by Lani Aames
Dick, sitting in the chair next to the bed, blinked at her. He did that a lot…a long, slow, thoughtful blink when he was taken by surprise. It was like a stall for time, or something. She used to think it was kind of cute. "I shouldn't have expected maidenly protestations," he said after a long pause.
"You should expect a fractured skull, you undead idiot! What the fuck am I doing tied to your bed? Is it your bed? It damn well better be your bed! If I'm in some strange dead guy's bed your ass is grass!"
He brought a hand up to his chin…then got up and abruptly left. She used the chance to yank at her bonds—no good. They were soft, like cloth, but amazingly strong. Were her bonds lined with bubble gum, or what?
She strained to hear, and, very faintly, could hear muffled laughter coming from about thirty feet away. Dick had trotted out to the hall to have a giggle at her expense—fucking great.
The door was thrown open a moment later, and when Dick returned, he was stone-faced. "Sorry about that. I thought I left something on the stove. Now where were we?"
She kicked out at him. The bonds let her leg leave the bed, but not by much. "We were talking about how you're going to die a painful and horrible death—again! What the hell have you trussed me up with?"
The left side of his mouth twitched. "It's elastic lined with titanium wire. It won't hurt you if you pull on it, but it's impossible to break. Even I have trouble breaking it, and I'm quite a bit stronger than you are."
Wanna bet, Dead Man Walking? "Do you have any idea—aarrgh! I'm supposed to be meeting my boss right this minute! What time is it?"
"About two a.m."
"Aaaarrrgggghhh! Jerk! I'm five hours late!"
"Another date?" he asked silkily.
"No, Deaf and Undead, I told you. My boss called—well, he didn't call, one of his lackeys did—and told me to get to the office, pronto. And when he says jump, we leap, dude. I didn't have time to leave you a note, but I would have come back!"
"Sure you would have."
Jane was so annoyed, she felt like biting herself. Instead, she yanked impotently on her bonds again. "Yes I would have, dill-hole!"
"Your boss calls you on a weekend, and you must drop everything and race to his side? Really, Janet. I was expecting a better story than that."
She snarled at him. If he made her much madder, she'd start barking at the goddamned ceiling. "Jesus, to think I was actually looking forward to seeing you! And this is how you take rejection…pervert!"
Something flashed in his eyes then. Way down deep. She was suddenly reminded of the lake back home she used to do laps in. The blue water was pretty and inviting, but the lake was spring-fed, and freezing cold, even in July. You didn't know how cold it was until you committed yourself and jumped. Then you were stuck, and you got moving or you froze.
"So you admit you rejected me?"
"No, doorknob! I told you the truth. You can believe it or you can go fuck yourself."
"Is there a third choice?"
"Yes…untie me so I can make a phone call!"
"I decline."
"You can't just keep me here like a…a…” She practically spat the word. "…pet or something."
"Can't I?"
Suddenly he was standing over her, casually unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. Her eyes widened until they felt like they were practically bulging. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You're a bright girl. You'll figure it out in a minute."
"Don't you dare!"
"I dare much, now that my heart—” He cut himself off abruptly, and she heard the click of his teeth coming together. What the hell was going on with this guy?
Off came the trousers, the socks, the underwear. Nude, Dick was exceedingly yummy…long legs, broad shoulders, and a tasty flat stomach that made her think about hot fudge sauce and whipped cream. His chest was lightly furred with blond hair two shades darker than the hair on his head. His muscle definition was excellent and she had a sudden, maddening urge to touch him, see if his skin was as smooth as it looked. It would be, she thought, like velvet encased in steel. Or marble…he was quite pale.
He reached out and flipped off the light…click. She consciously dilated her pupils and could see him again, a pale blur in the dark. A blur with glittering blue eyes.
She felt his cool hand on her thigh, then his fingers were nimbly unbuttoning her dress. She kicked out again, to no avail. He popped open the clasp on her bra—stupid front clasps!—and with odd care, gently tore her panties down the middle. She hissed at him. Twelve bucks at Victoria's Secret! The bitch's secret was that she marked up her underwear by 600%!
