Authors: Annalynne Russo
Blood and Bondage (10 page)
Anaïs chuckled, her head jostling heartily as
she laughed. “
it.”
“That much, I gathered. But can you be a bit
more specific? Does he hang out at sleazy strip joints? Old fashioned pubs?”
“Not a chance.
to flaunt it. He’d most likely frequent an exclusive, members-only gentlemen’s
club. But from what I hear, he’s turned into a bit of a snob. He won’t want to
rub elbows with just anyone. It’d have to be a place run by the undead.”
“That’s a start. I’ll give Eva and Andreas a
call and see if they’ve got any leads. In the meantime, it’s back to bed for
you. The sun will be up soon.”
Once back in his office, Oliver turned on his
laptop and logged into the video conference program he and Eva had agreed to
utilize in case they needed to consult during her trip. He hated to disrupt her
honeymoon, but he had no other recourse. He was at his wits end and needed to
pick her brain. As far as he knew, an upscale gentleman’s club for bloodsuckers
didn’t exist.
Soon an image of Eva popped up on the computer
monitor. She sat in a simple wooden chair with Andreas behind her, straddling
her rear. Their hands rested comfortably next to the keyboard, fingers
entwined.
“Hey boss. How’s the investigation going?” Eva
asked, her cheek nuzzled in the crook of her husband’s neck. The two of them
seemed happy, like the picture perfect newlywed couple.
“Not so great,” Oliver said, scrubbing his hand
over his face. “We’re pretty much at a dead end in terms of leads. I was hoping
you two would be able to help.”
“Sure, anything you need.” Andreas turned his
genuinely handsome smile toward the screen. “Anaïs is family and I appreciate
you looking out for her. This
“He is.” Oliver tapped his fingertips against
his jaw, something he’d been prone to do in times of nervousness or deep contemplation.
“He’s left a trail of bloody, dismembered bodies in his wake. Anaïs seems to
think he might be into something a bit kinkier than most. Have either of you
heard inklings of an underground vampire BDSM club?”
Oliver smirked as he observed the knowing glance
shared between husband and wife. “Go ahead. Tell him.” Eva groaned as she
wriggled in Andreas’s arms, then pivoted her head and planted a loving kiss to
the corner of his lip.
Andreas cleared his throat, shifting in the
chair behind his mate. “I know of such a place. The club is called Blood &
Bondage and it’s rumored to be located somewhere on
Oliver tilted his head sideways and stared at
the computer monitor, completely perplexed. He couldn’t imagine that Eva would
be caught dead in a joint like that. But hell, he supposed being married to a
vampire forced her to live life on the edge.
“What?” Eva said, furrowing her brow in
question. “I’ve, no we’ve never been there, right honey?”
“No way, dude. I’m not into that sort of thing.
But one of my bartenders, Bobby DuBois, has been known to frequent the
establishment with a couple of his girlfriends.”
“Girlfriends?” Oliver wasn’t sure if he’d heard
Andreas right.
“Yes, girlfriends.” The vampire confirmed
Oliver’s suspicions with a nod of his head. “
them have got an unusual arrangement. They could probably get you in, if you
want?”
“That’d be great.
Have him give me a call. The sooner, the better.”
“Will do,” Andreas
said with a salute. “I’ll talk to you soon.” Then, the screen went blank.
Anaïs at a BDSM club?
Now that’s something I want to see.
Chapter Eleven
Pushing the Boundaries
Anaïs tumbled into the shower the minute the sun
had set. She hated to wash away Oliver’s delicious masculine scent lingering on
her skin. Still, the hot spray of water felt good on her stiff, overworked limbs.
She hadn’t slept well at all. Throughout the day, she’d lounged in bed, falling
in and out of sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, thoughts of her and
Oliver’s lovemaking flashed through her mind. But those luscious memories
weren’t what kept her awake. On the contrary, it was the glint of a knife and
the image of an unknown woman’s disfigured face that refused to let her get any
rest.
