Sanctuary

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Sanctuary Page 12

by Eden Bradley


  Unless you go over the edge?

  While researching a book on sexual extremes, Dylan interviews Alec--and longs to taste the temptation he offers. But he’s a self-proclaimed dominant and she refuses to surrender control. Slowly and seductively, though, Alec shows her that by letting go and submitting to his every desire she can experience the ultimate pleasure. But to keep the woman who for the first time brings him to his knees , can Alec take the ultimate risk and surrender his heart?

  EXCERPT:

  He was hard as hell, with her body warm in his lap, her need written all over her beautiful face. It was his job to serve that need. His own need was like a hammering beat in his groin, one he could barely control. He wasn’t used to that. To the extremity of it: heat, desire, pure animal lust.

  But he could handle it, he reminded himself. He always had. He simply had to keep a reign on it, bank it for now. And give her what she desired. It was his job, one he did well.

  Keeping one hand behind her neck, he squeezed a little. Confusion crossed her features.

  “Quiet, Dylan.”

  She looked as if she was going to speak, then closed her mouth.

  “Good girl.”

  A small shiver running through her at his words.

  Ah, she would be the perfect bottom, this woman. That compelling combination of strength and fire and a natural submissive response.

  He squeezed harder, simply holding her, a means to control her. Physically, but this was something that always seemed to have a psychological effect on anyone with submissive tendencies, as well. And it was working with her beautifully.

  He kept his gaze on her face as he slipped his other hand between her thighs, used it to spread them apart.

  Her mouth went into a small ‘o’, but she didn’t say a word.

  He moved his hands in between that lush flesh, found the heat of her mound through her black panties.

  “Tell me you want this, Dylan,” he commanded.

  “I...yes. I want this.”

  He found the edge of the fabric, slipped his fingers under it. A small moan from her. But she kept her eyes open, her gaze on his, as his fingers skimmed the swollen folds between her thighs.

  Christ, she was wet. Soaked. And it was going to kill him to touch her like this and do nothing about the hammering pulse of his cock. But he would do it.

  He slipped his fingers over her pussy, parted the full flesh, his fingers resting there for a moment. So damn hot. Then he found her clit and pinched it lightly.

  “Oh!”

  Still her gaze didn’t waver.

  He pulled on the swollen nub of flesh, massaged it. Her breath came faster, until she was panting, her red lips parted. When he pushed two fingers into her, she gasped.

  His cock twitched.

  Like heated velvet inside, hot and wet and his cock wanted in.

  Control.

  He took a deep breath, thrust his fingers inside her. She squirmed on his lap, making him ache. But he was intent on her, his hand inside her, pushing deeper, until he knew by her mewling cries that he’d found her G-spot.

  “Come for me, Dylan.”

  And she did; it was that simple. Her sex clenched around his pumping fingers, her body arching. His cock thrummed with need, his pulse racing.

  “Ah, God...Alec...”

  She bit her lip and it was too good to resist. Leaning in, he took that plump flesh between his teeth and bit down, just hard enough, then opened her lips with his tongue. She was coming, panting into his mouth. And he took it all in: her pleasure, her sighs, the sharp scent of her desire in the air.

  She was still shivering when he pulled back and moved her, laying her face down on his lap.

  “Alec?”

  Her body went tense all over.

  “Shh. It’s time, Dylan. This is why we’re here. You’re ready.”

  “Alec...No. I can’t...”

  She was struggling to sit up, but he held her more firmly.

  “Are you telling me ‘red’? Are you safe-wording out of the scene? If you are, I will let you up and we’ll get you dressed and leave here. Is that what you want?”

  “I...no.”

  He could barely stand to do it, to hold her down. Spank her. It would only make his straining cock harder, make it more difficult to keep himself under control. No woman had challenged his self control the way Dylan did. But he could deal with it. He simply would. He wanted to touch her more than anything in the world at this moment.

  “Are we staying, Dylan?”

  “Yes.”

  He could feel the slightest give in her body. It was enough. He pulled the sheer mesh of her panties into the sweet line between her cheeks, baring them to his hands. He smoothed his palms over the silken flesh, just stroking her skin. Eventually, she went loose in his lap. Perfect. As perfect as the tight curve of her bare ass.

