by L. A. Boruff
Itztli immediately seized the bottom hem of my sweater and tugged it up over my head. I hadn’t bothered with a bra. Tlacel’s eyes dropped to my breasts and his shoulders quivered, tendons standing out beneath his skin. Torture, to be so close to me and not be able to touch me.
Exactly what he wanted.
Itztli’s fingers moved to the button on my jeans. I closed my fingers over his, stilling his movements.
“Slowly,” I whispered, tipping my head to the side in invitation. “Give him a good show.”
He stepped closer to my back, pressing the heat of his upper body against me. I let out a rumbling purr of pleasure and nestled deeper into his arms, making sure to rub my ass up good and tight against his dick. He dipped his head and kissed the side of my neck, his lips soft and gentle as he roamed up toward my ear. Goose bumps raced down my arms, making me shiver.
He lingered on the hollow behind my ear, licking my skin and lightly sucking on that spot. My knees trembled, and he caught me up fully against him, one big arm wrapped around my waist, his other around my upper body so he could palm my breast. He rubbed and squeezed me gently, using his fingers to scissor around my nipple.
Heat pooled in my abdomen and I rocked against him. I arched my neck to the other side, inviting his mouth to torment the opposite side of my neck. Though instead of soft kisses, this time he scratched his fangs teasingly down my throat. He worked the muscle that ran across the top of my shoulder, gripping me with his teeth like a jaguar will hold his mate.
“Yes,” I whispered, encouraging him to sink his fangs in me. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel his hunger surging through our bond. His power rising as my blood filled his mouth.
But first, he tugged on the button of my jeans, and this time, I let him.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and with agonizing slowness, he worked the tight denim down my hips. Dropping to his knees behind me, he licked a leisurely path down my back. He kissed the delicate hollows on either side at the base of my spine as he helped me step out of my jeans.
Nuzzling my buttocks, he pressed his tongue deep between my cheeks, pushing me forward. I grabbed Tlacel’s shoulders, bracing myself as Itztli dipped lower and tasted my cream. Spreading heat and moisture through my entire body, he dragged his tongue back up my crack. Down again, nudging me harder, until I held onto his brother’s shoulders for dear life.
Which put my breasts closer to Tlacel’s face. He leaned in as much as he could, desperate to touch me any way he could, even while he was bound. His mouth burned on my skin, hot and desperate, his fangs sharp and throbbing in our bond, but I wasn’t ready to let him feed yet. The taste of my blood had made him come before, and we’d only just begun the delicious torment.
I fisted my fingers in his hair and jerked his head back. “No fangs. Not yet.”
His chest heaved, his face flushed, but he nodded. “Yes, my queen.”
I dropped down to my knees before him and he trembled in the ropes. His cock strained to reach me, its head dark purple and leaking fluid. “How long can you endure my mouth while your brother fucks me?”
Another tremor shook him, his voice ragged as he said, “As long as it takes, my queen.”
Tlacel
I’d dreamed of being helpless for our queen. Tied up. Unable to move. I’d fantasized about her making me watch while she fucked another Blood. Even my brother.
But never in a million years had I dared imagine that she’d include me like this. That she’d embrace my need—and still want to touch me. Still want… me. At all.
Yet here my powerful, gorgeous queen knelt in front of me, leaning down low so she could lick the tip of my dick.
She could have ordered her alpha to please her. Or one of the other men, all larger than life and bolder than me. Even silent Xin or easy-going Nevarre would have been a better choice than me. At least that’s what my brain tried to tell me.
Though it was fucking hard to think with my queen’s mouth tormenting me.
She hummed with my dick on her tongue, nearly blowing the top of my skull off, and Itztli hadn’t even thrust inside her yet. He was too busy worshipping our queen’s ass to care about my torment. Gripping her hips, he lifted her knees up off the floor so he could get his tongue deeper inside her.
The deeper he worked his tongue…
The harder she sucked me.
Her fangs were hard and cold against my flesh, sliding perilously over my tender skin. The silent threat made me shudder, my muscles aching with strain. A vicious cramp tore through my thigh. Groaning, I tried to twist my wrists to gain even a centimeter of space, but the headless knight knew his way around ropes as well as he knew his many blades. I couldn’t even rip my skin open and use blood as a lubricant to loosen the bindings.
All I could do was kneel there and shudder and hope that the sounds I made didn’t drive our queen away to one of her more dominant Blood.
She came up for air and seized my face in both hands, her fingers digging into my cheeks. Her eyes gleamed with a furious glint that made my heart stutter in my chest. “The only dominant Blood I need is my alpha, and if I wanted to tie Rik up and torment him like this, he’d let me. In a heartbeat. Because he loves me, and I love him. So why should it be any different for you?”
My chest heaved, my heart too heavy in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. But somehow, I forced the words out. “It’d be different if you wanted it.”
“What makes you think I don’t want this? That I don’t want you?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t form the words. Her bond swelled inside my head, spilling over with a wealth of emotions and the brutal, naked truth. She loved the fuzzy look in my eyes. Every time I whimpered or cried out, her clit throbbed. And when she thought of sinking her fangs into me… pleasure shimmered in her.
