by Joey W. Hill
Page 68
He was as good as his word, being slow and leisurely about it all, giving the other nipple the same attention as her nails dug into his arse, moving up to claw his lower back as he became more insistent, as he drew his strokes down to slow glides. He murmured to her, growled at her, worked up to harder thrusts, now pumping into her faster, and she gripped him even more, giving him a tight, slick fist he couldn’t resist, knowing she was cheating somewhat, but she didn’t want to fail him, and she wanted to see his pleasure.
Of course he slowed down again, commanded her not to grip him with those devilish internal muscles, and built her up again until she was crying out on every stroke, a wail of tormented need that gave his eyes those flickers of crimson and had his fangs bared when at last he released into her.
Oh God . . . She couldn’t resist that. As those streams jetted into her, bathing all those sensitive tissues, she couldn’t stop herself. She let out a strangled cry of warning, straining with all she was to stop her reaction, the climax hitting her wall of control like a battering ram.
He used that speed again, unexpectedly. In a blink, her mouth, open on a cry, was being nudged wider. He thrust his cock in there, his knees straddling her shoulders, holding her down. She strangled on a stuttering scream when, with his other hand, he thrust several cubes of ice directly inside of her. The ice had been left in a bucket by the bed, and now he held another piece against her clit as well, that one diabolical hand sealing in the overwhelming sensation. He kept ramming into her mouth, still coming. He’d left a small patter of drops across her belly; she felt them, even as she took those further expulsions of hot seed on her tongue. He tasted of salt and metallic blood, the unique semen of a vampire.
Pulling out, he gripped the base of his cock and milked out the last flood before her eyes, a white viscous fluid over the generous rise of her breasts. He spread it with the tip of his cock, rubbing himself over her as his body shuddered one last time. She could smell him there, right under her nose, and she already knew he wouldn’t allow her to bathe. He’d want her to have that scent on her all night, that primal male marking. Lord Marshall would detect it immediately.
She had no room for shame. She was fair writhing with the excruciating feel of the ice melting inside of her and the piece he still held against her clit. Having her climax aborted so abruptly left her with a peculiar feeling of volatility. She’d do anything he wanted her to, just to gain release. It didn’t matter whom they’d be with tonight; she’d bend herself over his dinner plate and let him rut on her. She’d even take Lord Marshall’s cock in her mouth at the same time, if it was the proper, guestlike thing to do.
As she lifted her lashes to gaze up at him with greedy eyes, his eyes gleamed with a mixture of reactions, but she received the most important message from it. That was exactly the state of mind he’d intended her to be in. He didn’t want her to be afraid or anxious.
You serve me, Elisa. That’s all you need to worry about.
She managed a nod, still gasping, and let out another short scream as he teased the ice inside of her with one probing finger. He had his cock back in her mouth, his other hand sliding along her jaw, caressing the stretch of her lips around him. Though replete, his cock had not yet softened, because he often didn’t, as long as her breath and moist heat could hold him like this.
“We’ll let that melt,” he said softly. “Then you’ll help me get dressed, and we’ll take care of that spanking. Servants stand at dinner, so I won’t have the pleasure of seeing you squirm on a sore backside. But I’m sure we’ll more than make up for it. ”
Then, despite all that, his eyes darkened. Pulling out and sliding down so he lay on her body, he caught her mouth in a hot, deep kiss. His fingers curled under her neck, spearing into her disheveled hair. Follow my lead, Elisa, and trust me. I’ll take care of you.
33
THERE was quite a difference in a dinner out in the middle of Western Australia and one here, in easy reach of everything needed to make it fancy. Even at the Pearlmuttons, she’d never seen anything like this. Lord Marshall had amassed more wealth than Elisa thought was possible. As she and Mal passed the dining room, she glimpsed a small army of servants at work and a long table set with gleaming gold leaf china. The Persian rug stretched completely over the dining room floor. A large chandelier made up of crystal teardrops and blown glass shaped like tulips hung low over the table. She expected the servant who changed out the bulbs inside those fragile things had to have a delicate touch.
A classical music piece drifted down the hallway from the open door of the solarium. It made her miss the crackle of Kohana’s radio and his penchant for accompanying Negro spirituals in his rough baritone. Of course, that longing might be because her nerves were knocked awry. One of the efficient household staff had just informed Mal their dinner party had expanded.
Two additional vampire guests had arrived at dusk, members of Lord Marshall’s territory. Though the housemaid made it clear it was a last-minute decision by Lord Marshall, Elisa still felt remiss in her duties, particularly when Mal tensed at the news. However, as he escorted her to the main level of the house, his hand slid across her lower back, a brief touch of reassurance, and she knew he wasn’t angry at her.
