Vampire Instinct (25 page)

Read Vampire Instinct Online

Authors: Joey W Hill

Tags: #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural

BOOK: Vampire Instinct
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Her fingers dug into his back, her thighs tightening, and his voice was as tactile as his mouth, rubbing them together, mind to mind.
Tell me, sweet Irish flower. Is your cunt weeping for me to fill it? Have you been dreaming of my cock inside of you?
She nodded against his mouth, her eyes closing.
Yes, yes, yes
. She needed his gentle fierceness, the raw language. Her body had been aching for what he’d shown her with Shira’s marking. His strength reined in, but no less able to pin her beneath him if he wished, make her submit.
“It’s been growing in you for a while, hasn’t it?” His voice was a hot wind, coursing through her body. He intensified it by speaking in her mind.
Groomed from birth to serve, but the feeling you have now, it would have been there whether you were born a maid or a princess. It’s grown to a hard hunger, ever since you came into the service of a vampire. You crave a Master’s touch, don’t you, Elisa?
She didn’t know how to answer that. She knew only that tonight, she wanted, needed, to belong to him. As she always had, she’d take the joy of the moment, move forward and demand nothing more of the past than what was necessary to get through tomorrow.
Thankfully he didn’t demand an answer. Instead, he moved them to a stretch of lawn adjacent to the house. Laying her down upon it, he knelt between her knees so her legs had to be parted for him. His attention moved over her breasts, the nipples shamelessly hard and pushing against the fabric, then down to the tender curve of her stomach. When he placed a hand on her upper thigh, even through the nightgown, she felt the heat and strength. A tiny noise escaped her lips, a needy sound.
“Took off your panties, did you? Came down without your wrap, knowing a man would see your body through this thin thing, be teased by it. Did you think of someone seeing you, like Kohana, or one of the others? One who might get the wrong idea?”
“No. I . . . I thought I was alone. I didn’t even know you were here. I just needed to feel . . .” Suddenly she was uncertain of him, and herself, and what he might think, and cold invaded the heat. “I wasn’t trying . . . I don’t. I’m not like that.”
“Shhh. I see that. I feel it. Easy.” His knuckles turned, stroked down her leg. “I was just unsheathing my claws, Irish flower. You bring that out in me.” His lip lifted in a brief, feral smile that brought the heat back. Then he leaned over her, his dark hair falling forward, so it brushed over her nipple. She arched to that faint touch and his expression intensified. “You thought I might take you like this, just slide that thin gown up and sheathe myself deep inside of you. But I want more than that. We’re taking this off now. I’ll see you naked to me.”
The neckline had several buttons down the front amid a tiny bit of embroidery of dainty roses. He flicked them open, slid a corner back enough to reveal a collarbone, and then bent closer. She closed her eyes as his hair whispered over her face and his mouth pressed to that bone. The sharp drag of a fang made her draw in a breath, tightened her stomach further. He eased the gown off one shoulder, then the other, and began to pay close attention to them, moving out of the shallow valley of the collarbone to the curve of her right shoulder, nuzzling and nipping at it, while his hand tugged the gown down even farther on the right side.
“You taste like the grass we were lying in today. The sunshine you absorbed earlier in the day, before I rose. The food you helped Kohana prepare. You baked a chocolate cake for them.” There was a trace of amusement in his voice. “With icing.”
“They . . . they liked it.”
“I’m sure they did. They’ll refuse to let you leave. Did you have any icing left?”
“I . . . I did. But Tokala . . . licked the bowl . . . and spoon.” He’d enjoyed it so much she’d thought about making another batch the next day and perhaps asking Mal if she could take a taste to the children. Jeremiah had shown a liking for chocolate before, at the station.
“You’re starting to think about asking my permission for things. I like that.”
It shows you think you might be able to trust me.
Or I just don’t want you yelling at me.
He muffled a chuckle against her, and the vibration sent out a composition of reactions from her nerve endings along the top of her breast and upper arm.
I don’t yell. My punishments are far different from that, sweet Elisa.