Anaïs closed her eyes and laid her forehead
against the cool stone tiles of the shower stall. She couldn’t take much more
of
games. She might as well pack up and go home before anyone else got hurt. Unfortunately,
the BPA was now involved and they wouldn’t let her simply walk away.
From behind her, Anaïs heard the pane of the glass
door slide open. She didn’t have to glance in that direction in order to
discern who it was. Oliver’s distinct musky aroma combined with the steam of
the shower proved to be a heady, intoxicating blend. At that moment, sex would
have been good. A welcome distraction, at the very least.
Oliver, it seemed, had other means at his
disposal to help take her mind off the inevitable. With both hands, he reached
for her shoulders, kneading the tight, fatigued muscles underneath the skin. He
pressed his palms into her malleable flesh, loosening the bulge of knots that
had formed there. The tension in her body had evolved into an ugly, palpable
beast. With his help, her twisted joints somewhat relented. Then Oliver used
the tips of his fingers to run up and down the length of her spine. The
sensation caused Anaïs to shiver, inevitably wiggling her backside against his
firm erection.
Oliver reared back slightly. He shifted his
weight from one foot to the other, then leaned his head close, placing a
feather-light kiss to her exposed throat. “Sorry, love. Playtime is going to
have to wait a bit. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”
“What do you mean?” Anaïs asked, her interest
piqued.
“Eva and Andreas gave me a lead. If the rumors
are true, there’s a club that lets vampires explore a whole slew of deviant
desires. Shall we scope it out?”
“Oh! That sounds like fun.”
“Glad you think so. Now let’s finish cleaning
you up.” Oliver grabbed a loofah that hung from a hook, and poured a dollop of
liquid soap in the center of it. He used the sponge to caress Anaïs’s sensitive
skin, lathering her breasts and belly with suds that smelled of lavender and
mint. Then his hand moved lower, tracing the curvature of her ass and the nub
of her raw, swollen clit. She moaned, reveling in the feel of the stiff
bristles against her clamoring bundle of nerves.
“Recline your head. Let me wash your hair.”
His fingers slid through her damp tresses,
moistening the ends under the penetrating heat of the spray. Pouring shampoo into
his palm, he worked the liquid into a rich lather and applied it to her scalp.
Anaïs groaned, then relaxed against her lover’s broad shoulder while his nails
gently manipulated the follicles of her hair. She knew that Oliver hadn’t meant
the gesture to be erotic. But nonetheless, it turned out to be one of the most
sensual experiences she’d ever endured. When he was through, he towel dried her
body and left her alone to get dressed. Anaïs had never felt more needy or
bereft.
The outfit he’d picked out for her didn’t help
the situation much. It was a red latex cat suit with zippers conspicuously sewn
into all the right locales. There was a long rectangular opening that spanned
from crotch to rear, and two others shaped like spheres that encircled her
small breasts. The cat o’ nine tails Oliver had bought for her had been set
just to the left of the sleek ensemble.
Pushing the boundaries, are we? Anaïs said to herself
at the same time Oliver sauntered back into the room.
“We have to. Playing the role of dominant and
submissive is a must. This time, you’ll get to tie me up,” Oliver said as he
shot her a wickedly sexy grin.
“All’s fair in love and war, baby. What’s this
club called anyway?” Anaïs inquired out of sheer curiosity.
“Blood & Bondage. Rather fitting, isn’t it?
****
Bobby DuBois met them by the curb on the corner
of Prince and Mercer Streets. Located in the basement of a building owned by a
prominent New York CPA, they descended the steps and waited in front of an
unmarked entrance. Along with Oliver and Anaïs, Bobby’s twin girlfriends,
tagged along too. Their golden-blonde hair and hourglass figures were certain
to turn the heads of bloodsuckers on the hunt for human companionship.
