by Joey W. Hill
Page 71
Turning her on her side, he curved his body around hers. As he fitted his hips against her backside, he slid back into her once more, his hand low on her abdomen, holding her to him.
I would have you sleep, habiba . Our guests will come tomorrow night, and I want you well rested.
Her mind was as drained as her body, so fortunately his reminder only created a distant uneasy stirring. Her brain, drugged as it was, was absorbed by the feel of him inside her once more. God, he was still hard, though he had climaxed several times himself tonight. Of all the supernatural traits vampires possessed, sexual stamina was the most impressive. They could literally fuck a mortal to death.
His amusement flickered in her mind as he adjusted his hips against her, making her draw in an unsteady breath, a noise of soft pleasure. You find this more impressive than my strength or speed? My immortality? My incredible beauty? My exceptional charm and patience?
I’m ignoring all overly arrogant vampires in the room. I’m sleeping.
He chuckled, his breath at her cheek, chest against her back. Realizing he expected and intended her to stay locked in his arms, his cock deep in her while they both slept, made her lower belly flutter. A remarkable indication that her body might once again ready itself for him, long before he woke.
Then you shall simply have to wait, habiba . I do need some sleep.
Clumsily, she tried to kick his shin with her foot. He merely seated himself at a different angle, and she whimpered again. Be still, habiba , or I shall make your torment much, much worse.
He wasn’t as cruel a Master as that. Or perhaps his control was not as unflappable as it appeared to be when it came to her. He roused twice during his daily sleep to sate them both again, and the last time, he unbound her hands, let her turn in his arms and held her close, one powerful leg draped over her, his hair a curtain brushing her cheek.
After brushing so close to this moment, and being denied so often by the demons that hounded both of them, she was caught between savoring every second, every touch and sensation, and wanting him to pound into her with insatiable urgency. He gave her both. He gave her everything, except she kept wanting more. Maybe vampire stamina could be matched only by a woman starved for love.
She woke in the afternoon. His breathing was even, but she knew his sleep was light. I’m going topside, to run on the beach.
Sleep, my lord.
He cinched her in closer to him with a grunt that said what he thought of that. She pushed at him, though she couldn’t resist a gentle stroke along his smooth forehead. Don’t be a bully. Let me go. Unlike some people, I don’t believe in lying around in bed all day.
Perhaps because you’re not making optimal use of the activities that can occur there.
If we made any more optimal use of this bed, you’d need a new frame for it.
A light smile played on his mouth, but his hand loosened and he let her go. As his breath evened out, she wondered, amused, if he’d at last been depleted. Not that he’d ever admit it. Male pride was the great equalizer among species. Having far less of it, she knew she was sore and stiff. Though he’d been wondrously gentle as her tissues got more abraded, he hadn’t given her a choice, treating her as his servant in truth. He’d taken her up to climax again and again, even when she thought it was impossible.
Everything he’d demanded of her, she’d eagerly given. And craved more.
Staying carefully away from that thought, more difficult to examine in the light of day, she eased away and gathered up her wrinkled dress. As she slipped it on, she had her first opportunity to take a closer look at his room. From the tapestries and simple dark wood furniture, it was obvious the room belonged to a male who preferred desert tents. Or medieval castles. He had a few art pieces, most of them equestrian. His wardrobe was still open.
Seeing it, her cheeks warmed. He had mirrored doors, which had perplexed her, until he’d lifted her up and seated her on his cock at the end of the bed, leaving her wrists bound. She’d had the unique experience of seeing herself in coitus, being fucked hard and long by an invisible force, since he had no reflection. Her breasts bouncing, face strained with the approaching climax, the impression of his fingers in the soft flesh at her hips, even though she couldn’t see the fingers themselves. The mouth of her sex gripping a thick organ that couldn’t be seen, but was deliciously felt.
He didn’t have much clothing, but what was there was custom-made. She could imagine him giving Amara his specifications and letting her coordinate with his tailors. Cocking her head, she looked down at five pairs of shoes, flanked by several pairs of boots.
It had bemused her, finding out that a monster like Raithe had trappings like these. A closet of clothes that might require laundering or ironing, shoes that needed polishing. Bedrooms that were dusted, linens washed. Vampires took showers. Read stock reports.
As a child, she’d believed monsters lived in dank caves, their only possessions the bones of their victims. Their bodies would be ugly and filthy, foul smelling.
