Vampire Master: Vampire Queen Series: Club Atlantis

by Joey W. Hill

  Just as he figured, her nipples, now taut, cold points, pushed beautifully against the fabric, which also clung to the curves, outlining them in mouthwatering display. Further down, the folds creased over her abdomen, the flare of her hips, and then the lengths of her upper thighs, drawing his eye to the crevice in between.

  Now in between your legs. Full blast.

  She did so, shivering and gasping as the jets hit her pussy.

  Cools that hot little thing down, doesn’t it?

  She nodded, a quick jerk. She was following direction, wasn’t directing that to him in think-speak, but he saw the rapid tumble flow of her thoughts about it. She was sorry, so sorry she’d touched herself without her Master’s permission, but she hoped this would earn his forgiveness.

  Keep it going until you can’t bear any more. Show me how much you can take for your Master.

  Much longer than he’d expected, but then he should have remembered how much she could take in far more extreme sessions. She was going numb, but even then, those jets of water were stroking her with ice cold fingers.

  You’re keeping your thighs too closed. Open them up as wide as you can get them in the shower.

  She bit back a near sob as she complied, and then re-aimed the jets at her core. She cried out this time as the icy fingers reached new terrain. The rest of her was shivering in the cold air, water drops running down her throat, her breasts, over the tips of her nipples…

  You’re pleasing me, Ella. I am very proud of you.

  God. He almost closed his eyes at what he felt from her. Near freezing, disliking this as intensely as a sub could, yet all it took was his approval to send a rush of resolve through her, a renewed determination to do this as long as he needed. She’d go on until the tank ran out of water, and then she could go get in her friend’s swimming pool if he wanted, because it wasn’t heated, though it probably wasn’t as cold as this.

  He had to smile at the rush of thoughts. Turn off the water. No towel. Leave the shirt on and go stand in front of your mirror.

  When she complied, she moved stiffly, as one did when they were cold and had clothes uncomfortably sticking to them. He waited avidly for the full view he’d get through her eyes. It didn’t disappoint him, especially since it came with the chance to direct her.

  Back straight. No hunching. Show yourself to your Master.

  She snapped into a display posture that lifted her breasts, angled her hips in an appealing way. She used her hands, pulled her hair back from her shoulders so there was no impediment to his view.

  Good. Leave your hands up like that, holding your hair.

  He drank his fill visually, her breasts pink mounds against the soaked white fabric, her thighs quivering columns that showed him more pale flesh.

  Go lie on the bed on your back. Hands gripping the covers on either side of your head.

  She moved back through the small space and lay down on her covers. No hesitation, no matter that she was dripping.

  My good girl. My obedient girl.

  She licked her lips, her hands clutching the blanket.

  Close your eyes.

  She did. He’d been on the move from the first moment he’d reached out to her mind, and at this late hour, Atlanta traffic hadn’t been an impediment at all. So now, he entered her home with stealth. The screen door didn’t squeak, aiding him. He took the two strides necessary to cover the entire space, still in silence.

  He told himself to look his fill and then leave, continue to direct her in his head from a distance. Instead, he didn’t move, his mouth dry, fangs and cock aching to penetrate what lay before his eyes.

  His girl was cold. He couldn’t leave her like that.

  He shed his clothes, dropped his jeans to the floor. Her breath caught, her fingers tightened in the fabric and her nostrils flared, taking in his scent.

  He stretched out over her, not touching her yet. The bed was not as long as he was, but he could put a knee up by her knee, fit the shadow of his body over hers. She shifted slightly, lifting, an unconscious yearning.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Yes.” A whisper.

  “Do you want me to get you a coat? Let you dry yourself and put on clothes?”

  She shook her head vehemently, making him smile.

  “So how can I make you warm?”

  Her lips trembled, and he didn’t make her answer. Instead he lowered himself upon her, absorbed her sigh of relief and the clasp of her arms and legs like the gift they were. He surrounded her with his heat, cupped her head and kissed her cold lips, cheeks, ears. He moved to her throat, but he didn’t bite her. He did lick the area that he’d bitten earlier and noticed the way she writhed, a little moan coming from her lips at the stimulation.

  You like feeding your Master.

  Yes, sir.

  Good.

  He cupped her breasts through his T-shirt, squeezing so the nipples poked at the straining fabric even more, encouraging his heated mouth to seal over each one in turn, sucking and licking through the fabric. He ignited a fire that started to burn away the cold, her thighs shifting restlessly on either side of his hips. He had his lower body pressed into the mattress between her legs, a position that held her down. When she tried to rub her core against his abdomen, he growled his denial, making her still. A little frustrated breath puffed from her lips.

  After spending lavish time on her gorgeous tits, murmuring his praise to her and them, he moved downward again. Kissing hip bones, raising the hem of the shirt, teasing tongue and lips over her navel, the piercing there. He paused. His girl had been shopping. She had a new piece of navel jewelry, a pewter wolf head. He tugged on it with his teeth, growling his approval. Then he moved further down.

  Her thighs loosened under his mouth, and he found heaven. Her labia and clit were so cool, but the heated slickness within was a contrast that made his erection painfully thick. He wasn’t going to deny himself her body, bastard that he was.

