Taken by a Vampire

He studied her for another few pounding heartbeats, then he lifted his hand. She sat still, though her breath caught as he slid his fingers along her throat. When she lifted her chin, he curved them around, holding her collared. Another trio of heartbeats, more rapid this time, and he constricted that grip, letting her feel the hold. The heat of it swept over her, tightening her nipples, making her bear down so her body pressed closer to his, her dampening pussy against the hard muscles of his stomach.

“Aye. Ye might belong tae both of us at that.”

In one quick move, he’d turned them so she was under him, her legs finding a place along his hips and thighs, his body seated firm against the core of hers. She gasped when she realized how hard his cock was, hard and thick, throbbing against her. Rubbing herself against him earned a quiet noise of reproof.

“You’ll be still. You’re mine, are ye?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She tried to put her hand on his face again, but he caught both wrists, pulled her arms over her head.

“Ye leave them there, muirnín. If you’re mine, I’m going to have full pleasure of what’s mine. I woke up with a huge cockstand and no snug, wet cunt to take it. Then there ye are, coming across the compound, a beautiful angel I want to profane with every lustful thought I have. Next I know, you’re fighting Mel like a wee demon. Nothing stiffens a lad’s cock like seeing two women fighting over it.”

He gave her an arrogant grin then, one she should have answered with a proper cut down to tease him, but she honestly couldn’t think beyond the fire burning inside of her. I’m going to take full pleasure of what’s mine.

“Please,” she whispered, showing that fire to him. “I need you inside me.”

Evan and Niall had taught her to wear her desire on the outside like this, but hadn’t warned her how it could consume the insides. Fortunately, seeing her need in her face ignited the same in Niall. He was done talking, but not done teasing her.

He pushed up the tank to find her naked beneath it, something he registered with a sound between conservative disapproval and full male approbation. She bowed up into his mouth as he covered a nipple, began to suckle, while his hands wandered down her body, opening the shorts. When his fingers quested under the waistband of her panties, finding her cunt swollen and wet, she breathed into his mouth, a wordless plea. With a quiet oath, he shifted off her enough to rid her of the garments, then he was moving down her body.

They weren’t in the vampire world, where being taken in the open like this was beyond remark. When that penetrated, she made a reluctant movement, a reminder, but his grip held her fast. “If you’re mine, lass, then you’ll be mine whenever I desire. In the end, I’m just a rough and crude lad who wants my way with ye.”

A rough and crude lad whose tongue was capable of wringing a poetic symphony from a woman’s body. He immersed himself in eating her pussy, licking her clit, nipping at the labia, suckling her juices, plunging his tongue deep to swirl and taste and sample, while she writhed under his touch, bit down on the cries that kept building until she had to risk his displeasure to lower one of her arms and press her mouth against it. Instead, he pushed her arm back up, gagged her with his discarded T-shirt. He could have used the one she’d been wearing, but now she had the taste of him, his scent filling her nose. She bit down on it as he pushed her higher and higher, her legs now up on his bare shoulders, heels striking his back as she writhed. When he took one finger, lubricated from sliding into her wet folds, and slowly inserted it in her anus as he continued to tongue her cunt, pushing and withdrawing, she started screaming into the fabric.

He couldn’t speak in her mind, and his mouth was otherwise occupied, but she didn’t know if she could have waited for permission to come, regardless. The orgasm gushed from her, no time to beg or ask for anything.

When she was still shuddering from it, he braced himself over her body, keeping her ankles at his neck. He ripped open the jeans and slid into her to the root, her spasming tissues invaded by his engorged cock. He hadn’t been jesting—he was so thick and hard, and the orgasm had made her so tight, it was almost uncomfortable, but she reveled in it, still making small cries as his sweat-coated upper body slid along hers, an erotic sensation. Keeping her arms above her head, her mouth gagged by his shirt while he looked down at her with pure, feral possession in his eyes, had her body convulsing against him even more. She added to it, squeezing down, ankles locked over his shoulders.

I’m yours. But you’re mine, too. Whether or not Evan was awake to convey such a thought, she put all of it in her eyes, the strength of her body, and told him with all those things she wasn’t letting him go. That she’d defy even death to keep him, no matter how empty a promise that was.

It was easy to get pulled into the daily routine of the commune. There was the sense of being cut off from the world, of there being time for healing, for laughter, for quiet reflection. For creation, for whatever the mind and soul needed to explore. It made Farida Sanctuary one of the most remarkable places she’d ever been. There were short times she even forgot the scythe hanging over her own head, of Stephen lurking somewhere in her future. Perhaps he’d given up and would simply disappear. She was supposed to hope he was apprehended for the well-being of the Council, but Evan and Niall were teaching her how to have some of her own dreams. She knew they were futile, but it didn’t make them less of a stolen pleasure. In some ways, it made them even more bitterly sweet.

