it was building. The anticipation of it expanded proportionately in herself.

  She thought of him taking Seanna and bringing Debra to climax, meeting the challenge before him with an erotic creativity she'd not realized he had. Laying Debra out on the table as he held Seanna from behind, his pale body against Seanna's dark skin, his fingers wet from Debra's cunt as he took them to his lips, tasted. . . During all of it, he had rarely let his eyes leave his Mistress's face.

  She shuddered, making herself stay by the fire. Waiting to see what he would do with all that lust mixed with anger. Not once when buried in either woman had that singular focus on her wavered. He'd climaxed with her image firmly before him, and she knew it had been to prove something to her. Something that rose up in her now, tearing at her with savage claws, telling her there was no way in hell she would push him toward another woman's arms. Not now. Maybe not ever. She tried but couldn't brush it off as the obsession of a vampire with her new servant. She'd never experienced this feeling with one before. Not in all her long life. Not even with Rex. He'd called her Mistress. . .

  The grip of that remarkable realization paralyzed her as she felt him enter the bedroom above. He'd see that hazy outline to this chamber, beckoning him closer to her.

  She closed her eyes, a soft gasp of response leaving her as he didn't hesitate, didn't even pause to wonder if he needed permission. Linked with his mind now as if she was the one unable to break the link, she knew he didn't give a damn. All that easy courtesy had vanished, and he had one intent, growing with every stride down the illusory steps.

  She didn't turn from the fire, a straight, indifferent pose. Even though his approach was swift, even though she felt his intention as hard as an urgent cock in her hand, she was not entirely prepared for the way he came up behind her. His hands closed on her shoulders, slid down and increased the tension of his hold so her arms were drawn back. Her fingertips grazed his thighs, planted on either side of her, the hardness of his cock pressed against her hips. She sought a grip in the soft stuff of his slacks as he pulled her back against him and released one of her hands to grip her hair, tilt her head and claim . Her lips.

  Keep your hands on my legs.

  She sucked in a trembling breath as he savaged her mind with the command the way he was savaging her mouth. He knew she didn't have to obey, that he didn't have the strength to make her obey. And yet. . . She sensed the certainty in his mind that he could seduce her to his will and would, by God.

  She thought of those long, clever fingers deep in Debra's pussy, her cries as she writhed. Brian had seized her throat, bending down to suckle her breasts, overwhelmed by the tableau such that he had to be a part of it. Jacob had taken them all to the edge of the cliff. But all along, his eyes had promised she was the only one he intended to take over it with him.

  She couldn't keep up, his teeth biting her lips, mouth sucking the air out of hers, his tongue stroking and caressing it as deeply as he would caress her cunt. When his hand closed over her throat, a growl broke from her lips, vibrated against his. His other hand left hers on his thigh and pushed under the waistband of her skirt. Seizing a handful of her panties in the front, he rubbed the silky fabric against her crotch, making her writhe as the back dug deeper into her cleft, bringing her up to her toes. She wanted. . .

  Show me how he fucked you. The way you liked it best.

  The question was so shockingly intimate she didn't think to block the image that flashed through her mind until it was too late.

  The answer evoked a specific memory. Rex, pushing her down on her hands and knees before the fire. He'd massaged her with oil, leaving no expanse of skin uncovered until she'd gleamed in the firelight like a creature of water. He'd even run it through her hair, slicking it down on her skull. Holding a hand on her neck to press her cheek to the rug, he'd slid into her, teased her until her hands stretched out, tugging at the long hairs of the carpet. Her whole body quivered with every stroke, aching for release. He told her he loved her that night, a break in his voice. His hold had been ruthless, his touch gentle. He'd shattered her with his merciless tenderness.

  Jacob stilled, his breath on her temple. His fingers rested on her mound still, making soft strokes over her clit, which increased the bittersweet yearning. As he nuzzled her hair, she saw him struggling to get his mind around the revelation. "You did love him. "

  "Yes. I did. Very much. Despite all the wisdom of the world that told me I was a fool for it. " She pressed her temple to his upper arm as his hand continued to hold her throat. She took comfort in that touch, his hair brushing her eyelashes as she closed her eyes. "You can love someone whose cruelty you could not bear otherwise, " she murmured. "Every time you leave, you think you won't want back into hell, yet there's something about those fires you miss. As if there was a secret to them you never truly understood. But you wanted to understand it, enough to burn for the comprehension. "

  His hand lifted and slipped inside the panties to move down, making her feel every millimeter slide of his fingertips as he reached the clean soft skin of her mound, her clit hood and even lower, taking possession of her labia, positioning his knuckles on either side of the clit, applying a knowledgeable pressure that made her moan quietly.

  I understand, my lady. Jesus, but you're teaching me to understand.

  It was an unkind observation, but one she couldn't argue. Nor could she move away, not when his angry thoughts were seductive murmured offerings in her mind, matching his movements without. He unfastened the skirt, let it fall to her ankles, then nudged her arm up to remove the oversized silk poet's shirt she'd worn. She'd removed the sash earlier. When he'd come into the room, she'd seen in his mind his reaction to her standing before the fire, the shadow of her curves and nipples outlined through the fabric. It had goaded his cock, but not as much as her haughty and remote
posture had.

  This was his shirt.

  Yes. Tara and Richard knew it. It sent a message.

