by I. T. Lucas
One word from her could stop everything. She could use a safe word, while Brundar couldn’t.
She needed to remember, though, that her pleasure depended on keeping her head in the game and not in the real world. Out there, Callie would have never tolerated him talking to her like that. But this was not the real world. It was a fantasy. The rules were whatever they wanted them to be for this particular game. Other games would have different ones.
“You are.” Should she have added ‘sir’?
Maybe next time she would. After all, there was no sense in playing the game if she wasn’t going to use all its pieces.
“That’s right, sweetling.” Mercifully, his hand returned to her stomach. “In here, I decide when to touch you and how.”
Callie held her breath as his palm finally made it to her aching center, but he only cupped her, holding her there as if her feminine center belonged to him.
She almost issued another command before catching her lower lip between her teeth to keep herself quiet.
Brundar leaned and licked at the lip she was chewing until she released it, then sucked it into his mouth, at the same time parting her folds with his finger and pushing it in.
Her hips arching off the bed, Callie groaned.
“Please…” He’d said it was okay to plead, just not to command.
His finger left her sheath, and she was about to cry out her protest and complain when he seized her by her hips and flipped her around onto her stomach. A moment later he tucked a pillow under her belly, then another one, until he was satisfied with the angle.
Oh, God, was he going to spank her?
Could she at least hint that she wanted him to?
Would he stop their play if she did?”
Brundar had discovered that the most effective punishment for her disobedience wasn’t his hand on her ass, but the lack of it, there and everywhere else.
Experimentally, she wiggled her butt a little and arched further up.
Crap, she must’ve looked like a cat in heat. How embarrassing. Her behind was high enough propped up as it had been. Immediately, she lowered herself back down until her pelvis rested on the pillows.
When she heard a drawer open, Callie wondered what Brundar was looking for; a condom, or an implement of punishment?
A condom was fine. But a paddle or a strap was not. She specifically marked those as hard limits. Listening intently for a clue, she heard him remove the wrapping from something that sounded a lot bigger than a condom.
Her butt cheeks clenched a moment before something that felt like soft strips of suede touched her back.
“It’s a flogger,” he said, dragging the strips down her to her bottom. “It’s very soft, and is meant for pleasure, not pain.” He waited for her to okay it or not.
Apparently, when introducing something new, Brundar was still going to ask.
She was willing to try an implement of pleasure. And if it proved unpleasant, she could always tell him to stop. But what if she didn’t want their play to stop, just the use of the flogger?”
“I want to add another color to red yellow and green.”
Brundar chuckled and kept caressing her with the flogger, not an unpleasant sensation. “That should be interesting. Why would you need another color?”
“In case I don’t like the flogger or some other implement you want to try on me, and I want you to go back to using only your hands, which you know is my preference, I will say purple.”
“Does that mean you’re giving me the green light to try other things?”
“Yes.” Even if Brundar decided to use one of those horrid paddles, or a strap, or even his belt, one smack wasn’t going to kill her or her mood, but it could satisfy her curiosity.
He chuckled again. “Purple is officially added to the list of safe words.”
The tails dragged in a slithery caress up across her shoulders, then down again to wrap around her inner thighs. Brundar’s palm followed, with two fingers seeking her moist entrance from behind and pushing in, retreating and then pushing back.
She clenched around his fingers, trying to hold them in, but he withdrew. A moment later she tensed at the sound of the tails swinging, but the flogger struck gently, slapping her bottom with barely any force.
It didn’t even sting.
Callie relaxed, relieved, but also a little disappointed. The flogger retreated again. Its caress was gentle as it landed on her left shoulder blade, then the other, then going back to her bottom, a little more forceful this time, but still just a little more than a caress.
She knew where it was going and welcomed it.
Finding his rhythm, Brundar landed soft strokes on her shoulders and thighs, heavier ones on her bottom, playing her like a musical instrument.
Her soft moans sang the perfect tune to accompany the steady beat.
She was writhing now, her lower body moving to the rhythm of the flogger, her skin tingling, her bottom stinging but not hurting. Awash in sensation, Callie decided she liked the flogger and the man who wielded it so expertly.
Through the haze of arousal, Callie was dimly aware of a drawer opening. A moment later, she heard the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper tearing.
Brundar’s rhythm never faltered. The flogger landed several times in quick succession on her upturned behind before delivering one last hard sting, then getting tossed to the floor. A split second later, Brundar surged inside her, filling her in one powerful thrust and detonating the orgasm that he’d been steadily building.
She cried out, the exquisite pleasure like an electrical current pulsing through every part of her body.
Without pause, Brundar pounded into her, his groin smacking against her warmed up behind, each thrust into her soaking sex making a lewd wet sound and bring her closer to another climax while his own rushed to the front.
Hanging on for dear life, Callie was barely aware of Brundar’s mouth latching onto her neck. A split second later, his teeth pierced her skin. There was a distant sensation of burning pain, and then she climaxed again.