She was close to coming. My queen. Just from tormenting me.
Licking her lips, she dipped her shoulders down again and inhaled my dick. My breath hissed out, a startled groan shredding my throat. And then I felt the surge in our bond. Pleasure crested inside her and erupted into a sparkling fountain that cascaded through us both.
Itztli wasn’t touching her. He wasn’t fucking her. That pleasure was solely from her reaction to me.
I met my brother’s gaze, sure that my eyes glistened with tears. But no shame. Not now. Not ever again.
Itztli’s eyes glittered like an obsidian mirror, reflecting the truth back at me. This was me. This was my queen.
And she loved me more than ever.
“Which is why she’s our queen, brother. Forever.”
Her bond flowed through me like dancing quicksilver. :I want you inside me, my obsidian blade. And when I come again, my feathered serpent, we’ll fly through the night together on your wings.:
Gripping her hips, Itztli thrust deep, jostling her mouth on my dick. The slight movement rubbed her fangs on me, sending my nerves screeching with delicious sensation. Yes, it was terrifying, the thought of her brutal fangs tearing me up, but it was also arousing. It was just another way that she made me helpless. That she used me, for her pleasure, not mine.
Itztli smoothed one palm up her back, smearing streaks of white and black on her skin. I wanted to paint her like this. Her dark, shining eyes catching mine every once in a while, as she lifted her mouth. Her long hair loose about her beautiful face, sliding over my skin like silk. The treacherous curves of her spine and hips. My brother’s fingers denting her skin, his grip fierce. His jaws tense, shoulders straining as he fought to restrain his own needs.
But he shouldn’t have worried. Our queen knew us inside and out. She reached back and plunged her silver-tipped nails into his thigh, giving him the pain he needed, while letting her feed at the same time.
Our twin bonds had always been entangled. His pleasure, mine. His fears, mine. Even his pain, though it never stirred my lust like his. I felt the growing explosion at the base of his spine, and it matched my approaching release. The kind of clim
ax that rocked the foundations of your world, mixed up with down, and razed everything to the ground.
I felt the jerk of my brother’s hips as climax pulsed through him. I tasted him in our queen’s bond as she sucked up his blood through her unique nails. And then I felt her release blooming in a sudden explosion of heat. She jerked her mouth off my dick and sank her fangs deeply into my thigh above the rope.
My blood mingled with my brother’s. She fed on us at the same time. She made us come at the same time, because I couldn’t resist the pleasure that torched through me whenever she fed. She sucked me down, sweeping me up into the night sky, just as she’d promised. Though it wasn’t my wings that carried her, but the dark, powerful wings of her flying jaguar.
It took me a long time to find my way back to my body. I slowly became aware of her head pillowed on my thigh, her arms around my waist. Her fingers stroked over the deeply embedded marks the ropes had left in my thighs. I’d fallen over at some point, though she and my brother must have caught me.
I felt a tug as Guillaume sliced through the ropes binding my arms. I couldn’t move them, not yet. Everything tingled as blood rushed to my fingers. My muscles creaked and ached with every movement, a deep, delicious throb that made me groan, and yeah, my cock stirred again. I’d never cared for pain before, but this muscle ache was damned good.
For the first time in my very long life, I felt completely at peace. No secret doubt harbored deep inside me. No fear that she might change her mind and turn aside if she saw the truth. She saw me. She saw everything. And she was still here, one hand lazily stroking my back as my brother massaged my arms and checked my fingers to make sure they hadn’t kept me tied up too long.
I wasn’t surprised when Rik joined us. Her alpha dropped to the floor and shifted her lower body up onto him rather than the floor. However, I was shocked when Mehen dropped down beside me and pushed into the pile of bodies. The grumpy dragon wasn’t usually one for cuddling, especially if he hadn’t been involved in the sex.
Mehen caught her hand that was still tracing the grooves in my thigh and lifted her fingers to his mouth. “You can tie up my tender bits as long as you kiss and stroke the marks to make them all better later.”
She laughed softly and rubbed her thumb along his bottom lip. “That could be arranged, my dragon, though you don’t have to do anything you don’t like to get my mouth on you.”
I could see the image in my head. Mehen’s dark skin, his long body stretched out flat. Scales glittering in his arms and shoulders like embedded emeralds. His eyes blazing green fire. While our queen looked up at me, her hair dragging over his groin. A secretive, sensual heat in her eyes as she tied a bow around his dick.
“Done,” Mehen said immediately. “Start painting.”
The End
Read the rest of the Their Vampire Queen series, starting with Queen Takes Knights.
About the Author
Joely Sue Burkhart has always loved heroes who hide behind a mask, the darker and more dangerous the better. Whether cool, sophisticated billionaire, brutal bloodthirsty assassin, or simply a man tortured by his own needs, they all wear masks to protect themselves. Once they finally give you a peek into the passionate, twisted secrets they’re hiding, they always fall hard and fast. Dare to look beneath the mask and find love in the shadows.
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Emma Dean: Bay Coven’s Samhain Ball
A Never Before Seen Raven Assassin Prequel Story
For Kristen Banet
who insisted she needed a raccoon shifter romance
from me. <3 Enjoy.