  "It helped you assume his mantle. Made them feel a part of him was still in the room, reinforcing your authority. "

  "Very good. Yes. "

  He stripped off the shirt, deliberately balled it up and sent it across the room. She stayed motionless, turned away from him. She listened to the sounds of him removing his own clothes, unzipping the slacks, kicking it all away from him. His knee nudged the seam of her thighs, his arm sliding around her waist. With relentless pressure, he took her down to her knees on the rug before the fire, his body hard and strong and now bare behind her, the heat of his cock pressing against her left buttock. He spread kisses on her neck and shoulders like flower petals drifting over her skin. Romantic, stirring. Fantastical. He eased her back up so she was sitting on her heels. Lifting her hair, he unpinned it, then cupped it in his hands, letting it spill down her back again and again. Dropping her head back, she enjoyed his desire to stroke her hair, feel it pour between his fingers. She closed her eyes, filled with pleasure at the joy he was taking in it, even as his body moved against her, reminding her how empty it was between her legs.

  "Jacob. . . "

  "Sshhh, my lady. You obey my will now. You'll let me pleasure you at my own pace, surrender to my desires. I have many desires when it comes to you. "

  I shouldn't do this. You'll be like a dog I've allowed to misbehave. I'll have to be that much more stern tomorrow to reestablish my authority.

  "You relish that, my lady. You like giving me punishment. Your pleasure brings me pleasure. But let me show you what it is to accept my desire for now. "

  How could she resist him, when he'd done so many things to rouse her tonight? He'd performed to perfection on every level. When he'd defied her, he'd twisted the consequences of his actions with such delectable proficiency she knew Tara, Richard and Brian would not soon forget the evening, and would look forward to the next invitation. They would spread the word, talk about Lady Lyssa's new servant, enhance the impression that she'd not lost an ounce of her allure or power.

  But now, despite the fact she'd taken him from fury to humiliation to climax, here he was, seducing her with a tender form of dominance she'd never experienced before. She had the disturbing thought she might truly be helpless to him at the moment.

  He kissed his way down her spine, slowly pushing her until she dipped forward on her hands again. He spread kisses over her buttocks, his thumb probing her between, the heated entrance that unleashed so many powerful longings.

  "Down on your elbows, my lady. I want to see your perfect ass in the air, your thighs spread and your pussy glistening, hungry for my cock. " He wound his hand in her hair, that clever bondage she would only be able to resist if she overcame vanity, and he knew her too well. She complied, gracefully spreading herself, butterflies quivering in her stomach remarkably at the tension on her hair like a restraint. She knew she was in no physical danger from him. But everything deep within was shaking as if he were threatening the very heart of who she was. All the guards she usually posted to protect her were gone. Her thoughts literally suspended as the tip of him found her and slowly, slowly eased in. Deeper, deeper, and she curved up, meeting him, a cry emerging from her lips as he filled her completely, down into places empty for so long she'd forgotten how vast and dark they could be. Which made it all the more amazing that he filled them. Tightly.

  Instead of pinning her the way Rex had done, he dropped over her, his body covering her, hands placed on the outside of her elbows, his hard upper body pressed all along her back and hips, thighs tucked in behind her buttocks. It kept him seated so his testicles pressed against her clit. His breath was on her neck at the top point of her spine. Tumbling her hair over her left shoulder, he tangled it with her fingers, drawing her down lower, shortening the binding he'd made.

  He touched his lips to the point of her neck. "You may have the greater strength, my lady. "

  Now he kissed her shoulder.

  "The greater wisdom. "

  Back to the neck, so that her breath clogged in her throat.

  "But tonight you've provoked my will, such that you'll be overpowered by it. I'll bring you such pleasure you'll be my willing slave. "

  He'd already accomplished that, and he didn't know it. She would have begged him to move, but one thing she knew from such a long life was never to rush something that felt so good.

  Jacob. She said his name softly in her mind. He began to move.

  Long, slow strokes. Short strokes to tease her clit, but then back to long and slow interchanging strokes that began to inspire low, guttural noises of demand from her, noises he answered in kind as she began to arch back for him, meeting his thrusts. He picked up the pace and the strength, making those deep strokes harder, deeper, more forceful and punishing. Working her hard, covering her like a male predator, sure of his power, seeking his own pleasure but also seeking to make her acknowledge his claim. She saw it flash through his mind. There'd been Rex, and Thomas,and others he didn't want to know about. There were the things she'd made him endure tonight. Richard's touch. The whole performance, her punishment for his disobedience. Through it all, there'd been one word to help him maintain his control. Hearing him utter it in his mind, she lost hers.

  Yours. The way he spoke it was a brand he placed on her soul. It was that which pushed her over, taking away her choice so the ripple of her cunt startled her, a strong, hard reaction seizing her in its grip and tearing a cry from her lips as she threw her head back. Baring her fangs to the firelight, she knew her eyes glinted red as her body rippled with the power of the climax. He anchored himself to her with a hand around her waist, continuing to drive in hard, stretching out the length of the climax so a cry became a scream, her breasts heavy and aching until his hand found one and gripped it, giving her even more anchor for the wild thrusting of her hips. He came as she was riding the second crest, and it pushed her onto the wildly rocking sea of a third, her cunt spasming, her clit so sensitive she screamed when his testicles slapped against it over and over, as he shot his seed into her.

  "Yours, " he said fiercely in her ear. "Yours, no matter who you force me to fuck to prove your damn dominance. All yours, lady. Heart, soul, mind. . . Every drop of my fucking blood is yours. "

  And every tear, she thought, wondering if he realized that the wetness between his jaw and her cheek came from him.

  As Tara had said. Overly sentimental, these Irishmen.

  Her Irishman.