by Jackie Ivie
She ran an exclusive house of ill repute but she wasn’t interested in anything in it.
Until right now.
Zachariah wasn’t entirely in her power. She’d held back. She didn’t want a puppet when she joined with him. She wanted strength. Maleness. Power. It looked like she had exactly what she’d wanted, too. Maybe. There was the homosexual issue to deal with first. He’d said he was here for other men. That couldn’t be true. His physical reaction was impressive and impossible to overlook. So...even if he liked men, he wasn’t immune to women.
That was a point in her favor.
He was also a Hunter. He must be a decent one, if Malcolm spoke true. That information should have frightened her, made her leery. It failed. She was even more intrigued. Excessively tantalized. But cautious. That’s why she controlled him, exercising just enough of the enthralling power that he’d follow her requests without hesitation.
She’d had him remove his clothing. That had been revealing and engrossing, and absolutely fascinating. His jacket had been shed first. He’d folded it carefully before draping it across the footboard. Every move put massive shoulders and arms on display. Ruxanna’s canines had tingled. Her senses had elevated. Her heartbeat increased in cadence and power. And that was before he’d pulled his shirt over his head!
Oh. My.
That movement ruffled his dark hair and put all kinds of muscle on display. And he’d preened somehow, as if sensing her reaction. His shirt hadn’t received the same care as his jacket. He’d tossed that garment onto the floor somewhere behind him.
Ruxanna was unable to tear her gaze away as he’d leaned against a foot post to unlace and pull off his shoes. First the right. The left. Then, both socks. He pitched everything one-by-one onto the floor. His trousers got even less attention. Ruxanna had gasped as he’d yanked the fly open, shoved the pants to his ankles, and stepped out of them.
The world had shifted. Rocked. Heated. Grown heavy with some strange power she’d love to conjure and package. The rose-colored haze covering the floor had swelled in response. Then it had started swirling, moving not only smoke, but the array of gauze panels hanging all about the room. He wouldn’t know the haze came from a plethora of candles, and the motion from hidden fans, timed to respond to temperature. She wasn’t going to tell him, either. Wizardry couldn’t be relied on. She’d learned that much over the past five centuries, if nothing else.
The air was still moving about, in a slow whirlpool fashion, stirring her hair, dampening her dress. It did the same to his skin, making it glisten, as if beckoning a touch. A taste.
Oh. My. My.
Her mate was a complete pleasure to view. Especially in thigh-length briefs that stretched to accommodate and define. Zachariah had looked very well-endowed, and extremely interested in what was happening.
He still did.
She had him on his back, arms spread, so his hands could be tied to slats in the headboard. That position put every inch of him on display. He wasn’t blindfolded. She needed eye connection. Besides, the way his eyes followed her was addictive. Exhilarating. Exciting. Fascinating. He had such gorgeous eyes. Surrounded with lush lashes that matched his hair. He didn’t move his gaze as she lowered the shoulders of her gown and let it fall to her ankles. He didn’t even blink, although his jaw hardened. Everything else on him lurched upwards. The mattress swayed. The bed frame creaked. And those briefs of his looked constrictive and uncomfortable with how that portion of him responded, as well.
Ruxanna watched, with wide eyes and canines that fought her control. She approached the bed slowly, enjoying every bit of how the garters flexed against her thighs, the corset strained with each breath, the silk of her chemise slid along her nipples, raising them to sensitive darts of irritation.
Then she was atop the mattress, right beside him; knees a hairsbreadth of space from his side; her hands hovering atop his chest. She didn’t even know how she’d gotten there. Being near him was risky. Volatile. And tremendously exciting. He was perfection. Ridges of muscle and skin. Taut muscle. Lightly tanned skin.
And his veins were thick with blood...
Oh dear. Oh my.
Zachariah was large. Well-defined. Perfect. She didn’t know where to start. He was breathing hard, and each breath dragged hers with it. Every inch of him called to her. Her hands shook. Her entire body pulled taut. His matched. She watched ridges of muscle harden throughout his chest. Belly. Abdomen. The skin silently begged a touch. A caress. Oh. This was dangerous. Just looking him over sparked a bonfire into existence. It sent heat licking through her veins, awakened any errant undead cells, strained against any restraint. Need mounted. Pressured. It was massive. Nearly uncontrollable.
