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Vampire's Captive

Page 3

by Aurora Rose Lynn


  He stood still in helpless admiration. “Not tongue-tied. You can have anything you want."

  She laughed with delight. “I want you to strip for me. With attitude."

  Did he dare hope she'd realise he'd made a gigantic mistake and wanted her to marry him again? “I might need some help though."

  She nodded and patted the bed beside her. “Come closer."

  His knees wobbled. No matter how many times he'd made love to her, it was always like the very first time with her, fresh, exciting, and invigorating. He took two strides across the room. “Aren't you supposed to be my captive, instead of me being yours?"

  Her gaze up at him was filled with lust. She caught her glossy peach-coloured lower lip between her teeth and waved an imperious hand. “Off."

  His chest constricted with possessiveness. How could he have thought to let her marry another man? He stripped off his Armani jacket and threw it over the arm of a nearby chair. “I was jealous, you know."

  Silently, she drummed her fingers on the sheets. “Of?"

  "You marrying another man.” The words tumbled out. The tie followed the jacket.

  "Oh that.” A ghost of a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “No worries."

  "Are you over him?"

  "Should I be?"

  "I don't know. Should you?” Playing with words instead of her naked body.

  She shrugged. “It was a divorce in the making."

  Brett harrumphed, reminded again about his great error in judgment.

  "This isn't about him, Brett. It's about us."

  "Is this a one-time event too?” The words came out much more bitter than he'd intended and gained him an inquisitive look.

  "If you want it to be.” She traced a sexy polished fingernail along her upper lip. “But it seems to me you came knocking on my door."

  That took the responsibility and blame away from her shoulders and placed them on his. He could handle that. Outwardly, he didn't acknowledge her statement.

  "Take the rest off,” Sierra told him.

  "You're getting some amusement out of this?” He unbuckled the belt and shimmied out of his pants, which fell around his ankles with a soft shush. His cock immediately bobbed upwards.

  "My poor baby,” she whispered, her pupils narrowing. “You always take my breath away when I see you naked."

  He laughed self-derisively. “May I approach my lady captive's bed?"

  "Will you bite my neck?"

  He shook his head. “Never. I wouldn't will this life on my worst enemy."

  It was interesting she'd raised the question of creating another vampire. Of her. She'd never cared for bite marks. Not that he'd have bitten her. She knew he came from a solitary background, didn't have many friends. They'd agreed when they first got married that he'd be careful not to bite her. He'd told her he couldn't stand it if she was as lonely as he was through eternity. And she could be if vampire hunters caught up with him, then ended his life.

  "Not even if we're together?"

  "Sier, don't talk like this. We agreed when we got married—"

  She cut him off. “We're not married anymore, so the old rules don't apply."

  His dick throbbed painfully. He continued as if he hadn't heard, but her words cut at his heart like sharp swords. “—that I wouldn't create another monster.” The hell with what she wanted. He closed the gap between them, got onto the bed and trapped her hips under her thighs.

  "Be happy with who you are, Sier. There's not another woman like you in the whole universe. I love you for that. And a whole lot more."

  She twisted her hips under him as if she'd slide out. He caught her wrists, encircled them in one hand and thrust them over her head. The sheet stayed between them. “Listen. It's not going to happen. Not now, not ever."

  "Make love to me,” she whispered.

  She didn't meet his frank gaze. Before he had a chance to wonder why, he tore the sheet from between them. They were both nude, flesh to flesh, yearning to yearning. Driven by a need to satisfy himself and with a vengeance that pained him, he spread her legs apart and plunged deep into her sheath.

  "No,” she exclaimed in a tormented whisper. “I don't want you this way."

  Was she playing their game or being honest with him? When had been the last time she'd told him the hardcore truth? He couldn't remember. Didn't try to recall. “Isn't it too late for that?” he growled, anger and the old hurt rising from deep within. “You tempt me into seducing you, and then you tell me you don't want me?"