"You are an asshole," she said clearly.
"True enough." He pulled her panties free and spread her dress wide, then pushed her bra out of the way. "Umm. Very nice."
"Go fuck yourself, perv."
"I'd rather not…besides, you're here, so why should I have to? We have hours until sunrise." He chuckled. It sounded like cold water flowing over black rocks. "And Jane…I'm sooooo hungry. I've been waiting and waiting for you to wake up."
"I hope I poison you. I hope you choke until your lungs explode. I hope my blood burns your windpipe. I hope—"
"I get the gist. I hope that the next time you agree to spend the evening with me, you keep your word." Then he was on her so suddenly she didn't have time to pull in air for a gasp. She braced herself as best she could for his brutal entry, for teeth and blood and pain. Oh, when I get out of here I'm going to use your vertebrae for dice. See if I don't. And I won't cry, either. So there.
His mouth skimmed her jaw, and she felt him lick her jugular and nibble gently at the tender flesh. His cool hand closed over her breast, pressed against her warm flesh, and she felt her nipple harden against his palm. Then he was kissing her throat, the middle of her chest, and her stomach. She felt his thumbs on her cunt, spreading her wide, and she felt his tongue snake inside her. The shock of it nearly bent her up off the bed. His mouth was cool, but quickly warmed, and she flinched back, thinking of his sharp canines.
But there was nothing to fear—or there was, but she quickly forgot it as waves of heat started from her crotch and radiated upward. His tongue was flicking in and out of her little tunnel, stabbing her clit, and then he pulled back and licked…excruciatingly slow licks that made her shake. She gritted her teeth as hard as she could and locked away the sounds she wanted to make. So he wasn't being a hard guy—fine. This still wasn't her idea. It still wasn't any different than smacking her around or shoving her up against a dirty alley wall or—or—
He stopped. He pulled back. She started to relax, then felt the sharp sting as he teeth broke the skin over her femoral artery. She gasped—she couldn't help it—and tried to jerk away, but his hands held her fast.
His fingers smoothed the soft pelt between her thighs, and then he was parting her lips again, and stroking her throbbing clit. One of his fingers dipped inside her while his thumb pressed gentle circles around her increasingly slick flesh. Meanwhile, his mouth was busy on her inner thigh, and she could hear soft sucking.
This went on, and on…she quickly lost track of time. She was screaming inside. Whenever she started to get close, he somehow knew, and his fingers would still, or pull away entirely. His mouth never stopped. Then he'd resume again, careful not to push her over the edge. After a while she still wasn't making any sounds, but the bed shook with her trembling.
At last he was sated. He pulled back, then bent to her and gave her a long, leisurely lick. "Ummm. You're so wet. I love that. And you taste soooo good. Everywhere, it seems. Your blood is really rich. What on earth have you been eating?"
She ground her teeth at him for answer. She felt his pelvis settle over hers, heard him chuckle. "Your rage could set the room on fire—better than being cold, I think?"
She didn't dignify that with an answer. Besides, if she opened her mouth—what might she say? She was horribly afraid she might ask—beg—to be fucked. Hard. For a long, lo
ng time. Her cunt throbbed. Her thigh throbbed. It wasn't pain, it was sheer yearning. She had never needed to come so badly.
When she felt him start to enter her, it took every ounce, every drop of her willpower not to strain to meet him. She resisted by listing his many odious offenses inside her head.
That part of him was warm. And hard, and huge. His cock was parting her slowly and gently, and she had a quick thought: He has to be gentle…he wasn't, a few times before, and he hurt his partner. That's how he knows to tongue fuck, first. But that thought spiraled away into confusion as he shoved, and she felt him slam into her. She made a sound, some small sound, and his mouth was instantly on hers. She could taste her lust, and her blood, and then he was whispering into her mouth, "I couldn't help that, I'm sorry—am I hurting you?" His hands were fisting in her hair and now he was groaning and thrusting, and her breath was coming in harsh gasps.
"Please," she groaned. "Please—" Don't stop. Don't ever stop. Harder. More. Faster. Please. Please. Please.
