by Joey W. Hill
Nina referred to Alistair as her evening employer, saying she was doing in-home care for a relative of his. The reason she had to leave on time was she had to treat that as her primary position or lose it. Tracy understood and promised to make sure she left on time.
Nina was delighted to discover a third mark needed far less sleep than a normal human. Four or five hours was more than sufficient, so she could maximize her daylight time and be fully available to Alistair by midnight.
So… She was doing what she’d wanted to do with her life. In a more limited way, perhaps, but she was still doing it, still helping. She missed the camaraderie with the other nurses, going out together to eat or share a drink at the end of a shift. Watch them flirt harmlessly with the blokes at the same watering hole. Consider the prospects of a handsome doctor or other available bachelors that came through.
Truth, she had no interest in that part of things anymore. She’d never been much for the husband-hunting side of things. She’d been open to having a husband, liking the idea of falling in love and starting a family as much as any woman. But she’d always felt it would come in its own time. She wasn’t desperate for it, because she loved her work.
She still did, but her lack of interest in husband and family was more than that. And it wasn’t just that the avenue was firmly closed to her forever.
It was what happened at midnight each night.
His schedule purportedly kept him busy in the evenings, so she usually didn’t see much of him until midnight. That bothered her, his insistence that she be there at dusk, even if he didn’t need her attendance, but she complied.
After work and dinner, she slept several hours, then rose and showered. She’d don whatever clothes had been hung on the back of her bathroom door, which told her Alistair had been through while she slept. Sometimes there were no clothes at all, just a robe, a nod to preserving her modesty before the staff. That was the case this evening.
He might be in his study, the bedroom. Tonight, though, was different.
Come to me on the rooftop. Leave the robe downstairs.
She left the garment on a hook at the bottom of the spiral staircase. When she reached the final turn to the top, a strong hand reached down, helping her take the last few steps. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her other hand capturing her hair as the breeze found it, rippled it across her lips and cheeks. When they were both on the deck level, they stood in the wild, windy darkness and he took over, sweeping it back, holding it to her nape as he drew her naked body flush against his clothed one. His mouth settled over hers.
She made a soft, surprised noise. He didn’t often start the evening so intimately, but her knees weakened and the rest of her melted into him as he took over her senses. She curled her fingers into the hard muscle at his waist through his shirt while she lost herself in the movement of his lips and tongue against hers. The pressure and demand of him was clear, from the hold of his mouth to the brush of his thighs against hers, his sex straining against his trousers.
The breeze eased, became a caressing touch, the stars brilliant above. When he released her and stepped back, he held onto her fingers an extra moment, and she saw that raw thing in his eyes. Then his expression changed to the steady, intent one he maintained most often around her, except when in the throes of passion. Her heart did a little painful turn, but it did no good to wonder why he kept closing himself off to her. He could hear the thought, but he never answered. Just waited for her to do what she knew was required of her.
She sank to her knees and bowed her head. Alistair liked to gaze upon her for a few moments, which always built her anticipation of his needs. Her desire to meet them. As he watched her with that intent, unsmiling expression, she’d press her cheek to his calf until he bade her straighten. Putting her cheek there was her own alteration. But he seemed to like her touching him while on her knees before him.
When she heard his footsteps retreating, the creaking as he settled into a chair, she was already quivering. “Come to me,” he said quietly.
She rose and he took her hand again to guide her, bringing her down into his lap, cradling her. He tipped her chin up with his hand clasping her throat. Her eyes closed as his fangs pressed to the artery. She gripped his biceps as the drawing of nourishment from her created a swirl of feelings that made her need the solidity of him to anchor her. Her small gasp compelled a murmur of approval from his throat, something close to a purring growl, a tightening of his arms around her hips.
She wound her arms around him, moistening her lips as his hands wandered over her backside, up her spine. She liked wearing the beautiful things he bought her, but sometimes she liked this most of all, being completely naked, no adornment, while he was fully dressed. She wasn’t sure why.
Yes, you are. Say it.
That little leap of anxiety in her stomach. He never let her get away with it, trying to gloss over the things she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge about herself. The things she’d at one time claimed were a twisting and warping of her service drive, instead of a symptom of what lay deep inside her. The undeniable thing that he brought to full, vibrant life, such that he could read it from her mind as easily as written words on a page.
“Because you’re my Master. I belong to you. And when you stay clothed and command me to remove my clothes…you’re making me acknowledge that.”
Removing every shield, to stand before him unprotected. Because his command overrode any other hold the world had upon her.
Close, sweet nurse. Make it simpler.
It made her throat ache, telling a truth that had no safety net.
“Because I want you to remind me of that,” she whispered, and then bit her lip as the truth was rewarded. His hand moved between her legs, which automatically fell open at his touch. He stroked slow, as if he were savoring every millimeter of the tender flesh, the slickness his fingertips drew forth and painted over her labia. He eased in two digits, rubbed her and sent tendrils of sensation unfurling through her lower abdomen. Her arms tightened around him.
“Master…” she said softly, because she wanted to say it. Because here, in the dark, she could.