CHAPTER 36: BRUNDAR
Brundar discarded the condom, grabbed a few washcloths and came back to bed. Releasing Calypso’s wrists from the restraints, he wondered whether he should thrall her while she was still out of it, or wait to see if she remembered his bite.
He removed her blindfold and examined her neck. The bite marks were already gone, so there would be no evidence of it, and even if she remembered, he might be able to talk his way out of it.
Damnation. He hated all the lying necessary to keep his people safe.
Except, it was for a very good cause, and he would do so as long as he had to in order to preserve Calypso’s sharp mind. Even every other day or every third day could cause irreversible damage to a human’s brain. He had developed a good system that allowed him to refrain from using the thrall too often, and it worked well in the club, but Calypso wasn’t as easy to fool.
She didn’t miss much.
After a quick wipe down with a washcloth, he tucked her into his chest and held on. So soft and so perfect. Nothing had ever felt as good and as right.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a smile. “Did I pass out again?”
“Just for a few minutes.” Her body was getting accustomed to his venom. Soon, she wouldn’t black out at all.
“You must be so proud of yourself,” she teased. “It takes skill to have a woman pass out each time you make love to her.”
The phrase making love grated on his mental synapses. Why did humans have to use euphemisms when talking about sex?
He didn’t like the word fucking either, there was a demeaning connotation to it that he wanted nowhere near Calypso. Plain old sex worked best. Not making love, not sleeping together unless they were actually sleeping, and not fucking or screwing either.
He and Calypso had sex.
But he wasn’t going to correct her. Calling the act of sex making love obviously meant something to her, and
if he commented on it, she would get offended, maybe even start crying. The petty peeve he had with the euphemism wasn’t worth ruining her orgasm afterglow over.
“Did you enjoy the flogger, sweetling?”
“A lot. I’m so glad we added purple as a safe word. Now I feel like I could get adventurous and try new things. Nothing is so bad that I can’t endure a few seconds of it.”
“You can always say red and everything stops. Isn’t that enough?”
Calypso eyed his chest, then leaned forward and kissed it. “Is this okay? Or is it the same as touching?”
He cradled the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay. You can kiss me anywhere you want.”
“Anywhere?” She waggled her brows.
He slapped her behind. “Answer the question I asked you.”
She made a pouty face. “Meanie. What was the question?”
Perhaps she was still loopy and unfocused from the venom. “Why do you need purple when red stops everything?”
“Because I don’t want everything to stop. It’s a downer. Purple is about implements only. There are so many of them that they deserve a color of their own.”
There was some logic to it, though he doubted it would make sense to anyone but the two of them. But then the two of them was what mattered. Until he could no longer stay around, Brundar wasn’t going to play with anyone else, and neither was Calypso. Which meant the condoms could and should go.
“I want you to go on the pill. I don’t want any barriers between us. I’ll get checked up and bring you a letter from the doctor as proof that I’m clean.”
“How do you know you are? Were you always safe?”
“I was. But I don’t want you to take my word for it. Never do that with any guy no matter how much they swear on it. Always ask for documents.”
Her smile vanished, her chin quivering a little. “How can you talk about me with other men?”
He couldn’t. The words had left his mouth before he had time to let the implications sink in. “It’s hypothetical. I want to make sure that no matter what the future holds, you’re always careful and protected.”
Calypso nodded. “You’re right. But by the same token, you should also ask me for a certificate. What if I’m infected?”
Brundar chuckled. “You married the first guy you had sex with, was with said guy for two years, and I’m the second one. I don’t think there is a chance you caught something.”
Calypso chewed on her lower lip. “What if Shawn cheated on me?”
“You think he did?”
“Why else would he be so suspicious of me cheating on him all of the time? Everyone judges others by their own standards or lack thereof.”
He nodded. “Yeah. That’s why it never crossed my mind that the lowlife could’ve brought diseases back home to you.”
She kissed his chin. “You’re a good man, Brundar.”
Was he?
Not really. But he was honorable. He would’ve never cheated on a life mate even if their match wasn’t a true love one.
“I can arrange an appointment for you with my other cousin who is a doctor.” Bridget would do it for free, saving Calypso unnecessary expense.
Calypso chuckled. “Not another cousin, Brundar. I want to do this one on my own.”
“Why? My cousin would do it for free.”
She shook her head. “Not this time. I’m going to find a nice doctor and make an appointment like everyone else.”
“I’ll drive you to the appointment.”
She rolled her eyes. “We will talk about it later.”
Which in Calypso speak meant forget it.
He didn’t understand why she’d refused getting checked up by a relative of his, or why she wanted to do this without him.
Was she trying to hide something?
Nah. Calypso was like an open book. Whatever bothered her about his involvement must have been something else. Probably one of those strange female-specific issues no male would ever understand.
CHAPTER 37: RONI
“How do I look?” Roni pulled down on the skin under his eye, stretching out the dark circle that had formed there.
Sylvia straightened his shirt collar. “Sickly, but at least presentable.”
