by Joey W. Hill
She should have known the danger of planting a seed in Mason’s head. With only a brief mind touch for warning, Amara’s hands settled on Jess’s hips, gripping to lift her up, changing her angle so she was tilted further forward. Levering Mason’s cock to a more horizontal drive into her mouth, Jess braced one hand on his leg with the other still gripping him firmly. She was determined not to break her rhythm, even though she knew what was coming. Mason of course had to do his best to scatter her concentration, sending her the image so she saw Enrique come behind Amara, slide her robe off her shoulders. As he did, he bent to press an open mouth to her throat, his hand tangling in her hair roughly. Her hands, returning to Jess’s hips after the robe was removed, tightened there, responding to the provocation. Enrique slid an arm around Amara’s waist, another over her firm, high breasts, and turned her in a flexible, graceful movement. When he lowered her to her back between Jess’s spread thighs, his smooth, lean and tan muscles flexed.
Enrique wore only a pair of cotton trousers and he shed them, kicking them to the side and leaving himself as naked as his wife. His dark eyes were hot on the curves of her body, the way she instinctively spread her legs, bending them at the knee, an open invitation to the man who claimed her as husband, through whose eyes the vampire who claimed her could see all that she was offering. It made Jessica shiver, all the layers of possession and meaning in the relationships between them.
Having trouble focusing, habiba?
Not at all, my lord. She renewed her efforts, nipping the velvet stretched skin, stimulating that taut vein that ran up the base of his shaft.
Then we shall have to try harder.
Jess’s moan vibrated against his cock as he showed her Enrique’s view when he knelt between Amara’s legs. The servant seated his erect cock against her damp flesh and pushed inward, the slick lips of the labia giving way, the channel pulling him in so he slid in to the hilt. Putting his hands beneath Amara’s back, he lifted her like an offering, bending to lick one nipple as her mouth found Jess’s pussy. Her slim but strong hands curved over Jess’s hips, her thumbs pressing into her buttocks.
Amara was well-versed in lovemaking skills of all kinds, a trained consort as well as dancer. Plus she was a woman, who well knew what made a woman respond. She also had the ability to merge into Jess’s mind through Mason’s, particularly if he was facilitating it, like now, allowing her to pick up the current of Jessica’s arousal—when Jess needed the oral stimulation to be rough or gentle, a consistent or erratic stimulation.
Jess’s hand constricted on Mason’s thigh and she gave a hard, uncontrolled pull on his cock as Amara’s tongue circled her clit, pulling it into the cavern of her mouth. Jess quivered at Amara’s breath of hot, teasing air, her response to Enrique pushing even harder into his wife’s body, a long, demanding thrust that bumped her nose against Jessica’s labia. Mason’s hand moved to Jess’s hair now, tangling his fingers in it and tightening there, pushing her down deeper on him, bringing his own demand into play.
Jess couldn’t close her eyes on the images, but neither could Mason. All three of his servants, two on their knees and one on her back, arranged to serve and please his senses. Enrique pumping into Amara’s pussy, so wet they could hear the sound of it as he reached his hilt and withdrew again. Amara’s upper body flushed and breasts full and quivering, the nipples hard and needy, still marked with his mouth. Her back and throat arched both to receive him in her body and to give her a better angle to tease and lick Jessica’s cunt. She used those relentless third mark and dancer’s muscles to hold herself, as well as the strength of her husband’s hands.
Mason showed Jessica herself, kneeling between his legs, her mouth working his cock, the thick breadth of it glistening with the moisture of her mouth as she slid up and down, sometimes going all the way to the tip, then sucking the head in again, teasing the edge of it with her tongue. Her slim shoulders were bowed forward, the line of her spine curved up as she serviced him, too tempting for him not to trail his fingers along the bumps of vertebrae, caressing the pale skin. Her hand on his thigh moved upward with her effort, bracing herself against his ridged abdomen, fingers curling in, thumb caressing the smooth pubic area right above his turgid length.
