Tate's Task

by Lilith Darville

  The song “Oh Where Oh Where Did My Little Dog Go” plays through my brain with Bob’s name in the starring role. Francis’s faint chuckle penetrates the languid fog that’s taken over my body as he lifts me again.

  He slides me under a torrent of warm water, and Bob’s body slides behind his, sandwiching me in, holding me upright between the two of them. They bathe every inch of my body, washing away all traces of their debauchery. They dry me with thick towels before anointing me with lotion, driving me closer to the slumber that beckons.

  “On your knees, slave.” The crack in Francis’s voice snaps me to attention. I drop to my knees, landing on a soft towel spread between Bob’s open thighs. I sigh in delight as his magnificent erection stands straight and proud mere inches from my swollen lips.

  “Let me see you suck Master R’s cock.” Francis grabs my curls again and pulls my head back so I’m looking directly into the flames dancing around the red ring in his eyes. He leans down close to my ear and whispers, “Suck it like you mean it, or I’ll warm your hide so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

  Not that I need the threat, sucking Bob’s cock being one of my all-time favorite hobbies. I lick my lips then slowly lick the precum bleeding from the tip of his cock. I let his cock hit the back of my throat and swallow while I reach down and fondle his balls, careful to avoid his anal bits. When I sink my mouth down the length of his shaft, hard, soft, and hot, I feel wetness building in my exhausted core. These men make me insatiable.

  Francis, clearly having read my mind, starts another game of magical fingers with my clit and pussy. My technique with Bob’s cock becomes sloppy as I gasp for breath, writhing in my own pleasure. He grasps my curls and takes over for me, fucking my mouth as I moan through another orgasm, sparking Bob’s own release. His breath becomes ragged and movements jerky as my mouth fills with my reward.

  I’m not sure whose arms lift and carry me to bed, but both bodies spoon me as I drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  17

  — Francis —

  I feel Tate the moment she hits consciousness despite her feigning sleep. Her mind slips from that lovely dream state when moving pictures play through her mind to the blank stage of her waking mind. When she’s awake, concepts move rapidly across a blank backdrop that replaces the vivid photos of her dream mind. The moment she remembers last night, her mental probes activate, and she searches to get a read on Robert. Robert, bless his tender heart, sleeps contentedly, a smile on his face, devoid of tension. Without opening her eyes, Tate smiles in her own right and gently strokes the fine hairs on his chest.

  When those searching mental fingers latch onto my thoughts, those multi-colored eyes spring open and fasten on me. I stand and hold out the robe I’ve retrieved for her. She hesitates and gives Robert a quick look before she wiggles off the bed and pads over to me.

  After she steps into the robe, she turns, allowing me to fasten it before I pull her into my arms and take my own read on her as she studies me. The thoughts swirling around her head lightly land before springing off, reminding me of fireflies in the night.

  “Good morning.” She smiles and watches.

  “Good morning.” I keep my voice low so as not to wake Robert. “Follow me.”

  Tate slides into the slippers sitting beside the chair and lets me guide her from the room into mine. As I close the door, she steps into the middle of the room and, eyes wide, executes a slow circle amid the stark decor. I modeled this room after the bedroom I’d lived in when this all started almost five hundred years ago. She takes in the large, curtained bed, the huge fireplace and sheepskin rug spread before it, wide leaded windows and huge ceiling beams.

  “This is absolutely gorgeous, Francis.” Tate’s voice sounds almost reverential. She does another circle before bringing her gaze back to me. “It’s almost like I’ve been here before.”

  I say nothing, simply walk over to the table where Elli was kind enough to leave a breakfast tray with all of Tate’s favorite foods. I plan to take advantage of one of the rare moments when I have Tate to myself. Four hundred years is about time. An unfamiliar flicker of tension creates an unwelcome backdrop to the importance of this moment for me. I walk over to my beloved, mo chridhe, and hold out my hand. She slips hers into mine and lets me escort her to the table set before the window where the early morning light streams in through the leaded panes. She sits on the embroidered chair and lets me slide it closer to the table. A huge smile lights her exquisite face as she looks first at the elaborate spread and then up at me.

