by Joey Hill
Tears stung her eyes, unexpected, and she was suddenly short of breath, seeking air, forgetting she didn’t really need it. That happened sometime when a made vampire panicked, as if muscle memory kicked in from their human days. She’d overcome it decades ago, because thinking she was hyperventilating during a fight could be fatal. But she was safe with him, and he’d overwhelmed her.
She’d told him she couldn’t be marked, that she healed too quickly, and he’d adapted, marked her in a way that had to be washed off.
“Dangerous. Vulnerable. Just. Uncertain. Need. Incomparable. Irresistible.” He etched those words as well. Then he removed the corset sleeve, taking his time so she felt the gradual easing of her shoulders, the caress of his hands as he stripped the tube off to free her arms. He traced the impressions the lacings had left, passed his strong hands over her shoulders kneading the strained muscles as he bid her to lay limp over his lap, her face down in the cushion again. It was ecstasy, the way she could be simultaneously so aroused and so tranquil under his command when her mind was captured by everything he was doing.
At last he turned her over, cradling her in his arms. His rigid cock pressed against her hip through his swimsuit.
She was covered in tiny crimson marks, his blood. The rivulets of it marked his chest, his arm, his abdomen. She wanted to taste him everywhere.
“Everything.” That was what he’d written on the inside of her thigh. As his fingers settled there, he looked up at her, met her eyes. “You’re the universe on the head of a pin, my lady, and it’s in every line of your body, every look you give me. You’re shaking so hard, so pale…”
Easing her to the ground between his knees, he stood over her to remove his swimsuit before he sat down, picked up the quill again. He punctured his inner thigh, a small notch where the blood welled quickly. Gathering it up on his fingers, he smeared it over his cock, began to stroke. She pressed toward his jutting member, but he closed a hand on her shoulder.
“Not yet. I’ll tell you what you get to suck and when. Got it?”
“Yes…”
“Yes, what?”
A little breathy sigh of relief escaped her, and she saw his eyes get even more intent. “Yes, Master.”
“Close your eyes.”
She obeyed, lips parting. He must have levered his cock downward, because he rubbed it over the tops of her breasts as her chin quivered with the effort to keep it lifted despite the aroma of blood, of the pre-come gathered on the slit.
“I liked holding your breasts together and fucking them. Sometime, I’ll do that until I spew. But for now, you drink.”
He directed her to that puncture in his thigh, put her mouth over it. “That one puncture won’t be enough. Use your fangs, my lady.”
She really was more depleted than she’d realized by the session in his dungeon room and this. Stress could deplete calories for humans; she hadn’t realized the same was true for vampires. In her odd floating state she found herself licking and savoring the taste of him, moving her mouth slowly on him as he stroked her head with that one hand. But her ears and the movements of his body told her he was stroking himself as well, his knuckles brushing her ear and cheekbone every once in a while as he masturbated while watching her feed.
She never wanted these ten days to end. Maybe she could pretend they never would, that she could just stay here in his apartment, be his always…
“Put your mouth on me now,” he said roughly. “Take me as far back as you can.”
§
Maybe vampires had better control of their gag reflexes. He wasn’t sure, but after she clotted the wound made in his thigh with only a couple quick kitten licks, apparently a perk of vampire saliva glands, she turned her head to the task he’d ordered and damn well pretty much took all of him. The little scrape of her fangs as his broad head broached that hot mouth sent a ripple of visceral pleasure through him.
She sucked him in, her tongue an agile gift, stroking and teasing, flicking and swirling. All while those succulent lips slid up and down his shaft, her hand circling his base to grip, the other cupping his balls, stroking. He kept her hair in his fist, loving the thick, shining weight of it, the way she gasped when he yanked her down on him harder, making her lose her balance so she had to grab hold of his thighs again.
I’m the one in control here, my lady. You’re servicing me, and I want you to push yourself. Take me deeper, suck harder. This isn’t a beauty contest. It’s about sucking off your Master, because he wants to come in your mouth, watch you struggle to swallow him down.
