Darkness Captured (12 page)

“But you have those like Irkalla and her bitch sister. They’re Born vampires and very much alive.”

“It’s possibly why I allowed myself to be attracted to Irkalla.”

“And you’re a demon, right? As the Master of the Demons,” she said, “you’re alive.”

“Not in the same way. We don’t have that inner fire, that same vitality. We operate on hunger rather than love.”

Gabriella drew her brows into a frown. “I don’t operate on love.”

“Love for life, for adventure then. You brim with fire.”

She canted her head. “Do you think that by touching me, capturing me, that you can capture some of that fire?”

His glance slid away. “When I walked in your realm, I loved a woman. A human. Her hair was the color of fire. Her passion for life was fierce. I abandoned her long ago, but I remember how it felt to hold her and make love with her.”

“So I’m a substitute for the woman you left behind?”

“You’re nothing like her.”

“In a good way or bad way?” she said, letting a smile curve her lips.

He lifted one dark brow. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

Gabriella wrinkled her nose at him, enjoying the conversation. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure out if I’m doomed to disappoint.”

“Are you worried you will not please me?”

She hadn’t been. Not until he said it. But Marduk wasn’t quite the monster she’d expected. Not that she thought for a minute that he wouldn’t lash out in a heartbeat if she defied him, but she sensed he was simply lonely. Suddenly, not measuring up, disappointing him, meant something to her. And not just because it would harm her campaign to cozen him into trusting her.

“I think,” she said slowly, “that I’ve come to understand that I need you. So the last thing I want is to fail to meet your expectations.”

Marduk wiped his fingertips on his napkin and raised a hand to her face. His palm cupped her cheek while his gaze bored into hers. Again, she hoped like hell he couldn’t read minds, because she thought her will might be crumbling.

“Already, you please me greatly.” His thumb slid beneath her chin, then over it. The slight pressure from it teased her mouth open.

He bent toward her and pressed his lips to hers, and Gabriella melted against the plush cushions of the couch, her meal forgotten. Pleasure exploded, trembling on her mouth where he brushed her lips in drugging laps, his moustache and beard gently abrading her skin, setting fire to her body. Her nipples beaded against the soft mesh; her pussy dampened the linen skirt beneath her.

He leaned over her, pressing her backward until she lay deep in the cushions. She parted her legs, opening to him as he came down on her, one foot on the floor, a knee nudging between her legs, pushing up the skirt and rubbing against her sex.

His breaths deepened, seeping into her mouth. His tongue, tasting of honey and roses, plunged into her mouth, lapping along hers, curling to rim her teeth, then licking her lips and tugging them. When he pulled back, she rose to follow, not because he hurt her, but because she wanted more.

His hands smoothed around her bare waist and pulled at the bow behind her. Her bra loosened, sliding sideways, and he dove for a breast, nuzzling aside the fabric and rubbing his chin, his lips, and then his tongue over the sensitive peak.

Her belly undulated, her hips lifting to rub harder against his knee, but it wasn’t enough. She pulled his dark hair, forcing his head back. “Please, Bel, Lord …
please
…”

His low, rumbling growl set her pussy pulsing. He stripped away the bra. “Hold out your hands.”

Gabriella lifted them, pressing her wrists together, and he bound them with the bra and stretched her arms above her head. She writhed on the sofa, still pressing her pussy against his knee. It wouldn’t take much more for her to come.

He tugged the braid at her hips, unwrapping her skirt as though opening a present, pushing apart the fabric to bare her sex.

She’d left a wet spot on his dark trousers. They both stared at it, and his eyes narrowed and his chest rose faster. He untied the top of his pants, exposing his long, thick cock, and she put a foot on the floor and raised her hips, inviting him to slide his cock inside her.

His eyes closed, his hand gripped his cock and rubbed up and down his shaft, and then he wound his other hand in the braid at her wrist and pulled her up.

She followed, letting him turn her to face away. He draped her over the back of the sofa on the soft plush cushions. She widened her legs, bending low, standing on bent legs on the sofa cushions while he rose and stood behind her. In this awkward position, she couldn’t look back, couldn’t see what he was doing, but she felt his hands cup her buttocks, felt his mouth drop kisses on one globe and then the other, felt his fingers cupping her sex from behind and swirling inside.

