The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

  His strides across the bedroom were quicker, his arms lowering Nala to the neatly made bed. Won’t be neat pretty soon. Vincent freed her arms, but squeezed them so she knew to not move them. He was merely changing their positions before binding them again.

  There was no hurry. Vincent took his time disrobing his vixen, as he called Nala more than once. She had graduated from succubus, apparently. Never mind. Nala would continue to play up those fantasies in her head. Me, a demon. Him, a demon. Together we dance in darkness in order to release our most carnal desires. Entire cultures sang songs about their unions.

  “You must be more beautiful than the day you were born.” Vincent knelt between her bent legs, pulling his T-shirt off in that strange way guys do. Nala never knew how they were able to grab their back collars and yank a fucking shirt off like no big deal, but damn, it was always hot. It makes them look so strong. And Vincent was strong. Over the past few days, she had seen him working out around the house. Pushups on the floor here. Stretches against the couch there. Early morning jogs. A punching bag hanging in a corner. Vincent didn’t have a lot of time to dedicate to a gym, so he took breaks from work and life here and there to punch something or use his body as an exercise tool. Almost a shame he hid those muscles beneath clothes, especially sweatshirts in his down time.

  Not now, though.

  Nala drank him in as he loomed over her, teasing her with a smirk. He looks so happy. Was she doing that to him? Was she making him feel like this for the first time in forever? How often had Vincent felt like this with another woman since the death of his fiancée? Was this… the first time?

  With her, of all people?

  “You will have to take that up with my mother, sir.” Nala could be cheeky again. “I think she has the final authority.”

  “Let’s not bring your mother into this.”

  He knelt down, sampling her nipples between his teeth, his eyes never leaving hers. It was erotic and emotional all at once, leaving Nala in a nether space between desire and an emotion she had never felt so profoundly since the last time they made love.

  I remember the chasm of stars. A million of them, twinkling in time to their lovemaking. I fell in love with him that night. Here she was again, turning into a foolish girl at the sight of a man who liked to tie her up and fuck her throat.

  “Nala,” he whispered, after his tongue drew a long, tantalizing trail down her cleavage. “I want to take you to places. Places you can’t even imagine existing. Will you let me?”

  She forced back a knowing smile. “Of course, sir. My body is yours to command. Tonight, anyway.”

  He caressed her face while turning her over on her stomach. “Every night we want. What are you?”

  This game continued – he had not forgotten after all. She said the same word as the previous two times, and Vincent hopped off the bed to take what he wanted from the nearest nightstand.

  “You still think so?” He drew out two long silk strips, weighing them in his hands, testing their durability while his muscles flexed. The color of the silk was such a deep purple that they looked as black as a midwinter’s day. No, the twinkling of the silk makes them look like the chasm of stars. Nala braced herself, partly in infatuation, as the strips landed softly on the bed beside her. “You’re free to think that, for sure, but know that I will continue to see you differently.”

  What does he mean?

  He was his usual silent self as he tied a tight, intricate knot into the center of the headboard and drew the two ends of the silk strips taut toward Nala. Naturally. Her wrists were bound again, still together, but now hanging from the taut strips in front of her. So much resistance bundled in those strips, but if Nala pulled hard enough, they still gave. Just like her.

  The rest of her was free, for now. Vincent laid her legs out straight on the bed beneath her, pushing them together and letting his hands roam up her ass and back as he straddled the space behind her knees.

  Kisses heavier than the ones he gave her mouth landed on her supple flesh, almost ravenous in their pursuit. Vincent had nothing to be shy about as he ravaged the dimples between her cheeks and thighs, his tongue lashing against hidden spaces and his hands squeezing her so hard that it was almost more unbearable – in the best way – than the spanks from earlier. This man wants me to moan myself to death. She wasn’t opposed.

  “I have one more test for you tonight, Nala,” Vincent said against her skin. “If you can make it through the next few minutes without uttering a single sound, I will give you whatever you want.”

  She swallowed. “You ask a lot of me.”

  “I know. That’s why I ask it.”

  “I’ll do it, sir.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She knew that with a challenge like that something pleasurable was coming. First, she had been asked to endure pain without flinching. Now she was asked to endure pleasure without sound. Her obedience was being stretched to new destinations, and in turn, she learned what Vincent wanted not from a sub, but from her.

  Here it came.

  Not a spank. Not dirty talk. Just his tongue, his pinching, both making their way all over her nether regions, dipping into folds, drawing lines up slits, and plunging into areas they had no business being in. Nala channeled the pleasure into her slight movements, attempting to avoid a single sound falling from her lips – if she could help it. Not easy. Vincent had such a way with his tongue that Nala writhed back and forth, biting back screams of ecstasy, words of adoration, and even the whimpers demanding to be freed. This is impossible!

  Yet she fought to control herself. In time, Nala grew to realize that submission wasn’t always about being controlled by another person. It was also about controlling oneself. Submitting to oneself. There was a lot to learn from these situations that Nala could apply to other aspects of her life. She needed to mature. To learn to be less brash and hotheaded. To control her temper. She may be an adult, but oftentimes she found herself in situations that could have been prevented if she simply sat back and looked at what she was doing. Submitting to Vincent forced her to face these parts of herself. She would always be a rebel and contrary. That was who she was, from the day she was born. Vincent didn’t want to change that. He wanted to teach her how to control it. That was the role of her Dom. Not to exert force over her, but to bring out the best inside of her.