  Unmoving, his cock rested in her pussy as he examined her face, her cheeks blotched with rose highlights. He lowered his lips to her mouth and gave her a bruising kiss filled with passion, lust and fury. Unwittingly, he freed her wrists. Her arms curled around his neck, drawing his upper body closer to hers.

  The kiss did something to his emotions. Softened them, took the edge off the desperation. He broke the kiss, noting Sierra hadn't struggled except at the very beginning. Now she laid under him, compliant, her lips kiss-swollen and her eyes questioning.

  "I didn't want to do that,” he muttered in self-loathing for his caveman behaviour. He'd never wanted to hurt her. Not ever. Instead of bringing her closer, he was driving her away. “I didn't mean to do that,” he told her, pulling his still hard cock from her sheath.

  She stopped him with a sharp, “No!"

  He froze with indecision. She couldn't still desire him after his bullish conduct.

  "Can you finish making love to me?” she asked, her voice low, seductive. “I need you."

  Such a simple statement that wrung his heart and messed with his mind. He didn't dare ask if she loved him, if she'd marry him again. “I need you too,” he murmured, gently driving into her welcoming cunt. Her thighs were supple as she opened them wider to better accommodate his large size.

  He canted his head to one side and took one nipple in his questing mouth and toyed with the other, stretching it into a high peak. Underneath him, she moaned and began pumping her hips in time with his thrusting. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, mirroring his own sexual intensity.

  Her back arched. She took his shaft deeper to that spot of heaven he never wanted to leave. It took every bit of his willpower to prevent himself from surging to a toppling crest as she bit back a cry of sheer, undiluted ecstasy. One after the other, shudders rippled through her body and sent him over the intoxicating side of the highest mountain in the universe. He arched his neck, shut his eyes tight and groaned as he spurted into her channel. Every muscle in his heated body melted away, leaving him shaky and breathless.

  Sierra said nothing as he pulled his shaft from her and rolled over on his back, the back of his hand clasped against his clammy forehead. He was grateful when she faced him, scooted closer and sank her head against his chest. With gentle fingers, she toyed with the fine hairs on his chest. “Brett?"

  He tried to take a deep breath but everything was stuck in his lungs still he managed, “Yeah?” He kept his eyes closed, replaying over and over the sensual images of her lush body covered with flimsy sheets.

  "That was remarkable."

  "Yeah.” He wondered if his heartbeat and rapid breathing would ever return to normal.

  "About that whipping?"

  His eyes flashed open. “Woman! I'm near death after what you do to me and now you want a whipping?"

  She nodded, her hair tumbled around her shoulders in a ravishingly artless way. She'd lost one diamond earring but the other dangled with her head's movement.

  "Let me gain my bearings first.” And to think, he mused, but his dick was responding to her idea by getting hard. Again.

  * * * *

  He must have dozed off. When he blinked his eyes open, Sierra wasn't beside him on the bed as she usually was after lovemaking. Naked, still unsteady on his feet, he searched her apartment. She was nowhere. And he noted with a touch of dismayed sadness as he searched the closet for clues to where she'd run that her suitcase was gone.


  Brett sank onto a chair in the dining room and wept unashamedly. What had gone wrong? Why had Sierra left? He recalled what she'd said about a whipping. Why would she mention such a thing if she was planning to leave? Funny, but he'd been looking forward to tanning her lovely ass while she begged for more. Now she was gone.

  If he found her, what alternative did he have but to consign her to eternity so she would stay with him? How could he face his whole life, a bleak forever life, without her at his side?

  In his gut, he knew it was wrong. He could never compel Sierra to be what he was. A man without value in the human race he lived amongst, a man without a permanent home and a man without Sierra's love. Life, he suspected, would become complicated if she was what he was. There were always those who, in their petty mindedness, misjudged him and for no reason that he knew of retaliated against him by trying to kill him. Which was next to impossible. There was only one way.