  “This is perfect, Francis. Thank you.” Tate sits with her hands in her lap demurely, her mind busy with thoughts about how a lady should act after a night of debauchery.

  I restrain myself from pointing out that last night was only a warm-up to debauchery but wisely hold my tongue. She watches me steadily as I pour her tea and add fresh lemon and honey.

  She picks up the dainty china cup and takes a sip, sighing appreciatively. “Is this when you seduce me?” The huskiness of her voice sends an iron rod through my cock. “Is this how you seduced me four hundred years ago?”

  “Mo chridhe, you were already mine four hundred years ago, but am I hearing that you wish me to seduce ye?” I intentionally increase my brogue because I know it melts the knickers right off of her.

  She smiles prettily and give me a sultry look, then almost shocks the pants off of me. “Of course I am. By my count, you owe me at least three orgasms.” She leans forward and snatches a piece of toast, which she slathers with orange marmalade. “Probably more if I could remember these past lives. Your turn.”

  I reach over and flick a crumb from the side of her lip, resisting the urge to lick it free. “This forwardness isn’t like you.” I drop the sentence more to get a rise out of her. Actually, I’m delighted by this new turn of events. Gianna was always reticent about verbally expressing her sexuality. Similar to her approach to fire, her sexuality both frightened and fascinated her, and she’d been at war with it ever since we’d burned together.

  Both of her eyebrows shoot skyward. Then she grins. “Nuh-uh. No way, bud. It’s Bob’s job to try and push my buttons. You’ll have to try a different tactic.” She takes the final bite of her toast and eyes the rest of the food. I pick up an item and hold it up to her lips. She gives it a bite.

  “Dear Gods. What’s in that?”

  “A white Stilton Gold cream sauce and exotic mushrooms on thickly sliced toast. One of your favorites.”

  “I can see why.”

  I offer another bite, and she takes it with a moan. “Oh, my gods, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. And I don’t even like blue cheese.” This time, she opens her mouth like a baby bird waiting for me to fill it. I shift my chair closer to her and wipe a droplet of sauce from her lip. Her eyes follow my finger as I slowly raise it to my lips and lick. She licks her lip in turn, and her eyes eventually slide up to meet mine, filled with heat.

  “So, are you going to tell me how you first seduced me?”

  I pick up a red grape and pop it in her mouth. She grins, chews and continues to eye me. I realize that I’m not getting a clear read on her thoughts, so I send out a few prodding tentacles to no avail.

  “So, you’ve figured out how to block me?”

  “Meaning?” She seems genuinely surprised. I feed her more mushroom toast.

  “Meaning, I can’t read your thoughts right now.”

  Her face instantly drops into the speculative looks she gets when she’s working out a problem, and her thoughts ring through my head loud and clear. What’s different? What’s changed?

  “Whatever changed just changed back again.” I smile at her startled look. I lean across and kiss those inviting lips. Desire smolders around her again, blocking all but the powerful pull of her need. I touch her plump bottom lip. “And now it’s gone again.”

  A slow smile lights up her face. “It looks like all I have to do is stay horny if I don’t want you to read my thoughts.
” She cups my erection, a tad tentatively, but more than expressing her interest. “Although having you read my thoughts during the deed might have come in handy.”

  I place my hand over hers, and she braces as the image of Bob removing her hand flashes through her mind. But I’m not Robert and have something else in mind entirely. “You’ve never been this forward.” I slide her hand up and down the length of my erection. “Unlike our Robert, I’ll never reject your advances. I’ll simply punish you for them,” I croon in my best brat-tamer voice because we have always loved this dance, and if my Gianna wants to layer on more wilfulness before her submission in this trip through Bardo, then I’m more than happy to play.

  She leans forward and kisses me, a peck with a mischievous eyebrow at first, but with increased vigor as I cup her jaw and pull her face to mine.

  “I think we’re going to have to talk about all this punishment stuff.” She breathes heat into my mouth between kisses. “My ass is already sore enough thanks to you, and a pain junkie I’m not.” She teases my lip with her tongue, seeing just how much she can get away with. “Thank gods Bob isn’t really into spanking.”

