The Sacrifice (16 page)

“Why?” I demand. “Are we going to be putting on some kind of
show?”

“Emma,” he growls softly. “Either you suck my cock here and now or
I will put you on your back on the table and lick out your sweet little pussy
until you cream all over my face—all while Barnes clears the table and polishes
every piece of silver in the house not two feet from your head.”

I can feel my skin shrinking from the very idea of such shame. And
from the look in Aiden’s eyes, he’s serious. He really will do that to me.
Reluctantly, I bend my head toward him again.

“That’s good, darling,” Aiden murmurs as I lap tentatively at the
broad head of his cock. That little clear droplet at its crown is salty and as
delicious as I thought it would be. “You’re such a good girl to suck my cock,
Emma.”

Trying to forget that Barnes is there, I lean farther and take
even more. The head alone is a mouthful but I like the feeling of it filling my
mouth. And I especially like the way Aiden strokes my hair and whispers what a
good girl I am and how well I suck him. I don’t know why his approval means so
much to me—honestly, it really shouldn’t. But somehow it does—maybe because
some deep, buried part of me wants to make my master proud.

“Oh,
Emma
,” he groans softly, his long fingers carding
through my hair as I lap and suck the broad head. He has more clear fluid—pre-cum,
I suppose—flowing now, and I lick it up eagerly and suck him, looking for more.
I wish I could get him all in my mouth, that I could feel him throbbing at the
back of my throat, but I know that’s impossible. He’s simply too big for me to
handle. I like trying, though.

Soon I’ve forgotten all about Barnes and found a steady rhythm of
licking and sucking and tasting. I wish I could touch him with my hands too but
they’re still bound in front of me as I kneel naked between my master’s legs,
pleasuring him with my mouth.

I never want it to end but Aiden pulls me away long before I’m
finished.

“Enough.” He is panting, his large frame shaking with some
emotion. Lust? Desire? “Dessert is over now,” he tells me, tucking himself away
before I can protest and helping me to my feet. “It’s time for bed.”

My legs are all pins and needles from kneeling so long and I
wobble as I stand. Aiden scoops me up at once, cradling me in his arms like a
small child.

“I can walk,” I protest as he carries me effortlessly through the
house as though I weighed no more than a feather.

“I don’t want you to.” He smiles at me. “I want to carry you to
the bedroom and tuck you in myself.”

I don’t complain anymore after that. I simply lay my head on his
broad shoulder and wonder if every dinner with my master is going to be like
this.

Chapter Fourteen

Once in the bedroom, he bustles about, getting me ready for bed. After
removing my collar, handcuffs, and nipple clamps—and pausing a moment to suck
my sore, tingling nipples as he does—he puts me in the shower stall. There he
washes me himself, with long, loving strokes using a big, puffy sponge. He
doesn’t seem to mind when the spray gets him slightly wet.

I wish he would touch me more intimately, that he would discard
the sponge and soap me with his bare hands. But he seems intent on teasing me,
touching me just enough without actually giving me any satisfaction. It’s
maddening but I sense it’s all a part of the game we’re playing.

A game I’m beginning to like much too much.

Aiden washes and conditions my hair, then gets me out of the
shower and dries me thoroughly with a large, fluffy, white towel. He wraps my
hair in another towel and then pronounces me ready for bed. He’s just about to
tuck me in naked, between the crisp cotton sheets, when I protest.

“But Aiden…Master, I’m not really tired yet. And it’s only…” I
glance at the grandfather clock standing against the far wall. “Eight o’clock.”

He frowns. “Don’t humans need at least ten to twelve hours of
sleep at night to be at their best?”

“Sure, if I was only three years old,” I say, feeling slightly
exasperated. “I’m twice eleven—I normally don’t go to bed much before midnight.
Six or seven hours of sleep is all I need.”

He raises an eyebrow at me skeptically, as though I’m a naughty
child trying to dodge bedtime. “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure.” This time I can’t keep the exasperation out
of my voice. “You were human once—don’t you remember?”

