Tate's Task

by Lilith Darville

  “But we’re talking about a wolf.”

  “We’re talking about a man that shifts into a wolf, and up here, they don’t shift all the way. Think of it as having sex with a hairy, muscular guy. With claws. And a very large cock.”

  “He’s a virgin.”

  “Even more fun. He’ll fuck like a machine.”

  “I don’t know how many more machines I can take.” Tate shakes her head, but her body and mind scream for more orgasms.

  “Have you finally figured out that stamina isn’t all you need to meet your needs?” Michele’s voice is soft. No more joking.

  Tate, now calm, tears all dry, says, “Yes.”

  And my dead vampire heart skips a beat.

  24

  — Tate —

  “Have you done a scene with Francis yet?”

  I nod my head slowly as my mind races to try to get ahead of where Mick is leading this discussion.

  “And how did you feel? Were you excited? Do you want to do it again? Come on, be honest, Tate. There’s only you and me here.”

  I somehow doubt that. And the dampness growing between my legs shows just how much I like the idea that Francis is hearing my kink confessions. Because my body seems to have embraced all this sex and kinky stuff even if my conscience has been struggling to catch up.

  I do what I do best and analyze. Of course, the wine works its magic, loosening my tongue. “I loved it. But I don’t know what I liked best, to be honest. I loved that Bob was watching. Which is funny because I’d rather go on the rack than watch him fuck someone else.”

  “You are so fucking dramatic. Go on. What about Francis turned your crank?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. There are so many things I love about Bob as a lover. I trust him implicitly. I know he’ll never hurt me. And he keeps me guessing in a safe kind of way. And he likes control, and he’s a perfectionist, so he’s perfected the art, so to speak.” I take another sip, thinking this through, trying to ignore the furnace between my legs. “There’s something about Francis, something dangerous, like I can’t predict what he’ll do next.”

  “They can’t both keep you guessing.”

  “Yes, they can. Bob keeps me guessing because he’s moody, and I have no idea if or when he’ll be in the mood or what he’ll be in the mood for, but whatever it is, I know he’ll always be careful and cautious with me. He loves me too much to hurt me. It’s part of his DNA. Bob takes control, but ultimately, I’m always the boss, and I know that. With Francis, I don’t. And it’s hot as hell.”

  “So, when you do them both, Francis will push you over the edge, but Bob will always be your safety net.”

  “Being with them both is not a foregone conclusion, you know.”

  “Yes, it is.” Mick grabs my right arm and turns it palm up. “Look at this brand. I haven’t connected all the dots, but I hear those flowers and buds signify the number of destined mates you have. As I said, the weird thing is that, usually, only gods have living unity brands. I still think it must be Francis.”

  “Then why doesn’t his move like mine? It’s all so confusing. I wish I knew more. Like how to use my superpower.”

  “Oh yes, I wanted to get back to that. Show me!” Mick sits forward, all eager. Gods, how I’ve missed her.

  “I haven’t figured it out yet, but I think if I think about doing something to you, it will happen without me touching you.”

  “No shit! Make me scratch my nose.” Mick clasps her hands together tightly in her lap.

  I point my index finger at her hand. Scratch your nose. The platinum lightsaber-type needle of light shoots from my finger to Mick’s hand. Her hands rip apart, and her index finger leaps to scratch her nose. I bounce on my seat. “See? Told you.”

  “Fucking awesome. Try it without pointing.” She rejoins her hands on her lap.

  I try it without pointing, and the needle goes from my eyes to her clasped hands.

  “As usual, there is so much going on with you. There’s an answer—we just need to find it. Anything else I should know about?”

  I hesitate, knowing how weird this will sound.

  Mick laughs. “You need to work on your poker face. Spill.”

  “I keep seeing Brad Pitt everywhere. First, Bob looked like Joe Black when I got here, and now my messenger pixie looks just like Tristan in Legends of the Fall.”

  “Ah, he’s your favorite wet dream, that’s why. Twiggy will assume whatever form he thinks pleases you. He figures if he pleases you, he has a better chance of getting into Dorbhe’s pants. Now, go embrace your kink, and we’ll figure all this other stuff out. It’s like fitting together pieces of a puzzle.”