She gave a half hiss against him, redoubled her efforts, and he felt the shift in energy to where he’d wanted her. She needed to be pushed and tested. Not too soft and easy. He’d given them both that a moment ago, but his instincts told him not to draw that out too long.
“Hands behind your back,” he ordered. “You do this only with your mouth.”
She didn’t like that, wanting to touch him, but she complied. His balls were drawing up, his body rocking into her, cock thrusting into her mouth. He used the hold on her hair to give him leverage. Stress tears rolled down her cheeks and now she was fighting her gag reflex. When her fangs scraped him a little more enthusiastically, he rolled with it, pushing farther into her mouth but moving his thumbs down to hold her mouth open wider, straining her jaw.
“You bite me, I’ll extract those fucking fangs with pliers.”
He’d already learned that savage side of her responded to the threats, probably because he could call forth his own savage side that would genuinely mean it…in words. In truth, he’d murder anyone who caused her true fear or pain.
Her tongue kept working over him, and his cock convulsed. He pushed her down on him and held her tight there, her nose and chin buried in his pubis and testicles, his cock at the back of her throat. As he jetted, she tried to submit to that iron hold, not fight it. As for him, he had all he could do not to black out, the climax was so violent. He spewed come into her mouth three, four, five long streams, hips working, rocking against her face as she gasped, tried to keep up.
When he finally let her come up for air, he tipped up her face. Thanks to how insistent he’d been, there was no way she could have stayed pretty by girl standards. She tried to hide it from him, but he made a warning noise. “I’m the one who messed you up, my lady. It’s my pleasure to look at you with tears staining your cheeks, your mouth smeared with my come and your saliva, your cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes bright. You look fucking beautiful to me.”
His voice softened as she swayed. “Hold onto my knees.” He molded her hands over them, made sure she’d stay upright as he stretched out over her to retrieve his T-shirt from the edge of the futon. He used it to wipe her mouth, nose and eyes, then covered her lips with his, scenting his climax on her sweet mouth. She kissed him back with fervor, conveying her own arousal. She was revved up, spinning, so worked up that when he put his hand down between her legs, her clit was as swollen and wet as he could want it. He thought about suckling that ripe fruit into a full explosion of juices into his mouth, but he had other ideas. Hell, he couldn’t choose between all the things he wanted to do to her.
Catching the choker, he tugged on it, toppling her to her hip so she’d lean against the futon for support. He rose to don his swimsuit again, then pushed the coffee table out of the way. “Forehead down.” She looked puzzled for one second too long, and so he pushed her there with his hand on the back of her neck, bringing her ass up in the air with a hand underneath her abdomen. He shifted her so she was centered in front of the futon, facing away from it, and gave her buttocks about ten swats, finishing up with a bruising knead of her backside, pinching her with hard fingers until she was quivering and trying her best not to flinch. Sitting back down on the futon, he bent forward and laid his lips on one shuddering cheek.
“Hold your weight on your hands, my lady.” It was the only warning he gave her before he pulled her legs up, bracing her knees on his shoulders and
leaving her face down over the edge of the futon between his knees, her head hanging down to the floor. As she scrambled to use that vampire flexibility to balance herself, he did what he could to destroy that balance. He lifted her lower body to his mouth and drank his fill of that full, juicy clit.
She came, instantly, violently, beautifully. He had to band his arms around her waist, as she clung to his legs, her upper torso twisting as she shrieked her pleasure. Her clit spasmed under his lips, her climax short, sweet spurts on his lashing tongue. He shifted his grip, grasped her bottom in both hands, kneading those sensitive globes as they writhed under his touch. He held her fast, made her feel every overwhelming sensation.
Oh…too much. Too much… “Stop…no…don’t stop…oh God.”