The vampire who ushered them inside was a burly fellow
with a belly like Buddha. He smiled as Bobby passed by, no doubt familiar with
the double trouble that often accompanied him. However, it was Oliver who drew
the most attention dressed as her super-submissive stud. When the doorman saw
him, his eyes sprang open in surprise. Who wouldn’t have gawked at a man
dressed so docile and domesticated? He wore a pair of tight jeans sans shirt and
a black, spiky collar attached with a chain to his mistress’ voluptuous hip.
So that no one would recognize him, Oliver had
shaved his head bald and slipped on some dark colored contacts to mask the
brilliant blue of his eyes. The well-defined ridges of his muscular torso had
been smothered in shimmering body oil. He’d clearly gone to a lot of trouble to
transform his appearance on account of this role. Good thing, too. After all,
Anaïs knew that her lover’s name and face were on vampire hit lists in every
major city nestled along the Eastern seaboard.
Once they’d passed snuff with the bouncer, the
two groups parted ways, Oliver and Anaïs headed in one direction and the
threesome in another. As the two lovebirds meandered through the crowd, Anaïs
could feel several sets of menacing red orbs following their every move. They
watched and waited to see exactly what type of tricks the dominatrix had in
store for her sexy indentured servant.
Other than the barrage of crimson stares, Anaïs
found it difficult to make out faces. She did, however, recognize the guttural
moans and groans of pleasure that came from every corner of the room. In
addition, the loud bass of hard rock pounded against the walls, making the
foundation of the building rattle and hum. The place had been painted in black
with only a few dim strobe lights that flashed on and off at intermittent rates.
Using the leash he’d insisted she employ, Anaïs
paraded her boy toy across the length of the room. She only released him long
enough to shackle his arms and legs to the hooks that hung from the walls and low-lying
ceiling.
“Are you sure we can do this?” Anaïs asked with
trepidation. She wasn’t necessarily keen on public exhibition, especially since
they had to make their act appear legitimate. If their resolve wavered for even
a second, the bloodsuckers in the club would see through it and surely pounce.
“I’m up to the task. I promise to be a good
little sub,” he whispered huskily into her ear, making goose bumps form on
already sensitive skin. “What about you?”
“This isn’t generally my scene. But I’m a
dancer. I’m used to being on stage.” Anaïs drew back. She stared into the
depths of her lover’s eyes, gauging his mood. “You do realize, I’ll have to
bite you. If not, these fuckers won’t buy the charade.”
Oliver shrugged his shoulders, then handed Anaïs
the flogger he’d kept huddled at his side. “No safe word, eh? Well, I suppose
you’ve earned a bit of retribution.”
Anaïs squared her shoulders, then yanked on the
chains that bound him to ensure they were secure. She had to make her role as
dominatrix seem real. After a brief moment of hesitation, she strutted around
his tightly-coiled body, her perusal gluttonous and intense. At least she hoped
that’s the way it looked. As she encircled him, the cat o’ nine tails she held
in her hand lashed at the rippled muscle on his chest. Damn, she found Oliver
impossible to resist. Once again, the urge to ravage him had snuck up on her. There
was something about his refined masculinity that kept her perpetually ensnared.
God, she couldn’t wait to sample the rare, well-preserved vintage of his blood.
Standing behind him, Anaïs raked her
razor-tipped fingernails down the curve of his spine. Then she cracked the whip
again and watched his body wince. Her hand drifted up, two bloody fingers teetered
on the ridge of her lower lip. A few seconds later, her tongue slithered out and
sucked the rich, red deliciousness off the fingertips.
That tiny tidbit of her lover’s life essence drove
Anaïs’s libido into an all-out frenzy. Moisture from her womb soaked through
the slick fabric of her clothing. The warm, slippery wetness slid down her inner
thighs. Her hardened nipples sprang to life, rubbing painfully against the
clingy latex cat suit. She wanted to tear open the sphere-shaped zippers and
thrust her bosom into his face. But with an audience in tow, forcing her sub to
do it with his teeth would make for a much more convincing show.