Tell me about your day.
Not in general terms, either. He wanted details. It made her both envy and despise his control. He asked questions that showed he was actively listening, even as he moved to caress her breasts, play with and pinch her nipples. He stroked her abdomen, her arms. It felt like he didn’t leave an inch of her untouched, unattended.
She was gasping over the words in no time, for he required them to be spoken aloud.
“And Sister Tracy thought he might respond better to…oh God…” He’d changed her position so now she straddled him, and he opened his slacks, freeing himself.
Guide me into you, Nina. You’ve earned a punishment for interrupting yourself. No climax for you for a while. His eyes glowed in that darkness like blue fire. She wrapped her fingers around him, stroking, squeezing, until he made that warning noise that told her she was overinterpreting his instructions. She couldn’t regret it, though, loving the heft and girth of his shaft in her fingertips. She squeezed him, just one more infraction, and he showed her just how strict he could be…when it pleased him to torment her.
He lifted her free and shifted her, startling and yet reminding her of his strength as he bent her knees over his shoulders and draped the rest of her down toward the deck. Her back was arched over the seat edge of the chair, her hands resting on the concrete as her hair swept the ground. His mouth sealed over her cunt and he began to lick and tease her there, her body shuddering and her cries carried on the wind. He brought her to a crazed peak and then rose, collecting her upper body against his so that he could hold her as he moved to the railing.
Then he eased her away from him, making her bend backward over empty space. He kept her going, steadying her, his grip strong and sure, until she was upside down, over the rail, her lower back and hips pressed against it. All while he continued to feast
on her cunt, only his arms keeping her from a fall. She twisted in the wind like a whipping flag, her arms free, her stomach muscles tightening in instinctive preservation. She never feared he’d drop her. As the climax tightened within her and she knew he would deny her, she instead focused upon—even gloried in—the soaring feeling of her arms spreading wider and her body twisting like a ribbon.
The ocean was thundering out there, but it matched the rise of her need, obliterating any bad memories.
Master…
Beg, Nina. Beg in my mind.
Don’t want to beg…for anything. Only want…to please you…
His arms tightened, and he burrowed his face deeper into her, making her scream into the night. How did he take her so close to orgasm, make it so intense, without her tumbling over? Some of it was training, that he reinforced nightly. He taught her to withhold it all at his command, until she did it unconsciously. Which meant some part of her own will was now beyond her own control. It only obeyed his will. Terrifying, thrilling. Much like this.
Fuck…
The curse told her she’d pleased him, taken his feelings about things to a more intense level. She wanted that too. She wanted him to lose control with her. Wanted to feel his power and danger. Knowing he could take everything from her, even her life. Even while also knowing she was never safer than when she was with him.
Such revelations were so clear in these moments, no matter how fuzzy they were when she was away from him, when doubts could come in. So she focused only on him right now.
He bit her when she had that thought, turning his head to her thigh, sinking his fangs into the femoral. The rush of blood into his mouth was dizzying, and he clotted it within moments, but when he brought her to her feet, she was swaying, staring up at him, seeking his face with eyes, fingertips.
He clasped her wrist in a strong grip before she could make contact, held her there. “Back on your knees, my servant,” he said in a rough voice.
She sank down, and licked her lips as he guided himself into her mouth. He cupped her skull, and tonight he wasn’t gentle about it. He hit her gag reflex, forced her to work out how to take him, service him as he desired, without any guidance other than his urgent lust. She struggled but worked through it, relaxing her throat. Her nails dug into his thighs, raked, and he snarled in lustful approval, his fingers pressing into her skull.
Suck me with that pretty mouth, sweet nurse. Give me what you give no other man.
She did. He held out a while, testing her until tears came to her eyes at the strain, but when at last he released, his guttural groan was so pleasurable to her, she unintentionally disobeyed her Master. He had made her stay off her heels, which increased the strain on her thigh muscles, her knees wide enough there was no contact to her dripping sex. But even so, as he came, her cunt contracted on itself and the orgasm swept through her, short, intense, making her shudder while he jetted to the back of her throat.
She finished him properly, though she had to exercise a tremendous amount of focus to do it, through the waves of her own intense reaction. When he finally tightened his hand on her, telling her to stop, she was making little noises of sensual distress, her breasts rising and falling with the exertion. He withdrew from her mouth slowly, and she cleaned him as he did, with reverent attention for every inch, sucking on the ridged head as gently as possible, since she knew it was sensitive after climax.
She was trembling. He’d not yet told her she could sit back. Her thigh muscles were screaming. He pressed a hand to her shoulder, and she sighed in relief, putting her buttocks to her heels. But then he pushed her all the way back, until her back was arched and the crown of her head was on the concrete, her knees still bent. It stretched out the thigh muscles, but it also…
“Oh…” The bolt of pain was excruciating, but she only had it for a second. In the time the leg cramp had seized her, Alistair had swiftly unfolded her legs and had them over his lap. He was massaging the knotted muscle with strong, capable hands, ensuring it did not become a full-blown spasm. She stared up at him. He could have insisted on doing whatever he wanted to do. Made her endure the pain.
