Love Bites (29 page)

Pretty damn inventive for a woman who’d been a virgin a few hours before. But then, her innate sensuality was one of the reasons he wanted her.

Verica grinned wickedly at him and struck him again, her lovely breasts jiggling delightfully as she moved around him on those muscled dancer’s legs of hers.

Slowly she increased the force she used, her eyes locked on his, her breath coming hard as she flicked and teased his cock with the whip until he found himself arching his hips as the sting built in his engorged shaft, his balls aching fiercely. He wanted to writhe, toss his head, but the cuffs held him motionless, unable to move anything but his torso.

Half mad with lust, he snarled, “When I get loose, I’m going to fuck you raw. Then I’m going to sink my teeth into that long white throat while I ream your little asshole.”

“Not yet.” Verica threw the flogger across the room, then reached down and hit a button on the side of the chair. Obediently, it reclined, pulling him back until he was stretched out flat, his feet still on the floor, his head extending beyond the back of the chair. “I’ve got another use for your mouth first.”

She bent to pick up the clamps she’d dropped on the floor, then rose and swung a long leg across him. Setting her feet apart, she straddled his face and bent so she was head-down along his body. Surprised, he stared up at the wet, creamy pussy inches from his lips. Her scent flooded his head, musk and sex and heat.

Reaching down his length, she wrapped one slender hand around his balls and slowly squeezed. She stopped well short of pain, but the threat was there. “Lick me, Julian. I want to come riding your tongue.”

He smiled slowly and stabbed his pointed tongue up into her cunt. Verica twisted over him as that hot, wicked mouth went to work.

Her memories had not done his skill justice; he knew just how to lick and nibble and suck to wring searing pleasure out of her pussy. It wouldn’t take him long to have her begging.

But she wasn’t ready to release control just yet. Surreptitiously, she slipped one of the clamps she still held onto her little finger. It pinched, but not cruelly.

The jaws aren’t that stiff
, Julian said into her mind.
I never use anything I haven’t tested on myself
. He burrowed his tongue up her slick core.
Within anatomical reason, of course.

She gasped as he began gently thrusting. “Does that include the butt plugs?”

I have to know what effect I’m getting.
He gave her a long, sampling lick that caught her clit.
I scale it down, of course. I’m a big man, and being a vampire, I can take a lot more abuse than a woman
.

Verica licked her lips, quivering in pleasure. Some fragment of her mind still capable of rational thought was reassured. Any man who was that careful wouldn’t take her further than she wanted to go. “Let’s find out just how much you can take.” She gently thumbed one of his tiny male nipples and caught the little bead between the black jaws of the clamp.

Julian gasped against her cunt in a warm puff of air. His cock jerked. Pleased, she toyed with the clamp, opening it and releasing it. With her free hand, she reached down to cup his tight, hot balls. “Don’t stop licking, Julian. I haven’t come yet.”

With a growl, he obeyed, catching her clit between his teeth for a gentle nibble that made her back arch. She swallowed as her thigh muscles quivered, then forced herself to continue working the clamp, pinching and releasing the tiny tip. Simultaneously she slowly stroked his cock, enjoying the feeling of slick, hot satin skin under her fingertips.

There’s a twentieth-century saying that leaps to mind
, he thought, projecting into her mind.
Payback’s hell. The next time I get you tied . . .

She grinned. “Don’t threaten Mistress Verica, Julian. She doesn’t like it.” Giving his cock another taunting squeeze, she released the clamp to attach the second one to his other nipple.

As the tiny jaws grabbed hold, Verica felt something sharp scrape her most tender flesh and shivered. “Uh, uh, Julian. No fangs.” She stretched down the length of his muscled torso until she could lick the thick, flushed head of his cock. “Or I’ll use my teeth too.”

He jerked in his bonds and she felt his wicked tongue go still on her damp flesh.
That’s not necessarily a deterrent.

