by Aya DeAniege
“Izzy?”
“Isabella Domme.”
He choked as he sipped his wine. He turned away, coughing as he did so.
“You didn’t know?” I asked. “Because Mr. Wrightworth is famously connected to her.”
“Not in the slums!” he protested, thumping his chest with a closed fist. “Isabella Domme is a part of your family? And… and Mr. Wrightworth is a part of that family?”
“And she doesn’t know about you people,” I said.
“Oh, this is going to end in blood and tears, I just know it.”
“What is?” I asked.
“This whole thing. The last time someone pissed her off, she walked into the Capital Building naked and refused to leave until they changed the laws.”
“No, the last time someone pissed her off, she beat him half to death with his belt and Mr. Wrightworth cleaned it up. But the man had abused a woman under contract to him as a nanny, so as far as I’m concerned, he deserved it and he doesn’t have a criminal record.”
“This is not going to go well,” he muttered.
“Why not?” I asked.
“You’re not eating your cake,” he said suddenly.
I frowned at him but picked up my fork. He didn’t even try to be subtle about the change in the conversation, which was what concerned me.
There’s time later to figure that out.
At that moment, I was content with simply enjoying his company.
There would always be time later to ask questions. I wanted to enjoy his company while I had him.
We finished our cake, and he cleared the dishes once more. He even refilled my wine glass, returning it to me with a kiss on my forehead.
“Go pick a movie,” he said. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”
I moved to the couch with my refilled wine glass. I sipped the wine and scrolled through the movies. By the time he rejoined me, I had chosen one.
“Vikings Versus Zombies: An Erotic Tale?” he asked.
“It’s a classic B-rated movie,” I said.
“An erotic tale?” he asked.
“Yeah, so?”
“I’ve seen this before, it’s really short and not erotic at all.”
“Oh, you saw the prude cut,” I said. “You’re in for one hell of a surprise.”
I curled against him as the movie began. I stayed there, sipping my wine while the opening scenes rolled. He seemed somewhat baffled as to why I had chosen the movie, but I just took my time, relaxing against him as the wine loosened me up. When I felt content, felt like the time was right, I kissed him. He returned the kiss, in a distracted way.
“What?” I asked, pulling away.
“Is this connected to that?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ve seen this like ten times. Nathaniel likes it. It’s like background noise.”
“Oh, okay, the eroticism confused me,” he said.
Then he kissed me like he owned me.
I’ve never been kissed like that.
His tongue darted into my mouth, possessing me. The warmth in my belly, started by the wine, was fanned into a burning desire by the thrust of his tongue, imitating a motion I found myself needing as the seconds ticked away.
He turned and pushed against me, moving me against the seat of the couch as he settled between my legs. I moaned, my leg working around his back, moving up and down as I tried to find purchase. With his weight above me, I had only one outcome in mind, and I desperately wanted him to skip the foreplay.
But was unable to bring myself to voice my ‘complaint.’
His hands slipped up and down my sides as the kiss deepened. His breath was hot against my cheek, quickened and heavier, as if the need burned him up from the inside. He broke off the kiss, moving to my cheek, then down to my neck, kissing downward as he went.
His hands moved down to the edge of my skirt, then slipped up. His calloused fingers made me shudder as they slipped to the tender skin of my inner thigh, ever upward. And then across, not even claiming me, merely taunting me as they grazed over their goal.
I saw his lips quirk upward as I looked down. He grinned at the tremble that ran through me, at how I panted out and then gasped in a breath in anticipation only to let it out in disappointment when he didn’t take advantage of me.
I pushed him upward with two firm hands.
“Dress off. I am not getting something on this when I’ve only owned it a couple of hours.”
“Is that the only reason you want it off?” he purred out, a smile growing.
“Maybe I want your teeth and tongue on my nipples too,” I grumbled.
He sat up and pulled away, pulling me with him. He slipped his hands behind me and unzipped my dress, helping me out of it. The dress dropped to the floor, leaving only his pants in the way.
He looked around.
“Door is locked.”
“Visitors happen,” he said.
“It’s been removed from the listing for tonight,” I said. “Anyone who shows up gets a crop to the face and not in a fun way. The door is locked. They can’t just come in. That’s why there’s a chain on the door.”
He sat up and looked at the door, confirming the chain. Even if someone tried to get in, the chain would stop them. Then he made a little sound and removed his pants, dropping them on top of my dress.
He was half-erect already.
He didn’t touch himself, choosing instead to slip between my legs once more and resume his position. His hands settled on my waist as he turned his teeth to my nipple, participating in the motion I had described. I gasped out, arching under his teeth. My nails dug into his scalp and shoulder as I writhed with pleasure under him.
His hips moved. I moved with him, making a small noise of both protest and need.
I felt his arousal against my leg and knew that he was resisting. I didn’t know him well enough to drive him past that point. I was simply a bystander to his craving.