  “One step at a time. I’d better go face the music with Bob and Francis.”

  As if he’s been standing with his ear to the door, there’s a quick knock, and Bob sticks his head in. “Ladies, do you plan on being much longer? I’m getting old out here.” The bastard winks at Mick. Damned flirt.

  Mick stands. “Sounds like that’s my cue to leave.” Mick pulls me into a hug. I hold on, taking comfort from the warmth of her friendship. “Just be yourself. And anal is a lot of fun. Give it a try.” With a wave, she sashays over to where Bob stands holding the door open.

  She chucks his chin as she walks past him. “Bye, tight-ass.”

  “I ain’t no tight-ass.” Bob throws her another of those damned winks that make women gush.

  *eye roll*

  “I saw that, sprite. Come along. Francis awaits.”

  He takes off at a fairly fast clip, and I have to take a few running steps to catch up. “What’s the hurry?”

  Up goes the eyebrow. He and Francis and their eyebrows. “I told you, Francis is waiting.”

  “Well, he can wait.”

  “Ah, still pissed.” He opens the door to our suites and leads the way through to the kink room. Sure enough, and to my surprise, Francis sits at a fully set table in one of his perfect suits, looking impeccable and dangerous.

  Keep that in mind, mo chridhe.

  I really do need a change of knickers.

  Francis glides to a stand. Bob pulls my chair out. I work to control my breathing. I’m not going to let the bastards know just how excited I am.

  “One small problem with that, mo chridhe. We’re linked. We know how excited you are, just as you know how we feel.” Francis shoots his cuffs and takes his seat. He pours a measly ounce of wine in my glass. So cheeky. I put my hand over the bottle neck when he starts to raise it. That eyebrow shoots up, and flames flare in the crimson ring around his irises. My hackles rise at the sense of danger. Slowly and deliberately, he lifts my hand and sets it on the table.

  “Overimbibing, though it can lead to frank conversations, also hinders your ability to consent. Now, let me get straight to the point.” Francis captures my gaze with his, and I stare into his eyes, mesmerized.

  Bob sets his hand over mine and gives me a squeeze of reassurance. Without moving my gaze, I very deliberately grasp the stem of the wineglass with my other hand and move it to my mouth.

  Though I’ve never seen it before, I suspect the expression on Francis’s face is one of exasperation. But he continues, “Thanks to Robert, I have a little more insight into what may be bothering you.”

  I can’t help but poke the dragon to see what happens. Robert, huh? I could have sworn you eavesdropped on my whole conversation with Michele.

  Francis purses his lips but makes no answer.

  “Your defiance.” He holds my gaze.

  “And we’re back to square one. What makes you think I should obey your orders? I’m sure Bob told you that I refused to be married in any ceremony where I had to say I’d obey. Especially when it wasn’t a reciprocal promise.” I stand, leaning on the table. “I will not be ordered around by any man.”

  Bob gently pulls on my arm. I sit. “Sprite, I know you’re upset, but why not hear us out?” Damn Bob. “We need to get this straightened out. Earlier, I thought you were embracing
exploring your sexuality and kink. What’s going on? I’m confused.”

  I set down my glass with a thunk. “Francis is too domineering. I won’t accept that outside of a scene unless it’s flirtation.”

  I think for one moment that Francis is going to erupt into something spectacular and hold my breath. He so doesn’t like the word domineering. I look between the two men. Bob isn’t remotely intimidated by the power and fury churning beneath the surface of our vampire.

  Bob sits. “Francis, if you don’t take this in, we’ll lose her. I can hear her thoughts whirling from here, and I can’t read her thoughts.” Bob turns back to me. “Sprite, I’ve come to realize that, in many ways, my behavior is also to blame. My moods shut you down sexually.”

  He puts up his hand as I open my mouth to protest. “Hear me out. There’s little merit in regret and for many reasons. We all need to learn about ourselves and what our lives could be.”