Her legs quivered, and she tried to draw a deeper breath, but the edge of the sofa bit into her diaphragm and she could only gasp, growing lightheaded as he continued to finger her, thrusting into her and drawing down more moisture.

Then he leaned against her, his cock prodding her entrance. He had to be standing behind her. She could imagine how he looked hovering over her quivering frame, and she was helpless to prevent anything he might do.

Fingers traced the crease between her buttocks. His cock circled on her cunt, just the blunt, rounded head pressing inside. Her pussy contracted—a sexy kiss that left his crown slick with her juices. Air hissed between his teeth.

He parted her buttocks, thumbs digging between, and she knew where he was looking. God, would he just fuck her? She tried to thrust backward and force his cock deeper, but he pulled away. She moaned at the loss.

Now her whole body trembled and jerked with slight spasms, tension winding tightly inside her. His cock glided around her opening, then stroked downward, nudging her clit. A thumb circled on her forbidden entrance, rimming the sensitive mouth.

“What do you want, love?” he whispered.

“For you to take me,” she moaned.

“Is there anything you would deny me?”

“Nothing. Just please come inside me.”

His hands stilled. His body withdrew. “Xalia, come.”

Gabriella’s belly knotted. “No, no, no … I sent her away …”

“She’s never far away.”

Bells tinkled, drawing closer. The cushions between Gabriella’s spread legs sank. Soft hair brushed against the apex of her thighs, and then a warm, moist mouth pressed against Gabriella’s open sex.

Gabriella lifted up, sending a frantic glance backward. Xalia sat on the couch, facing the Master, her hands wrapped around his cock but her head disappearing between Gabriella’s legs. Her mouth suckled Gabriella’s sex and stroked the cock thrusting between her hands.

Gabriella met the challenge glittering in the Master’s eyes and clamped her jaw shut, facing forward again. She wouldn’t freak out, wouldn’t complain. She’d told him she’d do anything. And the things she felt—spread open for him to enjoy, being pleasured by his little slave’s mouth—were almost too pleasurable to bear.

Xalia’s breaths bathed her wet sex in small, excited gasps. Her lips pulled at Gabriella’s labia, her tongue stroked into her entrance, then scraped downward, glancing over her distended clit.

Gabriella groaned, and her legs trembled again. When her demon lover’s hands clamped on her buttocks and his cock came at her again, pressing past Xalia’s tongue, Gabriella was past caring that two inhuman creatures were taking her. The rasping tongue lashing at her clit and his thick, hot cock felt divine.

His strokes sank slowly inside her, tunneling deep, past tissues still hot and swollen from their earlier rounds of lovemaking. It didn’t matter, it didn’t hurt, she was so wet, so hot, she was quickly unraveling.

His hands went to her waist and another set parted her buttocks, and then long, slender fingers wrapped around the globes and slid between. When Xalia’s slight, soft fingertips entered her ass, curling, stroking deep, Gabriella couldn’t have protested if she’d wanted to. She was close, edging toward an orgasm so explosive her legs turned to rubber. But Marduk held her upright, slamming her toward him, rocking her against Xalia’s mouth, the motions dragging on the fingers stroking inside her.

More fingers pressed inside, stretching her, and she knew he was watching the long, pale green stems torturing her ass, because his strokes were becoming sharper, stronger, charged with his growing excitement.

Her breasts chafed on the soft sofa, her nipples ripening, the tips elongating. Her skin was getting hotter, her cunt clasping, creamy arousal churning inside her, making the sounds of his strokes wetter, nastier—the way she liked it.

When Xalia’s lips closed around her clit and suckled it hard, Gabriella’s back arched and a thin, keening wail broke as a wave of wet, hot heat poured over her body. The Master’s strokes slowed as she came back down, draped over the sofa back, limp and sated.

Xalia moaned against her sex, but let go of her clit, pausing to lick it with long brushes of her slippery tongue as the last shivering convulsions waned.

Then the two beneath and behind her left. Bells trilled toward the pool then returned. A soft cloth cleansed her intimately, and then large hard hands lifted her up.

