Grand Master (Demons, #3)

by Simcoe, Marina

  Could he be nervous too?

  Why?

  Finally, he lifted the blindfold from his lap.

  “I have to put this on you.”

  Was there a hint of hesitation in his voice?

  “Sure.” I nodded, with a tinge of regret myself.

  As much as being blindfolded was a necessary part of the game, I still wished he would delay putting it on me tonight.

  All talking had stopped when Andras blindfolded me the last time, and I still had some questions for tonight’s companion. I bit back the urge to ask his name, but only because I feared he would ask mine in return when I preferred a complete anonymity.

  His scent reached me as he leaned in to tie the blindfold. Unlike the exotic spice of Andras, his smell reminded me of a warm ocean breeze with a hint of salt. I stilled for a moment, taking a breath just a little deeper than necessary.

  Mmmm. Did all of the guys at that place smell delicious?

  I stole another quick sniff, before he finished tying the knot and moved away.

  “You’re not from here, are you?” he suddenly asked, proving wrong my assumption of no talking after the blindfold was on.

  “No, I’m not.” I’ve been told my accent wasn’t strong. However, I knew it was there.

  “What is your mother tongue?”

  I hesitated. Was there any harm in admitting the truth?

  “English.”

  “Would it be more comfortable for you to speak it then?” He asked this in perfect English, with no accent whatsoever.

  “Um, sure.”

  Actually, talking Russian felt more like doing business to me—mostly because it was the language I used at work. Speaking English felt more intimate in that moment, making our conversation less of a business transaction and more like an intimate chat.

  Unsure of what I wanted it to be, I decided to go with the flow.

  “Where did you learn to speak English so well?” I asked.

  “I didn’t need to learn. I’ve always spoken it.”

  “So, you weren’t born in Belarus either?” I strained my ear, trying to figure out from his speech where he came from.

  The problem was, he really had no accent. His pronunciation sounded academically perfect but fell somewhere in the middle, without placing him anywhere in particular.

  “I wasn’t born here,” he replied, without elaborating. “Why are you in Minsk?”

  “For work. You?”

  He took a moment to answer. “I work here too.”

  A sharp sting of curiosity urged me to ask more, but I stopped the questions that dangled on the tip of my tongue.

  Any honesty from him might result in me having to reciprocate, and I wasn’t ready to reveal the details about my life or my identity. I had a job and a reputation to maintain. He was a part of what made up my fantasy life, with no place in my everyday one.

  The smooth road must have been replaced by a bumpier dirt one, judging by the movement of the car. We must have been farther from the city now, getting closer to wherever they were taking me.

  My heart sped up again.

  I had every reason to believe that tonight would be exactly like the last time. However, I still couldn’t hold back a little apprehension seeping into my excitement.

  “You will be safe.” His voice was firm and reassuring. “I give you my word.”

  Something in his tone made me believe he was personally accepting the responsibility for my safety. And that put my mind at ease.

  Chapter 8

  “WHAT IS YOUR WISH TONIGHT?”

  I sat in the same chair, most likely in the same room as last time. Yet, everything felt slightly different somehow.

  Perhaps because, unlike Andras’s friendly, impassive tone, the voice of this stranger vibrated with some sort of emotion. The low raspy note he hit when asking the question sent a rush of goosebumps down my arms.

  The way he asked, made me imagine it’d be he who’d be fulfilling my wishes tonight—his hands touching me in places where his voice had already made me tingle with anticipation.

  “The same.” I cleared my throat. “Like the last time.”

  “Would you need assistance with getting undressed?”

  Would you be the one providing the assistance?

  Where did this flirtiness come from? He was simply here to deliver me my fantasy. Nothing more.

  I shook my head, kicking my boots off. “I’m good.”

  Standing up, I threw my jacket on the chair behind me then began to unbutton my blouse. The tiny pearl buttons kept slipping through my fingers, and I realised that the reason for my fumbling was the feeling of being watched.

  By him.

  I didn’t need to see him to know he was observing me as I undressed. I could almost feel his gaze on my skin, ripples of sensation running down my back and chest.

  He kept incredibly quiet. I didn’t believe I heard so much as the sound of breathing from his direction. Yet I was positive he remained here, in the room with me.

  I forced myself to slow down, then shrugged the blouse off my shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, even as my heart felt like it was about to jump out of my throat. My nipples grew hard when I took my bra off, the tingling sensation spreading through my breasts as I imagined his stare gliding over my half-naked body.

  Taking off my tight jeans in any sensual way proved nearly impossible, making me wish I’d worn a dress after all. I shimmied my hips out of the jeans but nearly lost my balance, attempting to yank my foot out of the narrow leg.

  “Careful,” came right above my ear.

  Strong hands gripped my arms, and a whiff of ocean breeze curled around me, making my head spin a little.

  What was he doing to me?

  I’d never been this aware of any man in my life.

  He lowered me into the chair behind me then tugged at my jeans, releasing one leg at a time.

