by Alix Labelle
"These sheets," he said, "are exactly your color. They suit you almost as well as your name does."
His mouth was back on her neck, moving down again. Lily tipped her head back, arching into it with her eyes slipping shut.
"This is going to hurt, I am afraid. But only for a moment," Damien said, but there was no apology in his voice. Only a matter-of-fact warning. Almost a command. This is going to hurt. Accept it.
Lily's eyes snapped open, her hand lifting from his shoulder to settle in his hair. But she didn't have time to do anything before there was a prick like a needle sliding under her skin, and then his mouth was pressed to her neck and it felt... It felt...
She didn't have words to describe it. It didn't match any experience she'd ever had before. The pain was gone quickly, a fleeting memory in the face of the burning pleasure that replaced it, starting in her feet and her fingers and moving up through her body as though his touch was drawing it through her bloodstream.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh my god."
His hand was in her hair, holding her still, though she wouldn't have moved away. She could see through half-open eyes the shadows of the firelight dancing on the canopy, and it made the whole thing feel as dreamy as she had thought it a few moments before. The world spun a little, reoriented itself, and she took in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly. Damien's fingers were curled around her hip, and she felt each one like a brand, cold against the sudden fever-heat of her own skin. She was going to come, she realized. Just like this. Just with his mouth on her neck. It wasn't as strange a realization as she might have expected.
"Damien." The word came out breathless and sharp. "I—"
He growled against her skin, a low, hungry sound that shuddered along her body until she felt like a guitar string plucked and vibrating. His hand slid down between her thighs, pressed hard against her through her jeans, and she came undone beneath him with a wordless sound, her fingers curling and uncurling in the blankets, her spine arched and her thighs trembling.
Chapter Four
When she opened her eyes, Damien was pulling back, licking something that she realized after a moment of hazy staring must have been blood from his lips. He smiled, and she saw fangs, slim and curved, sharp as needles. She should have been terrified, but there was only the warm lassitude of afterglow, and she was more fascinated than afraid, staring up into blue eyes.
"I didn't think vampires were real," she said after a moment.
His grin was slow and sharp-edged and wicked.
"Now," he said, "you know."
The obvious next question was whether or not he was going to kill her, but he'd already told her that, hadn't he? I promise that I will not harm you. Before he'd bitten her, she might have thought of that as potential harm, but it had been anything but painful.
"So the ghosts…?"
"Are only me," he agreed, shifting to lay alongside her so he could pull her jacket off, then sitting up and taking one of her feet in his hands, undoing the laces of her shoes with motions faster and smoother than she could imagine a human managing. "And the owner is not a distant relative of the family, but the son who inherited the home before his seeming death at the front. I have passed it down to a series of imaginary beneficiaries over the years."
Her shoes were off and her socks with them, but the room was warmed by the fire and she wasn't cold. His fingers unfastened the catch of her jeans, but did not take them down yet.
"Why not live openly here then, as one of the relatives?"
"I've been waiting," he said, sitting back and meeting her eyes. "For the last of those who remember me to be gone. Soon, though, I will make my triumphant return." He smiled at her. "Sooner rather than later, I think. There is someone I would very much like to see again."
Lily felt heat paint her cheeks.
"We haven't said goodbye yet," she pointed out.
"No," Damien agreed. "And won't, until dawn."
Lily was pretty sure she was okay with that. She arched up toward him as he leaned down to kiss her, and while his hands skimmed her jeans down her legs she began unbuttoning his shirt. Her own touch was clumsier than his, not so fast, but he didn't take over for her. Instead he pulled back long enough to take her shirt off over her head, Lily pausing and lifting her arms for it, and then his mouth was on hers again. When the kiss broke once more, he paused to pull his shirt off, dropping it carelessly over the side of the bed.
"If you say no," he said, reaching out and curling his hand around her neck, pressing just enough to let her feel the touch, but not enough that he cut off her breath. His thumb stroked circles over her pulse point on the opposite side of her neck from the place he had bitten. "I will stop."
Lily wondered what was coming that she might want to stop, then thought the words were like the warning he had given her before the bite. She nodded, showing that she understood.
She didn't know where the cords came from. He produced them seemingly out of thin air, moving with a speed that was almost too fast for her eyes to follow, and then she was bound to the posts of the bed, her arms stretched out above her head, her ankles tied. The bonds were soft, and when she moved they didn't rub against her skin, but being held like that, at his mercy, made her stomach twist in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant, made new heat settle between her thighs. Damien looked down at her with a hunger that struck an answering spark under her own skin.
"You look good like that," he told her, smiling, not bothering any longer to hide his fangs away. "Edible, in fact."
He ran his hands along her waist, the curves of her hips, then settled down against the bed with the grace of a snake and sank his fangs into her thigh. Lily bucked against the restraints, feeling the tug of them as she moved, and then the momentary pain once again became pleasure, and she was moaning, writhing under his hands, his mouth. He pulled back after only a moment, licking over the stinging place where he had bitten. Lily wasn't sure whether she was dizzy with blood loss or desire, but when his nails raked lightly down her outer thigh, she knew that she wanted.