  This life, if Brett could call it that, wasn't for his beloved Sierra. He'd rather end his own than inflict the torment and self-loathing on her. Because that's what her life would come to. Then she'd hate him. He was sure of that.

  The apartment was empty without her. The humidity had ramped up without the air conditioner running. He didn't bother to turn it on. Drying his eyes and his face with the back of his hand, he got to his feet, determined to return to his house and erase the night's memories of making love to a woman he would never stop loving no matter how long he lived.

  He dressed without paying much attention to what he was doing. He buttoned his shirt, then realising the buttons didn't match the buttonholes, had to start all over again. Some of the dresser drawers were left open, probably in Sierra's haste to get away from him and in an attempt not to wake him. Out of curiosity, Brett strolled over and pulled the uppermost one open. A framed photograph lay on the top of a pile of panties and bras. He stared at the photo of a beaming man in black and his joy-filled bride. Sierra and himself.

  His blood drummed in his ears. Why had she hung onto the picture when she'd clearly intended to marry another man? Something didn't sit right. If a woman loved a man, wouldn't she rid herself of any reminders of other, failed relationships?

  He remembered her adamancy about not marrying him in a church but being married by a justice of the peace in a civil ceremony. Yet, this time with Adrian, she'd opted for a church wedding. Brett shook himself, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. Something was definitely not right. He had to find Sierra and ask her some questions. And, for his peace of mind, he hoped to hell she answered them.

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  Chapter Six

  After several days, countless phone calls to hotels all over the country, and despairing over whether he would find her, Brett heard news of her. Or rather, she left a message on his answering machine. All Sierra said, in a low, mysterious tone, was, “Come and get me. You know where I am."

  Brett ground his teeth in frustration, replaying the message several times to see if he could detect any background noise but hearing nothing but traffic whizzing by and the occasional blaring horn.

  He had to know the answer. Outside the bank of living room windows, night had fallen. The pregnant moon from nights before had slimmed to a dainty crescent hovering above a milieu of silvery clouds. Why was Sierra always making a move during the dark night hours?

  The answer to where she waited came as he sipped a cold cup of coffee. He didn't bother to throw on any additional clothes other than a pair of navy blue shorts and a white t-shirt. He was at the Carnival Pier within ten minutes.

  He was already calling out, “Sierra! Sierra!” as he jumped out of the car. “Where are you?” He ran through the sun-warmed sand to the carnival, continuing to shout her name. Time and experience had shown him that nothing was ever as it seemed. Even though he hurried, he maintained a cautious demeanour, looking for anything that seemed somewhat out of place. Outside of the waves crashing against the beach, he heard nothing. The crescent moon kept him company, silently watching over him with its faint glow.

  The carousel with its battered horses came to mind first. He rushed there, stepping carefully around broken glass and yellowed sheets of newspaper from days gone by. He found Sierra, her wrists bound to a pillar that had once supported one of the prancing horses.

  Her wary gaze tore at his heart.

  "I don't want to play this stupid bondage game anymore, Sier!” he shouted, rushing up to her, desperate to untie her.

  She was so beautiful. Her long hair hung down her back in soft tresses. She was absolutely naked except for a pair of white six inch high heels with silk ties that wound their way around her ankles. “Oh, don't be such a prude,” she admonished him. “Why don't you consider it a reward for all the searching you've done for me?” She turned her head to look behind the pillar. “I even brought some toys for you to play with. If you want."

  The surprised anger drained away, replaced by intense curiosity. And his dick was playing with him, too. “What kind of toys?” He swallowed hard, unable to believe that once again Sierra was in control with her captive routine.

  "A bottle of champagne. Nipple clamps. A dildo. That kind of thing.” She tugged on her bound wrists. “If you let me go, I'll show you."

  Brett shook his head in amazement. “You don't give up, do you?"

  Her eyebrows knit together in a frown. “What do you mean?"