“Tell me more about that Kian dude, so I can mentally prepare.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know him that well. From what I hear he is cranky and short-tempered but not a pompous ass. The Guardians all admire him.”
“Anandur is a Guardian, right?”
“Yes, and Onegus is the chief Guardian.”
“How many Guardians do you have?”
She hesitated. “I’m pretty sure it’s classified information.”
“But you know.”
“I do, but I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
Sylvia seemed distraught by the situation he’d put her in. As his girlfriend, she should have no secrets from him, but some secrets were not hers to share. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
“It’s okay, baby.” He pulled her into a hug. “I love you.”
She kissed him lightly on the lips. “I love you too.”
He took her hand. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
“You don’t want to be early either. He gave us fifteen minutes, not because he is a megalomaniac but because he really doesn't have time.”
That remained to be seen. People in positions of power usually didn’t get there by playing nice.
Roni was surprised to see Sylvia press the button for one of the underground levels. “Where is his office?”
“Down in the basement. Most of our facilities are there. There is a gym, a swimming pool, a movie theater, classrooms, a grand hall, a commercial kitchen. The list goes on. Oh, and the catacombs. And a dungeon.”
Roni wiped a hand over his mouth. “I’d be damned. A dungeon? Can I see it? Is it like a medieval torture chamber or a place to have kinky sex?”
Sylvia slapped his arm. “You’re so juvenile. The dungeon is a level with several holding cells which are supposedly pretty nice. Nothing medieval about them. You can ask Anandur to show you. I don’t think there is anyone there at the moment.”
They exited the elevators and continued down a wide corridor, identical to the one leading to the clinic. Anandur was waiting for them outside a set of glass doors.
“Hey, Roni, my man.” The big guy’s hand landed on Roni’s shoulder with a surprisingly light touch. “How are you feeling? I hear you got a place all to yourself.”
“It’s temporary. Ingrid told me she would have to pair me with someone.”
Anandur scratched his beard. “Yeah, we are a little short on lodging here. But pretty soon we will have room to spare in a village-like atmosphere with lots of green stuff to look at.” He leaned to whisper in Roni’s ear. “Personally, I’m tired of the concrete jungle.”
Sylvia sighed. “That’s why my mom refuses to move into the keep. She says it’s depressing.”
Anandur glanced at his watch, then knocked on the door. “It’s time, kids.” He pushed the door open.
“Are you coming in?” Roni asked. No one had asked Anandur to come talk on behalf of Roni, but it seemed the guy had volunteered. Andrew, who was the ideal candidate for the job, was still playing chicken and refusing to get anywhere near Roni until Bridget reassured him that the virus was no longer contagious.
“Yes, I am. But I’m going to be quiet. With that big mouth of yours, I’m sure you can manage on your own.”
Sylvia groaned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Anandur winked. “To kick him under the table if he forgets his manners.”
“Are you guys going to be standing out in the corridor much longer? Because I have shit to do,” came a gruff voice from inside the room.
Roni liked the guy already.
He strode inside, ready to offer his hand for a handshake when the guy pushed up to his feet and rounded his
desk.
Holly shit, the dude was good-looking. Like in movie-star, girls throwing their panties at him good-looking.
Roni swallowed. Jerks with attitude didn’t intimidate him, but guys like Kian did. Too attractive, and too full of themselves because every female in their vicinity drooled like an idiot.
“I’m Kian.” The guy offered his hand, and Sylvia nudged Roni to reciprocate.
Falling back on years of experience dealing with people who thought he was easily intimidated because he wasn’t big and buff, Roni shook Kian’s hand. “It’s good to meet you, Kian. I heard a lot about you.” He was proud that his voice came out sounding steady and professional.
Kian regarded him with a pair of eyes that were the most intense Roni had ever seen.
“Let’s all sit at the conference table.” He pointed to the oblong thing that was taking most of the floor space of his office.
The boss sat at the head of the table, Anandur to his left, and Roni took the seat to his right. Sylvia sat next to him. Evidently, Kian intimidated her as well, though not sexually.
Roni felt ridiculously grateful that sexual relationships between clan members were prohibited. According to Sylvia, it was something about all of them sharing the same bloodline. Because there was no way any woman who wasn’t a blood relative wouldn’t be attracted to that dude.
“What can I help you with, Roni?”
“I need to know what my status here is. If I transition, that’s obvious, I join the clan. But at the moment it seems doubtful.”
Kian nodded. “I understand that you prefer to stay on, even if it means you’re a prisoner here.”
“You understand correctly. I want to be with Sylvia. We love each other.”
A pitying look flitted through Kian’s eyes. “A relationship between an immortal and a human is doomed from the start. But you’re young. You still have many years ahead of you even as a human. On the other hand, you can have a full life outside of here. I can arrange for a new identity, a new place to settle in, and we can even use your services without you knowing who and what we are. The problem is that erasing your memories would be next to impossible. You’ve accumulated a shitload of those with Sylvia.”