  “There are more ways to punish, mo chridhe. And your Robert just may surprise you.” I slip an index finger between our lips, and she swirls her tongue around it.

  “Why do you keep calling him Robert?” She sucks my finger into my mouth, watching me intently. I don’t need to read her mind to know what she’s thinking. This is what I’d like to do to your cock.

  “He was Sir Robert when we met, and Sir Robert he’ll remain.” I sound prim to my own ears.

  Tate simply laughs. “And you call Bob a tight-ass.”

  With that, I sweep her into my arms and settle her astride my lap on the nearby love seat. I make quick work of untying the sash on her robe and let it yawn open, exposing those perfect breasts, breasts that have grown past the pert blush of youth to the fullness that only comes from having borne a child. Her body is in bloom, at that erotic peak that women reach in their thirties and forties.

  “That’s two things. Ye like flirting with danger don’t ye?” The smell of her heat is all the answer I need. I slip the finger still moist from her mouth between her legs. She widens her thighs and leans forward, pulling me into a deep kiss. The most wonderful feeling comes over me as our emotions and minds meld. This is desire on a higher level than I’ve experienced before. And it’s enthralling. As a vampire, thrall is my bailiwick. Gianna has turned the tables.

  “I think this is what Spock felt like when he did a Vulcan mind meld.” I have no idea what she’s on about. I pull back slightly so I can look at her, give her my best cross eyebrows for interrupting our kiss. “That’s three.”

  “None of this counts.” She plants wee kisses around my mouth with every word. “We’re not in scene right now, or whatever you call it, so you’re not the boss.” She slips her hands to the waist of my pants and starts working the belt loose.

  I grab her wrists and hold them firmly. Time for another lesson. I grab her chin and hold it firmly, gazing into the warm humor in her eyes.

  “Who said the scene is over, mo nighean dubh?” I ruffle those dark burnished curls.

  She sits straight, and her thoughts pop right back into my head. Not over. Whee. There’s a fuck in it for me yet.

  I pinch her nipple, and her thoughts flicker off. The smoldering in her eyes does not. “This most certainly is not how a slave behaves.” She tries to make it come out all stern and matronlike, then spoils it with a giggle. I pinch her other nipple, and she makes a happy wee squeak.

  “Perhaps you will find out later, mo nighean dubh.” I set her on her feet, pull her robe closed and cinch the sash.

  “Hope springs eternal.” She sticks her tongue out at me sending another thrilling jolt through my cock. No matter what the age, this woman fascinates me. She sighs and smiles. “I need to get to work, anyway. Dorbhe awaits, no doubt with a pile of paperwork.”

  I lean down and gather her in my arms. “I love you so. I’d despaired I’d never be able to tell you such a thing again. And now here you are. This time, I’m not letting you go.”

  18

  — Tate —

  After Francis escorts me back to my room, I check on my sleeping Bob before grabbing a quick shower and getting dressed. I can’t stop humming. I can’t stop my pinkish parts from joining the song. If someone had told me sex could be even better than it had been with Bob, I’d have laughed in their face and secretly called them a fool. Of course, all the while, I’d smile politely and thank them for their insight. Yeah, because that’s what well-trained executives do.

  I’m about to pull on another of the stylish business suits adorning one rack of my rather large closet when I hesitate. Why on earth am I wearing this uniform? Because there are rules on earth, and I’m a rule-following kind of gal. Except I’m trying to ease up on all those rules. So, I might as well do it with my wardrobe, too. And there are just so many options in here. I slide open a drawer and sift through several beautiful tops before deciding on a red camisole with a sheer lace top. I pull on the cami, and my eyes almost pop out of my head as I inspect my reflection in the mirror. Because, gods be praised, this top makes me look like I’ve got cleavage. Maybe not the knockers that Mick has, but a decent set all of my own. That decides it for me. I pull on the lace top, telling myself that it’s my nod to office decorum while I wiggle into a pair of white cotton pants. Red ballet slippers complete the outfit.

