by Joey Hill
She’d noted how his brow furrowed as he talked, as she talked, as if he was fighting a faint headache. She could give him something no one else could. It would be temporary, just like his gift to her, but an offering just the same.
Lifting her hand, she touched his ear. He tilted his head, a curious expression on his face as she felt the shape of the hearing aid, figured out how to remove it from his ear. She shifted onto her knees to remove the other one, stretching her body out against his chest. He let her do it, his hands briefly resting on her waist, her side. When she had the small objects cradled in her hand, she braced her forearm on his knee, looked down at them, back up into his face. “It’s easier to talk without them, isn’t it?”
She knew he could read lips, had seen the way he watched her mouth. He also seemed to pick up just as much of what she was saying from her body language. “My hearing is exceptional,” she added. “So when it’s just us, you don’t have to wear them. You don’t have to worry you’re not speaking clearly enough, too loud or too soft. You can whisper or mumble, and I’ll know what you’re saying. It’s easier that way, right?”
His gaze softened and he touched her face. “Vampires are supposed to be mean. You’re not. Violent, sure. Possibly cruel at times. But mean, no. Not being mean counts for a lot in the world.”
“Not in my world.”
“Maybe you’re worrying about the wrong world.”
She shrugged, settled back at his side. Guiding his arm back around her, she put her head against his shoulder once more. She turned her face up to him so he could read her next question, though. She liked the careful way he watched her mouth, her facial expressions. “So what happened to get you out of that dark place, during all the surgeries?”
“One day, I’m in the hospital, feeling a million miles from anyone, and this nurse who mothers everyone on the ward shows up with a picnic basket. Through pieces of our conversations and talks with my buddies, she’s figured out what my favorite foods are, and has cooked up the best fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and apple pie you’ve ever tasted. So she perches on the edge of my bed, feeds me, listens to me, reaches out and touches my face, strokes my cracked and scarred head. When she gets ready to leave, she just puts her arms around me, hugs me against her big Mother Earth breasts, where you feel like everything will be right with the world. Even when your world is a cracked egg with the yolk running all over a dirty floor.”
He cleared his throat. “She says ‘Son, it’s pretty simple. I don’t care who you are, there’s nothing in the whole world that doesn’t feel better after you’ve had a good meal and the right kind of contact with another human being. You don’t have to have the answers. You just have to have the feeling that you can handle them.’”
Garron touched her chin, made her look up at him. As he leaned in, she thought he was offering a kiss, but as her lips parted for that, he bypassed the opportunity, instead sliding closer to hold her, his bare chest and throat against her face, his arms circling her. The nightgown was still tangled at her waist. She hadn’t bothered to change its position, even when removing his hearing aids. As a result, she could feel him against her breasts.
He brought them both to their feet, her against the wall. A different level of intrigue took over as he pushed the nightgown all the way off of her before hiking her up and guiding her legs into a locked position around his body.
Once he had her there, he went still, letting her feel his bare shoulders under her hands, his chest against her, his hips spreading her thighs wide for him, his groin pressed firmly to hers, reminding her of the throbbing need between her legs.
He didn’t move, didn’t stroke her further, just held her like that, looking at her, seeing her, saying nothing. The position emphasized his strength, let her absorb the muscled power of him pressed against her body so fully, pinning her to the wall. His silence, the full contact that suggested so many possible actions, none of which he was immediately executing, making her guess what he’d do next, were incredibly stimulating, resurrecting the weighted, delicious tension between them.
The nameless feeling that bound them, that connection, also resurrected, making her protests and fears die with their two bodies melded together like that.
“See there?” he said, low. “As I said, I can overpower you, my lady, and I don't need greater physical strength to do it. I see your need for surrender, and I can bring you to that. It boils down to a willing choice.”
The will. It was all about the will. He’d said that too, hadn’t he? She had a formidable will, the will to live when she’d wanted to die, to rule when she’d only wanted to serve. Face to face with him, she felt the strength of a will as great as her own. Perhaps greater, because there was an incredible message pounding through those words. If she surrendered her will to his, his will would care for her. All she had to do was make the choice. Could she do it?
When she’d first become a spy, then later a vampire, then an overlord—hell, every challenge of her life—she’d learned to deal with those things by taking it minute by minute. Then hour by hour. Day by day. So maybe she needed to do the same here, starting from scratch.
Moment by moment.
His eyes were still locked on her face. Under that gaze, she shuddered once. Blinked. Her pulse hammering between arousal and terror, she did the unthinkable.
She lowered her eyes.
His fingers flexed on her in reaction. He stayed motionless for at least another dozen heartbeats, letting her feel the gravity of that decision, making sure of it. She wasn’t sure of anything.
“There it is,” he murmured. “That click. That first tiny sign that you think you can give me your trust. People think it's deference or subservience, and that’s part of it, but as every creature in the wild knows, you don't take your eyes off of what you can't trust.”
Her pulse elevated even more, and he must have detected it. “Easy, my lady. First the right kind of contact.”
