by Nya Rayne
Even while Donté was making love to her, Phia still felt like she needed more. She needed to be closer to him. She was greedy and ravenous, the ultimate vampire of old. Whether it was a little or a lot, she was quite sure it would never be enough.
He growled into her mouth as he slipped a solitary finger inside her. She rocked her hips against it, ignoring the soreness he’d left behind earlier. One finger exited, two reentered, and she knew he was a wicked thing born neither of hell nor heaven. He was something totally otherworldly, and she was going to love every inch of him.
Before she knew what was happening, he’d grasped her beneath her arm and positioned her so she was straddling his hips, his digits still buried within her. She wanted to gasp in shock as he pushed deeper into her. Pleasure swam through her, spinning her mind in every direction.
In her haze as she reached down between them, she tugged at the tie holding his pants closed, and fought to pull the one appendage she knew would make the painful ache building within go away. Her walls clenched around his fingers as she felt the first tendrils of faint electricity roll through her. She moaned as her head fell back, her hands coming up to cup her breasts.
There was a rip, and another, and before she had time to even understand what was happening, his fingers were slipping out of her and his cock was at the slit of her sex, her juices trickling down over his swollen head.
The world around her shifted again, and she swayed to the sound of music only she could hear as he entered her with divine slowness, his hands grasping her hips, controlling her movements.
They were like two rapacious beasts, insatiable and hungry with a longing she was sure the world had never known. She rode him as if he were a wild stallion in need of breaking. Her nails raked over his skin, leaving red, furious marks behind as indiscernible words tumbled from her lips. As the last of his seed spilled into her and her walls convulsed and twitched around his shaft, her orgasm ebbing, she found herself breathless, a little dizzy, and a tad embarrassed.
Donté pushed her hair back from her face, ran his hand down over her chest, and encircled her waist as he shifted farther down on the couch, his member jostling inside her. She giggled and looked away, unwilling to believe she deliberately started and carried out the entire act this time.
“You are embarrassed?” he asked.
She leaned forward and laid her head on his shoulder, unwilling to allow him to see the blush she could feel on her cheeks. Yes, she was embarrassed, but not for the reason she was thinking a few seconds ago. She was embarrassed because she’d fucked him, literally.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” he said, reading her mind. “We’re adults, aren’t we?”
Phia sat back, feeling like a blustering, inept school girl, her hands covering her face. “We’re not supposed to do that. We’re supposed to make love like we did last night.”
He removed her hands from her face, leaned forward and placed three chaste kisses to her lips. “With you, I don’t think it matters what we call it. I think it matters more that you enjoy it.”
She gazed at him for several heartbeats before she sank forward, her forehead resting against his. “Do you mean the things you say to me, or are you telling me what you think I want to hear?”
“I don’t know what you want to hear, so the first thing.” One eyebrow quirked higher than the other, he asked, “Would it matter if I were?”
“Yes, it would. I don’t want you filling my head with dreams. I can do that on my own, trust me. I want you to tell me what you feel.” She sat back, looked at him, and placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “If you don’t feel it in here, then I don’t want you to say it. Not to me. Not ever.”
Donté grinned, his blue eyes filled with an emotion she didn’t recognize. He leaned in her direction, and shifted his hips, whispering as his lips brushed against hers, “As you wish.”
Phia melted into him once more, her arms wrapping around his masculine shoulders, her hips beginning a slow rock against his groin, as “Beethoven’s Fifth” sounded around them and the deeply depressing male voice she’d programmed for such a caller droned, “It’s the Wicked Witch of the South. Shall I tell her you’re unavailable?”
Donté picked Phia up and sat her back on the couch so that she was kneeling with her back to him and her arms resting on the high back. “Who’s the Wicked Witch?” he asked, leaning into her, his breath misting over her right ear.
As he lifted her hips and pushed into her, she said, her voice thick with desire, “Nobody important.”
Chapter Nine
The door slid quietly open as she pulled her hand from the palm reader and stepped into the dark, cold room. Varying fetid scents assailed her. She held her head high, her shoulders back as she brought her right hand up to her nose in an attempt to mask what she knew could not be masked.
The room was no bigger than a storage shed, with gray walls and a low ceiling. A solitary light hung from the sharp apex at the center of the ceiling. The room as a whole truly had no place in her extravagant home, but it was a necessity nonetheless. After all, if not for this little room, where would lessons be taught?
Gloria glanced around the room, her eyes skimming over the small, bruised, and naked bundle cowering in the corner farthest from her. She turned, eying the archaic educational instruments, which hung along the right side of the wall nearest the metal exam table, and sighed happily as she took a slow step toward them. With the limitless cutting-edge technology she had at her disposal, she could have easily used more refined instruments to teach the lessons that had to be taught. She just had a penchant for the older, more barbaric tools which involved twisting, turning, the application of just enough pressure and the assurance of satisfaction and a lesson well learned.
She could hear murmurs of nonsense coming from the girl, but she paid her little attention as she stepped deeper into the room, annoyed at the disarray it had been left in. How could she teach anyone anything when her surroundings were in such disorder? Then she remembered absently that she was the one to blame for the room’s current state. She’d been rushing on her last session with the girl and hadn’t had time to properly clean up.
