Beloved Vampire (55 page)

Without further explanation or an attempt for her to marshal her thoughts, he began to enter her, adjusting her for his size, taunting her with how deeply and fully he could fill her. Her body started to explode, a bomb that went off in tiny, explosive increments each time he moved forward, his strength and weight holding her down so she couldn’t rush it, so that her cries became screams, short, staccato bursts, upper body arching up into his, legs quivering.

“Mason . . . oh . . . ah . . .” Coherence deserted her for pleading, whimpering, her eyes locked on his fierce expression, the concentration as she spasmed around him. “Move . . . please . . . I need . . . to feel . . . you . . . my lord.”

But he didn’t, not until he had stretched her all the way, seated himself so deep. She hadn’t been sure if she could take him all. She knew, as a Master, he’d wanted her to feel that harrowing stretch, the border between discomfort and overwhelming need. Her muscles clenched spasmodically, milking him through an orgasm that continued to click upward like the buildup of a roller coaster, overpowering her, taking away her speech, for she realized the orgasm she was experiencing now was just the crest of a powerful wave.

But she wanted to hold on to that pinnacle for as long as she could. It seemed she’d waited forever for this sense of connection, total fulfillment. Poised here, no thoughts or doubts, she was totally his, and had no fears or regrets.

He closed his eyes, a shudder passing through the powerful body, and then he was moving, a withdrawal and a slam back in, fire licking across tissues already immersed in flame. Now she was free to move her hips and Jessica did so, surging up to meet his thrusts, feeling the heat and power of him drive home, withdraw, thrust back in, demanding everything from her. She needed every ounce of her third-mark strength, for though he held himself back, he knew she could take far more physical punishment than a mere mortal. He was apparently more than willing to test the limits of it. His grip on her wrists was bruising, the shove of his body in between her legs demanding enough to stretch tendons and overpower straining muscles. It was glorious . . . not the brutality of Raithe, but a violent passion that told her how much he wanted her. No, a feeling this strong was need. He needed her.

He went back to her throat, no gentle penetration this time. The tiger took her with fierce determination, biting into the shoulder, intending to give her pain amid his claiming, an understanding that his possession involved both, mindless pleasure and the possibility of pain, if it suited his needs. She could accept it, could accept him, at least in this moment of just the two of them.

At that moment of blood taking, he released inside of her, a flood of hot seed. Her body spasmed, toppling over that pinnacle with a shriek of raw desire that encapsulated the sound of his growl against her throat.

Once, she hadn’t known the dark world of vampires existed, a world of nightmarish imaginings. Savagery such as this would have frightened the young girl she’d been, Mason’s hunger far beyond what she could manage. For the first time, the lessons of instinct, pain and pleasure came together. She knew how to serve the needs of a tiger, stand within range of his desires, and not only survive them, but embrace him. Find a wholeness, a depth in the shadows of herself she never would have found otherwise.

Such clarity might elude her when she faced Mason’s “guests” or again confronted the choice of whether she would leave or stay.

But for this second in the darkness of his bedroom, totally his, her body and mind rocketed into the stars, and spiraling there without fear, she held on to the idea.

As they at last slowed, Mason licked her wound, helped the blood stop. He was still inside of her, and she held him with her muscles, wanting him to stay forever. He made a soft noise of approval. When he turned his head, nuzzled beneath her ear, his hand slid down to her hip to cup her buttock, his fingers gripping. As he began to tease the sensitive rim there, she realized, with shock, he wasn’t done.

I don’t intend to be done for a long time,
habiba
. Before dawn comes, you will know what it means to be claimed, in all
ways.

27

A
LL the things she’d imagined, he’d done. Pulling her up on her knees and elbows, driving into her with a rutting animal’s pleasure.

Taking her on her side, a slow, easy glide, hand on her belly to hold her as he moved in and out, in and out. Straddling her face and feeding her his cock, his buttocks pressing against her nipples as he shuttled rhythmically, his heavy testicles swinging against her working throat. Then moving down her body, licking and soothing her sore tissues but also bringing her back to climax again with that clever, relentless mouth. At times, she was so exhausted she thought she might need him to stop. But she couldn’t deny him, and a stronger part of her didn’t ever want it to end.

He freed her hands occasionally, turned her over to massage the shoulder muscles with blissful thoroughness. During those times, he forbade her to speak, and she realized, whatever his intent, it was a relief to simply be, nothing required of her but to serve his pleasure as he wished. Each time he finished the massage, he turned and bound her again, underscoring the point. When necessary, he’d carried her to his bathroom. He let her have her privacy for that, but then, when she opened the door, he carried her back to the bed and restrained her again.

The final time of the night, he took her as he had the first time. He lay full on her, hands cradled around her face, putting them eye to eye, so when she climaxed with slow, thorough pleasure, she had to gaze in his face, watch how intently he studied the frantic look in her eyes, the stretch of her mouth gasping for air, her breath on his face as she cried out again.

Dawn was approaching. She whimpered softly when he took her hands from the rail, but this time he left her wrists tied in the dress.

