Blood and Bondage (9 page)

“What is that?” Anaïs felt the soft petals trace
along the curvature of her spine, making her sensitive skin quiver at the
touch.

“It’s a flogger. I picked it up the other day.
Just for you.”

“For me?” she asked as a surge of excitement
shot through her.

“Mmm hmm.”

Oliver stepped closer. His rock-hard abs pressed
against the hollow of her back. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist and traced
the ends of each graceful, swirling strap along the ridge of her narrow hip. Hot
breath skimmed over her, which forced Anaïs to groan out loud. The overload of
sensation caused her pussy to clench too. She shifted her weight, letting her
body sag against Oliver. No use in fighting it any longer.

All of a sudden Oliver raised the flogger over
his head. In a split second, he lowered it back down, snapping the smooth
leather tails against the inside of her thigh. The thorns on the petals marked
her flesh with tiny red imprints. Anaïs winced, then moaned as pain and
pleasure eviscerated her control.

Without warning, her incisors emerged. Her
fingernails unfurled, clawing the rich mahogany wood of the headboard, both of
which were instinctual reactions triggered by her lover’s overzealous play. She
wanted Oliver. Badly. But the compromising position he’d placed her in had inadvertently
unleashed the beast within.
 

“How do I know I can trust you?” Anaïs asked,
arching away from him as juices from her pussy drizzled down her leg. The rich,
floral scent of her sex permeated the room. Her body was certainly primed. However,
before she could fully submit, she had to hear his reply. He’d already stolen
her soul; the least he could do was leave her dignity intact.

“Isn’t it I who should be afraid? After all, you’re
the vampire.” A sly smile appeared on Oliver’s devilishly handsome features. At
the same time, he snapped the cat o’ nine tails briskly across her ass cheek,
the one with the wildflower tattoo that he’d been ogling earlier. “But if it
makes you feel any better, we can use a safe word. That way, if things get too
tantric for your taste, we can stop.”

“Good idea.” Lifting one knee onto the mattress,
Anaïs spread her thighs. That way, Oliver could see all she had to offer. “You
seem fascinated with my body art. Perhaps ‘wildflower’ would do as a safe
word.”

“Per. Fect.” Oliver growled the two syllables as
he stroked his cock through his trousers. Then, he reached out to swipe his
palm over the puddle of liquid that had pooled behind her knee. He lifted the
hand to his mouth, and sampled her feminine flavor.

“Mmm. You’re definitely ready to play.”

Lubricated with a mix of sex and saliva,
Oliver’s digits delved between her legs, and fondled the nub of her throbbing
clit. The friction from the rubbing set her desire aflame. Just when she’d felt
the crest of an orgasm hit, he pressed two fingers inside and began to thrust. Cum
flowed from her pussy. The inclined angle of his hand caused the liquid to
snake up his arm like an unruly vine.

At the same time, Oliver smacked her backside with
the tails of the flogger again. Anaïs bucked off the edge of the bed. Her womb
clamped down on his fingers as she screamed his name in her head.

Oliver. Please. Don’t. Stop.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’re just getting started.”
Oliver moved toward the end of the bed. He turned his lover in his arms and
nudged her to her knees onto the floor.

“What do you want me to do?” Anaïs asked, her face
hovering above his navel. She could see the firm bulge of his shaft throbbing like
mad within his pants.

“Undo my belt and take hold of my cock.”

Suddenly, Anaïs’s mouth went dry. She licked her
lips, yanked on his buckle, and watched his linen trousers sink to his ankles.

OMG! This guy’s huge.

Anaïs’s tongue jutted out to probe the head of
his erection, but he jerked back and stole the prize. She needed to taste him,
but because of those pesky handcuffs, it was hard to move. With her free hand flat
against the corded muscles of his stomach, she gently pressed him back toward
the mattress. However, he grumbled his disapproval, refusing to let his
impenetrable body be swayed.

“Please. I’m dying for a taste. But these
restraints make it rather difficult. Would it be too much to ask you to take
them off?” Anaïs asked as she batted her eyelashes and wrapped her thumb and
forefinger around the girth of his sex. She squeezed the base, then stroked up
and down, eliciting her lover’s guttural groan.