  The man she called Master wouldn’t be her king. He would be her teacher.

  In the meantime, she would love him.

  So even though she wanted to scream, to cry, to heave the loudest breaths in history against the bed, she didn’t. She wanted to make Vincent proud. Not just to get her reward, but to prove to him that she was worthy of being his obedient student.

  And worthy of his love.

  When the test was over, with nary a peep from Nala’s clenched lips and stifled throat, Vincent sat back, letting his fingers round her ass with a ticklish sensation. Nala finally let out a breath laced in a moan.

  “What do you want, darling?” Vincent asked. “I’ll give you anything.”

  Can you give me your heart? Nala had to shake that thought from her head. There was no sense asking for the impossible.

  “I want you,” she said, knees pushing her hips up. “I want you to take me. Please, sir.”

  Was it working? Was her ticket to success bumping her ass into the air and enticing the man? I’m really fucking wet. She could feel it on her thighs, running down her leg, and from the air hitting her between the folds. Nala didn’t know how much time had passed since Vincent’s first climax, but she hoped it had been enough time for him to get hard again.

  “What else, Nala? I know you want something else.”

  Oh, there it was. Vincent drew her hips up and knelt right behind her, his stiff cock touching, taunting her. A fury of desires wound themselves up inside Nala. Now! I want it now! She had been denied all sorts of things tonight. First she couldn’t flinch. Then she didn’t get her orgasm. Then she had to be quiet while she
was pleasurably tormented some more. Was this it? Was this finally her reward for a job well done that night?

  She knew what she wanted.

  “I want you to talk dirty to me, sir.” She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with much needed air. “That first night you took me as yours… part of what made it so exhilarating was how you talked to me.”

  “You’re strange,” Vincent immediately replied. “I’ve never met a woman who likes that level of filth.”

  “Of course, it means nothing if you don’t really mean it, sir.”

  “I was coming from a dark place that night. I resented how guilty I felt wanting you. If I did it now, it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “I think it would.”

  “Why is that?”

  Nala looked over her shoulder. “Because deep down, I really am a seductive demon who has been spending these past few weeks seducing you into feelings you haven’t allowed yourself for a long, long time. It doesn’t hurt to be reminded of what I really am.”

  She grinned, assuring him that this was a joke, of course. Vincent smiled back at her, removing his jeans and the briefs beneath until he was as naked as her.

  He reached to touch her as he had all night, but Nala knowingly disobeyed, moving her legs to one side and fighting against his need for her.

  “What are you…”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that, sir.” Nala’s hiss stung the air, and she watched as Vincent went from the gentleman to the demanding Dom in about two seconds.

  This was the wildest game they had played yet, but it exhilarated Nala’s heart in ways she could not express even to herself. If she was going to see Vincent as her teacher, then he would have to continue to earn her respect. He would have to prove himself, over and over, matching wits with the flighty bird who would never be content to be kept in a cage all day. She would always be trying to break free, because that was her nature.

  She wanted to feel him forcefully hold her hips down, spread her legs and mutter into her ear that she was a terrible demon who needed to learn her place. She wanted to feel him sit on top of her as he reached into his drawer of bondage gear and pulled out more silk scarves and strips. And, oh, she wanted to feel her knees wrap in those beautiful silks, the other ends tied tight to the headboard so she was nearly immobile. The bird couldn’t fly away. The demon was caught, the succubus finally getting her way with the man she had chosen as her target.

  Vincent didn’t tell her why he didn’t gag her. Nala knew why. He not only wanted to hear her make a shitton of noise and talk back to him, but he intended on being rough, and wanted to give her the ability to use her safe word if necessary.

  He did blindfold her, though. The darkness overcame her, and all she had to go by were the sounds of their bodies and the feel of the bed as it sank beneath Vincent’s weight. Nala’s torso was lifted, her nipples barely grazing a pillow to a tortuous effect. Her knees were also connected to the head board, forced apart with her ass high in the air. The trapped demon was not only unable to flee… but she was presented on a platter to the man who would fuck the mischief out of her.

  The way he spoke to her would never be like that first night again. His heart was dark that night, and it would not be tonight. This was pure role-play, but Vincent could certainly deliver on other fronts. He played along with Nala’s fantasy, fulfilling the idea that she was a bad, bad succubus who needed to be tamed and taught a serious lesson. With his body, of course.

  “You can’t take me,” Nala growled. “I’ll never be docile or demure. I’ll never be a pretty princess who serves a king.”

  He spanked her raw flesh, sending shivers through her body and a hiss through her teeth. “What a pity if you did turn out that way. I’d much rather fuck the filthy street girl than some cleaned up, soulless princess. You’re lower than a filthy street girl, though, aren’t you? You’re lower than the dirt on my hands. You’re the kind of menace who preys on the people who want nothing to do with your kind. The only way you’ll learn is if a man like me forces you to learn.”