Turning her on her side, he curved his body around hers. As he fitted his hips against her backside, he slid back into her once more, his hand low on her abdomen, holding her to him.

I would have you sleep,
habiba
. Our guests will come tomorrow night, and I want you well rested.

Her mind was as drained as her body, so fortunately his reminder only created a distant uneasy stirring. Her brain, drugged as it was, was absorbed by the feel of him inside her once more. God, he was still hard, though he had climaxed several times himself

tonight. Of all the supernatural traits vampires possessed, sexual stamina was the most impressive. They could literally fuck a mortal to death.

His amusement flickered in her mind as he adjusted his hips against her, making her draw in an unsteady breath, a noise of soft pleasure.
You find this more impressive than my strength or speed? My immortality? My incredible beauty? My exceptional
charm and patience?

I’m ignoring all overly arrogant vampires in the room. I’m sleeping.

He chuckled, his breath at her cheek, chest against her back. Realizing he expected and intended her to stay locked in his arms, his cock deep in her while they both slept, made her lower belly flutter. A remarkable indication that her body might once again ready itself for him, long before he woke.

Then you shall simply have to wait,
habiba
. I do need
some
sleep.

Clumsily, she tried to kick his shin with her foot. He merely seated himself at a different angle, and she whimpered again.
Be still,
habiba
, or I shall make your torment much, much worse.

041

He wasn’t as cruel a Master as that. Or perhaps his control was not as unflappable as it appeared to be when it came to her. He roused twice during his daily sleep to sate them both again, and the last time, he unbound her hands, let her turn in his arms and held her close, one powerful leg draped over her, his hair a curtain brushing her cheek.

After brushing so close to this moment, and being denied so often by the demons that hounded both of them, she was caught between savoring every second, every touch and sensation, and wanting him to pound into her with insatiable urgency. He gave her both. He gave her everything, except she kept wanting more. Maybe vampire stamina could be matched only by a woman starved for love.

She woke in the afternoon. His breathing was even, but she knew his sleep was light.
I’m going topside, to run on the beach.

Sleep, my lord.

He cinched her in closer to him with a grunt that said what he thought of that. She pushed at him, though she couldn’t resist a gentle stroke along his smooth forehead.
Don’t be a bully. Let me go. Unlike some people, I don’t believe in lying around in bed all
day.

Perhaps because you’re not making optimal use of the activities that can occur there.

If we made any more optimal use of this bed, you’d need a new frame for it.

A light smile played on his mouth, but his hand loosened and he let her go. As his breath evened out, she wondered, amused, if he’d at last been depleted. Not that he’d ever admit it. Male pride was the great equalizer among species. Having far less of it, she knew she was sore and stiff. Though he’d been wondrously gentle as her tissues got more abraded, he hadn’t given her a choice, treating her as his servant in truth. He’d taken her up to climax again and again, even when she thought it was impossible.

Everything he’d demanded of her, she’d eagerly given. And craved more.

Staying carefully away from that thought, more difficult to examine in the light of day, she eased away and gathered up her wrinkled dress. As she slipped it on, she had her first opportunity to take a closer look at his room. From the tapestries and simple dark wood furniture, it was obvious the room belonged to a male who preferred desert tents. Or medieval castles. He had a few art pieces, most of them equestrian. His wardrobe was still open.

Seeing it, her cheeks warmed. He had mirrored doors, which had perplexed her, until he’d lifted her up and seated her on his cock at the end of the bed, leaving her wrists bound. She’d had the unique experience of seeing herself in coitus, being fucked hard and long by an invisible force, since he had no reflection. Her breasts bouncing, face strained with the approaching climax, the impression of his fingers in the soft flesh at her hips, even though she couldn’t see the fingers themselves. The mouth of her sex gripping a thick organ that couldn’t be seen, but was deliciously felt.

He didn’t have much clothing, but what was there was custom-made. She could imagine him giving Amara his specifications and letting her coordinate with his tailors. Cocking her head, she looked down at five pairs of shoes, flanked by several pairs of boots.

It had bemused her, finding out that a monster like Raithe had trappings like these. A closet of clothes that might require laundering or ironing, shoes that needed polishing. Bedrooms that were dusted, linens washed. Vampires took showers. Read stock reports.

As a child, she’d believed monsters lived in dank caves, their only possessions the bones of their victims. Their bodies would be ugly and filthy, foul smelling.

Raithe often made her do chores naked, except for heavy chains that made it impossible for her to move quickly. As such, he made sure she was assigned the tasks most difficult to perform with those chains in place. It left her exhausted at the end of daylight, his intent apparently to make her more malleable to his evening plans. When she demonstrated she still had the will to fight, it had impressed him, such that the next day would bring even more difficult chores.

One day he’d had a thousand cinder blocks delivered and scattered over the back field of his property. She’d been assigned to collect and restack them, fifty feet away. Her naked skin blistered and burned in the summer sun, and her feet were cut to shreds by sharp, spiny vegetation. He’d told her if she didn’t finish them all in the course of the day, he’d have them scattered again. No one except a vampire could have completed the task. She did it for seven days. Because it was early in her captivity, she’d cried a