  Take what you need, Master. Don’t worry. I’m strong enough to handle it.

  He had a long list of reasons to hate himself. What was the problem with one more?

  The problem was it added to her list of disappointments, regrets and heartbreaks. His sins might not matter, but the one affected by them did. A whole hell of a lot. He might be a vampire now, but he’d never overlook that again.

  I can’t stop myself from taking what I want, Ella. But I’m here with you fully in this moment, and I cherish what you’re giving me. Is it enough?

  It wasn’t in a vampire’s nature to offer a choice. But maybe Allan wasn’t the only one who had trouble letting go of being human at times.

  Wolf shifted, braced himself on his arms over her, looking down into her face. She lay beneath him, so fragile and open, but her words had been true. I’m strong enough to handle it.

  “No,” she answered. It’s not enough. But I still want you inside me, need you to take what you want. Will you do that, even though I answered you honestly? I need you to be selfish enough to give me what I need right now, and ignore what might happen to me after.

  His attempted smile tore his heart, as if there were ropes between it and the muscles of his face. “Yeah. I can do that.” A partial lie.

  Satisfied, she closed her eyes. As she did, she lifted her slim hands, rested them on his shoulders.

  I didn’t give you permission to do that.

  No, Master. May I keep my hands there?

  Yes. I’ll punish you later.

  She embraced that idea fully, lifting her upper body, wrapping her arms around his back, fingers digging in, that needy, little girl/woman child “I want you to know I’m here” way. Her hips lifted, her legs opening further, and her gateway was there, that blissful slick heat.

  He pushed in, feeling the contraction of her muscles, her jaw flex against his as she bit her lip in concentration. She took all of him, stretching, deeper. Her fingers pressed even more into his skin, giving him the bite of her nails. Her breasts touche
d his chest, those tight, lovely tips, the generous flesh. As he wrapped his arm around her curved back, he held them close together on one arm and both his knees as he thrust, worked his hips, felt her mouth on his neck.

  She bit him, hard enough his fangs lengthened in predatory response. His thrusts became more demanding, the circle of his arm more possessive and binding. The human in him disappeared, the vampire taking over, saying what he knew, with every touch, every thrust, every moan and response he demanded from her.

  You’re mine.

  Every lovely, sweet, sassy, complicated inch of her. And if he third marked her, he could have her soul.

  Shit.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The crickets chirped out in the garden, the frogs croaked. Occasionally, he heard a koi splash in her friend’s pond. Because her bed was far too narrow, she lay on his chest, her hips and legs in the splayed cradle of his thighs, her soft stomach against his for-the-moment sated cock. He stroked her hair, the outer curve of her breast, her rib cage, the point of her hip, in a slow, endless circle.

  She’d drifted in sleep for awhile. As he’d hoped, the second mark gave him some impression of her dreams, but not always clearly, since dreams came more from the third mark realm of the soul. However, they seemed content, peaceful. Hazy images of people and places that weren’t angry, an interesting panorama of clouds and turning sky, as if she were a flying bird.

  At length, he felt her wake, and was amused to watch the orientation of her thoughts. Alone…not alone. Person in bed. Holy shit. Wolf! Okay, all right, it’s Wolf.

  His laughter bounced her on his chest. “Holy shit, Wolf?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t vampires have some privacy clauses to keep from embarrassing people they mark?” she asked grumpily.

  “None that I know of. But I tend not to read the fine print.”

  She sniffed, but he felt her smile against his flesh. “Well, up until a little while ago, you were Wolf. A totally unapproachable Master at Club Atlantis, except by express invitation. For the day to day stuff, you were always courteous and business-like, but…”

  “Are you saying I was intimidating?”

  She nestled her cheek against him. “Lars says it’s a bad idea to flatter Doms too much, because they’re already overly full of themselves.”

  “I’ll mention that to Clark, one of Lars’ more sadistic regulars. He’ll make sure to adjust that attitude.”

  She chuckled, fingertips tracing circles on the point of his rib cage, where the long scar beneath the skin ended. “No fair. I told you that in pillow talk confidence. You can’t use that kind of information against Lars.”

  “Who says Doms are fair?”

  “True enough.” She wriggled as he ran his fingertips lightly down her back, tickling her. Her feet pressed against his shins, since his feet hung off the end of the bed. He propped one hand behind his head, keeping the other around her as she looked up at him, her lips soft and eyes quiet dark moons. “So, did you get Anwyn’s email about giving everyone a few days off?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she mentioned it during the security and renovation strategy meet. I’ll be there, helping out at night.”

  “Good. Let me know if you all need any help. I’m working my other day jobs, but I should be available to help. All but one evening, possibly. Though if I can shift some things around, I hope to get that done in the morning.”

  “Hot breakfast date?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  He paused, sensing a shadow in her thoughts, a slight tension in her body, as she thought of whatever it was that would be occupying that evening.

  “Going to tell me, or make me pull it out of your head?”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” she said hastily. Her head became a confusion of thoughts, like a crowd of beach goers taking off because it had started to rain, a lot of blended colors as things spun and flapped, fluttered. “It’s not…it’s just old history. Personal business.”