He shakes his head. “Emma, it’s been well over a century since I
was human or had anything to do with humans. And when I was turned, a great
many of my mortal memories faded—that is always the way with my kind.”

“Well, take it from me,” I say. “I don’t need to be put to bed
early like a child. I’m wide awake—I’d just be miserable lying here in the dark
with nothing to do.” I look at him shyly. “Unless…unless you were, um, planning
to come to bed with me?” My heart beats fast and I’m not sure how I want him to
answer.

Aiden smiles. “My curious little virgin. I would love to join you
in bed and spend hours exploring your body. But not tonight—you’re not ready
yet.”

I want to ask when I will be ready but I decide not to push it.
“What
are
you going to be doing until bedtime?” I ask, wondering where
he sleeps for the night and for how long.

“I have some work to catch up on—I was going to do it in the
study.”

“Well…can I join you?” I ask awkwardly. “If you’re busy I promise
not to interrupt. I can be very quiet—just give me a book to read.”

He looks thoughtful. “I must confess that I usually don’t enjoy
anyone’s company but my own. But you
are
growing on me at an alarming
rate.” He nods. “Yes, you may join me in the study.”

“Thank you…Master,” I say, smiling. It’s becoming disturbingly
easy to remember to call him that. I try not to think about it.

He smiles back. “We should change clothes first. I’m nearly as wet
as you are from your shower.” He eyes the fluffy white towel wrapped around me.
“And
you
are very overdressed.”

I bite my lip. Crap—I was just getting used to being covered
again. “Couldn’t I keep them on?” I ask softly. “I’m still wet and it’s chilly
in here.”

“It’s not that chilly,” Aiden begins but I cut him off.

“Not for a vampire, maybe. But for a human…” I wrap my arms around
myself and shiver theatrically.

He gives me a skeptical look and then sighs. “All right, I’ll find
you something.”

He rummages in the wardrobe, changing out of his business suit and
into a pair of faded, comfortable looking jeans and a white t-shirt that shows
off the width of his broad chest nicely. For me, he produces what looks to be a
long, satin smoking jacket in deep, emerald green.

“It’s mine,” he explains, removing my towels and draping it over
my shoulders. “From a time when such things were fashionable. It’s not the
style anymore, of course.”

“Of course,” I echo, smiling. “Unless you’re Hugh Hefner.”

He laughs. “Yes, well. I kept it because it’s comfortable. You may
wear it as long as you leave it open.” He strokes my cheek and then his hand
trails lower to cup my breast and casually thumb my nipple. “Any time I look at
you, I want to be able to see your luscious body. You must never hide it from
me, Emma.”

My breath catches in my throat as his touch starts an all too familiar
fire under my skin. “Yes, Master,” I whisper, almost without thought.

“Very good. You’re being so obedient all of a sudden.” He looks
extremely pleased. Then he lifts me gently and walks out the door toward the
study.

“Why are you carrying me again?” I ask, mystified. “I really am
capable of walking, you know.”

“I’m carrying you because I can. Because I like it.” He gives me a
warm, lingering kiss on the mouth before setting me on my feet, just inside the
study door. “Because you’re mine, Emma,” he says softly and then goes to sit
behind the huge desk, in the big black leather chair. “Now I must work. Find a
book to amuse yourself and don’t bother me.”

The abrupt change takes me aback somewhat, but when I study him
under my lashes, I can see that there’s nothing malicious about it. He simply
switches modes supernaturally quickly, from pleasure to work—it’s like a light
switch with him. He can turn it off and on whenever he needs to. Very practical
and utterly vampiric.

I can’t help envying him his supernatural concentration and
control—my skin is still warm and tingling where he touched me and I can still
taste his kiss on my lips. It’s useless to think of anything else but his hands
on me—still, I do try. I scan the shelves again for something to read but once
again I find nothing.