He was huge now, and she wanted him inside of her so badly, but she had to prove it, had to give him this. Earn it, sweet slave. The words drove her, inspired her, held her in thrall. She treasured the rasp of his breath, the tightening of all those splendid muscles as he used them to drive his cock into her mouth more forcefully. She was having to concentrate to keep pace, and concentration was getting very difficult.
God, Amara was too damn good at this, and the little hitches and breaks caused by what Enrique was doing to her, pushing her toward the edge of control, just added to it, a mix of chaos with skill, a devastating combination that was having a domino effect on all of them.
It’s not enough. The thought hit her mind like a desert sand storm, and then Mason had her under the arms, lifting her away from Amara, the vibration of the woman’s mouth still rippling through Jessica’s cunt as he put her upon that large cock and drove her down, with ruthless passion.
The feeling was indescribable, the mix of the two sensations enough to have Jessica grabbing onto his shoulders for support. But those amber eyes, like fire upon all her exposed flesh, demanded, wanted more.
I will direct your movements, habiba. Put your hands on your breasts. Cup them, tease the nipples, display yourself for me.
She obeyed, and immediately cried out as he took over the movements of her body, lifting and then shoving her back down on him, as if she were no more than a doll he could direct at will. A climax was spiraling up, irresistible, from that joining point. The moment she squeezed her nipples, she imagined his mouth upon them, the pressure of his suckling hold, the unexpected score of his fangs. She couldn’t help the thought, but her mind as well as her body wasn’t her own now. She was all his, a creature purely of his pleasure, and she gave herself to it. The rub of his cock against her clit, how he filled her inside, the idea of his mouth on her nipples…
More than anything, she wanted to wrap her arms around his broad, sheltering shoulders, bury her face against all the thick, copper-silk of his hair, and let the feelings and sensations take her. Let him take her, wherever he would.
Do it, habiba. Let me feel the beat of your heart against mine, and trust me to take us home.
She immediately complied, letting out a soft cry of joy and arousal both at that meeting, for he banded his arms around her as well, wrapping them together, her upper torso flush to his, bone, muscle, sinew, and the life sustaining organs beneath, all moving and reacting in sync. Her fingers slipped over the scarred lines of the tiger tattooed high on the back of his shoulder, even as his fingers spread out over the one on her back. A tiger gazing through a bamboo forest of scars, a reminder that the tiger was always there, watching over her, making sure those scars had no hold upon her.
As she closed her eyes and put her face into his hair, she slid her fingers into it, gripped his neck and inhaled everything about his beloved, familiar scent, the danger and sex, the love and safety of him. All hers. Her vampire.
Sweet slave. My beloved. Though she’d expected him to keep the same pace, she wasn’t surprised that, bonded this way, he slowed them down. He showed her Amara and Enrique were gone, having taken their finale elsewhere. As aroused as they both were, she expected that wasn’t much further than the room at the top of the stairs. The lights were dimmed, all the things in here in shadows, so it was just candles and stone walls. Fire and earth, and her and Mason.
He held her banded in his arms that way and moved inside her. Slow, slow pushes deep, to the hilt, then equally slow withdrawals, controlling everything. She made tiny cries, letting him know how excruciating it was, how close she was, as sensation rippled along her cunt from his advance and retreat, a rolling rhythm like the gradual movement of waves far out from shore. As he kept doing it, his
cock convulsed inside of her, his expression tightening as she lifted her face, stared into his. They held gazes, each feeling the sensations of the other as Mason opened his mind to her, let them feed on one another. He was very close to release, as was she, but he was prolonging it, a quiver in all those fine limbs, wanting her begging.
She could hold out a little longer, knowing he would want to test her limits, because that was his nature. But not much longer. His eyes glinted, knowing it, as he brought her down, driving in deep again. “Oh…” She gasped, hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in.
“Drink from me, habiba.” The demand was hoarse, feral. “I want to feel you nourish yourself from me. I want my blood on your tongue when you come.”