The San Francisco Bay Coven’s Samhain Ball was nothing but temptation for a raven shifter.
Shiny gold and black plates. Wine glasses made from black crystal. Scarlet linens. Nothing but candles to light the dark.
Emily ran her fingers over the flames set in apples and pumpkins.
Not to mention the jewelry everyone wore.
Chandeliers hung from the trees, dead branches had been tied together weeks before to create the walls of their ‘venue’ in the park. A path was lit from the place of celebration to an altar with thousands of candles.
Witches lit candles for their ancestors on the New Year and invited everyone to participate.
Maybe she would later.
What could it hurt?
So much magic had been used to create the atmosphere. Fog hugged the floor and the long tables and velvet chairs from seemingly nowhere. Emily rubbed her fingertip over the soft fabric of her chair and watched as couples danced in their dark ball gowns and suits.
For the witches’ New Year they always went all out, and it was Emily’s favorite event though this year was tainted with the tenuous truce they’d re-established with the Bay Coven. Everyone wanted an assassin until they had to deal with the consequences.
Raven.
Harbinger of death.
Trickster.
Portent of evil.
Messenger of prophecy.
Assassin.
Emily sat with her flock and listened to the voices around her, enjoying the mysterious music coming from the string quartet, amplified with magic of course. It made the notes tremble and strain, vibrating on the air with their own aura, taunting everyone who attended, begging them to move and sway along with the music.
She resisted, listening and watching instead.
Waiters whipped through the crowd with their gold trays, full with shots of luck for the year to come. It was exactly what she’d needed at that moment. She needed this time away from the Collective.
Ravens were shunned by others in the paranormal community normally.
Well, most of them.
That they were invited to the Samhain ball at all was a testament to her mother’s diplomatic skill.
Assassins were usually silent, but each flock had a diplomat and a guardian – her mother and father in her flock.
They lived apart from other shifters, and very rarely lived away from their own kind. Bad things happened to ravens when they were alone.
Too many in the paranormal world were afraid – too many thought perhaps they were there to take their life. And others just wanted an assassin on a leash.
Emily had learned much in her twenty-nine years, but the most important lesson had been to listen.
And they’d been seated near the main table, near the Kavanagh clan who she’d heard so much about these past few months.
The matriarch’s sister had been mated. Kenzie and her foxes.
Emily smiled.
The shifter community in general didn’t particularly like the smaller predators, the ones they liked to refer to as scavengers. Ravens and coyotes had a centuries old alliance she doubted many in the paranormal world even knew existed.
And as she eyed the Kavanagh table again she realized foxes and ravens weren’t the only tricksters invited to the ball. Witch events were such a strange thing.
As neutrals, witches were neither good nor bad. They protected the knowledge of the paranormal world for thousands of years and still did. They stepped in to keep the balance, and occasionally assisted others when necessary.
All were welcome as long as they kept the peace during their celebratory events.
“I can’t believe you managed to get us invites,” one of the guys at Kenzie’s table said. He was adorable in his glasses, but the telltale sign of muscles could be seen even through the tux.
“The High Priestess owed Selene a favor,” Kenzie said – the witch who was not a witch. “Not to mention I like making my family as uncomfortable as possible, and inviting raccoons seemed like the way to do it this year. I thought my mother was going to faint when I told her who I sent the invites to.”
“Too bad she didn’t,” one of the foxes said. His bright red hair was difficult to ignore, but it matched the colors of Samhain perfectly. She recognized him from that little run-in, but he wasn’t the one she’d spoken to.
The alpha fox had given her a nod when he’d seen her.
Emily kept her eyes on her wine glass as she eavesdropped. The black crystal was gorgeous. She was definitely taking one home with her.
But what kept snagging her attention was the Rolex one of the raccoon shifters wore. They liked shiny things almost as much as she and her people did.
Was he aware of her attention?
“So you’re just using us?” one of the raccoons asked with a laugh. “I’m down with that.”
“How long are you staying?” the alpha fox asked.
Emily looked up as the song changed and she wished for a moment someone would ask her to dance. They were there to mend relationships yes, but couldn’t she have fun at the same time?
“I’m going to get a drink,” she whispered to her mother.
Then she stood and wove her way slowly through the tables toward one of the bars. It didn’t seem as though any coyotes had been invited, but if they had they probably would have declined. Emily did see the Alpha of the West Coast Pride, Samuel. He really was as gorgeous as the rumor mill had suggested.
“You were listening to us.”
If she hadn’t been paying attention he might have scared her, but Emily had known he’d follow her. Some instinct she had – a knack for trouble as her mother called it.
Emily turned and smiled at the tallest of the four raccoons she’d been listening to. She was only five foot two so this guy towered over her. His black hair was shiny, curly, and luscious. It was long enough to curl around his ears and neck and she just wanted to run her fingers through the silky locks.
“I was listening to you,” she admitted. She’d never been one for unnecessary words. Silence also made people uncomfortable. Too many felt the need to fill the quiet and that’s when she learned the most.
Why were his brown eyes so warm even when he narrowed them at her? “What are you? You have no scent.”