Not yet...
She’d start with a finger. Just one. Perhaps an index finger. Left hand, since it was closest. She’d run it along his arm, following the vascularity on display. She envisioned skimming her touch down his arm, along a bicep, over the ribbon knotted at his wrist...lacing her fingers through his.
Clasping hands.
Her entire form pulsated at the visual. She almost made it reality. But to do that would lower her near him. She wouldn’t be able to keep from touching. Her skin against his...her breasts crushed...
No! Not yet. The hunger within flexed against its cage, making the bed lurch violently. His eyes narrowed, his lips parted, sending harsh breaths onto both of them. And hers were a perfect match.
Perhaps, she should straddle him. Press her moistness against the ropes beneath the skin of his belly. Feel his heat. She envisioned her thighs spread apart on his belly. Her knees clenched to his sides. Her cavern closing in on him. Her tongue slid onto her lower lip, wetting it, and slicing along a canine. Damn it. She was trying to control this!
“Uh...lady?”
Ruxanna’s gaze flew to his face. He looked pained. His expression matched the rigidity evident throughout his form.
“You need to do something. Like...soon. Before...uh...well. Before we have a premature scenario that’s going to embarrass the shit out of someone. Like me.”
“We are?”
He licked his lips, drawing her attention there. He had perfectly-formed lips. Perfect for a kiss.
“Yeah.”
She touched him.
And the world went insane.
Ruxanna spread her hands about his chest for support as the entire area rocked and swayed. Lights flared. Sound swelled. The draperies became living entities that fluttered about, lashing at all sides of the bed. The connection of her hands to his skin sparked. Zachariah arched up from the mattress, straining against his bonds, sending a massive groan into the air, while his heartbeat thudded against her palms, emboldening her. As if calling to her.
She pushed him back down to the bed. A moment later she’d straddled him. An instant after that, she was latched to his mouth. Moaning, and licking, and despite every effort against it, she was biting.
Time altered. The room went even crazier, becoming an aura of rainbow hues, thick enough to support weight. Sound swelled, becoming a throbbing beat. Hard. Quick. Strong. Ruxanna latched to his lower lip and sucked, vibrating with bliss, while he groaned and shuddered beneath her.
Ruxanna slid her mouth toward his neck, jockeying with him for position, pushing his head to one side as he did the same with her. All to bring his artery into range. Ah. There it was. Thick, pulsating with blood. Bluish-toned beneath the skin. She stabbed into it, at the exact same instant that he did something to her neck, and the resulting chaos had laughter and ecstasy at its core. Oh. He was perfect. He tasted divine. She couldn’t get enough. Quickly enough.
Zachariah lunged beneath her, over and over, making the bed crest and fall as if adrift on waves. He was very adept with his legs. Physical. Strong. Agile. He had her legs gripped between his next and was trying to drill his rod into her thighs, creating a fervor of want. A chasm of need. A blizzard of shivers. A conflagration of desire.
His groans weakened. His body
shook. She mustn’t drain too much. But everything on her wanted more. She wanted all of him. She wanted to consume and share, and meld and join. Ruxanna eased her fangs from him, licking the puncture wounds closed, too.
“Lady. Please? Lady.”
“Ruxanna.” She scraped a fang along her inner lip, opening a cut.
“Ruxanna...got it. Damn these ties!”
She stopped his cry with a kiss, giving him a taste. And then a feeding. It matched the increased writhing of his hips, pounding his erection against her. Strong. Fast. The bonfire within her roared as each movement grazed her most sensitive place. Solid wonder burst through her. Bright. Massive. Enveloping everything. Ruxanna broke the suction of their kiss to send a cry of satiation and bliss out into the room. Zachariah started shaking, rattling the bed beneath them. He pulled against his bonds. And then he was speaking. Beseeching.
“Oh, lady, please. Please? Roxie? Do it. Please, lady? Please...”
Roxie?
