by S. E. Lund
And then the thought of fucking him again makes me all warm and wet once more and I imagine sitting on his lovely thick cock, my arms around his neck, kissing him while I fuck him and he responds immediately and our passion increases, making us both breathless.
"I have to leave," he protests, his voice husky. "I don't have time…" He kisses me. "But when I come back, you'll fuck me, Eve," he says, staring in my eyes. "You'll sit on my cock and ride me like you want."
That just does something to me and my muscles all tighten and I think I'll have to masturbate when he leaves and I'm naked under the covers, and of course, I remember that he can read my thoughts and knows what I've just imagined. Even now, I'm embarrassed and think I should have bit my cheek or something to block him from that thought.
"No," he says and shakes my shoulders. "Not those thoughts. Never those. God, no. I love those thoughts."
My cheeks are hot that he's peeked into my dirty little mind, but he's pulling me even closer, his mouth on my neck and throat and between my breasts.
"But," he says and looks in my eyes. "No touching yourself while I'm gone. No masturbating. No orgasms. Save them up for when I'm back. I'll be saving myself for you."
He looks at me with those blue eyes and I only want him to stay with me. I'm afraid of this price he has to pay and what it will mean, but I don't get anything from him. He pulls out of my arms and stands.
"Now go to bed and sleep as long as you want. Raymond will attend to any of your needs. I've told Ed that you'll be on leave while I'm gone because I don't want you going anywhere without me."
"But the case…"
"Ed and Terri are handling it fine without us. Now don't ask questions or protest, Eve. Submit."
I nod and take in a deep breath.
He pulls me once more into his embrace, lifting my body off the floor as if I'm no more that a feather, and of course, he's so strong, with the strength of ten men, and so I am light.
"Stay safe, ma petite," he whispers, his lips against my neck. "My little one."
And then he's gone without looking back.
End of Book One
TEASER FROM BOOK TWO: ASCENSION
"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
During the next four days, I spend part of my time playing the lovely old Steinway, learning the Chopin Nocturne Michel played. I want to learn it because he loves it and I want it to become part of me. The rest of the time I spend studying old atlases and maps of the world, drawn hundreds of years earlier that Michel has in his collection, reading books from his library, watching television, and simply lazing around. It is the first real vacation I've had in several years for each summer I've worked and taken classes. It's a relief to just do nothing.
I don't hear from Michel and it hurts a bit that he doesn't think of contacting me, but I try to bite back my disappointment and just accept. Submit.
When Raymond enters the room to bring me tea, I ask him.
"Have you heard from Michel?"
Raymond shakes his head.
"He said he'd be out of contact for several days – maybe a week."
I feel a bit better. He's not deliberately avoiding me then. This is part of his plan, but I miss him and only now realize how familiar his presence has become and how much I desire him, his company, his touch.
That night, as I'm sleeping, I dream of him and it's a strange dream – like something out of a vampire movie with him entering the open window, coming to the bed, his black wings outstretched. He lies on top of me, kissing me with his cold lips, his wings curving around us. His hands reach up under my nightgown to caress my breast and slip between my legs to feel my sex. I writhe in pleasure under his touch, aching for him, wanting to feel him inside of me, but he denies me this pleasure as long as possible, using his fingers and tongue instead to bring me closer and closer to climax. Then, just before I reach the point of no return, he enters me, fucking me hard and I come. As I do, he bites my neck, his sharp teeth breaking my skin and the mixture of pleasure and pain makes everything even more potent and my body spasms around him while he sucks at my neck. The feed is short, just a mouthful or two, and then he comes as well.
The pleasure he gets from the combination of fucking me, drinking my blood and his own orgasm is more powerful than anything I can imagine, overwhelming my own senses so that I ride on a wave of pure bliss. When I recover, he kisses my lips and I taste my own blood on his tongue, I taste how it is for him, how it makes him euphoric and I know that if I were his blood slave, it would be even more powerful. He licks the wound he's made, and then he's gone and not a word is spoken.
I wake up and the dream felt so real, I reach up to touch my neck, but there's no mark. It was just a dream after all…
That afternoon, I ask Raymond if someone can take me out so I can visit my apartment and feed my cats, then get a cup of my favorite coffee.
"No offense," I say to him, "but I really like the coffee at a shop just below my apartment. Can someone take me there so I can get a cup? I want to buy some coffee and my favorite dark chocolate at a store beside it. I've been in this house for four days straight and I'm starting to go crazy."
Raymond makes a face and then goes to the door.
"I'll arrange it. My Lord left instructions that any outings should be short, and limited to visiting your apartment to feed your cats. I'll have two guards take you. You're only allowed fifteen minutes. Is that understood?"
I nod, and as much as I like the mansion, I'm happy to be out getting the fresh air. It's sunny and I don't want to waste the nice day.
The guard who met us the first day takes me in a long black sedan and I see a second car following behind us. Talk about security precautions. We arrive at my apartment and I quickly refresh the cat food feeder and water dispenser while the guard named Marco stands like a statue in my doorway, and then we head to the coffee shop for a cup of Medium Blend organic and cream. The side patio is open and so I sit in a chair and enjoy the day. Marco is sitting a few chairs over, his dark glasses on, his hand on a cup of coffee, which he doesn't drink.
I get up to go to the washroom and Marco stands when he sees me rise.
"I'm just going to the washroom."
He nods and then goes ahead of me to check the small washroom out. He opens the door, checks the stall and then nods to me, not a word said.
I go in and have a quick pee and then wash up before leaving. Marco isn't there when I come out, nor is he seated at the table where he was previously. I go to the shop next door to pick up some of the chocolate they sell there – it will go well with the pound of organic espresso I've bought. Surely the driver will see me and will keep an eye out for me for the five minutes I'm in the shop.
I go into the tiny store and inspect a half-dozen trays of dark chocolate, selecting several that I'll enjoy after my supper. I glance out the window while the clerk rings the order up and see a strange man staring at me as he crosses traffic.
He has his eyes peeled on me, a coat over his arm, and I have a sense that under it is a weapon.
"I'm sorry," I say to the clerk when she hands me the bag. "Is there a back entrance?"
She nods and points to the rear of the store and I leave through the small kitchen. I can circle around the block and see if I can find Marco. Worse comes to worse, I can go back to my apartment and lock myself in. Then I hear footsteps behind me in the alley and I remember what Michel said – it's better to avoid fighting, even if you can win. I run, not looking back as Michel instructed. I'm a fast runner, but not fast enough to avoid a gun, a small projectile hitting me in the neck.
I fall and strike my head, and then there is only darkness.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S. E. Lund lives with her family, six parrots and a very tempted Devon Rex cat in a century-old three-story house on a s
hady street in a small city in Western Canada. In addition to her work as a policy analyst with government, she writes romance and fantasy fiction and dreams of living somewhere warm where she can hear and smell the ocean. She read Dracula when she was ten years old and has been warped ever since.
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
EPIGRAPH
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TEASER FROM BOOK TWO: ASCENSION
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