And it turns me on.
I was a boiling bundle of need. I pressed against him, rubbing, slipping my one leg over the back of the couch as I tried to brace myself against the coffee table with the other, inviting him without words. Begging him to do with me as he willed.
Apparently, what he willed was to taunt me.
His fingers worked into my flesh as if trying to figure out if I were real, of it if were a dream.
He shifted his weight. One of his hands settled beside my head as he moved from my nipple to my lips, capturing them once more. I made a little sound against his lips, accepting every motion of his tongue.
When he finally penetrated me, I gasped out, biting his tongue by accident. He thrust the rest of the way in, growling as he did so. He bit my bottom lip in response and thrust again. His growl turned into a snarl, and he sat back, taking up a hard and fast pace that drew a whimper out of me at every motion of his hips.
He rode me, and all I could do was latch onto him and hold on for dear life. Everything he did to me, I desperately wanted. The pleasure was just as intense as it had been before, but it was harder to grasp. It slipped away from me as I tried to move with him, enjoying the motions in a different sort of way. The movements of our bodies together seemed to blur.
He stilled, making a little, strangled sound as he did. In that stillness, I found my relief, though the pleasure was not so blinding as it had been the last time. I managed to hold on, to remain almost aware as he settled there and waited. His head lowered to my shoulder, his chest heaving and slick with sweat from our activities.
I grumbled when he pulled away, settling between my legs, with his head on my stomach and arms reached upward, settling over mine. It was comfortable, laying like that in his arms.
But also, a little cold.
I dragged in a long, deep breath. He pulled away as I sighed out.
“Bedtime, I think,” he murmured. “Did you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“No,” I said groggily.
“All right. I’m goi
ng to head to the bed, why don’t you come join me when you’re ready?”
I smiled sleepily.
“How did you know I needed a minute?”
“You learn to read people,” he murmured back, bending to kiss my cheek. “Take the time you need. Though I may be asleep by the time you come in. I think you wore me out.”
He chuckled as he slipped off the couch and walked away. I watched him go, focused on that backside of his ripple with each step, and I bit my bottom lip.
I waited until the bedroom door closed, then I went and retrieved my phone.
No phone calls, but there were a couple of messages from people I knew, wishing me a happy birthday. I ignored them all.
Those people should have called me instead of leaving text messages.
I called Mr. Wrightworth instead.
“Nikki,” he said. “Why are you overthinking this?”
“I’m not overthinking,” I said. “I just wanted to call and thank you for my gift.”
“And where is your gift?”
“Sleeping,” I said. “I just. I wanted to know if you spoke to anyone at my work. Maybe talked them into offering me a partnership in a new private practice that they will front all the money for?”
He remained quiet a long moment.
“No,” he said finally. “I didn’t talk anyone into that. Did someone make that offer? Who was it? I’ll look into it, make certain it is a genuine offer.”
“No, don’t do that,” I said.
“Yes, do that. A man who is not your friend just made you that offer? We need to check this out. I hope it’s a sound offer, but let me do that for you, at least. The same background checks you’d do, just backed with a little more money.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
“Good. So, you like him? No problems?”
“No,” I said.
“Him being Gaian didn’t change anything? You know they have four ceremonies where they’re supposed to collect together and pay tribute, right?”
I struggled with that information because yet again, it didn’t make any sense.
Even if I were breaking him in as a stud for others in the community, the rituals wouldn’t have mattered to me.
He’d visit a couple of times, that’s it.
“Nikki?” he asked. “You two talked, I know you did. You’re too much of a saviour not to ask.”
“Yeah… you assigned him to me because he asked for a reprieve,” I said.
“Yes, he needed help, needed an out from all the sex and abuse from rich elite.”
“And then you told him to have sex with me.”
“I told him to consider having sex with you,” he said. “And when I showed him your picture and explained the rest, he agreed to sex tonight. Which was why I taught him things about you and your preferences.”
“I’m confused.”
“As am I. Why are you not yelling at me?”
“Why would I be yelling at you?” I countered.
“He came to me asking for an escape, and I assigned him to you.”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh, you don’t know,” he sighed out. “Nikki, he is contracted to you for the next sixteen months, not for tonight only.”
Cold washed over me. I struggled with that information, not only aware of what it meant to me but what it meant for him as well. All those little comments suddenly made sense. They weren’t hints. He thought I would know what he meant. He thought it would just clue in.
I had never been stupid—one couldn’t be a doctor if they were stupid—but I hadn’t made that connection.
The connotations were simply too extreme.
The cost for a night with a contracted body was obscene, but to pay for a full sixteen months?
That was enough to buy a house!
“Mr. Wrightworth, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“About the price?” he asked, not sounding the least bit phased by my tone of voice.
“Yes!”