She’d gotten better at it, learning how to use her canines so it wasn’t as difficult to break through the skin, but she knew any pain she caused him was outweighed by what it offered to them both. She put her mouth to his throat, her breath clogging as it changed the angle, drove him deeper, and then she bit.
Rich, metallic, life giving. The visceral bond between vampire and servant, the stuff that could restore her energy even if she was grievously wounded. She knew. He’d given her his heart’s blood once before, and it had nearly killed them both, but he would do anything for her.
Anything but live without her.
At last, she understood, because she could truly feel him all the way to her soul, as open to her as she was to him. He would do anything for her, but if she loved him as much, she had to do the same.
When she licked the blood from the wound, swallowing, she made herself say it, though she had to do it in her mind, too difficult to say aloud. I will abide by your will, my lord. Whatever it is. I want…to be with you, but if your heart cannot bear the fear of it, the fear of seeing me exposed to others…I will serve your heart and soul, as much as I serve your body. I love you and will learn to take joy in every command you give me, as an expression of your love for me.
His arms confined her further, and he turned his head to take her mouth in a kiss, tasting that blood as he’d desired, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head. As he did, he moved her down, then up, then increased the pace, holding the kiss as they rose and fell, as fire moved up her thighs and centered in her loins.
“Mason…” She gasped it against his lips. “I can’t—”
“Come for me, habiba. Prove your devotion and obey.”
She was already going over, but she clamped down on him with her inner muscles, wanting and needing to bring him with her. Please, my lord, don’t let me go alone.
She arched back, a scream breaking from her lips as the sensation took over, gripping her relentlessly, all the denied pleasure, all the stimulation, coming together so her pussy rippled and spasmed upon him, her hands now claws, digging into his skin. He abandoned finesse, hands vising on her hips once more, bruising, punishing, and as she writhed upon him, scream going to shriek, he began to release. The hot jets of seed drove her up and over again, before the first wave had even finished.
There was nothing so primal, so basic and clear as this, being taken by her Master. His amber gaze lifted to fasten on her face, taking in her every expression as she took in his, the fierce pleasure, the uncontrolled flood of desire that not only came from his cock, but from the heat emanating off of him, washing over her, making her buck, writhe and rock, undulate and grind herself on him with total physical and emotional abandon. When his hands stilled her enough to take one of her breasts in his mouth, sucking on her powerfully as he was still coming, her shrieks went into mindless wails. The climax kept thundering through her, incredible, building waves. She trusted him to hold onto her on the tossing storm waves, even as she gloried in knowing he was in that storm right along with her, his muscles shuddering, his cock still hard and pumping.
As they were finally driven to shore, her arms fell limply around his shoulders again, her face against the side of his. He wrapped his arms around her once more, holding her so close they were a tangled pillar of flesh, one of those intricate sculptures inspired by the Kama Sutra, its celebration of the joining of two hearts at all levels of existence. She never wanted to move.
“It is a closed circle, habiba,” he said at last. She noticed his voice was thick, both with residual passion and something more. “You will stay here, because you love me too much to see me worried and fearful for you. I will take you, because I cannot bear your loneliness and fear for me when I am away.”
His hand traced her face, lifting it, and he drew her back so her bottom was pressed deeper against his thighs. She made a small whimper at the feel of him shifting inside of her. Pressing her mouth to his palm, she bit him gently, but brought her gaze to his. Putting her trembling fingers on his mouth, she teased a fang, following his jaw, trailing along his brow.
“When it comes down to it,” he rumbled, “I cannot deny my servant’s wisdom, or the eight hundred years of my own.” Those amber eyes held hers. “There are always things to fear. As you said earlier, there is never enough time to love, and so to let fear steal one single moment of loving you…that is something I would be a fool to permit.”
“And you are not a foolish man.” She whispered it, but her lips curved, inspiring a quirk from his own tempting mouth.