  I relax a little as my Bob holds forth. That’s the Bob I remember, my security blanket.

  He leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs. “Emotionally, I’m a little confused, but I think I’m getting it. We’ve exposed your soft inner core to new feelings, and that has you running for the hills. I need you to understand that I will accept you, no matter what that looks like now that it’s exposed. Explore. Get wild. Be vulnerable. And when you need a safe space, be as clingy and needy as you want. Whatever you do, let us know what you’re feeling. We can’t all read your mind.”

  “Yet.” That from Francis, but he seems to soften. He picks up his brandy snifter, studies it, and takes a tiny sip before returning his piercing blue gaze to mine. Oh, my gods. Every strand of sexual DNA in my body stands at attention.

  “Would you agree we’ve determined you’re a sexual submissive?” Francis takes the lawyerly approach. I nod.

  “Would you agree that you like it when Robert here takes charge of your sex life?”

  I nod again, wondering how much my usually tight-lipped tight-ass has told him. Shit, now Mick has me doing it.

  “Would you agree that you secretly wish he’d take things a step further?”

  Ah, there’s the land mine. “That depends,” I say.

  “On?”

  “On what you mean by taking things a step further?” I try to keep the impatience out of my voice. He knows what I mean; he can ready my damn mind.

  “Yes, I can read your mind, but tell us what you mean.” He sits back and lifts his glass.

  Bob gives my hand a squeeze. “Babe, we can’t fulfill your needs if we don’t know what they are.” There it was in a nutshell. And I can tell from Francis’s gaze that he knows it. And that we’re at a crossroads here. And that I’ll fuck this up if I’m not honest with them and with myself.

  “Tell us, sprite.” Another squeeze from my safety, my comfort. When I don’t immediately reply, Bob says, “Don’t worry, Tate. You aren’t hurting my feelings. I love who you are sexually. I may be a dumb ass at times, but that I know for sure.”

  “Bob, none of this stuff matters if it’s not something we’re both into. I’m not dissatisfied, truly. I love our sex. And I know we were going to explore a lot more. We just didn’t have time to.”

  “So, let’s explore it now. Here. With Francis. Hell, with the whole damned clan if you want them. We are forever. I’m pretty sure this and that”—he shows me the open flower on the inside of his wrist and then lifts mine in the air—“means we’re forever. But something is going on, and we’re at Sexy Sins, so we know it has something to do with how sex affects our love. So, let’s find out, okay? Tell us what you’re feeling.”

  I pick up my wineglass, find it empty, and put it back down with a sigh. “I don’t always want to figure out what I need. Sometimes, I don’t want to think. Sometimes I want someone to take charge.” I tear my gaze away from Francis’s and look at Bob. “But only during sex. You know this.”

  “It’s as we suspected, mo chridhe. As Gianna, you were always a strong, willful woman, but men’s and women’s roles were more defined. I accept that I am—”

  “A dinosaur,” I quip.

  Bob’s mouth quirks, but Francis doesn’t seem to understand the expression.

  Francis clears his throat. “Robert seems to think that if we use this as a signal that you’re open to being dominated, that will satisfy this need of yours for independence. Do you agree?” He slides a beautiful gold collar across the table toward me. “Wearing this will signal to us that you wish to relate to us as a submissive. You can’t abdicate responsibility without assigning it, mo chridhe.” He leans closer to me, and the low flames in his eyes act like a vibrator on my clit. “Remember how much you enjoyed being my slave, and that was only a taste.”

  I pick up the delicate collar and turn it around, examining all the edges. A phrase is etched into the collar: air a cheangal le lasair.

  “Bound by flame,” Bob says.

  “What does this mean?” I run my fingers over the letters. “That’s our clan slogan. It means your sacrifice for sexual freedom binds us.

  “Whose idea was that?”

  “Yours, actually, sprite.” Now there’s heat behind the humor in Bob’s tone. I don’t need to read emotions to know how he’s feeling right now. The evidence is obvious in his pants.

  “Do safe words still apply?”

  “Of course.” Bob stands next to me, and it’s all I can do not to trail my finger down his hard ridge.