Raithe often made her do chores naked, except for heavy chains that made it impossible for her to move quickly. As such, he made sure she was assigned the tasks most difficult to perform with those chains in place. It left her exhausted at the end of daylight, his intent apparently to make her more malleable to his evening plans. When she demonstrated she still had the will to fight, it had impressed him, such that the next day would bring even more difficult chores.
One day he’d had a thousand cinder blocks delivered and scattered over the back field of his property. She’d been assigned to collect and restack them, fifty feet away. Her naked skin blistered and burned in the summer sun, and her feet were cut to shreds by sharp, spiny vegetation. He’d told her if she didn’t finish them all in the course of the day, he’d have them scattered again. No one except a vampire could have completed the task. She did it for seven days. Because it was early in her captivity, she’d cried a lot while doing it. Eventually, the impossible task bored him and he simply had the blocks carted away.
Raithe had used the same brand of cologne Jack used. A macabre coincidence that had haunted her, for a long time after Jack’s death. If she dreamed of her lost fiancé, for the first heartrending moment when she woke in Raithe’s room, her mind would tell her they were in her flat and she’d been having a nightmare. Then she’d open her eyes to find Raithe, with that beloved and familiar male musk, studying her like a scientist contemplating what next torment to visit on his lab animal.
Jessica sank down on her knees in front of Mason’s wardrobe. He’d hung the white shirt he’d worn earlier on a lower hook, so she tugged it free, threading her hands into the too-long sleeves to hug it around herself. Now she avoided looking into the mirror.
How many decades would pass before random thoughts wouldn’t resurrect memories of Raithe? If she decided to take Brian’s serum, it could be a matter of days.
She liked Mason’s cologne, she reminded herself. As well as his soap, and a shampoo that gave her the scent of the ocean, perhaps sea salts. Remembering where he’d first taken her, a faint smile played on her lips. Well, maybe some vampires lived in caves.
Closing her eyes, she put her temple against the wardrobe frame, conscious of his quiet breathing behind her on the bed. She tilted her head so she could see him. Had Farida watched him sleep? Of course she had. Did she marvel at the beauty of him? The creatures considered most beautiful in the wild were usually the fiercest predators. Occasionally people made the tragic mistake of taking them from their natural habitat, trying to make them a pet.
A predator was no one’s pet. Stay too close to him, too long, and his nature changed. Or rather, it didn’t, and you ended up the meal.
Oh, Jess. Shut it off for a while. Just be still. A tear was rolling down her cheek and she didn’t care to look at the why of it. She had a few days. She didn’t have to think about anything yet. Rising to
her feet, she closed the wardrobe and slipped out of the room.
She didn’t notice Mason watching her through half-closed eyes. Or experience the whorl of emotions going through him as well.
When she’d put on his shirt, hugged it around her as if she needed the comfort of his arms, he’d wanted to go to her. Instead, he stayed where he was, because he was fighting a battle of his own—between his desire to overwhelm her, override the decision he was sure she was going to make, and love her enough to let her make the choice that would take her from him forever.
For the next day and a half, Mason didn’t speak of choices, or the impending arrival of his vampire guests. Jess didn’t, either. She thought of little else when she was away from him, but wisps of thoughts at the corners of her mind only. On some unspoken truce between them, she took the two days as a time to indulge in . . . well, just being with him.
During the day she was with the horses, running, or reading, but she found him more accessible to her thoughts than he’d ever been.
When she discovered a computer in the office Enrique used, she surfed the Internet some, refamiliarizing herself with things that had been beyond her notice for so long. After thirty minutes of it, she wasn’t sure if finding out the latest celebrity baby or marriage scandal, or catching up on the tedious hamster wheel of politics, had been worth the sacrifice of brain cells to read about them.
Try the library, my love.
She did, but she was in the mood for pleasure reading. While Mason was a well-read scholar, he was apparently not an escape reader. You really need some paperbacks, my lord.
I’m going to pretend you didn’t desecrate my library by suggesting such a thing. But I will send a message to Amara that she might bring some back for you.
It didn’t take long to realize the warm feeling she carried around with her during the day was contentment. She was happier in these two days than she’d been in a long time.
A sense of uneasiness came with the thought, for she knew it was a temporary lull. When Mason was with her at night, he was like a hot bath, immersing her in mind-numbing sensations of pleasure, stroking her emotions until she was purring, inside and out. He was willing to be her Master, but in an easy, light-handed way, cocooned in romantic gestures, as if they were young lovers.