He groaned, too. "I wanted to hurt you but not like…I'll make it up to you, my own—" She heard him grind his teeth…and then he stopped so suddenly he was rigid with the strain of it. She was afraid to move, to breathe, but it didn't matter, he did the unthinkable anyway—slowly pulled out of her. She closed her eyes and whimpered as he went, hating herself for it even as she knew she could have done nothing to quell the sound.
"Jane. Tell the truth, love. Am I hurting you?" She felt his hand caress her cheek and opened her eyes. His teeth were set so hard his jaw trembled. Here was a perfect opportunity for revenge. And she couldn't do it.
"Twice," she whispered.
He bent closer, dropped a kiss to her shoulder. "What?"
"Twice. This is my second time. Ever. In my life."
"You—what?" She could have laughed at his horrified expression, if she hadn't been ready to claw his eyes out for not letting her come. "Oh, Christ! I had no—I thought you—you seemed so tough I was sure—"
Tough? Sure. Real tough. She'd grown a shell around her soul the night she lost her virginity. The night she, in her ardor, broke her lover's back. It had happened on the last day of her freshmen year in college, and her then-boyfriend, as far as she knew, was still in a wheelchair. It was the first and last time she'd chosen someone who wasn't pack. It was, in fact, the last time she'd chosen anyone, until tonight. And she hasn't exactly chosen this, had she?
"You can't say Christ," she whispered. "You're a vampire."
"One of the many myths," he whispered back. He stroked her hair. She could feel his cock on her leg, throbbing impatiently. It didn't give a fuck if she was hurt or not. It had business to get back to. And so did she. "Jane, why did you try to run away from me?"
"I didn't, dimwad. I told you the truth."
"Hmm."
"Now will you please finish and untie me?"
"Pick one."
She nearly screamed. "What?"
"Pick one." He tapped her clit with a teasing finger. "And I'll do it." He kissed her again. He ducked down and licked her nipple, then sucked, hard. In their bonds, her hands curled into fists. "Whichever one. I'll do it. Thoroughly."
"I hate you," she nearly sobbed.
"I know."
"Finish."
"Oh, thank God." In an instant he was pushing his way inside her again, and for a half second she understood why he had been concerned—the friction was delightful, so delightful it was just this side of pain. Then he was pumping his hips against hers and it became more than delightful; it was exquisite.
"Kiss me back," he said into her mouth. "Give me your tongue."
Half-blind from the swamping pleasure, she did so. He sucked on it in time with his thrusts and she could hear someone making high, whimpering noises, and realized with amazement it was her making those silly bitch sounds. The bed thumped in time with their fucking, and then he tore his mouth from hers. "Now," he hissed in her ear, "come now." Then he pinched her nipple, hard, and that spun her into the most powerful orgasm of her life. She could actually feel the spasms ripple through her uterus, and the world got dark and fuzzy around the edges for a few moments. Above her he stiffened and for a moment his grip was painful. "God, my God, Jane!" Then he shuddered all over, and he relaxed as she felt him spurt deeply inside her.
She dozed for a few minutes—it had been a stressful few days. She came all the way awake when she realized he was stroking her lower lip with his thumb. "Get the fuck off me now."
"Ah, you're back. I thought you were being uncharacteristically quiet."
"Off. Now. Hate you. Kill you."
He burst out laughing, which did nothing for her temper. She strained mightily and managed to roll him off her. "I'm sorry, love, it's rude to laugh. But most women in your position would be fetal with shock, sobbing into the bedspread. All you can think about is how to get your teeth into me."
"And how you might taste," she added silkily.
"Umm…well, there are ways to answer that question…"
"Anything you put in my mouth, you're gonna lose."
He sighed. "I suppose it was too good to last. Pity we're only compatible in bed."
"Compatible in—you raped me, asswipe! Do you have any idea what my family is going to do to you? What I'm going to do to you?"
"I did rape you." He tweaked one of her nipples. "At first."
She blushed with shame. He saw it, and it moved him whereas her death threats did not. "No, you're right—I forced you. None of this was your idea. You're still tied up, for heaven's sake. You don't have anything to feel guilty about."