Verica laughed softly and licked him again. She had never given head before—André’s forced fucking of her mouth didn’t count since she hadn’t actually done anything. Not sure how to go about it, she began to gently tongue him, figuring she couldn’t go wrong there. Encouraged by a muffled groan, Verica slipped the head of his cock into her mouth and took him as deeply as she could.

Julian fought not to come as her soft, untutored mouth worked his cock. Oddly, the ache from the clamps seemed to intensify the raw pleasure she inflicted with that sweet tongue. He knew of the effect from using it on his captives, but he’d never experienced it himself. And that, combined with the scent of her wet cunt, was just about to drive him out of his mind.

He’d agreed to this thinking it would prove to Verica he could be trusted. He’d expected she’d be a little clumsy with no real idea what to do with him once she got him. But he’d underestimated her badly. She knew exactly what do to with him, and untutored or not, she knew exactly how to drive him crazy. It had to be instinct. God, what would she be like after a few decades of experience?

Slowly she eased her way deeper onto his cock, taking it further into her mouth, her tongue sliding along the veined shaft. He started wondering whether he’d survive her first century.

Verica filled her mouth with him again, loving the way his powerful body writhed under her hands. God, she was hot. Her cunt felt swollen, engorged with blood, so that every lick and nibble set it burning.

But this, hot as it was, wasn’t enough. She wanted him in her, fucking her, filling her.

“Yes!” he growled, and gave her flesh a sharp, stinging nip.

Unable to take any more, Verica jerked upright and swung off his head, then moved around until she could crawl across his lap. Hands shaking with lust, she planted her knees on the seat beside his hips, grabbed his magnificent cock, and aimed it for her juicy opening. Meeting his blazing dark eyes, she began to sink onto the thick shaft.

She instantly realized she was still too new at this; the big head entered, but then lodged fast as her tight walls clamped around it. But she was also too hungry to care, so she forced herself lower, driving his cock more deeply inside her body, impaling herself until it was all the way in, thick and maddening.

Julian swore breathlessly. She writhed, desperate for her climax. “Fuck me!” he growled and she braced her knees on the seat and lifted herself, groaning as his length slid from her, tormenting her sex deliciously. He rolled his hips upward, meeting her as she slid down again.

Hot, desperate, they strove together, cock and cunt greedy, ramming one another hungrily. Each slick, silken thrust maddened her until she jogged against him mindlessly. The pleasure built and built, his shaft creating a delicious friction in her tight, wet sex, and she felt herself trembling on the edge of a searing orgasm.

“Verica,” Julian gasped, begging. “Release the collar!”

Knowing what he needed, she reached up and dragged her fingers over the control on the gold ring around his neck. It snapped open. She draped herself over his chest, presenting her throat to his hungry mouth.

Raising his head, he sank his fangs into the soft skin of her throat and began to drink in long, greedy swallows, rolling his hips hard, grinding against her spread, starving sex.

Fire burst behind her eyes in a shower of sparks as her orgasm rolled over her. She twisted, convulsing with a cry. He growled against her neck and surged upward against her as he jetted into the depths of her cunt.

He was still feeding, Verica draped over him in exhausted pleasure, when the door slid open and André and Dominic stuck their heads in.

“Uh, Verica, we were wondering . . .” André began, sounding surprisingly diffident for a man who’d mouth-fucked her a few hours before.

“Would you mind doing us next?” Dominic finished, grinning at the sight of his captain, bound to the chair with their captive lying limp on top of him.

Julian lifted his head from Verica’s throat and snarled. Both vampires prudently withdrew.

Out in the corridor, André lifted a brow and grinned at his friend. “Maybe later.”

A
lexis Rogers shifted on her high heels, nibbling her lower lip. Her mouth felt dry, probably because every drop of moisture in her body had taken up residence between her thighs. God, she’d never been so turned on.

Especially not from watching somebody else have sex.