  I slip the collar around my neck. Francis stands and fastens it. Then he grabs my curls and tips my head back, a guided movement, but the power behind it is unmistakable. He puts his mouth beside my ear and lets that cold heat trickle through me. “Until that comes off or you call red, you are ours, no questions asked, no hesitations, agreed?”

  Quivers shoot through me. I would nod, but you’re holding my head, mister.

  He gives me an evil grin. “Ah slave, you’re going to pay for that.”

  Oh, gods . . . my entire body is like an itch that needs scratching. The floodgates open.

  25

  — Francis —

  Our Tate’s capitulation is total. Fueled by the power and respect she prizes and deserves. As soon as we fasten the collar around her neck, she bows her head and waits, but her eyes follow every movement. I reach across and lift the silver dome covering the meal I requested. The delicious fragrance of garlic cream sauce and basil pesto rises as I reveal the portobello mushroom chicken served with vermicelli pasta.

  Tate keeps her hands clasped. Only her dilated pupils signal her arousal. She’s no doubt noticed she has no cutlery.

  “Let’s review the ground rules. You will speak only when ordered to or when answering a direct question. Understood?”

  Tate nods.

  “You will obey all orders without question, understood?”

  Tate tentatively raises her right hand. “Ask your question,” I say.

  “What if I have a question?”

  “In this role play, you’re a slave. Slaves don’t have questions, and slaves are punished for disobedience.”

  We’ll just see about that. Tate wisely keeps that thought to herself.

  A worried look crosses Bob’s face, but I ignore it. We will not break through Tate’s great wall of control unless we give her a way to stop the never-ending noise in her head.

  “Shall we begin?” I ask.

  Tate nods her head.

  We spend the next hour pampering Tate. Feeding her, bathing her, and anointing her with her favorite body lotion. When I’m satisfied all her bodily needs are met, I blindfold and lead her to the St. Andrew’s cross set up in the corner. The glow of a small spotlight highlights every aspect of her flawless skin. She faces the cross with her back to us. I fasten padded restraints securely around her arms and legs so she stands spread-eagled. I debate whether to use a ball gag in her open mouth but decide to leave that for another time. She is stark naked except for the simple gold collar and blindfold. Bob whistles softly.
>
  “I never get over how beautiful she is. She’s perfect.”

  He’s right about that. “If you want to please me, you won’t move. You do want to please me, don’t you? Don’t get me wrong, I want to see you struggle, and I will give you plenty of reasons to do so, but until then, restrain yourself. You do want to please me, don’t you?” My voice rings out in the stillness of the room. I roughly run my hands over ass cheeks still red from Nameless’s spanking before sliding a finger between Tate’s legs. Swollen, wet lips greet my touch. Tate moans softly.

  “I love to play with you. You know why? Because I know you want me to. Your body begs me to squeeze harder and harder. Wants me to pull those beautiful cheeks wide open. It excites you to know we can see your ass, stretched open, inviting.”

  Tate flushes with excitement, nostrils flaring, as if embracing my fingers as they dig into her flesh.

  A shirtless Robert hands me a lubricated butt plug when I hold my hand out for it. After taking a few minutes to rim her with juices until she moans for more, he holds her ass cheeks wide as I slowly slip the plug into her waiting anus inch by inch. Robert lets go of her cheeks, and they close on the probe, trapping it in place.

  I spend several minutes massaging her ass in preparation before I pick up two floggers and deliver several stinging slaps to Tate’s toned buttocks. She sighs and wiggles her ass for more, as I’d hoped. I take my time building up the rhythm while letting the floggers dance all over Tate’s back, butt, and thighs, avoiding the danger spots around the kidneys.

  Tate’s moans deepen, and she sticks that beautiful ass higher, seeking the bite of the lash as I increase the strength of each stroke. I watch in wonder as I feel the endorphins pump through her body and she slips into subspace, easily and naturally. I stop every ten strokes to take a read on Tate’s state. When I hit fifty strokes, she groans in displeasure as I rub her ass.