  Even though his cock was hard and thick with longing, he blew up. “Who are you playing to, Sierra?” he shouted. His words echoed into the thin night air. “Is it for me, yourself or are you practicing for the next poor fool you meet?” That had to be it. He was so besotted with her that he hadn't seen she was using him for her own perverted ends and didn't give a rat's ass about him.

  She looked away and when she turned her gaze on him, her eyes were filled with tears. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “I thought you liked playing with me.” She moistened her lips with a flick of her tongue. “I thought you loved me."

  He was madder than a disturbed hornet's nest. He tried to ignore the fierce arousal relentlessly pounding at him—an arousal that could so easily make mush out of him and force him to give in to her. “Don't you see what you're doing? You're not playing with me! You're playing with some kind of mystery man, someone you made up in your head. Someone who can satisfy you better than I can, apparently!” He had to walk away before he lost his sanity or did something to her he might regret, then had to forever live with the guilt. And forever was a very long time.

  To his surprise, tears rolled down her face. Her lips trembled and her whole body quivered. “This was never about me, Brett Wolfe. It was for you. Always for you.” She easily freed her hands, got to her feet in one graceful move of long limbs and satin skin and strode towards him, the tears glistening on her cheeks in the dim light. She was so erotic, so sexy in those high heels that had most likely been designed to drive a man wild with lust.

  She poked a finger at his chest, keeping time with each unhurried word. “Everything I did during our marriage, I did for you. Every minute I spend with you is for you. Do you know why?” She kept punctuating each word with a sharp finger. “Because you're a stubborn jackass. Because you don't see a good thing when you've got it. Because you've got yourself so wrapped up in Brett Wolfe, you can't see anything but yourself. Because I love you, you idiot!"

  He stood his ground although her finger hurt the middle of his chest where she kept hitting him. He let her vent, while she turned his world upside down in the process. “What did you say?” he asked stupidly.

  Her eyes flashed fire. “Which part? The part about—"

  With ill grace, he interrupted. “The last part. The part about how you love me."

  She did her own thing, as always. “This whole charade about marrying Ade was just that. A charade. To make you jealous. To make you see the light!” Her annoying finger fell to her side.

  "Forget that. Although I should have known. What did you say about lov
ing me?” He held his breath, trying to assimilate everything she'd told him.

  "I'm not getting through to you, am I?"

  "No, I don't think so,” he admitted, hoping he wasn't making too much of an ass of himself. First, accusing her of not being her real self when what was he doing in that respect? And second, hinting he didn't like playing with her sexually. How far was that from the truth?

  Sierra's finger lifted up again, intent on prodding him with a vengeance again. He seized her and squeezed lightly even as she tried to twist away. “Are you saying you love me the way I am?” he demanded.

  "Why? So you could throw my love away like an old dishrag just like so many other men have?” Her chin quivered, and the tears began to shimmer down her cheeks again.

  Brett would have whooped and hollered, but he knew in her state of mind, she'd see him as conceited. But he didn't blame her. He watched as she seemed to shrink and draw into herself.

  Tenderly, he wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “I'm sorry,” he said simply. “I thought you'd be happier without me. With someone else who could give you everything you wanted."

  "And what if all I wanted was you?” She sniffled. “Here I am naked in the middle of a carnival, begging you to love me."

  Using his wet thumb, he tipped her face up. “You never had to beg, Sierra. Never. I love you more than life itself."

  Her eyes, once again twinkling with mischievousness, met his. “You'd say that, wouldn't you?"

  Brett chuckled. “Because I'm vampire?"

  "Because you're a conceited fool."

  "I ‘fess up. I'm that too.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I'm not going to ask for your permission,” he said. “I'm going to throw you in my car and take you home to have my way with you."

  "What about what I brought?” She indicated the toys on the ground with a nod in their direction.

  "Oh,” he humoured her, “I think we can make use of them. Especially the dildo."

  To his satisfaction, her eyes widened with pleasure.

 

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