And how the hell did Frank turn swinging a bullwhip into a sex act? Not just a kink act—something that aroused you if you had a little twist in that direction. Which admittedly, Alex did. No, he used the lash with sensual precision, as if he were eating out the blonde lying across the spanking bench. Plump, pretty, and naked, Tara merely groaned in woozy pleasure.

Thirty people surrounded the two in the basement dungeon, watching with rapt interest. One of them was Tara’s husband, who leaned a shoulder against the cement block wall. Roy was a gangly dominant with thinning blond hair whose hazel eyes were fixed intently on his wife. Though he loved bondage and emotional domination, Roy couldn’t bring himself to hurt his masochistic submissive. He often arranged for someone else to provide the impact play Tara craved.

Apparently, Frank had volunteered to provide them with the foreplay this time. And foreplay was all he’d be getting out it; Tara and Roy never had penetrative sex with anyone but each other.

That was okay. If all went as planned, Alex would make it up to the big dominant. Or maybe not; she’d have to see.

Still, the Captain—host of tonight’s house party—had been talking about Frank for years. She gathered they’d served together in the Navy before Cap retired and left San Diego to come to Atlanta with his wife.

Now it seemed Frank had moved to the area too. Must have been recently. Alex had never seen the big dominant at any of the very private parties Cap and his wife threw for close friends among Atlanta’s kinksters.

CRACK!
The popper—the fringe at the very tip of the bullwhip—struck Tara’s reddening ass. By rights, it ought to sting like a bitch, but Frank had Tara so high on endorphins and adrenaline, it seemed she no longer felt the pain at all. At least not judging by the moan that sounded far more like pleasure than pain.

Which was a testament to his skill as a dominant. He’d built the intensity slowly, starting with a spanking, then progressing through two different floggers—the first deerskin, the second with thinner tresses that made the submissive yelp at the sting. The blows he gave her were hard, but not too hard, letting Tara sink into the sensations and get properly turned on. Only then had he got out the bullwhip.

Between clusters of strikes, Frank gave her erotic caresses, stroking her pussy and reddening ass. The combination of pain and pleasure had sent her flying on her body’s natural endorphins and adrenalin. Alex knew from experience that the high was similar to what some runners felt during a marathon—a floating, delicious euphoria. Pursuit of that erotic high was what drove subs like Tara—and Alex herself, for that matter—to seek out dominants like Frank. Skilled, a little sadistic, with a keen understanding of a submissive’s darkest needs.

Yeah, Frank definitely knew his way around a sub’s body, just as the Captain had said.

Now the overhead spotlight pouring down on the blonde caught the wet glistening of rosy vaginal lips. She lay with wrists and ankles cuffed to the bench’s legs, the wedge shape of the custom-made bench raising her hips higher than her head. Offering up her curvy little ass to her sensual tormentor.

Pacing around Tara, Frank dealt out another set of carefully measured blows, watching her with an absorbed erotic intensity. He seemed acutely aware of every twitch of her full ass, flex of her fingers, and heartfelt sensual moan. He moved like a bullfighter as he swung the whip in practiced, hissing arcs, using a blend of athleticism and grace that was all the more impressive considering his size.

Frank was big. Really big.

Alex, who was good at judging height and weight—she had to be, given her job—figured him at six-five or six-six, maybe two hundred and forty deliciously muscled pounds. If there was an ounce of fat anywhere on the man, she couldn’t see where. He’d pulled his shirt off in the dungeon’s warmth, revealing broad, brawny shoulders and the kind of bare torso that rippled in interesting places. His long legs were clad in faded jeans tucked into polished leather riding boots.

God, she’d always had a thing for riding boots.

It was harder to make out the details of his face as he paced in the basement’s shadows. Fortunately, he’d e-mailed Alex a photo a week or so ago.

His features had a kind of stark good looks, with a long, thin nose, cleft chin, and a pugnaciously broad jaw. He wore his black hair in a stern military cut that emphasized the stark angularity of his cheekbones. The total effect might have been forbidding, had it not been for his mouth. Wide, with a plump lower lip and a pronounced upper bow, it looked soft, deliciously kissable.