She told herself it was just as well. If they’d known ahead of time, she would have worried pointlessly over it. Despite that bit of practicality, a flood of apprehension filled her as they drew closer to the solarium and she heard the voices of the other guests as they enjoyed pre-dinner cocktails. Mal stopped her in the hallway then, brought her back against his full body, lowering his head to nuzzle her throat, a one-touch reminder of all he’d done to her over the past hour. It brought all her unreleased passion surging forward, a tidal wave to obliterate that flood. Her nipples hardened, her body softened against his, and he made a quiet noise of approval.
You can do this, Irish flower. You serve me. Keep remembering that.
That, and the fact they were here for the fledglings. She firmed her chin, and her resolve.
As they continued down the hallway, a house servant slipped out of Lord Marshall’s private study, several doors before the solarium entry. The servant left the door cracked, giving Mal and Elisa a direct view of the room’s occupants.
The woman who must be Nadia sat in a man’s deep reading chair, perhaps where Lord Marshall liked to read the paper at night. She had her legs drawn up, arms folded over her body. Despite the coiled position, her mother, Latriska, was brushing her hair, but Nadia might have been a doll. Her gaze was on the fire in the fireplace, seemingly unnecessary because of the Florida heat, but she was painfully thin and shivering, with a wrap over her shoulders.
A tall, handsome man—Lord Marshall, for Elisa couldn’t imagine it would be anyone else—briefly bent to lay a kiss on the top of her head. Her eyes closed. When he bent farther, moving to her lips, she visibly flinched, turning her face away.
Elisa drew in a breath, for Lord Marshall straightened and noticed them there. Nadia’s refusal was an act no vampire could let pass, not and save face in front of others of his kind. She wished they’d gone another way to the dining area. But Elisa’s regard for Mal increased tenfold then. Before Lord Marshall could decide how to react, her Master stepped closer to the door, drawing Elisa with him and putting his hand on the door latch to widen it slightly, yet maintain their privacy with the block of his body in front of the opening.
“My lord, it’s a terrible thing to lose a child,” he murmured. “Perhaps later, Elisa could sit with Nadia. She has a gift for bringing light into the most soul-sick heart. ”
He hadn’t tried to pretend he hadn’t seen it, or awkwardly changed the topic. He’d met it head-on, with quiet compassion. And Lord Marshall, his hand still resting on Nadia’s shoulder, showed how deeply he appreciated it when the vampire’s typical dispassionate mien dropped briefly. Elisa saw a haggard male, uncertain how to comfort a female who
obviously meant a great deal to him.
Mal courteously pulled the door closed and they continued down the hallway toward the solarium. It was a dilemma Elisa couldn’t imagine. Even after such a brief time as his full servant, she knew if Mal was in such a deep depression, she’d be in that same mire with him, because the bond was that strong. For a servant to turn so emphatically away from the touch of her Master, when the physical passion was so constant and undeniable, was a strong indicator of how trapped Nadia was in the tragedy of losing three unborn babies. But the whole vampireservant link required her to accept her Master’s will, physically and emotionally.
What will he do if she doesn’t come out of it? Vampire hearing was so acute that anything vital or sensitive now needed to be spoken mind to mind.
In our world, he has only two choices. Put her somewhere under his care but out of his household, and take another servant. Or kill her.
Recalling that brief glimpse of Lord Marshall’s face, she shook her head. He won’t do it. He won’t put her aside. Instead, his household would slowly be swallowed by their shared despair. He loves her too much.
She’d simply spoken what had been obvious to her, but the second she had the thought she tensed up. I mean . . . I know vampires aren’t supposed to feel that way about their servant. You know, they can “love” them, but not be “in love” with them. I do understand that. I—
She had her hand in the crook of his elbow. His settled over it as he gave her one of his unfathomable looks. Breathe, Elisa. We’re about to go in now. His mouth tightened. And I believe you will be the only female servant present at dinner.
“Oh, crikeys,” she muttered, forgetting to say it in her head only. Mal gave her the hint of a smile, though there was a fierceness to his gaze, that possessiveness. Both gave her courage, helped her settle the bad kind of collywobbles. Oh, crikeys.
Lord Marshall’s two visitors, Cynthia Maher and Jonathan Kreager, were here to discuss business issues with him and to offer their annual tithe. Since Lady Danny was currently a Region Master, Elisa knew the tithe was a requirement of all vampires in a territory, in return for the overlord’s protection and investment of the monies to the benefit of them all.