“Maybe you’ll make me a batch of that icing and bring it to me here tomorrow night. Do you know what I’ll do with it?”
She didn’t, but she was having a hard time thinking, for now his mouth was cruising over the top of her breast, following the path of his breath from his chuckle. When his lip settled on the upper curve, so close to her nipple it was pressing against his jaw, she felt that contraction between her legs again. He was between them, so she couldn’t squeeze down on the feeling.
“No, you can’t close them,” he whispered. “Just like you won’t be able to do so if I choose to take you to my bed at dawn, tie your legs so they’re spread, each ankle hooked to a bedpost, your arms tied above your head. I’d lay down next to you so I can touch you as I sleep, my dreams haunted by the perfume of your cunt, soaked for me, your mind begging me to wake, to come inside of you.”
She’d expected the wild animal. She hadn’t expected this skilled mastery from a male who stayed cloistered on his island. Apparently he was better traveled than she’d believed. It frightened and thrilled her at once. Perhaps a sophisticated woman would know how to play this game, but she was close to begging now. Her eyes were almost as ready to weep as much as the other parts of her body were.
Please . . .
There was a stillness to him as he paused over her breast, drew the nightgown down another few inches so her breasts emerged, the cloth tucking in under their rise, framing them for his gaze. “Keep begging, Irish flower. You’ve no idea how hard that makes me. You’ve got beautiful breasts. You’ll eat some of that cake yourself so they’ll get as full as they once were. Understand?”
She nodded, willing to agree to anything. “What were you going to do with the icing?” She couldn’t take too much more. Her body was overloading with need, and her deeper emotions were too close.
Please ...
Sliding down her body a few inches, he settled his mouth above the nipple, and began to trace the areola, all around that stiff point, as if he were licking away icing in truth, in lazy circles and brief, sucking bites.
His body was pressed down on her pubic mound, and when he began doing that, she lost all control. She would have arched against him, writhed and rubbed, anything to get closer, to get more of what she wanted, but he was too clever for that. He used his hands to press down on her shoulders, keeping her immobilized for his ministrations.
Please, please, please . . .
“Please what, Elisa?” He spoke against her this time, and she shuddered at the way the words added to the stimulation.
“I need you . . . inside me. Please.”
“Hmm.” And he went back to what he was doing. She struggled; she cried out with every lash of his tongue, and outright screamed when his mouth closed over the nipple thoroughly, finally pulling on her in deep, dragging rhythms. She was trying hard to move her lower body against him, to get some type of friction. She was so wet, her fluids dampened that pocket between her sex and thigh, trickling down onto her buttocks.
She heard the various calls, growls and huffs of the nighttime hunters. The sawing notes of the leopards were closest. Even if they were in the very front yard, she wasn’t afraid. She knew Mal was aware of their proximity as well, and it was a titillating thought, to think the creatures could smell what they were doing and knew it for what it was. Animals mated out for all the world to see, and why not? God saw everything, no matter the curtains and closed doors. He’d seen what Mr. Collins had done to her, just the same as what Victor had done.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and those frustrated tears ran down the sides of her cheeks.
“Easy.” Mal cradled her face, and she pressed her mouth into his palm, willing it away. Then she bit, hard.
“Fierce cub.” He’d moved the nightgown to her hips, his other hand exploring her navel, the rise of her belly, the flare of her hips, fingers tracing the edge of the gown, inches above her pubic bone. “I think it’s time I unsheathe my claws a bit more, mark you with my scent.”
She knew it was merely the intensity of the moment, that the words probably didn’t mean anything special to him, but she couldn’t say the same. What had started as a peculiar stirring with Lady Danny, elevated to a romantic yearning with Willis, had been goaded to full blazing life by Mal in two days. He was right; she’d been thinking about it for a while, somewhere deep and hidden. He’d just opened the door to it, discovered her secret, showed it to her.
In her bedroom she’d said it in such a soft whisper.
Master.