  He began to tap with his fingertips, just hard enough that he knew she could feel it. He listened to her breathing for any sign of panic, but she was fine so far. He slapped a little harder, the flat of his palm making a small smacking sound. Her breathing didn’t change, but her flesh grew warm and showed the slightest tinge of pink.

  “Are you all right, Dylan?”

  “Yes.”

  She was still loose and warm, and he knew she was slipping into the edge of subspace, had perhaps already reached it when he was working her with his fingers, before she even came.

  His cock twitched, swelled.

  Don’t think about that now. Concentrate.

  He smacked her harder, his other hand still holding the back of her neck firmly. He knew she was feeling some pain. He also knew the desire in her body could convert it to pleasure if he handled her correctly.

  He intended to.

  Pausing to stroke her pinking skin, he smiled to himself at the lovely blush there. Drawing his fingertips over her buttocks, he pinched at the undersides. She squirmed, but her breath was still even. There wasn’t an ounce of tension in her muscles. He knew if he could see her face her pupils would be dilated, her cheeks flushed.

  “Dylan, are you with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to really spank you now.”

  A soft moan, then she said, “Yes...”

  “Good girl.”

  Excerpted from Pleasure’s Edge by Eve Berlin Copyright 2010 by Eve Berlin . Excerpted by permission of Berkley, a division of Penguin Group. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

  BLOODSONG

  Eden Bradley

  An ancient vampire, an ancient grief…a love that makes his blood sing…

  Midnight Playground, Book 2

  London, 2069

  Aleron is ancient, powerful, immortal…a vampire who idles away his time playing at his favorite haunt, Midnight Playground. His favorite toys: beautiful young men. His game: BDSM, experiencing through the minds of his partners the sensations he can no longer quite feel himself.

  The one thing he has vowed to avoid at all costs is love, especially for a woman. In a hundred years he has never been tempted to break that vow—until a lovely mortal woman enters his dungeon to watch him play. And his blood hums the ancient song of long-forgotten desire.

  Raised in the Indian slums of London, exotic dancer Meeraj enters Midnight Playground a woman with nothing left to lose, numb to all but the most extreme forms of stimulation. As she watches Aleron’s blood play, she knows only his razor-sharp skills will satisfy. And she catches an odd mental glimpse of the grief that shadows his heart.

  From their first touch, they are caught up in a whirlwind of exquisite agony that releases their emotions from the weight of the past. Exposing them to risks they’ve both fought to avoid. Love…and loss.

  EXCERPT:

  “Meeraj.” He said her name as though he were experimenting with the way it rolled off his tongue, lyrically, with his French accent. “Tonight will be different from anything
you have experienced before. No matter how many times you have played at the dungeons with other mortals. With me, you will only ever be the bottom.”

  “Of course.”

  Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. Impossible to see it any other way with him, with a being of his power. The ultimate in domination.

  “And once you hand yourself over to me, you are entirely under my command, my control. There are no safe words. We play by pure instinct. By agreeing to come with me now, you are agreeing to The Seeking Kiss, to my drinking your blood. And at my whim, offering your body, your blood, to others.”

  “I understand, Aleron. I understand, and I am here for exactly this.”

  The excitement was building within her at his words. The desire flowing like molten heat through her body. Her mind was beginning to spin.

  I am really here. This is truly about to happen.

  Perhaps she was in a slight state of shock. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her. She’d thought nothing could shock her. Not after the lean, hard life she’d led, living in one of the toughest neighborhoods in London, working her way up as an exotic dancer. She’d started in the lowest of clubs, those that had chain-link fences protecting the girls from their audience. The better clubs had bulletproof glass. The best clubs, where she worked now, had no barriers of any sort.

  That’s where she’d seen the vampires. They came on occasion, slumming it, she supposed, in the human quarter. They could certainly afford the fees. She had never been touched by one. But the moment she’d seen her first vampire up close, she had craved that stone-cold touch. Had wanted to brush up against that power.

  And now, here she was.

