“I want to come.”
“That is for me to decide.”
“Daegan.”
He wrapped his hand in her hair and in one smooth motion, he'd pushed her forward, lifting her around the waist so her breasts were shelved on the top of her office chair and her toes barely reached the floor.
Her heels stabbed at the denim of his jeans.
“You will go to him wanting more, wet with my cock, vibrating with the memory of it thrusting hard into your pussy, but you will not release. To be denied will make you cruel, needy. He needs you cruel and needy.”
Anwyn closed her eyes, her breath short. Always he knew her so well. It hurt so much. He was right—to be denied could make one cruel, as well as needy to the point of silent, suffering anguish. If she knew she had all of Daegan Rei's heart, she would give him anything he wished, without reservation, rather than playing such games.
“For you both, then,” she breathed. “The one who will take me, and the one I will take for myself.” He opened his jeans with one hand and then brought her back to him with that hand in her hair, the rolling chair providing an anchor point under her breasts as she arched back like a crescent moon. When he drove his cock into her, the thick, turgid length of it, he earned her cry, pleasure in how he filled her.
Reaching back, she curled her hands into the open fabric of his jeans and held on, as he leaned forward and enveloped her in the folds of the duster he hadn't bothered to remove.
She was a Mistress, but he alone compelled her to surrender like this. While he had stopped demanding her agreement to be his servant, she knew the surrender she gave him fell short of how much he truly wanted from her.
Though he'd never said why he stopped asking, she thought she knew why, and it made the pain a little sharper, a blade she willingly drove into herself every time she clasped him to her.
In the vampire world, there was no greater crime than to fall in love with a human.
v>
Reaching back, she curled her hands into the open fabric of his jeans and held on, as he leaned forward and enveloped her in the folds of the duster he hadn't bothered to remove.
She was a Mistress, but he alone compelled her to surrender like this. While he had stopped demanding her agreement to be his servant, she knew the surrender she gave him fell short of how much he truly wanted from her.
Though he'd never said why he stopped asking, she thought she knew why, and it made the pain a little sharper, a blade she willingly drove into herself every time she clasped him to her.
In the vampire world, there was no greater crime than to fall in love with a human.
3
GIDEON didn't wear a watch, because digital ones beeped and wind-ups ticked, and both could be heard by vampire ears. He'd gotten pretty adept at knowing the passage of time without one, and though he knew it had been only fifteen minutes since he took the position on the prayer bench, it felt like twice that. The door didn't open, and with the soundproofing, the only noises in the silent room were his breath and heartbeat. Which increased his tension to the point he was gripping those iron handles as if they were a lifeline.
A strange thing had happened to him, kneeling here. The decision to obey had been spontaneous, a reckless “oh fuck it.” But the more time passed, the more it was as if she was compelling him to stay there. Challenging him. Somehow he knew her eyes hadn't left him. She was watching him, not one of her staff. He was going to stay here, in this position, until Hell froze over. Because that door hadn't opened and no one had told him to go home.
The longer he'd remained in this position, the harder he'd gotten, until his cock was a fucking steel bar, aching. It was at an uncomfortable angle beneath his fly, but once he'd grabbed hold of those iron bars, he'd pilloried himself. He wouldn't let go.