She was, absurdly, grateful for the lie. Not that she had any intention of showing it. "I feel very guilty that I didn't break your neck in that alley when I had the chance now let me go!"
"Sorry, Jane. You had your chance to be free, and you chose to stay."
"I did not—"
"So stay you will, and just like this, until…"
"Oh, what, what? Christ, you're driving me crazy!"
"…until you agree to be my wife."
Long silence, broken by, "You're on drugs."
"Only if you are. Is that why your blood is so rich? God, it was like wine. I don't think I've ever felt better," he said giddily. "I had planned to fuck you and eat you and turn you out into the street in the wee hours of the morning without so much as an 'I'll call you', but now I'll never, never let you go. You're a rare jewel, Jane. An emerald, a ruby."
"I'm tied to the bed next to a crazy person," she mused aloud. Thinking, Never drank from a werewolf before, eh, buddy? Interesting. If you become addicted to me, that could be useful. "And as far as being your wife—you've probably heard this from all your other rape victims, but I'd rather be dead."
"Undead," he said brightly. "Well, we've got time for that. You're still in your prime. Although I have no intention of becoming a widower in forty or fifty years."
"What?"
"Oh, I won't insist upon it right away, but probably within the next ten years or so, I'll definitely have to turn you into a vampire."
An undead werewolf? What's next, Frankenstein's Monster coming over for dinner? "You're out of your fucking mind."
"Apparently so," he said cheerfully, and kissed her, and left her.
Chapter Six
Richard knocked modestly—absurd, given what he had just done to her—and opened the door. She was staring at the ceiling, and didn't look at him when he came in. He nibbled his lower lip and tried to distract himself from the sight of the lovely Janet, spread-eagled on his bed. It was amazing—he'd just spent over an hour with her, but he could have taken her right this minute. And again. And then again.
He was carrying a tray full of savories. She smelled it and sat up as much as her bonds would allow. "Feeding time at the zoo," Jane said moodily. The spot on her thigh where he'd fed from her was purpling. He stifled an urge to kiss it, and beg her forgiveness. She lied, he reminded himself. And you're the monster.
"Oh,
hush. No one in a zoo eats so well. See? Lobster bisque and biscuits and a steak and milk and if you eat everything, chocolate ice cream."
"That's a ridiculous amount of food," she said, staring at the tray.
"I've seen you eat, my love. I'm going to let you out of your bonds, but before you hit me over the head with the tray and flee for the hills, I should explain that there are no fewer than three bolted doors—all English oak—between you and the street. You'd never get through them all before being caught. And you must be starving. Surely it's more prudent to eat and plot revenge, right?"
She drummed her fingers on the bedspread and stared up at him. Her eyes went narrow and flinty, but at last she said, "I'm starving."
"Eat, and then a hot bath…sound good?"
"And then what?"
"And then agree to be my wife."
"Don't," she practically snarled, "start with that again, dicklick."
"Ah, a blushingly modest bride, how refreshing. I can see you're contemplating homicide—try not to spill the soup."
He set the tray down on the table, and unsnapped her ankle bonds. Then he seized the footboard and tugged the bed away from the wall. She could have done the same thing herself, but couldn't help but be impressed—not bad for an undead monkey. He walked to the headboard, reached behind it, and in a few seconds had her wrists freed. She was off the bed in a bound, pulled the shreds of her clothes off and let them flutter to the floor, then made a beeline for the tray.
"I brought you a robe—"
"Who cares?" she said with a mouthful of biscuit. "You've already seen me naked."
"Uh—" You're gorgeous. You're distracting. If you prance around in that sweet little body you'll have your hands full. You have soup on your chin. "As you wish."
He sat down across from her and watched her eat. She ate like a machine, seeming to take no enjoyment from the meal. Refueling, the better to kick my ass. Well, so be it. He deserved that, and more. And he was a fast healer. Let her do her worst. "Why did you break our date?" he asked abruptly, and surprised even himself—he had no idea he was going to say such a thing until it was done.