She plucked a pair of plastic-wrapped steel pliers from the metal table with one hand, while she scooped up the ends of her long, emerald-green dinner gown with the other. A sullied hem just wouldn’t do. She turned to gaze down at the woman. Her dark hair was ragged and grimy, stuck together with clumps of dried blood. She had deep gashes running along her back and down her arms. Her right eye was swollen shut, a large, pus-like boil sitting up prominently on her right cheek.
“Tawny, what will it be today?” she asked, leaning back against the table. “Let’s see, what’s left to teach you?”
Tawny whimpered and squirmed, as if trying to disappear into the wall beside her, but she did not speak nor did she turn to look at her.
“Oh, it’s quite all right. I’ll remember eventually. Perhaps we should do a review.” She tapped her chin in thought as the soft padding of feet coming down the long corridor outside the room drifted to her.
Gloria didn’t care to look or even spend a moment more than she had to on figuring out who it was. Instead, she turned her attention to the four commandments that everyone within her circle had to live by if they expected to continue receiving her favor. She would never consider herself a cruel woman. She did, however, believe certain boundaries must be enforced for order to be maintained. Anyone crossing those boundaries would be taught her lessons. There were no exceptions to that rule, and there would never be.
“Thou shalt honor the Higher Highness above all others,” she began, glancing down at the girl’s torn and battered flesh. “No, we’ve passed that one, haven’t we? Let’s see, what’s next? Thou shalt speak when spoken to. No, no, we’ve passed that one too. At least, I think we have.”
Tawny leaned farther into the wall, the chains wrapped around her waist, her ankles and her wrists rattling.
Lady LaDina Shunt, the Higher Highness’s personal assistant and right hand woman, stepped to the door, her eyes averted. “Permission to speak, Your Highness?” Her answer was a wave of the Higher Highness’s hand. “Thank you. Your Highness, we need to leave for the airport soon, and I need to go over your itinerary with you.”
The Higher Highness nodded in understanding. “So do it, but first, what’s my third commandment? I seem to have forgotten in all this mess with Africa and Asia.”
“Thou shalt not covet,” Lady LaDina said.
“Ah, that’s it,” the Higher Highness breathed in appreciation as she started toward Tawny. “Thou shalt not covet. How on earth could have forgotten that one. Isn’t it what got you into this mess?” Dropping to the seat beside the girl, she reached out, grabbed a handful of Tawny’s hair, and yanked so her beaten face was staring at her. She dug her claw-like nails into the sides of her face and leaned into her. “Thou. Shalt. Not. Covet.” She enunciated each word with such force spit flew from her mouth and splattered on Tawny’s face. “Say it,” she ordered, her tone softening.
Tawny brought her hands up, tried to move her head out of her grasp, and murmured more nonsense, which only served to irritate the Higher Highness even more.
She reached back and slapped Tawny across the face with the side of the pliers. She growled, spit once more flying from her mouth. “I said say it! Thou shalt not covet! Say it!” She struck her again, and blood splattered against the wall and ceiling from a newly opened gash along the left side of the girl’s face. Gloria lifted her hand high above her head again, annoyed at Tawny’s blatant show of insolence.
“Your Highness, she can’t speak. You have already taught her the second commandment: Thou shalt speak when spoken to.”
Gloria’s arm dropped as she sat back, releasing the girl, her previous anger vanishing as if with a flick of a switch. “Well, that makes all the sense in the world, doesn’t it?” She glanced around the room, eyed the row of jars lining one of the shelves to her left and sighed as she took in the thick five to six inches of flat, pink meat resting at the bottom of the last jar. “I guess you can’t say much without that, now can you?” She gripped Tawny’s face again, digging through the crusted blood. Forcing her mouth open, she peered into its darkness, shoved the end of the pliers in, wiggled them around, and listened as metal clanked against enamel. Releasing her again, she stated, “Well, it seems to have healed properly. I suppose we need to move on.”
“Ma’am, your itinerary,” Lady LaDina interjected.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Get on with it.” She pushed to her feet and approached a row of wire cutters of varying sizes, degrees of sharpness, and colors. “What is it this time?” She decided on a pair of red handled wire cutters.
“It’s a benefit for the Feline Foundation.”
Gloria scowled over her shoulder at her assistant and turned back to the task at hand. “I hate cats. You can’t trust them. They sit in corners, watching you and just waiting for you to let your guard down so that they can still your breath,” she whispered to herself, and asked as she settled into a chair near her student, “Could you hand me that jar?”
“Yes, we’re all aware of your distaste for cats, but you must attend. It would be an insult if you didn’t,” Lady LaDina said, stepping into the room to retrieve the jar. She made quick work of passing it to the Higher Highness and then backing out the room to take up her previous position.
“Before you get into the tedious details, tell me, will he be ready?”
Lady LaDina glanced from the Higher Highness to Tawny and then turned her attention back to the Higher Highness. “Xavier?”