At a certain point, it was no longer a flood through her mind but was starting to reach her lips. She’d had to keep all those words locked in her mind during her masturbation fantasies, afraid her servant would overhear and guess what she truly was, what she truly needed.
You don’t need to do that here, my lady. I want to hear you. I know what you are and what you need.
Amid the cries of pleasure, he heard the broken words behind them, spinning around in her mind like constellations around the sun.
Want to give him everything…feeling…never thought…have again…
The flash of her heart, wide open, so vulnerable, almost stopped his own heart. The climax blew through her like a tornado, leaving sensual devastation in its wake. She collapsed to the floor. Or she would have, except he held her, eased her down, put himself around her. She was in a fetal curl on her side, as small as she could make herself inside the span of his body arched over her. He pressed his lips to her temple, her mouth and cheek bone, her throat, then buried his face there as he coiled his arms around her head, held her tight, rocked her.
It’s okay, my lady. I’m here. I’m here.
The way she kept catapulting into subspace so hard and deep, as if he were her oasis after decades in a desert, was the most amazing gift a sub had ever given him. He’d always known a sub’s trust to do that was a gift, but this was beyond that. It felt the way a miracle should.
She’d zoned down deep, so deep he kept rocking her for quite a while, until hard trembling turned to little jerks, twitches, the occasional vibration. Lifting her from the floor, he kept her cradled in his arms, and carried her to the workout room. He had a massage table here as well, since twice a month the island masseuse came and did therapy on him, ongoing maintenance for those old injuries. He preferred to do that in the privacy of his home, rather than the more public area of the island’s employee health clinic.
Hooking the table with a foot, he brought it out from the wall enough that he could move around it, lay her down. He eased her to a position on her stomach, put her hands down by her sides, spread out her ankles and used the slits in the frame of the table to bind both wrists and ankles, hold her there, just as he’d done at the club.
She could easily break the Velcro, but she needed the reassurance of restraint after that wild flight. Her fangs weren’t even fully retracted. As he bent to kiss her mouth, he teased them with his tongue. She made another of those incoherent sounds, and the points receded. He didn’t want her inadvertently puncturing those pretty, full lips.
She’d earned every bit of aftercare he could give her. He started to ground her once again with a full body massage, because it was clear she enjoyed aftercare. She needed to feel her Master’s hands on her, owning her.
It was one of the reasons he looked forward to doing it. A reminder that the session might be over, but her ass still belonged to him. As well as everything attached to it. He thought of what he’d written on her, still saw the evidence in partial scrawls and loops, though some of it had rubbed off as a result of their movements. Though he regretted having to wash it all off, he couldn’t take her to the lagoon pool that way. Moving to the open doorway of the bathroom, he kept a close eye on her as he ran a basin of warm water.
Coming back to her side, he wiped her down all over, every nook and crevice. When he put heated compresses on her anus and cunt, she made a noise of pleasure and languorous arousal both.
I don’t really need aftercare, you know. Vampires heal from everything, even strained muscles.
Even the words in her mind were slurred, but that she’d attempted communication said her disoriented mind was trying to grasp some sort of control. He wasn’t going to put up with that.
“Every sub needs aftercare, my lady. Now shut up, or I’ll gag you.”
He said it in a mild, gentle tone. She subsided with only a token sound of complaint, but enough to deserve a short pinch. After that, though, he massaged her neck, worked his way over her shoulders, her back, loosening the tense muscles. He’d coated his hands with a lotion that smelled like sandalwood spice, and she responded to that as well, inhaling it on a sigh. Every so often, she’d quiver under his touch, another reaction he savored. Hell, he savored everything she did, including the flow of her thoughts, so easy and uninhibited.
He was caring for her efficiently, confidently. Like he’d touch something, someone who belonged to him. She hadn’t felt like she belonged to anyone since Jared, but she remembered the way that felt.
It’s a fantasy. A fantasy that will have to last a lifetime.
The first part made him frown, then she spoke. Her words were still slow, dreamy, making him smile.