Wrapping his hand in her hair, he dropped his other one in between them, trailing his fingers down her upper abdomen, over the indentation of her navel. She licked her lips at the whisper of a touch over her mound and then a tiny sound of need came from her as he found her damp core. He stroked, teasing circles over her clit and the petals of her sex that had her hips lifting to his touch, her nerve endings catching fire.
He lifted his gaze to hers again, locked. “Come for me, Kaela,” he said quietly, “and then you can take however much blood you need.”
His hand on her hair tightened, pulling at the scalp, immobilizing her head, and his clever fingers began to knead and flick. That was all it took. The orgasm surged up against his touch, straining for release. She fought that wealth of feelings, even as he spoke against her ear.
“Come for me, Kaela. Trust me to take you where you need to go.”
A climax. So straightforward, so easy, but it meant so much. She struggled against the flood of fear, the instinct to fight, but this time as that feeling rose, he anticipated her. He plunged his fingers into her fully, holding her up against the wall with his body weight while working her ruthlessly. He tilted his head once more, taking the artery farther from her greedy lips. As a moan broke from her lips, he chuckled, a faintly malicious sound that sent chills over her spine and made her whole body constrict. His hard eyes pinned her.
“Don’t fuck with me, my lady. This blood comes with a price. Your obedience.”
The words were like bullets, and they struck the target. Her body convulsed, arched, struggled, and the climax strangled its way past her reservations. She cried out, throwing her head back so it hit the stone wall. As she continued to writhe, he closed the distance between them again, cupping her skull to protect it and bringing his throat within reach again.
“Feed, Kaela. Take what you need.”
“Give…I need to give what I need…”
He nodded against her temple, understanding her meaning in a way she wasn’t sure she did herself. Even so, she
bit into him with the manners of a starving wolf. His strong arm banded around her, holding her as she took the first sweet gulp.
A first step, he’d said. It was a hell of a first step, as precarious as stepping out on a ledge that might give way. For the first time in a long time, she had to remember when to stop, so she didn’t drain him. She wanted to drain him. His biggest danger to her and to himself was that he made her forget he was mortal.
But he was right. Sometime during the past few pivotal moments she’d decided, whatever the consequences, she wanted those ten days. No price was too high. God help him, he’d made it clear he was willing to pay that same price, and she wanted what he could give her too much to deny herself.
Chapter Four
At length, his hold on her hair became a stroke. As she let her fangs retract, she licked him, swirls over heated male flesh. She nipped and suckled, her hands gliding over his chest, his biceps. She pushed back abruptly, overwhelmed by all of it.
“Easy, my lady.”
As he let her down, she pushed away, needing the space. But she was swaying, turning. The world seemed topsy-turvy. When he tried to get close, she evaded him. Stumbled. A vampire never stumbled.
He stayed at a distance, probably to keep her from staggering in a different direction. She sank down to the floor, trying to get a grip on herself, but it felt like waves were crashing down on her. Each attempt to raise her head, gain control, was knocked asunder by the next wave of disbelief, of feelings that had been held back so long. He must think her a fool, a decades-old vampire cut adrift by simple submission. Yet it was a priceless gift she’d never thought she’d be given again, one that could tear her to pieces with its reality in a way that being deprived of it never had.
He came to her, stood beside her where she sat on the floor. As he touched her head, her eyes closed. He began to stroke again, exerting a gentle pressure so she gradually leaned in, until her head was against his knee. He was threading his fingers through her loose hair, combing it, tugging on it, outlining the curve of her ear, moving around to her jawline, making her lift her chin. Hooking his thumb in the collar, he traced her soft skin beneath it.
“That’s it. Just give yourself to me, my lady.”
“I’m afraid.” Words she never, ever said, now spoken in dawn’s semi-darkness to a fantasy, a mysterious stranger who would be her undoing. “I’m always afraid. And alone.”
“You’re not alone right now. Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
He knelt behind her, a man like the shelter of a tree. His arm slid around her waist, and his other hand moved from her jaw under her hair, to her nape. With more inexorable pressure, he began to bend her forward, moving with her.
She was disoriented enough to give him the control, to let him fold her the way he wished. He bent her over her knees, a fetal position that brought her forehead to the floor, his hips cupped over hers, his chest against her back. His arms slid free to circle her shoulders and head, his lips to her crown as he sheltered her like a cave over a hibernating animal, dark and hushed. The heat of him surrounded her, his breath on her hair, his heartbeat against her back.
With his blood inside her, his scent upon her, she let it happen. Her arms were folded at her sides, and she slid them forward so her fingertips touched his forearms, crossed over her head. She curled her hands over them, brought them in beneath her chin, pulling him in a tighter arc over her. He complied, adjusting so his arms were wrapped over her chest just below her throat. His head was tucked against hers, his mouth cruising along her throat.
“Do you want me inside you, Kaela?”
“Yes.”
“Stay still then. Just like this.”
Her fingers tightened on him. Yes, she wanted him inside her, but only if he didn’t have to move from this position. His heated chuckle against her ear warmed the cold fear in her. “Figures a vampire would be a pushy sub.” But he held onto her with one arm and somehow managed to free himself from his jeans with the other hand, opening them enough that he could guide himself to the slick heat between her folded legs. The press of his body brought her up a few inches off her heels, just enough that he could achieve the desired angle. He fitted the head of his cock there, broad and thick. She quivered, her labia spasming over him.