She helped in the kitchen, trading cooking skills with others. Working alongside the gardeners, she learned more of their craft, finding she had an intense interest in learning about plants, how they grew, how to tend them. Looking up throughout the day, she could always see a panorama of a harmonious community. Artists at work at various projects, children at play or being schooled in the pavilion. Sometimes it was their mothers being schooled, learning about the basics of home finances, or the more complicated world of legal proceedings, appropriate to their specific situations. Clay, paint, oils and chemicals mixed with the forest and lake smells, an unexpected complementary aroma that always pervaded the atmosphere.

Niall was far more than the rough and crude lad he claimed to be. He was an accomplished carpenter and handyman, a jack-of-all-trades, such that he was in demand for any type of repair or renovation put on the back burner until this visit. Yet despite his busy schedule, her Scot still found time to check on her throughout the daylight hours.

Near mealtimes he’d come through the kitchen to sample until he was chased off, though none interfered when what he came to sample was her. Pressing her up against a counter with unmistakable erotic intent, he’d steal a mind-numbing, knee-weakening kiss before he’d take off again, leaving her with a warming slap on the ass. He’d usually snatch a cookie or piece of meat as well. She’d try, unsuccessfully, to glare at him instead of smile. His charm and raw sexuality exonerated him from reproof. The other women were almost as captivated as she was by how he left her vibrating from his sensual assaults.

He’d taken her plea to heart, with a single-mindedness that was overwhelming. No less than twice a day, he’d surprise her on her way between tasks, making her aware of how closely he was keeping an eye on her while Evan slept. He might pull her back behind that cottage, or take her into the forest off the paved path. There he’d reaffirm her surrender to him, claiming her on all fours like a woodland animal, or putting her on her back and tying her hands with whatever bonds he’d tucked in his pockets. Then he’d work his mouth over her cunt until she was completely lost and helpless, open to the fierce thrusts of his cock, his own release.

As a result, her need only grew. Sometimes he stood up and started to put his clothes on, leaving her tied and naked so he could enjoy the pleasure of seeing her at his mercy. She’d rise on her knees, brace her bound hands against his thigh and pull him into her mouth, servicing him there in the wood. Then he might put her on her elbows and order her to spread her thighs, giving her a firm spanking for her wanton behavior. His flat palm would sting against her buttocks and labia, still so damp from his juices and her own that it made a wet sound. Often, he’d take her again, with the harsh grunts of a male animal and an appeal to any gods listening to save him from her insatiable demands. Yet by the end of it she was exhausted, proving he was more than her match.

Nighttimes were the best, for then she had the opportunity to enjoy both her Masters. Evan often painted down at the lake through the darkest hours of night. She could sit and watch him for hours, her body and heart humming in frequency with his graceful movements, his intense concentration. He could surprise her with his keen awareness of her presence. One night, he bade her remove her shirt, then put a pair of cuffs on her, hooking them to eyehooks on the gazebo walls she suspected Niall had installed earlier in the day. While she sat there, spread and helpless, he painted a field of flowers across her breasts with the soft, damp tip of his brush, using his fingers to apply the proper swirls and smudging. Then he kissed her, long and deep, and made her stand like that for the next couple of hours while he finished his painting. When he freed her, she was so intensely aroused she was trembling. Lifting her up against the wall, he sank deep into her, letting her cling to his shoulders, her face pressed to his shoulder as he brought both of them to release.

At dawn, Niall would take her to Evan’s bed so they could both have her as they desired, one working himself into her mouth while the other thrust into her from behind or front, depending on how they had her positioned. Or they’d both be inside her at once. Her face pressed against Niall’s chest, arms clinging to his waist as he hammered into her pussy, while Evan pushed into her backside, sending her into a near-blackout state from the pleasure.

She was used, pleasured, teased . . . sated. For the first time in her life, she felt she was fully serving a Master, the way she’d always desired. On top of that, she was now part of a community with people she cautiously called friends. Niall pointed out that the sanctuary members gravitated toward her because of her intuitive ability to determine what a person needed at any given moment. In less than a few days, she was considered as useful as any staff member. She would play with a child while his mother took a nap after an intense therapy session. Or strategically sit as a buffer at the lunch table between the others and one of the newer arrivals who was feeling shy. She’d use her steady calm to integrate them in the conversation, help them feel safe, yet included. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">