Finally I settle for the copy of
Farrow’s Handbook of Spells,
which
I was perusing earlier. I handle it carefully but to my relief, there are no
shocks from the worn leather cover this time. There’s a choice of two other seats
in the study—one is a comfortable looking brown leather loveseat drawn up
before the fireplace that dominates one end of the room. It’s all made up with
a stack of logs just ready to be lit but of course there’s no fire. In Florida's
nearly year-round heat, I bet Aiden doesn’t get to use the fireplace much.

The other seat is a wooden, straight backed chair sitting across
from Aiden’s desk. After a moment of internal debate, I take the copy of
Farrow’s
and settle onto the hard wooden chair across from him.

If Aiden notices my deliberate choice to be closer to him, he
doesn’t let on. His eyes remain fixed on the screen of his laptop and his
fingers keep flying over the keyboard with vampiric speed, making them look
like nothing more than white blurs.

Sighing to myself, I open
Farrow’s
and read over the
familiar spells. This handbook is one of the first that any young witch is
given to study. By the time she’s twelve or thirteen and has started
menstruating, she ought to be able to manage the simplest ones by herself.
Call
the Candle Flame to Life,
is the title of one spell. How well I remember
struggling with that one! My cousins could light candles from across the room
even before they hit puberty. With me…well, let’s just say I never even got the
candle’s wick to smolder. Not so much as a wisp of smoke though I tried for
hours upon hours.

There is a pair of ornate silver candlesticks on Aiden’s desk with
long, creamy white candles that have never been lit in them. Out of habit, I
concentrate on one of the tapering wicks and call for a flame. I know the
secret name of fire—I have known it from the age of eight. It was one of the
things my mother was teaching me just before our house burned down. I think it
now, letting it echo in my head. I close my eyes and imagine a flickering
yellow flame growing just for me, coming when I call like an obedient pet.

The image is so strong and vivid I’m half convinced that I’ve
finally done it. That I’ve finally called the flame. But when I open my eyes,
the wicks are still as cold and untouched as ever without even a wisp of smoke
or a hint of ash to show for my efforts.

What did you expect? You’re a dud.
But I’m still disappointed. Every
bit as much as I was as a child when I tried and tried and failed and failed
over and over until I burst into exhausted tears and finally accepted my
magic-less status.

I’m just beginning to feel really depressed when the soft strains
of acoustic guitar reach my ears. Hmm, that music is familiar…then I realize
that Aiden is watching the video again. What was it called? Something about the
gentle dominant, wasn’t it? I must admit that when I saw it earlier, I was a
little too distracted by the vid itself to bother memorizing the name.

Looking up, I see that he is utterly engrossed, his piercing eyes
fixed intently on the laptop screen. Is he getting anything out of this? He
doesn’t appear to be aroused but then, what do I know? Maybe he’s seething with
lust inside—I know I am. All day long I’ve been teased in various ways and I
still haven’t been allowed to come. I can feel my pussy tingling at the memory
of the movie and suddenly I want to see it again.

Moving quietly so as not to disturb his concentration, I put down
the copy of
Farrow’s
and walk around the desk to stand beside him and
watch.

The Dom is going down on his submissive again, licking and sucking
her little pussy while she moans softly and writhes against the bonds that hold
her to the bed. I feel my pussy begin to get hot and creamy at the sight. Then
I remember Aiden kneeling in front of me and giving my pussy that long, loving,
thorough kiss. Goddess, that was so hot. My knees feel weak just thinking about
it.

“Are you enjoying the movie?” Aiden’s deep voice cuts into my
thoughts and brings me back to myself. I look up to see that he’s watching me
instead of the screen. Feeling embarrassed, I press my thighs together, wishing
I was allowed to shut the green robe I’m wearing and cover my nakedness.

“Are
you?”
I counter, trying to be bold. “Why are you
watching it? You don’t look very, uh, affected by it.”

One corner of his sensual mouth quirks up in a smile. “Actually,
I’m watching less for pleasure than for information.”