Alex had wanted to taste that seductive mouth the moment the photo popped into her e-mail.

Patience,
she told herself. Cap had said he’d introduce them after the scene. And since the Captain was a notorious kinkster matchmaker, she knew he’d keep his promise.

CRACK!

Powerful muscle rippled along Frank’s right arm and across his wide chest as he popped the whip against Tara’s ass. The sub caught her breath, then let it out in a long, erotic groan.

“Rate it,” Frank ordered, in voice so rich and deep, it seemed to tighten something in Alex’s sex.

Tara didn’t answer. He stalked around the bench, wrapped a huge fist in her cascade of blonde curls, and jerked her head back with a dominant’s showy snarl. “When I ask you a question, you damned well answer. Talk to me!”

“Uh . . .” The girl panted. Her voice sounded slurred, barely coherent. “I don’t . . .” Yeah, she was definitely flying. All those endorphins had rendered her barely coherent.

Frank glanced toward Roy. Tara’s husband nodded and picked up the blanket and bottle of water he’d had waiting for this moment.

Crouching by Tara’s head, Frank began talking to her in a low voice as her husband joined them.

“You can tell a lot about a dom by the way he gives aftercare,” Calvin Stephens observed from Alex’s shoulder. “He could have just let her husband handle it, but he’s taking part. Point in his favor.” The submissive turned to the man next to him. His narrow, clever face split in a grin that revealed teeth so white, they appeared to glow against his dark skin. “You’ve always been good at aftercare, Sir.”

Ted Arlington snorted. He was a head shorter than Alex, between the heels she was wearing and the fact she was five-ten to begin with. Even so, his build was all muscle and power—and he knew how to use it. Any idiot who assumed he could kick Ted’s ass because he was short soon learned otherwise. Beneath the brush cut he had a broad, squared-off, intensely masculine face, with a full-lipped mouth, a round bulb of a nose and a blond mustache. “You’re just saying that because I always give you cock as part of the aftercare package.”

Cal grinned wickedly, dipping his dark gaze to his dominant’s zipper. “And what a nice package it is, Sir.”

“Suck-up.”

“But you like it when I suck.”

“You’re pushing it, subbie.”

As the two went into their standard teasing routine, Alex’s gaze slid across the basement in search of Frank.

He’d helped Roy unbuckle Tara from the spanking bench so the two men could wrap her in the blanket. As Alex watched, they helped her over to one of the couches that stood against the big basement’s walls. Pulling what was probably a trail mix bar from his pocket, Frank sank down beside the couple to unwrap it for her. Meanwhile, Roy helped her with the bottle of water she couldn’t quite manage on her own.

“I don’t know about you two,” Alex said, with a nod toward the trio, “but I’m impressed.”

“That’s not saying much.” Ted folded his massive arms and braced his legs apart. His brush cut hair shone pale blond under one of the basement’s recessed lights. “You were also impressed by Gary.”

Alex forced a smile to hide the sting of pain she felt. “Well, Gary was very pretty.”

“So’s a coral snake. I still wouldn’t fuck one.”

“Sir, you do know gay men are supposed to be sensitive, right?”

“Sass me one more time, subbie, and I’ll make you so sensitive you won’t be able to sit for the next week.”

“Oh, would you, Sir?”

“Keep it up,” Ted growled, eyeing him with the expression of exaggerated menace he reserved for his dom act. Alex had seen his real menacing expression frequently in the course of the job. It was one hell of a lot colder. “As for you . . .” He turned to give her the same look he’d just given Calvin. “I want to talk to this Frank before you traipse off to scene with him, got me? I don’t want you hurt by some Mr. Danger Dom. I worked too damn long to turn you into a good cop to lose you to an asshole.”

Alex smiled, warmed by both the uncharacteristic compliment and her friend’s gruff concern. “You know good and damned well the Captain isn’t going to set me up with a Danger Dom.”