  A moment later, I felt his gloved fingers at my hips as he hooked them under the elastic of my underwear, and I lifted my backside off the chair to help him slide my panties off me.

  All without saying a word.

  “Thank you.” My voice had a husky rasp to it.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll get them to take you to the meeting room.”

  Meeting room?

  Was that what they called it?

  “Wait.” I rose from my seat. “Will you be there, too?”

  This was something I definitely shouldn’t have asked. Tonight was supposed to be all about a faceless, nameless fantasy with full and utter anonymity. The people who touched me were supposed to remain strangers, without so much as a voice or a scent attached to them.

  Still, my excitement grew when I heard him say, “Yes.”

  I fired off another question before I could stop myself. “Will you be the one touching me?”

  “No,” the response was firm in tone.

  Unexpectedly, my heart dropped, but I brushed away the disappointment.

  This was for the best.

  Anonymity.

  It was supposed to be just a fantasy—a game I could finish any time I liked, with no strings attached.

  I heard footsteps—heavy boots on the concrete floor—and someone lifted me up in the air. Instinctively, I threw my arms around the person’s shoulders and leaned in as the armoured man carried me.

  His smell reached my nostrils—leather, metal, the warm smell of another male . . . Nice, but not quite the same.

  I LAY ON A LONG TABLE. With my hands cuffed high above my head and my ankles chained at the opposite end, my body stretched like a string, singing with passion caused by the two pairs of hands on me.

  Two men filling me with pleasure head to toe—my long-time fantasy turned into an even more mind-blowing reality.

  Heat coursed through me, building between my legs, and I attempted to press my thighs together, desperate for release.

  Someone squeezed my breasts and plucked my nipples, sending another electric charge down through my
core.

  A hand glided up my thigh, and I twisted on the table towards this touch. Something hard slid between my legs. The toy felt cool against my heated folds when someone pressed it against me, promising relief in every sense.

  With a moan, I arched my back as much as the restraints would allow and tried to squeeze my legs together, to trap the vibrator between my thighs.

  All-consuming need took over my senses. At that moment nothing else existed for me—just those hands, building up the pleasure that coursed through me with their every touch, the achy pressure between my legs driving me mad with the need to come.

  My head thrown back, I inhaled deeply, suddenly catching a trace of freshness and salt of the ocean in the air.

  He was here.

  Right there, at the head of the table.

  What was going through his head as he watched me? Did he want me? Was he touching himself?

  Unthinking, I flexed my arms, shifting my body up the table, towards him. The orgasm exploded through me at that very moment, rippling through me in blissful spasms. Completely oblivious to everything around me for a few second, I rode the waves of intense pleasure as the hands of strangers reaped more and more wonderful shudders out of my body.

  Finally, as my climax ebbed, I was able to draw in another lungful of air.

  His scent was gone.

  He must have stepped back, but now I knew in which direction he stood.

  I threw my head back again.

  “More,” I begged him and him alone.

  VADIM

  Her energy churning inside him, he closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself on his feet before retreating another step.

  Yes, he was out of his chair once again. And this time, he made it closer than any other members of the Council. Tonight, they all knew what to expect from her and were better prepared to stay in control.

  Except for him, it seemed.

  Caught off guard by the faint strand of a highly alluring aroma in her emotions, he couldn’t resist getting closer again. The taste of her arousal was even more tantalizing than the last time, for it seemed to be flavoured with something even more special, just for him.

  Her skin flushed glowing pink, her body arched in ecstasy. He slid his gaze along the Source stretched on the table, taking in every single detail he never noticed in the others. And everything about her caused his own body to respond.

  The way her chest heaved as she panted coming down from the crest of passion. Her breasts rose and fell, trembling with her heavy breathing. Her nipples swollen and red, almost the same colour as the swirls of her arousal curling through the air.

  He wondered how warm each breast would feel if he sucked the tips into his mouth, one after another. How hard the tight bud of her nipple would be if he rolled it with his tongue.

  The idea of tasting her skin along with her emotions rushed through him in a swell of heat, sending another charge to his crotch. His already painfully hard erection throbbed with a renewed wave of arousal.

  Fisting his hands at his sides, he forced himself to take one last step back before his legs hit the edge of his chair and he collapsed back into it.

  “More,” she moaned. And he made a gesture to her Handlers to continue.

  Who was he to deny her anything?

  He was but a hungry demon, quickly and hopelessly becoming addicted to her every emotion.

  Chapter 9

  “YOU CAN STAY HERE AS long as you like.”

  There was so much in his voice when he offered—warmth, concern, kindness. Hope?

  Surely I was reading too much into his tone. The whole experience of this place seemed to alter my perceptions of reality for as long as I remained here.

  “No.” I shook my head, sitting on the bed where they had placed me. “I should go.”

  “I’ll help you dress.” It wasn’t a question.

  The air around me moved, mixing in with his scent, as he shifted closer and took the blanket off me. His hands circled my ankles as he turned me in bed to face him then eased my feet to the floor.