He lifted his head, his eyes murky in the darkness, his mouth drawn. “Do you think I’m that kind of monster?”
“No.” But sometimes, the way he was keeping her at arm’s length from his heart, from his true thoughts about things, was almost as bad. “Alistair…”
He shook his head, silencing her. “There is pain I want you to endure, Nina. And other kinds I don’t.” He slid her ankle to his shoulder, and then stretched out on his stomach, slipping his hands under her buttocks and lifting her, her legs loose and open. “Leave them that way. You’re not done with your climax.”
He put his mouth between her legs, and the short, intensity of a moment ago suddenly returned to full, spasming life as he proved he knew her body even better than she herself did. The climax swept back in, this time long, drawn out, like a soft taffy, winding and winding and winding as her voice rose in pleading song to the night once more.
Tears ran from the corners of her eyes again, disappearing into her hair, but she knew the tracks were there. When her climax was finished, he cleaned her as she had him, and he allowed her to put her hand on his head, stroke his hair as she shuddered under his administrations. “Did I meet your expectations, my lord?” she asked shyly, but feeling a need to tease him a little. “Did I give you what I give no other man?”
“You did.”
“And how do you know this?”
He was suddenly above her, shoulders blocking the night sky and making her heart jump in her throat at the look she saw in his eyes, so close to hers. “Because if another male tried to claim that gift from you, I would tear him to pieces in front of you, Nina. Do you wish to give another man what you give to me?”
The answer that leaped to her mind, straight from her heart, startled her. Feeling so vulnerable, she couldn’t say it. “I don’t have that choice, my lord,” she said instead. “I am bound to serve you, and I will. Faithfully.” She swallowed. “You don’t have to doubt my loyalty.”
His eyes pinned her. “Why won’t you say what I can read so easily in your mind?”
“Thoughts like those come easily in moments like these,” she said, and her voice broke a little. Like her heart. “But I promised you honesty.”
Whereas he promised her nothing. Though she knew that wasn’t entirely true. There were many promises that were not spoken, that the heart knew were true. But she was weak, and wanted to hear the words. Such moments, so strong and irrefutable, could perversely be the hardest to believe in the light of day. The heat of passion was something easy to rationalize into something else, and she wouldn’t let herself be a fool.
Despite that, she couldn’t deny that midnight had become a part of her day she anticipated. Even if it left her body satisfied, but a yearning in her heart and soul that could be unbearable. Those meetings emphasized something that always seemed just out of reach. A door to which it felt like she should have the key.
Alistair touched her brow, her mouth. He massaged the tears away with his fingers, kissed her, as she sobbed in his mouth and didn’t put words to what couldn’t be said.
Her lips parted, her heart thudding, at the tenderness with which he touched her, kissed her. He held her, and let himself be held. After a time, when she was calmer, he asked her more questions about her day. Not a test of her control this time, but to hear the stories she could bring him.
But she talked about more than that. Somehow, other things would spill out. The worries she had about patients, the things a nurse carried within her even when she left their bedsides, things that one usually could only talk about with other nurses. And he listened. He gave her that connection, holding her in his arms, stroking her hair as she curled in his lap in a chair. He laid his head against the chair back, his gaze on the ocean, then his eyes closed, and she knew he was listening to her fully, absorbing everything.
During
those conversations, he also responded with thoughtful replies, insights that were genuinely helpful and intelligent. He drew on his own experiences and decisions, but didn’t share many details about them, particularly the ones that related to his role as Region Master now.
She tried not to push for that, but it was difficult. When she pushed too much, as she invariably did, he lifted her to her feet. Retrieved her robe and slid it over her shoulders, belting it. He wrapped the ties around his hands for a brief moment, holding her securely to him. His gaze delved into hers, locking, holding, confirming what she already knew. That she was his.
“That’s all I need for tonight, sweet nurse. Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty
So it went. Their midnight meetings were a ritual. Structured within certain boundaries. But what happened within those boundaries until she stepped over the wrong one…it was limitless as the sky. By the time he was done, she felt like a soaring bird. It was only when she walked out of his presence she felt like she was in a cage. For he would not seek her out again until midnight the following day. His own structure and ritual, keeping their relationship contained to that handful of hours.
He wasn’t even speaking in her head during the in-between times, like he had during those few days between their visit to the cottage and his decision to let her work at the hospital. When she tried to initiate those intimate, informal dialogues, she received either no response, or a brief, exceedingly courteous, ‘I’m busy’ kind of answer.
When he did speak in her mind, it was mostly functional things now, instructions. She wasn’t even sure if he lingered in her mind at all when he didn’t have immediate need for her. Why was he staying so removed from her, while unleashing such incredible intimacy during the feeding?
Oh, crikey. She was in love with him. She loved him. No reason to deny it, no matter how incomprehensible a lot of their relationship was. But he was making it clear that was something she could feel as much and as deeply as she wished, but he couldn’t reciprocate. That was not what he could give her.