“Unless I’m really, really mistaken, I somehow doubt the Captain has ever slept with Frank, much less subbed for him.”

“You’re not mistaken, Sir,” Cal assured him. “Cap definitely doesn’t bat for our team.”

“And how would you know that, Cal?” Alex narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Been flirting?”

“With the Captain?” The slender young man recoiled in mock horror. “God, no. He scares me. He looks like Captain Picard’s bigger, meaner brother.”

“You are such a nerd, Cal.”

He put up both hands. “Hey, my mom’s a fan. She raised me on reruns of Next Gen.”

“Your
mom
,” she drawled, pumping skepticism into her voice. “Riiiiiiight. Tell it to somebody who doesn’t know you and your fanboy buddies. I’ve heard y’all argue about whether Captain Picard is cooler than Captain Kirk way too many times.”

“That’s self-evident,” Cal said loftily. “Kirk is
much
cooler. Take how he handled the Klingons . . .”

“Look, this is serious, Alex,” Ted snapped, before she could make a concerted effort to divert him with the Alex-and-Cal comedy hour. “Not that you’ve ever had the sense to be afraid—of anything—but this guy is big enough to hurt you no matter how good you are in a fight. Don’t give him the chance.”

“Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t.”

“None of your lip.” Ted glowered at her. “Just because I don’t do women, that doesn’t mean I won’t whip your little ass as hard as the subbie’s.”

“And that’s pretty damned hard,” Cal put in.

“Yeah, okay, I hear you.” Her gaze slid back toward Frank again.

Ted looked at Cal. “I just wasted my breath, didn’t I?”

“Might as well try to blow out a forest fire like a birthday candle,” Cal agreed. “She’s completely under his evil spell.” His voice turned dreamy. “His muscular, towering, evil, evil spell.”

“I am definitely kicking your ass tonight.”

Which, knowing Cal, was precisely what he’d had in mind.

*   *   *

T
he redhead was driving Frank Murphy crazy. Alex—they’d exchanged e-mails, but she hadn’t revealed her last name yet—wore the proverbial little black dress that hugged some luscious curves. Throw in those lace-stocking-clad legs and skyscraper heels, and it was no wonder he was finding it impossible to concentrate. Which was unacceptable, especially when he was providing aftercare to somebody he’d just whipped right into subspace.

Focus on Tara, dammit
. He’d told Roy he’d take care of her, and he’d do it if it killed him.

Be easier if he could throw a burqa over Alex though. Those legs . . . God, the Leg Fairy had been good to the girl. Endless as a Fallujah patrol, with long, lean muscle in thigh and calf that flexed every time she twitched a do-me heel. He’d bet his Trident—the Navy SEAL special warfare insignia—that she ran every fucking day. He’d love to have her wrap his ass in those legs while he ground in nice and deep . . .

No wonder he had a hard-on up to his navel.

Tara, dammit. Get your mind back on Tara
. Discipline wasn’t usually this much a problem. Between Iraq, Afghanistan, and his mother—and all their respective IEDs, whether literal or not—Frank knew how to gut it out through almost anything.

Roy looked up at him over Tara’s blonde head. “I can take it from here. Go talk to Alex.”

He stiffened. Was his distraction that damned obvious?

“You done good, Frank,” the man reassured him. “I’ve never seen anybody send Tara flying this high. It’s going to take me an hour to pull her down out of orbit—assuming she stays awake that long. I only know about Alex because Cap’s been talking about setting you two up since he heard you were moving back to the area.”

“Ah. All right. Look, thanks for trusting me to scene with your wife.” Smiling, he shook the other dom’s hand and rose. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Don’t I know it.” Roy gave Tara a tender smile as she leaned against his shoulder. She sent him a slow, dazed blink in return. “See you later, Frank.”

“Later.” Pivoting, he looked around for his host, wanting the introduction Cap had promised him.