  He started putting my clothes on me with calm efficiency. Yet I caught slight differences from the way the armoured men did it last time.

  The way his hands lingered at my hips after he had pulled up my panties. The way his fingers brushed down my back after closing the small hooks of my bra. I felt him lean my way as he buttoned my blouse.

  With my eyes closed, all my other senses tuned in to him, catching details I might have missed if I could see. His slightly uneven breathing, the tremble in his fingers. The strength of his arms as he helped me off the bed in order to tug my jeans up my legs and close the button at my waist.

  Awash in his scent, I basked in his attention. It felt so unexpectedly pleasant to be taken care of by him.

  Still unsteady on my feet, I swayed and braced myself against his arm. My fingers landed on the stone-hard bulk of muscle covered by thin fabric.

  He must have taken off the sweatshirt he wore in the car because the material of his shirt felt much finer under my fingers. The warmth of his skin underneath seeped into me.

  For one brief moment his breath hitched and I froze, afraid to move, lest I scare away this sudden sense of intimacy between us—something I couldn’t recall ever sharing with anyone before. The feeling descended like a warm, fuzzy cloud, isolating us from the rest of the world.

  Then his bicep rolled under my hand as he let go of my waistband and the sensation disappeared.

  “They’ll take you to the car.” Rougher than before, his voice distanced as he moved away.

  THE DRIVE BACK WAS quiet.

  Not that I didn’t have any questions to ask or topics to talk about, but I held back. My sudden attraction to this complete stranger was puzzling enough. I wanted to know more about him but was afraid he would no longer be a stranger to me if I did. And I wasn’t ready for that.

  “Will I see you next month?” he asked as the car came to a halt outside my building.

  It was then I realised what else made this man different. Andras always used we, which distanced him personally from what was happening. Tonight’s companion, however, used I and they, setting himself apart from the rest, making me consider him as an individual.

  “Will it be you or Andras next time?” I asked in return.

  “Me.”

  I couldn’t even begin to explain the warm feeling that rose inside me at this answer.

  “I’ll see you next month then,” I replied, unable to hold back my smile.

  It almost sounded like a date.

  WHAT IS GOING ON WITH me? I wondered lying in bed that night.

  I stared at the ceiling, going through everything that had happened earlier. The thing was, I never got to see his face. I hardly even got to touch him. We had only exchanged a handful of sentences. Yet he seemed to have filled tonight’s whole experience with his presence.

  No man had ever affected me so much with so little.

  Could it be that not having a boyfriend for this long made me hungry for any kind of intimacy?

  There was still a whole month until I got to ‘see’ him again, and I could only hope that the unsettling feeling for him would calm down over the weeks until then.

  Chapter 10

  DURING THE MONTH THAT followed I kept waiting for the memories of him to fade away. And every day the elation of seeing him again overshadowed any sexual excitement I felt about the approaching date.

  My sudden draw to this one man confused me. Then, as the time passed, and I still failed to get the feeling under control, it began to anger me.

  This was my fantasy, dammit. It was supposed to be just a notch above the images and sensations that would go through my head on the nights when I made myself come with my vibrator. Whatever happened during my visits with the strangers was supposed to disappear with the sunrise the very next morning.

  None of it was meant to follow me into everyday life. Not the memory of his scent—which wouldn’t leave me, no
matter what I did. Or the sound of his deep voice. Not the sensation of his dexterous hands on me as he dressed me with care and efficiency, leaving me anxious for more . . . so much more.

  Less than a week before the date of my next rendezvous with the strangers, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t get in that car again, having this stampede of butterflies in my stomach.

  Finally, I gave up and dialled the only contact number I had for them, Andras’s number.

  For a moment as it rang, I caught myself wishing to hear his voice, but then Andras’s deep drawl answered.

  “I’m calling to cancel my visit this Monday,” I blurted out without a greeting or introduction. “I can’t make it.”

  “Are you well? Is everything all right? Do you need any assistance?”

  I did not expect this type of concern.

  “No . . . I mean yes. I’m fine. I just can’t make it.”

  “We’ll see you the month after that, then.”

  I’d called with the intention of cancelling indefinitely. No more visits, no more getting into that car. My fantasy had turned into something unexpected, and I knew I shouldn’t continue with this when the focus of my mind and my body seemed to have whirred off course, narrowing onto one man.

  Yet right at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to burn all my bridges.

  “The month after,” I repeated after him and added, “Will it be you then? Picking me up?”

  “No. Vadim demanded to be the one picking you up from now on. I’ll let him know about your cancellation.”

  My heart thundered in my chest as I hung up the phone.

  Vadim.

  Now, he had a name.

  ON MONDAY NIGHT, THE night of my cancelled visit, I had a late dinner at home while watching the news on my laptop, then showered.

  Passing by my bedroom window, I caught myself casting glances outside every time I went by.

  Ridiculous.