Oliver sighed, rolling his eyes as if sarcastic.
“Nice try. But that’s never going to happen.” Then he sat down, giving her
easier access to his crotch.

Anaïs slid the tip into her mouth. Inch by inch,
she lowered herself onto Oliver’s cock. He was long and thick, perfect in every
proportion. With his entire length between his lips, she moaned, letting his
impressive shaft massage the back of her throat. The sharp edge of her canines
grazed his sensitive skin, as she bobbed her head up and down to suck him like
a luscious cherry lollipop.

“Oh fuck! Not yet. I’m not ready to come.”
Oliver grabbed a handful of her red locks, and wrenched her off his cock. Anaïs
whimpered softly. She felt bereft, like a baby whose candy had been torn from
her pouty, puckered lips. “Get on all fours and crawl to the center of the
mattress.”

Oliver climbed behind her onto the bed, kicking
off his pants to keep from falling over. He used his knees to spread Anaïs
wide. Then his talented hands settled on her buttocks, separating the twin
mounds with a quick flick of the wrist. Before she knew what hit her, Oliver’s
nose was buried between her ass cheeks. His tongue darted out, making sensual circles
around the rim of her anus. She loved the warm, wet sensation against her
perineum. Then he used his mouth to fuck her rear, propelling in and out. His
hands kept busy too. Soon, they each found their own special spot. The right
one pinched her nipple, while the other flicked her pulsating clitoris before
moving lower to pummel her pussy. Anaïs wiggled and writhed under Oliver’s
masterful touch. She was so close. A massive orgasm threatened to explode.

The moment her climax hit, Oliver wrenched her
body up flush against his sweaty torso. He captured her screams of pleasure
with a searing, soulful kiss that robbed her of every last ounce of strength.
Anaïs collapsed on the bed and Oliver toppled over too. Their breathing so deep
and desperate, she thought she might hyperventilate.

Oliver raised his head, and traced the ridge of
her spine with his tongue. Once he’d reached her tailbone, he turned Anaïs over
onto her back. She was so weak that she couldn’t even open her eyes.

Oliver must have sensed the dire nature of her
pale, listless body. The truth of the matter was she hadn’t had much sustenance
to speak of in the last week. In fact, the only blood she’d sampled had come
from him. Oliver lifted Anaïs’s hand and kissed it before he used one of her
long, deadly claws to cut a tear in the flesh of his pec. Then, he cushioned
the back of her head in his hands and forced her to drink from the bloody wound
on his chest. Hot and heady, his alluring flavor slid down her throat. However,
she was so spent that she could only take a few short sips.

“Get some rest, my sweet little sub. When you
wake up, we’ll finish where we left off.”

Chapter Ten

Confessions
 

Oliver woke suddenly. The sound of someone
banging on the door of his suite jostled him from his sleep. He pried open one
eye and took note of the dark sky and rustling trees outside his window. The
clock to his left read a quarter til six, however the sun had still not risen.

“Wake up, man. Something’s up.” Adam’s voice
projected through the thick walls of the room. Oliver turned over onto his
back, feeling the coolness of the empty pillow next to him. For a moment, he’d
forgotten that he left Anaïs resting peacefully in the bedroom adjacent to his,
one hand still chained to the headboard. Tussling with sheets trapped around
his ankles, he climbed out of bed and walked toward the door.

“What’s the problem? Is it the vamp?” Oliver
asked as he yanked on the doorknob. He was naked, other than the bedding
fettered at the hips. Adam shot him a knowing glance. While he’d slept alone in
his bed, the scent of a woman’s juices nonetheless clung to him. It didn’t help
that he’d answered the door without a stitch of clothing.

“No, she’s fine. Still knocked out from what I
can tell.” Adam’s breath smelled of stagnant coffee. His hair looked disheveled.
From what Oliver gathered, he hadn’t slept all night. It was no surprise. Adam
often stayed up way past dawn, analyzing forensic data in the lab located in
the basement. “But the alarm’s been disarmed. Someone might have gained access
to the house.”