“Why did you say your eyes used to be blue?”
“The explosion affected the pigment in my eyes.”
“I saw the blue for a moment, at the docks. Like cobalt. Beautiful. You’re not very…tan.” Her eyes were half shut. “Not quite as pale…as a vampire, though.”
“Yeah, not quite that pale. Sunburn on the scars makes my doctor bitch. She and her latex glove scare me. So I stay out of the direct sun.”
Her lips curved. “Every man’s fear.”
“Not fear,” he said stoutly. “I’m just averse to having a doctor’s hand up my ass.”
“You don’t seem to worry about how I feel about it.”
“Master’s prerogative.” He leaned over her, taking a firm grip of one buttock. “I put my hands wherever I want and make my sub love it.”
She closed her eyes all the way, but that smile stayed. “Too full of yourself as is. Won’t…confirm that.”
“Ah, my lady. Your mind already did.”
“Cheater.”
“Again, Master’s prerogative. Any means, fair or foul, to make you surrender your soul.”
“You and Lucifer.”
“We text regularly.”
The banter said she was returning to earth, but he liked how she stayed relaxed, inside and out. He retrieved the bikini from the living room, satisfied to find the bottoms had been sufficiently soaked by her arousal before he’d removed it. That was the way he wanted them to stay. He lifted her up like a rag doll, all that lovely hair streaming over his arm, and made her hold onto him as he fixed the swimsuit back in place.
“Fran dresses me sometimes. For formal events.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve been to a formal event, my lady, you might be called upon to dress your Master if we go somewhere like that.”
The slip had cost him some ground. Her expression transformed to that wary, puzzled look. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that here.”
“No. Probably not.” That much was true. While the 24/7 area had a dress code, it certainly wasn’t black tie. He tied the gauzy wrap around her hips again, made her slide her feet back into the pretty rhinestone sandals. “If you want to take advantage of the bathroom, go ahead. I’m going to call Vardalos, check in with him about a couple things. Then let’s go for a swim.”
“Yes, Master.” She said it without thinking, caught herself, looked at him sidelong to make sure it was okay. Not because she regretted saying it.
Christ, if he was going to get an erection every time the word left her mouth, he’d
need medical help before long. When he gave her a pinch, he caught the tiny smug smile on her lips. She’d probably dipped into his mind to be sure she hadn’t screwed up. Only the spontaneous response that crossed her mind saved her from punishment.
It makes me just as aroused to say it. Master.
Chapter Eight
Kaela sat on the lagoon’s edge, her pale body bathed in moonlight as she gazed around her. There were other swimmers, but unlike the busy pool where they’d met the obnoxious male, there was enough room to have privacy. Particularly since the design of the pool incorporated voluptuous curves, overhanging vegetation and Grecian pillars placed within its depths. The result was a variety of shadowed alcoves, and the few other bathers were like ghosts whose sensual utterances drifted down on the wind. Sometimes there were hushed gasps, and those silhouettes she detected seemed like one shape, undulating as they came together in the water, letting their desires and the surroundings take them over.
Her vampire senses let her hear, see and scent clearly what they were doing. Since her mind was open to him, Garron could enjoy the same. She liked giving him that. In her brief glimpses into his mind, she’d seen just how hard he had to work to see and hear, even with the help of the auras. He leaned against the pool wall next to her, his hand gliding up and down her calf, playing with her foot beneath the water. Her hand rested on his shoulder, flexing as she responded to the stimulation. After the earlier intensity between them, everything was like a lovely, slow moving dream. She never wanted the sun to rise again.
“Take off your top,” he ordered, low.
She didn’t even hesitate, and she felt his approval, the only light and warmth she needed. As she untied the top, pulled it free, he turned, putting his hands on either knee to spread her wider, move himself between her legs. His palms slid up her thighs, thumbs pressing into the crease between thigh and sex before curving behind her, down into the swimsuit bottoms.