  Oh, what a delightful word. Force.

  Although her legs were “forced” open already, Vincent clapped both hands on her hips and pried her thighs farther apart, opening her folds and making her arousal slip effortlessly from her body. Do it in one stroke. I fucking dare you. Nala wanted to feel him inside her what felt like hours ago.

  One stroke? Who was she kidding? Maybe if they were different kinds of people built in different ways. Yet no matter how aroused she was, Nala would never be able to take that man in one swift thrust. The universe would never allow it.

  “Shit!” one of them cried… or was it both? Either way, Nala was pierced, like an arrow to the bird’s breast. Yet the arrow did not go deep. It pierced her flesh, but it would not lodge, and the hunter was forced to shoot another arrow at her. Again. Again. Each time deeper, but every time making her cry in pain and delight both. If this were gentle lovemaking, then Vincent would take his time entering her, making sure she felt nothing but good things as his body became one with hers.

  Not tonight.

  “Why are you always so difficult?” he demanded, spanking her for her insubordination. He fell right out of her again, his tip barely inside to begin with. “Why do you fight me? Why do you fight your destiny, succubus?”

  Nala bit back a cry of relief to feel her arousal reemerge from her body. Every time Vincent attempted to shove himself in, she dried up a little, making the friction that much more intense. “I don’t fight anything, sir,” she spat. “Perhaps it’s you who isn’t worthy of me!”

  Before they moved from Portland and sold most of their belongings to pay for the costs of moving and a funeral, Nala had gone through some of her parents’ books. One of them was a book of Russian folklore and fairy tales written in the original Russian and English translation both – Yulia had used this to practice her English. Although Nala was never as smart as her sister, she was able to read at a fairly young age, and from this book she learned of spirits, nymphs, and other mischievous types whose purpose was to lure handsome young men and become their demise. Sometimes they were called rusalki, who sang siren songs from lakes and rivers. In some of these stories, specially trained hunters would track these nymphs down, pretend to be lured in by the songs to which they were actually unaffected, and then either slay the nymph or “take her in.” Some of these spirits became mistresses, and as she grew, Nala wondered if there were erotic undertones to these stories. Now she didn’t wonder. She was living such a story.

  Maybe I really am a demon. A demon of vengeance who also felt the extremes of sexual desire and anger. Vincent was the hunter, lured in by her siren song, but remembering at the last minute what his duty was. To take her down. To punish her. To tame her so she could behave in society and no longer exact her anger on the innocent.

  So to insult not only his manhood, but to imply he was a terrible hunter… Nala knew exactly what she was doing. She was the siren, the succubus, and she would only be taken down by a hunter who proved himself absolutely worthy of her body and essence. To submit to a lesser man would bring imbalance to the universe and never fill that chasm of stars ever again.

  “You think really highly of yourself for someone who was dumb enough to be trapped.”

  “And you think really highly of yourself for someone who can’t even fuck a cunt!”

  Nala knew she would pay for that. She would be really, really disappointed if she didn’t.

  Vincent delivered. He slapped his large hand over her mouth while the other hand pulled her spread thighs toward him, his cock ramming between her legs and piercing the bird right in the heart.

  She squealed against his palm, feeling him finally fill her, and not gently. She was the siren claimed, her fate now bound and set. The hunter had her. The hunter took her. It wasn’t a mere matter of fucking her. This was raw. This was passion at its core, taking them both to another plane of reality as Vincent reached deep into her and
made sure she knew what it felt like to have her Master teach her the real lesson.

  Nala held up her end of the role-play by struggling against him, although every inch of her body begged for her to sit still and take it. Except that wouldn’t have been as thrilling, as satisfying as playing it out this way.

  “Fuck!” she screamed, still muffled by his hand, Vincent’s fingers slipping against her lips as he pulled out and slammed back into her again. Nala tried to flail her arms in pleasure, but the binds were too tight. She was immobile. She truly was trapped and at the hunter’s whims. His words of filth and defamation, of pride and alpha tendencies filled her ears as his body filled hers. Nala wouldn’t even remember most of them later. Her mind was so lost to the ether, soaring high above the room, watching the scene play out below her… that it would have been impossible to retain everything he said to her that night. Whatever it was, it came from a real place. Not real as in that’s what he really thought of Nala, but real as in those dark emotions still lurked deep within him – Nala had a helluva ability of bringing them out during sex.

  Vincent rocked into her with increasing force and speed. Nala’s small body could barely take it, but she had to – what choice did she have? Using her safe word was not an option. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this or couldn’t take it. It was that her heart raced so quickly that she almost feared the hunter really would take her down.

  Any pain, any discomfort disappeared as Vincent made it all the way inside with one favorable stroke. They were one. They said terrible things to one another, but they were one. No matter how awful they felt, no matter what crazy fantasies they played out, this was it, this was the real reason they did it all. Who else could Nala take these feelings out on? Who else could Vincent finally express himself with? They had come together as total strangers, and now Nala was in love. Every hard thrust, every deep touch of her body as she remained tied for his easier access made her feel like she was free.