Shit! Oliver slid on a pair of snug-fitting
jeans. It had to be
Pierre
.
He should have known that arrogant bastard wouldn’t be afraid of sneaking into a
lion’s den. Before checking on Anaïs the night before, Oliver had read through
the intel he’d received on Anaïs’s former lover. Other than a few run-ins with
law enforcement for drunk and disorderly conduct, he showed up as nothing more
than a tiny blip on BPA’s radar. He was a well-to-do bloodsucker with a
proclivity for wine and women, but the rest remained a mystery. Coupled with
the fact that the trace they’d put on the blue sedan turned out to be a dead
end, Oliver was desperate for answers, the kind that only one person could
give.

He shoved open the adjoining door that led to
Anaïs’s suite. She was sound asleep, her serene expression proof that she’d
been well loved the night before. While technically they hadn’t had
intercourse, the female vampire had writhed and moaned in his arms. From what
he could tell, he’d gifted her with at least two mind-blowing orgasms. Oliver
wasn’t quite sure what had come over him. Anaïs brought out his wild, reckless
side. On top of that, the vixen gave one hell of a blowjob too.

Oliver placed a hand to Anaïs’s shoulder and
jolted her from slumber. Her mouth turned up at the corners as a satisfied grin
spread across her face. She stretched her long, agile limbs like a content
jungle cat. The slits of her amber eyes shone bright against the fading
moonlight.

Lord have mercy! She’s the most beautiful woman
I’ve ever seen.

“Morning,” Anaïs said as she reached out to
caress his bare chest. “Ready for another quickie before the sun comes up?”

“Sorry, that’ll have to wait.” For the first
time, Oliver’s glance turned away from his lover’s face. On the end table next
to the bed, the flogger he’d used to tease Anaïs dangled over one side. But it
was what lay underneath, that set Oliver’s nerves on edge.

Another photograph. Oliver didn’t pay much
attention to the image of the girl on the front; he knew it’d be much of the
same. Instead, he concentrated on the caption.

Be forewarned. Familiarity breeds contempt.

P.G.

Oliver stood and grabbed a soft, cotton robe
that hung from the coat rack and flung it in Anaïs’s direction. He fumbled with
the key in his hand and removed the handcuff from her wrist. “Your friend’s
been here. Get your ass out of bed and put that on. We need to talk.”

Combing her dainty fingers through her hair to
get it out of her face, Anaïs rose up from the bed. Still naked, she draped the
bathrobe over his shoulders and tied the bulky fabric at the waist. Then, she
sat back on the corner of the mattress, her posture stiff and her demeanor
serious. She picked up the photograph and turned it over.

After a few minutes, she finally caved. With a heavy
sigh, the vampire begrudgingly rehashed the details of her sad, storied past.
Oliver took note of her squared jaw and the stern, even cadence of her voice. Her
eyes looked glazed over, her face void of emotion. She told him all about her
life before she’d been turned including her father’s unspeakable treachery and Christine’s
friendship and fidelity. Much of it, Oliver had already heard from Eva and
Andreas. Yet hearing the specifics first hand made Oliver feel sullen and sick
to his stomach. While he wasn’t a parent, he couldn’t imagine a father’s
blatant disregard for his own child. Sad but true, life’s unfortunate
circumstances had led to two distinct things: the vampire’s genuine hatred
toward men and an inclination to keep her emotions at bay. Both of those
characteristics, Oliver understood well.

Once Anaïs’s oral history veered toward her time
at Moulin Rouge, he saw her eyes light up. It was obvious that dance had saved
her from a lifetime of lonely discontent. Also, he could tell by the way her
curves swayed to the sound of music and how her body had responded as they’d
danced. However,
Pierre
’s
twisted romantic fixation, compounded by her best friend’s sudden death, forced
her into solitude once again.

Oliver squeezed his lover’s hand, the one that
still lingered on his chest. “Thank you for trusting me.
Pierre
sounds like one sick son of a bitch.
Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to gather much intel on him. He keeps a
fairly low profile. Can you think of anything we may have missed? A hobby or
favorite pastime, perhaps?”