Ruxanna yanked her corset open, freeing her breasts so she could shove them against his chest. Ah...the wonder! The feel of his naked skin astonished. The hard strength just beneath dazed. The rumble of his groan as it vibrated through her, almost overwhelmed.
“Roxie. Please? Come on! Do it. Now, lady! Now!”
Her hands slid down his sides, grazing skin, then cotton. His waistband gave her trouble. The elastic wouldn’t expand enough. A moment later, it didn’t need to. She ripped him free. And then she held him with both hands. Upright. Thick. Powerful. Hard. She lifted to crouch above him, positioning. Preparing. And then she slammed down onto him, sucking back shock as absolute fire shot through her belly and down her legs. She hadn’t known it would pain.
“Oh...my—! Son of a bitch! Don’t move! Don’t move! Oh, lady. Don’t move.”
He ground the words between little pants of breath, while every inch of his chest turned a purplish shade. And he was shuddering. She was fixated in place, awed at the view. Any pain muted and disappeared. It was changing. To something exceptional. Something that demanded. Required. And needed. It was incredibly difficult to do as he asked. She tossed her head back, brushing strands of her hair against her lower back and buttocks. Even that felt like it was angered. Her eyes narrowed as they breathed in tandem. Little gusts of air. But nothing stopped the tremor as she absorbed how he felt. Deep. Full.
“Whoa. Lady. Wow. Roxie. That was...oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Lady. You need to untie me.”
He was making little pulsing motions within her, sending signals she didn’t understand. Her body didn’t have any trouble interpreting it, however. She started swaying atop him. She couldn’t help it.
“Wait. Roxie. Wait. Not yet, babe. Not...yet.”
He had his eyes scrunched shut, every muscle pulled taut. And he was vibrating.
“Oh, Roxie. Babe. You feel incredible. Better than—oh, lady. You need to untie me. Okay?”
“I...don’t know,” she replied.
“Please? Come on. Enough’s enough. Okay?”
The last word was choked. He was rocking his hips in small lunges, each time sending all kinds of stimuli through every nerve ending. Ruxanna responded instinctively, clenching, and squirming. He was right. It did feel incredible.
Oh my. Her loins were receiving pulses that contained sparks. Or something just as hot and electrifying. Consuming. Addictive.
“I need leverage, babe. Okay? I’ve never done it this way. I need—oh...hell. Hang on.”
He accompanied the last part with a kick, shoving them toward the headboard. She hung on, latching her legs about him as a riot of sensation erupted. She struggled to absorb it as he grabbed bedposts, and pushed his shoulders into the mattress. That got followed by a solid lift of his hips that nearly unseated her. The resultant drop to the mattress slammed her back onto him.
Ruxanna’s cry carried shock, and wonder, and complete amazement. And then he did it again. Over and over. Using his arms for a downward push, his hips for a shove, pumping with massive strokes that made the mattress bounce. Again. More. Each time starting a torrent within her, turning it into a maelstrom, and then setting it free with an explosion of ecstasy.
She lost count of the times as he moved, pounding into the mattress and using the resultant jolt. More. Harder. Faster. The impression of sight, sound, and essence about them amplified. The air thickened. Grew moist. Heavy. Hot. The throbbing noise grew louder. While the swirl of gauzy rose-shaded panels whipped about, tossing air into the area. Cooling just enough.
Zachariah started grunting. The sound deep. Guttural. Adding to the concert of sound about them as he increased in tempo. Ruxanna was panting with him. Straining. Her hands sliding more than once. Her legs would’ve too, if they weren’t locked into position.
“Oh, Roxie! Oh, wow. Oh....baby!”
He yelled the last part, his mouth wide, veins and sinews straining against his skin, while his body hovered in midair, pulsating. Taut. Strong. Everything shook along with him. The bed frame. Her.
Zachariah’s cry ended with a laugh, just before he dropped, taking her with him. Ruxanna was spellbound. Rapt. Awed. She ran her hands over his trembling form. Arms. Shoulders. Chest. Belly. The man was more than perfect. This act had been described to her. She’d witnessed it more than once. She’d never experienced it. Rarely envisioned receiving it.