“Who else would I be talking about? Sometimes, LaDina, you can be so dense. Did you forget he was my only reason for going to that godforsaken place?” She turned back to Tawny then, stroked her fingers along the outside of the woman’s elongated arms and finished, “If I could get away with it, I’d nuke the entire state.”
“My lady, they are among your biggest supporters.”
“That’s why I said, ‘if I could get away with it.’ Duh.”
Lady LaDina stepped back and bowed her head. “Of course, and no, I did not forget. Dr. Lobush assured me he would be ready upon your arrival.”
“His memory will be wiped, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The other changes I requested will be complete?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gloria picked up the pliers she’d laid in her lap and smiled at nothing in particular. “Maybe, if he’s as good as I’ve heard, I’ll give you Aro,” she declared, and then amended, “Maybe not Aro—he’d be too much for you—but I’ll give you one of them.” She leaned forward and patted Tawny’s cheek. “You could learn a few things from Lady LaDina, Tawny. You don’t decide you want something and take it. You wait until I’m through, and if you behave properly, you might get my leftovers.”
Lady LaDina stepped away from the door. Bowing her head, she said, “You are too kind, Your Highness. Thank you for thinking of me.”
Gloria smiled, lined the claw-like tiny blades up with the base of Tawny’s right pinky finger, and began to squeeze the grips, cutting into the woman’s flesh. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Have we received Alexandria Russ’s donation?” Phia asked her assistant on the telelink.
“Yes, but it’s short,” Rye said.
In the days since Donté had come to stay with her, she hadn’t had the heart to leave him home alone, nor did she want to. So she had taken to working a few hours a day from her desk at home. Eventually she would have to go into the office, but until she felt he was comfortable enough with his new surroundings, it would have to wait.
Like the thousands of other socialites spread out across the country, she had no need to work for credits, so she gave her time freely to a nonprofit organization, in search of other rich philanthropists to give their not-so-hard-earned credits to a cause she believed in.
Technology had long since cured most of the important ailments, such as breast cancer, lupus, HIV, and kidney disease, which had plagued the ancients. Most foundations were currently begging for credits in order to save one type of animal or another.
Phia’s foundation was leading the fight to save the Gray Wolf, which had at one time been plentiful in Alaska, North America, and Mexico, but over time had begun to deplete. Where they once numbered a strong three and a half million, there were currently only twenty-five thousand remaining in the free world. At first, joining this particular foundation had simply been something for her to do because it was expected of her. However, as she learned more about the animals, their hunting habits and their mating habits, she found herself drawn to their plight.
She wasn’t sure if it was because she truly cared about their quandary or if it was because they reminded her of a life she could never have. Wolves mated for life with the distinct hope of bringing forth offspring. But the female wolves, which at one time could give birth to five or six cubs at once, were now barely able to carry one cub to term. Because of this, the males were being forced away from the females and on to other areas in search of unmated fertile bitches.
It seemed in some way analogous to the society she lived in. Maybe women could still get pregnant and infertility was a thing of the past, but they could only carry female embryos to term. What did this mean for her society? In a few years, when the stored semen ran out, what would it mean for the human race as whole?
“We got it in this morning,” Rye said speaking of the donation. “It was supposed to be for one hundred and fifty thousand credits, but we only got a hundred thousand from her.”
“I’m sure Dr. Calderone will be able to put a hundred thousand credits to good use, Rye.”
Phia heard music come on, and she peered at the closed door of her office. There was a loud squeal, a few minutes of noise, and then an old Beastie Boys song blared for a few quick seconds before it was muted and replaced by a soft instru
mental number she had played a hundred times. She pushed to her feet as she said, “Well, let me know if anything else comes up.”
“How’s he working out?” Rye cut in.
“He who?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know very well who I’m talking about. The PAP?”
Phia sighed. She had known this would eventually come up. What was she supposed to tell her? How good he was in bed? How attentive he was? How the mere sight of him melted parts of her she didn’t know could melt?
“It’s good, I guess. It’s taking a little getting used to, but I’m getting there,” she lied. Getting used to Donté had never been and would never be an issue. He was hers, heart and soul.
“Well, if he doesn’t work out for you, remember you have ninety days to return him without a penalty. I had to return four of them before I decided on Byron.”
The music in the living room changed to a soft sonata, and Phia felt a pang of longing to be near Donté. “I still have time before the return policy expires, so I’ll hang in there a little longer.”
“All right, call me if you have any questions about anything. I know going from having no companion to having one can be a little jarring.”
“I will.”
“Oh and Phia, remember that lube is your friend. When you do it like bunnies, certain things can tend to get a little chafed.”
“Get off my line!” Phia laughed out loud at Rye’s crassness and ended the call. “Save document new and shut down. Also, attach call minus the last two minutes,” she told her compu-assistant.
Stepping into the living room, Phia stopped short as her eyes fell on Donté, who was standing near the window in his usual position, his hands shoved deep within his pockets, his bare back to her as he stared out at the street below.
The sonata continued to play softly around them as she stepped over the various magazine and music discs littering the floor. She slipped her arms around his waist. “Did you find what you were looking for?”