"You are so easily marked," Damien said, running his fingertips over the resulting red lines. He seemed pleased by them, fascinated by the rising color. He leaned down and licked along them, mouth cool against her own life-warm skin. He nipped gently but didn't draw blood. "Even hotter there than elsewhere," he murmured, almost to himself.
His hands were unfastening her bra. He didn't bother untying her, broke the strap with a flick of his fingers, and laughed when Lily protested. "I will buy you a new one." Her underwear went the same way, ripping under his touch, and that was actually really hot. Lily lifted her head enough to look down at him, feeling his eyes on her, squirming a little with the desire to cover herself from the intensity of his gaze. But her hands were tied in place, and he could explore her body with his eyes at his leisure.
"There is so much I want to do to you," he said, voice low, with a growl along its edges. Lily shuddered with the sound of it, the way it crawled down her spine and settled hot in the pit of her stomach. "The question is where to begin."
He was up and across the room with a fluid motion, going through a chest that sat in one corner, its wood burnished gold in the flickering light of the candles and the fireplace. When he turned, he was holding a riding crop in his hand. Lily had never seen one in person, but she recognized it well enough from movies, and her stomach tightened.
"It does not have to hurt," he said as he settled back on the bed.
The leather tag at the tip of it was soft as it ran up the inside of her leg, just light enough to almost tickle. At the apex of her thighs he turned it, ran it back down the inside of her other leg, then back up the outside, over her belly, up along her side to trace the length of each arm while she whimpered and shifted under the teasing touch. Oh god, she wanted more. Wanted his hands on her. Wanted him inside her.
"Do you?" he purred when she spoke the words aloud, looking down at her with a predatory light in his eyes. He seemed to
consider the request, dark head tipping slightly to one side. His smile widened. "I think not. You will just have to wait."
The end of the crop flicked against her nipple, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that it drew up tighter, so that when he rubbed it over and over with the crop in slow, firm circles, she arched in her bonds and tipped her hips up in silent pleading. Damien didn't seem inclined to answer this plea either. He laughed a little, not as though he was laughing at her. More as though he was simply pleased with the result of his play. He flicked the crop against her other nipple, traced the same circles over and around it until she begged aloud again.
"Please. Damien. Please."
He smiled.
"I would like it if you called me Sir, I think," he said, in a tone that didn't allow room for argument.
Lily moaned softly, the words affecting her more than she would have expected them to. "Sir," she said, low and pleading. "Please, Sir."
That, she could see, had affected him. He groaned, and one of his hands reached down as though he could not help himself but touch her, ran firm along her thigh and back down again, nails catching against the skin just enough to leave faint, burning lines behind to match the ones left on her other thigh.
The crop came down over the marks with a stinging slap, and Lily jumped. The pain of it faded almost as soon as it had landed, and Damien's cold fingers moving over it soothed the slight lingering burn.
"If you want another, ask for it."
Did she want another? Lily looked up into Damien's blue eyes. He wanted her to want another. She could see it in his expression. But he wouldn't push her. And it was clever, she thought a little distantly, to do it that way. To give her the chance to back out easily, still in command. Yes, she decided. She wanted another. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, and she saw his eyes follow the motion.
"Yes, Sir. Please. Another."
"Good girl."
The words made warmth bloom behind her ribs, made her gasp, and then the crop came down again, a burning line just below the first, a little harder than the last slap had been, and she caught her breath behind her teeth.
"Oh. Fuck. Another. Please, Sir."
His smile was wicked, pleased even, and Lily felt her whole body flush with warm pleasure at the knowledge that she had made him happy. And, oh. That was a little bit of a surprise. But it made sense, didn't it?
The crop smacked against the opposite hip, and she lost her train of thought, lost the thread of analysis. But that was okay, because there would be time for that later. Right now there was Damien, and the crop, and the insistent heat between her thighs.
"Another, Sir. Please."
"So very brave," he purred. "So very good. You must watch yourself, Lily." The crop hit her thigh again. "I will never want to let you go."
"Please, Sir. Another."
It was five, she thought. Or six. She wasn't keeping very good track. But there was another lash of the crop, and another, always over the fleshy part of her thigh, the outer curve of her buttock, always when she asked for it. When she pleaded for another, it came down on her inner thigh, and Lily moaned, tears springing a little unexpectedly to her eyes. That had hurt more than the others, but she asked again, and again it landed, this time on the opposite side, over the same sensitive skin. Lily jumped with the sting, then lay against the mattress, panting. Trying to catch her breath. Deciding if she wanted another.
Damien decided for her. He laid the crop aside, and traced the faint marks it had left with his fingers, his tongue, chilling them, chasing away the sting. Between kisses and licks he murmured that she was good, that she was beautiful. That she tasted so sweet. His mouth was on her inner thigh, soothing the last of the stinging lines left behind by the crop, and then he was moving up, and she was curling her fingers around the ropes that held her in place and pleading for the touch to go higher, to go where she needed it. For a moment he didn't answer, just pressed kisses to her thighs as high up as he could without ever touching her where she wanted him the most.