  Feeling sexy as hell, I shimmy out to show Bob and hide the tiny moue of disappointment. He’s still fast asleep, a smile plastered on his face, his cock semi-erect. I resist the urge to stop and suck it right here and now, more because I sense Francis waiting impatiently on the other side of the door. And there’s no doubt in my mind that the instant my mouth hit Bob’s cock, he’d be in this room hauling my ass out of it. The warm humming of said ass reminds me I’m not up to another spanking just yet.

  I drop a quick kiss on Bob’s forehead and go forth to join the rest of my men. My clan. Because with every passing day, they feel more and more a part of me. Part of what makes me who I am.

  As I suspected, Francis’s arm awaits as I open the door. He stands absolutely still for a moment, eyes roving over my attire. “Stunning.”

  Yes, I preen . . . a little. Then, I ogle him . . . a lot. I take in the impeccable, tailored charcoal gray suit that hugs his chiseled soldier’s body. He smiles down at me, returning the favor. Oh, gods, I feel good.

  As we take a slow saunter through the halls leading to the kitchen, he points out architectural details and gives a short rundown on the history of the place. I drift on the sound of his rich baritone voice, letting his pride in his work wash over me. The short version: the academy is a monument to our past lives because he wants to remember each and every minute of our time together. How sweet is that?

  He lets go of my arm as we enter the kitchen. Nameless’s faint lavender scent meets my senses before I see him standing at the stove. My heart skips at the myriad of emotions circling him like a storm—jealousy, envy, and desire for my body and mind. Before I have time to settle on what might be bothering him, Caleb bounds over and kneels at my feet with his head against my knees.

  “I’m sorry I was a jerk. Worse than a jerk. I would never go against your wishes. I didn’t take the time to understand the situation, and that was wrong.”

  I run my fingers through his thick, unruly hair. “I understand, Caleb, and I forgive you. This situation is hard to understand for all of us.”

  He wraps his arms around my legs and lifts me as he stands, joy practically bursting from him.

  I’m breathless and laughing when he sets me back on my feet.

  “Thank you. I would never willingly hurt you.” He takes in my outfit, and his eyes bug out. “You’re beautiful. And that’s the best outfit ever. Shows off your tits.” And Caleb’s back to normal. I reach up and tousle his hair again before joining Nameless at the stove. I peer in
to the cast iron skillet holding scrambled eggs, and I inhale.

  “Those smell divine.” I beam another smile at Nameless and am rewarded with a small curve upwards at the corners of his mouth and a nod as he rakes his gaze over my outfit. And I go all gooey inside. This is definitely not like me at all, but I like it.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He scoops some of the mixture on a spoon and holds it out for me to taste after blowing on it slowly while those dark eyes watch me. And that’s so hot, I admit. Although I’m beginning to wonder whether I’m finding everything hot at the moment. It’s as if I caught a severe sex-drive virus.

  “Oh, Nameless. That’s nectar of the gods.” They were the best scrambled eggs I’d ever tasted.

  “They’re his specialty, but don’t bother asking him to share the recipe because he won’t,” Caleb says as he slides a large plate of toast onto the table before taking his seat. “Where’s Bob?”

  “Still sleeping,” I say.

  “I bet he is,” Caleb says.

  “I’m surprised I’m not the exhausted one. I’m due to get my period any day if I’m remembering correctly, but I feel so . . . energetic.” Sex-crazed.

  “There are no periods in Bardo,” Nameless announces. “One of the benefits of life between realms.”

  “But, didn’t you tell me life here mimics life on earth so it’s not such a huge transition when we return for our next life?” I take a bite of my eggs and stop myself from moaning.

  “That applies to most things, but thankfully, we get a break from the pesky bits of human life.” Francis’s rich baritone joins the conversation.

  Curiosity overtakes my need to eat. “And just what pesky bits of vampire life did you get rid of?”

  “The need to suck blood for nourishment. I’m sure you’ve noticed I feed on ether here.” Francis says this as if he’s mildly disappointed or surprised I haven’t figured this out myself. And, of course, I noticed. I give him a look of my own before resuming my eggs.