  “Come to me then, Meeraj.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Aleron looped an arm around her waist as she stood. Though his hand had been cool to the touch, his body was surprisingly warm. Hard as the marble-paneled walls, still, but almost warmer than any human’s, as though he burned with fever.

  “You are mine for tonight. We will be very good together, you and I,” he whispered to her.

  His breath was like a cooling breeze in her hair, making her shudder with heat and need and the tiniest edge of fear. But she wasn’t about to stop. This was it, her darkest fantasy come to life. On shaking legs, she let him lead her to the large wooden cross. It seemed enormous to her now, towering over her, even over him.

  Aleron.

  Had she ever imagined the vampires would be this utterly beautiful up close? Had she ever imagined the way her blood ran hot, nearly steaming through her veins, along with an exquisite anticipation she could hardly bear?

  He pulled her in close to his side, and she melted into him, her mind emptying out already. He smelled like stone, clean and hard and solid. Pure, somehow.

  “I am going to strip you. And then I will chain you to this cross, just as I did the handsome Calam. And you will love it, won’t you, my beauty?”

  He caressed her cheek, his cool touch making her shiver.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Oh, she would enjoy it. Lose herself in it.

  She was lost already. And at this moment, she didn’t care if she never found her way back.

  Aleron stepped away from her, turned his head and nodded his chin. Out of the shadows came the two young women who had been attending to Calam earlier. They came up, one on either side of her, and undressed her so quickly she didn’t have time to think about it. Their quick little hands were like tiny caresses on her skin, lighting her up with need, making her feel oddly cherished. They took off her dress, her bra, her panties, which were soaking wet already. They took her silk stockings, her high black boots. She was left in nothing but her earrings, a pair of delicate silver hoops that had been her mother’s, and her long black hair falling around her shoulders.

  Aleron stood, watching her closely, and a slow smile spread over his face. She was shivering, but not with cold. No, it was a need so fierce she could barely contain it. She wanted to sink to her knees before him. To kiss his hands. To be allowed to touch him.

  God.

  God had nothing to do with this.

  Aleron reached out, laid his hand on her cheek, swept it down until he cupped her chin, raising it a few inches.

  “You are so elegant,” he told her, his voice low. “So very beautiful. But the women here are all beautiful. You are…something special.”

  A small shiver at his words.

  She had never in her life wanted to please anyone the way she did him. She had never been that truly submissive with anyone, male or female.

  His hand slipped down, over her collarbone, and she thought she might die happily right then, simply from his touch. Except that she needed to really feel him too badly.

  He leaned in, his lips only inches from hers. His breath a sweet whisper against her mouth.

  “I can feel your excitement, Meeraj. I can hear the gasping edge to your breath. I can sense the racing of your heart, the heat in your body. In your lovely pussy.”

  He stroked her breasts, and she surged into him.

  “Ah, your nipples are hard for me. Perfect.”

  He bent his head, and she felt the hot lash of his tongue on one distended nipple.

  “Oh…”

  He drew it into his mouth, his tongue sweeping across it. She was flooded with heat—her breasts, her pussy. Her legs were weak.

  Aleron pulled away. “You are shaking, my darling. We can’t have that. Best to steady you now.”

  He took her wrists and held them over her head, backing her into the cross until she felt the smooth wood pressed against her spine. As he fastened the leather cuffs about her wrists, she felt strangely safe, cared for.

  The sound of the chains sliding across wood as Aleron adjusted them was like some primal music in her ears. She loved the idea of chains, the heaviness of them. The medieval feel to them. They seemed so tough, for want of a better word. So hard. As hard as the vampire’s skin.

  Yes…

  Her arms were spread wide on the enormous X. Aleron bent and gently spread her thighs. He bent lower, clasping each of her ankles in thick leather restraints attached to longer lengths of chain bolted into the floor. She loved being bound like this. Feeling open to him, completely at his mercy.

  She didn’t know if he possessed any. She didn’t care.

  Excerpted from Bloodsong by Eden Bradley Copyright 2010 by Eden Bradley. Excerpted by permission of Samhain Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

 

 

 


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