Oh my.
Mating was a gift beyond scope. A treasure without price. And she’d received it?
Well.
She was never letting it go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The movement happening all about them was caused by fans. Four of them. In the ceiling. So that was the method behind the wafting mist and spider web curtains.
Zach located and counted them while he waited for his heartbeat to return to an acceptable level, his senses to go back to the normal range, and every muscle to come back from sloth stage. He didn’t think he could move. And he sure as hell didn’t want to.
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he’d just experienced heaven. Absolute. Complete. Heaven. He’d never had such an experience. Ever. He hadn’t known that kind of ecstasy was possible. Nor this level of satiation. He was almost afraid he’d dreamt it.
Nope. This was no dream. It was close, though.
Ruxanna had collapsed onto him. She was still there, her weight making the area all about his heart warm in an oddly blissful way. Maybe that came from how she’d snuggled onto him, her nose tucked at his shoulder. She felt good. Really good. He liked it. A lot. If he wasn’t tied, he’d have had his arms about her, assisting his conscious self with filing this amazing sensation into a memory bank. For use later. When reality intruded.
Zach watched the ceiling fans absently while he absorbed the afterglow. His body was still sending vibrations through him occasionally. His legs and arms twinged more than once with it. As if even his muscles needed to reminisce. Wow. Making love with Ruxanna had been perfect. She was perfect. Just about everything was perfect. Except...maybe the ties that still bound him to the bed frame.
He tipped his chin slightly and slanted a glance down at her. He was close on her age. He’d stake his stock portfolio on it. She was twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six. Not a line marred her skin. Nor a pore. Not even a blemish. She had her eyes closed at the moment, hiding the moss-green shade, but not much hid her beauty. Wow. She was beautiful. Much too perfect for the business path she’d chosen. She probably weighed a little over one-twenty. Every single pound was in a perfect place. She was almost more than perfect. Perfect size. Perfect body. Perfect sexual appetite, and more-than-perfect in the delivery department. She’d transported him to paradise. She had her lips slightly parted. They looked swollen. Reddened.
Was that dried blood on her lip?
Come on, Zach. Get a grip.
He’d been in the throes of some sensual fever, but...had there been biting and blood-sucking going on? Or any other vampiric-tainted stuff? No. It hadn’t happened. It wasn’t likely. And it wasn’t p
ossible. Rule One. She was simply a siren of lust. And he’d been her willing victim. That’s what this was. She dealt in lust and fantasy. She’d delivered him a huge dose of it. Lust. Sex. Fantasy. Every exhalation of hers sent a reminder with breath that feathered along his skin.
Odd.
Her breathing seemed to match his. Exactly. And worse. Each inhalation carried a hint of her particular perfume. Musky yet pleasantly floral. That scent was damn near addictive. He couldn’t place it, but he didn’t try, either. Time enough for that later. After he had Leroy. And left.
Zach returned to watching the fan blades rotate from well above the gossamer fabric of the bed canopy. The motion ruffled fabric, sent candle flames flickering, and stirred the haze of mist that still lingered just about mattress level. He was going to guess she had a dry ice machine somewhere in here, too. She probably had a sound system programmed to send throbbing beats through the area. Nice to know he wasn’t losing his mind. The room hadn’t come alive.
Very smart.
And extremely interesting.
She certainly knew how to create atmosphere. This must be her special room. For special customers. She was an expert at presentation, and a master at follow-through. With this kind of business plan, she was certain to have a large black book, heavy with clients. Repeat business was the best kind. Hell. His only experience with whorehouses was following Leroy, and he was ready to sign on – as long as a repeat session with Ruxanna was included with the price tag.
No.
Wait.
Something wasn’t right. She’d been a virgin. Or he was a greenhorn. Or maybe there was some potion he didn’t know about that made it easy to fake a hymen. Was that possible? It had to be. Because she couldn’t be a virgin. She was the Madame of a bordello hired to give him sexual gratification. And he was a very satisfied customer. End of transaction. But he didn’t know what to say now.
‘Uh...thanks?’
No, Zach. Too trite.