God help her, she wanted to embrace what she’d seen other vampires’ servants accept, cloaking them with a confidence and surety, the knowledge that their Master or Mistress’s ownership was something nothing could tear away from them, because the choice to accept it had been all theirs.
His eyes were on fire, full of crimson. Rising onto his knees, he slid the gown all the way free. Cupping her under her hips, his fingers molded her arse as he pulled the fabric down. She watched the play of muscles along his abdomen and shoulders, the way the lioness on his arm rippled with golden strength as she played with those feathers. He’d chosen to put a female on his arm, acknowledging her strength and beauty.
He bent again, and as a picture of Dev and Danny flashed in her head, she knew what he was going to do. It was something no one ever had done to her. The others . . . they wanted her to do that to them, but never...
His mouth cruised over her pubic bone, circling that thatch of wet curls; then he found her damp entrance. He didn’t seal over it right away; he was far more diabolical than that. Instead he used the tip of his tongue again, teasing at that bud of flesh, the one that seemed to harbor such tremendous sensation, despite its small size. She moaned, her head thrashing back and forth on the grass, her hands gripping the blades, the earth, anything to hold herself down as he pushed down on her thighs, keeping her lower body captive to his desires. She couldn’t buck against him, and that made the sensations that much more excruciating.
In some vague section of her mind she knew she should be mortally embarrassed because there was no way the second-marked hands in the bunkhouse couldn’t hear her, her cries rising and falling, an erratic continual plea that only made him want to tease her more, a craving she knew she was feeding. It felt as if she was being drawn up far above herself, and in a moment, something was going to let go, and she was going to fly . . .
It’s possible for women, too.
She saw Danny in the library, her head thrown back, upper body flushed as Dev did this to her. It was a quick, near-incoherent flash in her mind, for Mal knew the precipice on which she teetered, and he had control of it all.
Lifting his head, he balanced his upper body over her, his mouth a firm line, lips glistening with her response. The rigid line of his shoulders and that glittering, intent gaze, as well as the size of his arousal pressing against her, told her he wasn’t indifferent to her responses.
I’ll fuck you into next week, Irish flower. That’s how indifferent I am. I want them to hear. Want them to know I’ve had you.
The blunt words only made her tremble, long even more for him.
Please. Do it.
She would lie here for hours and days, take him into her body again and again to feel this way, this mindless, astonishing pleasure. It was the best she’d felt in so long.
He pulled open the front of his trousers in one efficient jerk; then he was lying down upon her, capturing her whole world by bracing his elbows on either side of her head. She turned her face into his forearm, inhaling that same earth and grass smell he’d scented on her.
No. Look me in the face. I want to see your eyes as I take you.
It was difficult, because she was learning how vulnerable a woman on the cusp of climax was, everything laid bare and unhidden. But she did it, locking gazes with him like a lifeline over raging whitewater. If that connection broke, she might be swept away in a storm where she’d never find her way home again. If she ever figured out where home was.
At the first touch of his cock to her entrance, a frisson of terrible memory went through her, making her shiver, but then he did something extraordinary. Like a picture show where everything went from very fast to very slow, he cupped her face, passing a thumb over her lips, a gesture fast becoming familiar. His eyes were so close, holding her in a still blink of time, where there was only the thundering of their hearts, their bodies trembling on the edge, so close, every part of her against every part of him. Connected, together. She wasn’t alone. They were in this together. Then he closed the distance, put his mouth against hers, that light butterfly landing again, his tongue teasing her lips.
She let out a plaintive sound against his mouth, but she stayed still as that broad head pushed inside of her. He was thicker than the others had been, and longer, but as he sank deep into soaked flesh, that fullness became a deep, savage pleasure in the pit of her belly, the aching of her breasts, pressed against his hard chest.

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