“Perhaps not. But it’s also my experience that fools love the best and deepest of any of us. So maybe I will strive to be a fool, and give up my wisdom to love you with everything I am.”
She was overcome, but she knew her Master well, that hint of a smile. Cocking her head, she gave him a dubious look, though she knew it couldn’t diminish the telltale adoration in her eyes. “Give up your arrogance? Your know-it-all attitude? I don’t know, my lord. That might even be beyond your significant capabilities.”
“You think so?” He settled back, lifting a brow, his knuckles sliding along one of her breasts, stroking. “Perhaps the same could be said for a woman giving up her stubbornness, her belief that she always knows best.”
“But we do, my lord.” She blinked at him innocently. If her limbs had had an ounce of coordination right now, she would have hopped up, instigated one of their playful cat-and-mouse games that he could easily win but he always indulged, letting her play until he was aroused enough that the play became something else. As if he expected her to try regardless—and he might have been right—he surged up from the chair with her held securely in his arms.
“None of that right now.”
“I think you far overestimate my stamina, my lord.”
“Not at all.” He hitched her in his arms, a quick bounce that made her grab onto his neck, hold him closer. “But I might test your weakened state by taking you to the beach. We can discuss who’s right. While I hold you underwater.”
“You know third marked servants can’t drown.”
“I know that full well, habiba.” He gave her a wicked look. “Perhaps you can occupy yourself with something down there until I decide to let you up.”
Jessica let the bubble of laughter take her, content to be held as he carried her toward whatever he next had planned for them. Maybe he would forgive Amara and Enrique fully and let them join them on the beach. They’d eat dinner out there, the cook would make cookies for desert, and Mason would taste the sugar and chocolate on her lips as they all lay out under the stars, naked and wet. Amara would tell stories of desert djinns and treasures hidden in the sand, and Jess would lay with her head on Mason’s chest, feeling his heart beat and knowing there was no greater treasure than her desert tiger.
He was right. No fear should steal away the precious time they had, and she was determined to honor that, with every moment she was given with him. She would give him her faith, and they would banish fear forever.
Dark and Light
A vignette featuring David and Mina of A Witch’s Beauty from the Daughters of Arianne Series.
Originally posted January 2011 in serial format.
Background: In Mermaid’s Ransom, the thi
rd book of the Daughters of Arianne Series, it is revealed to David, an angel in the Prime Legion, that his mate Mina, the powerful sea witch, is pregnant. As he was unaware of this, in this vignette he is swiftly winging home to confront and handle Mina’s volatile feelings about this unexpected change in their lives.
Part One
David banked sharply and swept beneath the belly of a Stealth fighter, cutting through the jet wash with the precision of a knife. He was torn between an ebullience that made him want to ride the chaotic air currents like a kid on a sled in Christmas snow, and an urgency that told him he needed to get home to his mate as soon as he could. Mina was pregnant. Not only was she pregnant, she knew she was pregnant, and she hadn’t told him. He’d had to learn it from the accidental slip of a clairvoyant human, Alexis’s friend Clara.
“Congratulations. You must be really excited. I didn’t know angels . . . well, I guess they can, because Alexis has never said she couldn’t have babies… Oh, crap. She hasn’t told you yet. I think she was getting ready to tell you pretty soon. If your wife or girlfriend is scary, don’t tell her I was the one who told you.”
No, his sea witch wasn’t scary. Not to David. Yes, she could twist the universe like a pretzel, turn it inside out or pulverize it like a piñata, but from the moment he’d met her, he’d only seen her compelling complexity. Courage beyond anything he’d ever met, an odd code of unbreakable integrity. Irascible as a badger but fiercely loyal. She’d been horribly scarred then, but he’d met her bi-colored gaze, and seen the beauty of her soul. A soul that had stood fast in the fires of hell, and not just because half of her blood came from those fires. He’d seen the tenuous balance between light and dark within her, her stubborn resolve that she would determine who and what she was, not her Dark One sire or sea witch mother, or anyone’s dire expectations of her.