“Hot, wet and tight. Just the way I like a sweet, submissive pussy.”
Even Jared hadn’t spoken to her like that, because they’d been too young, too unsophisticated. Yet Garron’s words were raw, primal, anything but polished. “Don’t move, my lady. I’m fucking you for my own pleasure. You’re serving me. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, then closed her eyes tight.
His lips touched her cheek bone, her jaw. “You’re too tense, too afraid of this.” He adjusted his hips, slid in another inch. She made a noise of deep need. “Yet your body’s screaming for it.”
Her nails bit into his flesh, found blood. He let out a quiet growl, not an admonition, but a reinforcement of the savage act. When he pushed in several more inches, she tried to raise her hips, but he kept her pinned down. “This is all about my pace. My control. Let me take you where you need to go, Kaela.”
She was at least satisfied to hear the strain in his voice, and a breath escaped her at his thickness, his length, as substantial as she’d expected. He was as aroused as she was, and that knowledge shattered her even more. She put her forehead down between her arms as he slid all the way home, stretching and filling her. In this position she had no control over her own pleasure, so as he withdrew halfway, slid back in, the seesawing motion sent crazy whorls of sensation through her clit and pussy, into her lower belly and shooting up into her chest, causing wild flutters to her heart. She began to make helpless, aroused noises.
“That’s it. Let me hear you, my lady. Serve me well. Give me pleasure.”
She couldn’t think past her own overwhelming response, but she expected that was what he meant. This spiraling ecstasy seemed to be feeding his own actions, for his thrusts grew stronger. And still he kept her from moving.
“Please…”
“Beg all you like, my lady. You’re mine to enjoy as I wish. You’ll come when I’m ready.”
The angle he was employing kept him out of range of any clitoral massage, yet sent mini-climaxes ricocheting through her cunt, skittering over her like electric current. Her mobility was restricted, her body a tight ball beneath him, yet she was vibrating like a tuning fork.
“Please…”
“That’s it. All you have to do is beg.”
Her reality was being destroyed, and she was letting it happen. Welcoming it. She fell over that edge, her pussy clenching him hard, sensation spiraling through her, a compressed cyclone in her current position that had her screaming out without any ability to restrain herself. He only encouraged it by rising on his knees, pulling her hips up and increasing the power of his thrusts, rocking her forward like a doll.
“No…no…” She didn’t know what no meant, except she was still afraid and she didn’t want him to stop. He didn’t, working her through the full orgasm until she was shuddering at his barest move. Even then, he wasn’t done. He pushed her back down into that coiled position, his cock still hard and thick inside her. He wouldn’t let her hold onto her fear. As she came down from the violent climax, he curved tightly over her again, his voice against her ear.
“What does your mind want? What does your soul say when it reaches out to me?”
She couldn’t answer that, but he left it there. One more deep thrust that wrested a guttural groan from her and then he was withdrawing from her body and lifting her. He put her back in the bed, himself around her.
“If you don’t let yourself have these ten days,” he said at long last, “if you get dressed and leave on the next nighttime plane, do you think that changes anything? You’d regret denying yourself the chance of seeing where this could go. That regret could grow so large it would eat you alive from the inside.”
“Yeah. I think you were there when you decided to make this trip, before you ever stepped foot on the island.”
She knew he spoke the truth, but the pull of the sun, combined with the confused state of her body, half lethargy, half please-fuck-me-into-oblivion, pushed her away from any decisions. His fingers, stroking her hair, her face, her shoulder, made the only decision she was capable of making. She gave herself to sleep.
§
Garron sat in his private room in Club Sin, studying the monitor which showed him the feed from Kaela’s room. He’d dealt with some paperwork, checked the readiness of certain toys and pieces of equipment he had in mind to use upon her, but mostly he’d watched her sleep during the afternoon hours. Sitting in his chair, turning it slowly left and right, he kept his eyes trained on the monitor, but his thoughts were covering far greater ground. Toys and equipment were the least of what a good Dom employed to take a sub on the journey. So much of it was a trip of the mind, and to do that right, it was critical to stay several steps ahead of his submissive. Though he found his reaction to her was putting them more neck and neck than he’d experienced in quite a while. Not an unpleasant feeling, just different. Intriguing as hell.
Once he’d left the bed, she’d gradually migrated back to the center, sleeping on her stomach, her arms spread, one leg bent, the silky limb outside the comforter an unconscious tease. It hadn’t taken her any time to take over the bed in his absence. Though he didn’t like to think of her facing so many things on her own all these years, he was caveman enough to be pleased with the evidence that there hadn’t been anyone sharing her bed, at least not long enough to change her preferred sleeping arrangements.
They’d made some small progress. Despite his admonition that there was no need to rush anything between them—primarily because it couldn’t be rushed—he was far too aware of how short ten days were to cover the emotional transition that needed to happen. The only balls he had in his court were how Vardalos had set the scene, helping her believe she could open up in a way she’d craved for so long, and how much she actually did want to embrace her submission.