  He had no right to demand. That was what his fair, far distant human self said. His vampire side had an entirely different view of it.

  “You’ll tell me, Ella.”

  She sighed, pressed her forehead to his chest, but relented. “It’s nothing. This guy I used to be with a while back has something that belongs to me, and lately, I’ve decided I want it back. So I’m going to go get it.”

  He’d have let it go there, except he saw something in her head that made that a non-starter. She was calculating when the male in question most likely wouldn’t be at home, because that was the best time for her to go. And how she should probably borrow Madelyn’s Taser…just in case.

  “This guy get rough with you in the past?” Another thing about being a vampire. With the right motivation, the idea of violence came very quickly to mind.

  She sat up and slipped away before he anticipated it, because that beach scene was now as blank as if no beach goers had ever been on it. The sand pristine, wiped clean, only a few seagulls floating over the waves. He could almost smell the salt air, hear their cries.

  Ella found a dry oversized shirt in her dresser and put it on. It was another man’s shirt, but before his alpha instincts could growl, he detected only her scent on it. She’d likely picked it up from a secondhand shop, to use as a sleepshirt. It had a picture of Snoopy on it with his arms crossed, and one bold word printed beneath the famous beagle.

  Nope.

  He wondered if the shirt’s attitude was indicative of her sudden cagey behavior. It was an unusual—and provocative—look for the usually forthcoming submissive.

  Ella was figuring out how the mind-reading worked and countering it. Another thing third marking was good for, so he heard. No room of the servant’s mind was off limits to a vampire then. When the vampire had the time, motivation and energy, a full light could be shone into every crevice.

  Wolf had seen Ella meditate at the club, sitting on the bar in the lotus position, hands relaxed on her knees, back straight, as people moved around her. She’d “disappear,” as Chantal put it, for fifteen or thirty minutes with seemingly little effort. But Madelyn had disagreed with that statement.

  “On the contrary, a person learns to do it that well with a lot of practice and determination. Because what goes on in their heads, the things they carry with them—they have to be able to quiet all that down to keep it together day to day.”

  Thanks to the training he’d taken to do BDSM therapy effectively, he knew all kinds of treatments in the trauma realm included meditation, but it was a discipline very few embraced. Other forms of visualizations and thought re-direction worked better for most.

  Ella had freed her hair from the neckline of the shirt and moved to the sink. She found a washcloth by rummaging in the cabinet.

  “You haven’t answered me, Ella. Has this guy gotten rough with you in the past?”

  “Oh, sorry. No, nothing like that. Not exactly.”

  He’d handle this the same way he’d handle any sub trying to raise an unhealthy defense. Yes, she might have a right to privacy, but whatever argument there’d be for that was one his protective side discarded with annoyance.

  “Ella. Look at me.” When she complied, reluctantly, he gave her a no-bullshit look. “Explain what ‘not exactly’ means.”

  “It means he’s nothing I can’t handle.” She set her chin. She was being stubborn with him?

  “Was he a Dom?” he said, with deceptive calmness.

  “No. Not even remotely.” She waved her hands. “It wasn’t that way. We sort of fell into being together, mainly because he offered to let me live with him when I didn’t have a place. Having sex with him was part of the rent, if you know what I mean.”

  “Did he ever hit you?” He was going to get to the center of it one question at a time, if need be.

  She sighed, and he saw her relent in her mind. Now that she’d put her foot in her mouth, she accepted that it was best to simply answer his questions.

  Yes, it is
. Did he ever hit you?

  Her lips tightened, and she met his gaze. “Yes. But it was the world I lived in then. It happened. He might smack me in the face or shove me because of something I said or did. I’d yell at him and tell him not to do that, and throw something at him. Later that night we’d share a pizza in the living room, because it wasn’t anything unusual. It was just the way it was.”

  She doused the washcloth, shut off the sink and started to wring the cloth out before she continued. “I wasn’t some poor terrorized wife or girlfriend, Wolf. When I’d had enough, I told him to fuck off and that I was leaving. The problem was he shoved me out of the house, locked the door, told me he’d beat me bloody if I tried to come back in. There wasn’t much in the house I had to have, but there was this one thing. I’ve told myself for a long time it didn’t matter that I left it behind, but since we nearly got blown up, I’ve been thinking…you know, I really want that back. So I’m going to go get it.”

  She took a breath. “But as I said, other than when I do that, I can be available. If you see Anwyn needs my help but doesn’t think she should ask, be sure and text me, let me know. Or you know, think at me.”

  A smile slipped across her face. “What range does the mind stuff have? Do we have to use cell phones?”

  “No. We don’t.”

  “Cool.” She came back to the bed with the washcloth. “Would you like me to clean you, sir, or do you prefer to do it yourself?”

  He closed his hand on her wrist, drawing it downward with the cloth. “You do it. I like to see your hands on me.”

  She wiped away the remains of his seed and her arousal from his cock and balls with intriguing thoroughness and a lingering touch. By the time she was done, he was semi-erect again. He noted her gaze on him, the way she bit her lip, and felt the stirring in his lower belly. He’d have her beneath him again before sunrise drove him back to his underground home base.