“He needed an out. I couldn’t contract him for me because I’m caring for them. You had a need, I filled the need and filled his need. As much as I did pay for it out of pocket, you were the best choice for him. Now, when it hits you that this is not a one-night stand, that you just had sex with a man who you will have to see tomorrow, please keep in mind that I know you and I know him. It is a good fit, though I have scheduled couples counselling for you through the Program. Go, try to relax, and try not to kick him out of bed.”
“I suppose, at the end of the day, the appropriate thing is still to thank you.”
“You are welcome, Nicole,” he said. “The family is gathering for dinner tomorrow. Bring him. Henry will be there.”
“Okay, goodnight, Mr. Wrightworth.”
“Goodnight, Nicole.”
The call ended. I considered my phone, sighing out.
Then I pulled up my second-to-last call and texted him back that I would be looking into the offer and have an answer within twenty-four hours. He texted back a smiley face and told me to go and enjoy my night.
I took my phone with me to the bedroom.
He was under the blankets on his stomach, already asleep. I watched him for several moments, then slipped under the covers. He stirred as I pressed against him. With a sleepy little sound, he lifted his head.
“So, sixteen months,” I said.
“Yes?” he asked in response.
“I thought this was one night,” I said.
He seemed to consider that fact. Then he smiled a little wider.
“Your appetite isn’t usually that large,” he said finally.
“No, I thought we only had tonight.”
“Thank goodness. I’m pretty certain I couldn’t keep up with you. Everything else I love. The sex though, twice is a maybe for me. Once is preferable.”
“Same here,” I said.
“Good that we worked that out,” he murmured.
“Dinner tomorrow with the family, that includes Mr. Wrightworth and Isabella.”
“Good thing it’s still somewhat early,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy Mr. Wrightworth assigned me to you for the remainder of my sentence.”
“Mm, I think I am too, but we’ll have to see how I feel in the morning. You know, after the wine and the sex wears off.”
“Or I could just not let the sex wear off.”
“Oh,” I said with a little giggle. “Now there’s an idea…”
***The End***
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Preview Of:
Seed
The Reaping Book I
My name is Kazimir DeElysia. I am four thousand years old, well, just shy of four thousand, but I am told that mortals prefer rounded numbers, and I am closer to four thousand than thirty-five hundred. I hardly look a day over two thousand, I have been told.
I was twenty-seven when I was captured, taken to what you know as Crete, and then turned into a vampire. My turning was consensual, though I did not quite understand what she had offered me. Partly because of a lack of knowledge, partly because there was a language barrier between us. I knew immortality and hunting the night, but my Maker was little more than a fledgling when she turned me.
That is the term that mortals are familiar with, correct? ‘Maker,’ as if we create toys and set them loose in the world, as if the one who turned me could be summed up with such a hollow title.
I called her ‘Love’ then, and through most of history.
Maker... no wonder the vampiric world is so weak and pathetic.
They have a name for me, you know. They whisper it to one another and fall silent as I pass by. Few see me these days, as I am a wanted man. I keep a territory in the name of my matriarch and thanks to modern advances in technology, I have been able to keep track of those trying to sneak into my city. There are some few who I employ or have employed in the past, but, for the most part, my city remained empt
y of vampires.
Because I do not like their faces, and they cannot be trusted to not to be catty and run back to the Council to tell them who owned the city.
I reside outside of Council control. I always have. The Council and I simply do not see eye to eye on so many important topics of conversation.
Such as the place of a child in the life of their ‘Maker.’ The Council views all as free agents, a ridiculous belief. Some have made children only as a blood bag, or weapon, or whore. That is their only use. Just as not all humans are leaders and ‘go-getters,’ not all vampires are meant to be left to their own devices. There is a place in our world for each of us, and a Maker should always turn with that place in mind. A child without a place will cause problems.
Only an heir might come and go as they please, and only one heir is needed. All other children are only there to serve the will of their Maker.
Yet these are the same people who believe a vampire should be destroyed if that vampire does not meet their very strict requirements. If they’re too young or too old, if they aren’t perfect upon turning.
Not even the hermaphroditic are welcome amongst Council lands any longer. One must be male or female, nowhere in between.
Oh please, like you believe every fantastical tale they tell you about honesty and equality, about being the great saviour of mankind? The Council does not believe that. They believe in only one thing: control.
And they will gain that control by whatever means necessary.
I suppose some of you might be eager to hear how I have spent my four thousand years on this planet. Well, too bad. I am not going to ramble like dear, soft Quintillus about my daddy issues.
My father and mother raised me to be a fighter, a warrior among my people. For that reason, when I was captured, I was sold. Perhaps to be a guard, or perhaps they knew to whom they sold me, knew what would happen to me. The reason why no longer matters, I was sold into slavery and turned. That’s about as much of my history as I’m willing to share with any mortal soul.
Do not take me to be a pathetic loner just because I live outside of Council lands. I have made my way and lived in factions before. I know how to ‘play nicely’ as Elysia would say, though only ever for her.