"Yes," he said finally, and Lily nearly sobbed with gratitude. "I think you have earned it."
One last flash of that grin in the candlelight, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue sliding between her folds, slow as though he had all the time he could possibly desire, as though he was simply enjoying himself. He flicked the tip of it over her clit, and Lily tossed her head against the mattress, whimpering. Cool, long-fingered hands curled around her thighs, holding her open though the bonds already did, holding her still as he teased, tracing lines she couldn't follow over her clit, down along her folds to where she was wet and wanting and empty. He drew circles around her opening with the tip of his tongue until she was begging in words that stumbled over each other. "Please," and "Sir," and "Need." Then, finally, he slid his tongue inside her, giving her something, not enough but so good, and she was sobbing his name, and Sir, and she couldn't seem to remember other words. Her fingers were still curled around the ropes, holding until her knuckles were sore with the tight clutch.
When he pulled back, she whimpered, but he didn't give in again, just looked down at her as he unfastened his pants and slid them off with an easy, lithe grace. They were gone in an instant, and he was stretched out over her, his arms holding his weight off her body, the head of his length pressed against her, but not yet sliding inside, not yet filling her.
"Tell me what you want."
"You," she answered. "You. Please, Sir. Damien. Please."
He shifted his hips so that he rubbed over her clit, then back down again, a slow drag that made her writhe under him. His smile was smug. "Ask me again."
"Please," she sobbed obediently, wanting. Needing. "Please, Sir. Want you inside me. Need you to take me and fill me up. Please. Please."
He growled the way he had against her throat, and one of his hands tangled in her hair, tipping her head back for a kiss that was more like being devoured than being kissed, her lips bruising against his. She pulled at the ties that held her wrists, wanting to reach up and touch him in return, her body arching as he began to—slowly, slowly—slide into her, deliberately teasing her, making her feel every inch of him. Lily was caught between him and his bindings, a shaking arch, her eyes closed and her lips parted even as he pulled back to allow her to breath. Her breath came fast and uneven. She could feel her heart beating against her ribs, but couldn't feel the beat of his, and for a moment she was distracted by its absence. Then he slid over that place inside her that made her whole body shudder and tighten, and she forgot everything but that.
He wasn't moving. She wanted him to move. Needed him to move. But when she pled with him he ran his fingers tenderly through her hair and still didn't move—and it was so cruel to tease like that. He laughed. She must have said the words aloud.
"What do you say?" he asked, cool voice still completely in control. "When I give you what you want?"
"Thank you," Lily gasped. "Oh. Fuck. Thank you, Sir."
She was rewarded with a deeper thrust, a deliberate slow stroke over her g-spot that drew a moan from her throat. Damien's fingers tightened in her hair until it was almost painful, and he nipped at her lower lip, licking over the minute puncture wounds with his tongue until they didn't hurt anymore.
"Please," Lily breathed. "More."
For once, he didn't tease. He picked up a rhythm that went hard and deep and slow, and Lily was quickly beyond words, rocking to meet him as much as she could move with her wrists and ankles still tied. He, of course, was not out of breath, didn't breath, but Lily heard the small sounds he made, low and rough, and they sent little sparks of pleasure through her veins. She had always liked to know that her lovers were pleased, were enjoying her. She wasn't going to last long, not after his teasing, his mouth. When his fingers pulled out of her hair and slid down instead so that he could rub her clit with his thumb, she gasped, spine pulling into an arch, legs trying to close, trying to open wider. Her thighs trembled.
He stopped touchin
g her. Slowed until she sobbed with frustration.
"Please," she managed, dredging up the word from someone. "Fuck. Please. Don't tease me anymore, Sir."
"Tell me what you want."
"Let me come," Lily answered. "Please. I can't—" There were more words but she didn't remember them. "Please, Sir. Please." The last word was a sob.
His thumb pressed down against her clit, and he thrust in hard, and then again, and she was coming, falling over the edge of ecstasy with her body shaking beneath him. He didn't stop though, even when she was panting and shuddering with the aftershock. His thumb kept rubbing, and he was still fucking her, still moving the way she had begged him too. Lily bucked under him, pulling at the ties that held her, but there was no way to slip away, and the over-sharp pleasure was pushing her onward again, too much too soon, but so good. And so she sank against the mattress, moaning, and let him have his way, let him take her through another orgasm. Colored lights bloomed behind her eyelids. The pleasure was sharp as his bite. Through it, she felt him follow her, felt him still and shudder, his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. She drifted in the content haze that followed, distant and a little dizzy with it all. For a long moment they both lay like that, still and silent in each other's arms. Lily's breathing slowed. Her heart beat a little quieter in her chest.
Chapter Five
When Damien moved, it was to untie her. He pulled out carefully, kissing her when she hissed softly at the sensation. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they unfastened the knots that had held her in place, checked over her wrists and ankles. He stretched out alongside her then, and Lily opened her eyes to look up at him. Everything was still soft around the edges. Still warm and bright and good.
Damien smiled down at her, reaching up to run his fingers through her tousled hair.
"You pleased me very much, Lily."