Held against her demon’s chest, she raised her bound hands over his neck, and snuggled her face into the corner of his shoulder as he strode toward the bed.

Xalia pulled back the covers. The Master laid her in the center, and then aimed a glance at Xalia, who grinned with delight. Gabriella didn’t have the energy to grow alarmed, simply accepted the tug on her tethers that once again stretched her arms upward. Another length of braiding, ripped from her linen skirt, was tied between her hands and looped around an iron spoke in the ornate headboard.

She couldn’t gather the energy to complain. If they wanted to play, they’d have to do it while she napped.

It wasn’t until something was latched around each ankle that she pried open an eyelid to peek. Thick leather bands encircled her—bands with hooks on the outside. When ropes were tied over opposite sides of the canopy above and then tied off in the hooks, she came fully awake.

She’d been trussed up like this before. Spread for the pleasure of a Dom who’d liked keeping her helpless while he stroked her skin with a flogger and fucked both orifices with a strap-on and his own cock.

Now, she wondered what a demon might do. And just how depraved she was to hope his skill trumped her Atlanta master.

CHAPTER
8

F
or Gabriella, time slowed and nerve endings honed painfully sharp as her arousal was slowly stoked over and over to a fever pitch. Lying with her hands tied, her legs raised and spread, added a scary, thrilling edge to the play. They could do anything they wanted and she was completely helpless to stop them.

What they wanted, apparently, was to drive her slowly crazy. She’d expected a sexy flogging followed by something deliciously rough. Instead, they were trying to tease her to death—driving her to the edge and then retreating, waiting until her blood cooled and her arousal faded before torturing her upward again.

They’d taken turns lapping at her pussy, one dipping downward to lick and suckle her quivering folds while the other held her sex spread open and rubbed her clit. Each time she’d be so close, her breaths growing ragged, but then they’d sat back, stroking her belly and her legs while she’d thrashed her head and cursed them.

She’d tried hiding her response, holding her breath when her orgasm approached, forcing her body to remain still, but they’d known. Her pussy pulsed; her silken fluids drenched the bedding beneath her.

Now Xalia’s hands moved in soft, liquid swirls as she smoothed oil over her skin, anointing every inch of her chest, belly and legs, soothing her with the steady motions.

Gabriella smelled like a head shop, redolent with oriental incenses like patchouli and sandalwood. Her skin gleamed pale and golden in the candlelight.

When Xalia stroked the oil between her legs, starting mid-thigh and gliding deeper, she glanced against her outer labia and then slid away.
Sweet fuck, would they ever let her come?

Gabriella began to fight her ties in earnest. Her head thrashed on the pillow, the muscles of her arms and legs tensed and jerked until she tired and relaxed limply against her restraints. Defeated again.

The Master watched, lying on his side at the end of the bed, his gaze on her open sex as Xalia tortured her with gentle caresses.

Gabriella could only stare raptly when the green face descended toward her sex and a dark tongue lavished her folds with wet strokes that teased the edges, then lapped between and at last prodded her entrance.

She thought she’d go out of her mind when Xalia’s long, slender digits fingered her asshole and plunged inside. She had no intentions of complaining, not when Marduk’s eyelids dropped and his nostrils flared as the aroma of her arousal strengthened. Maybe this time he’d be tempted beyond control to end it.

But he sat up and clapped his hands.

Gabriella’s gaze swung to the door.

A man, dressed in a short linen skirt similar to the one she’d worn, entered the chamber, carrying a flanged implement. By the deference of his downcast eyes, she guessed he was a servant.
Another sex slave?

Leanly built and youthful, he had a sculpted nose and jaw, thin sensual lips, and gleaming brown eyes. His chestnut hair was long and tied back in a leather thong.

Xalia crowed with delight and pulled away, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside the Master, who promptly began to finger her slick green labia, his gaze locking with Gabriella’s. They sat as though preparing for a performance.

The young man in the skirt knelt on the edge of the mattress and lowered his head. “May I pleasure the supplicant?”

At Marduk’s nod, the younger man raised the flogger and tapped Gabriella’s inner thigh.

She didn’t react—purposely, because she craved a serious whipping. After the tender torture, she wouldn’t let loose until her skin and sex stung. Setting her lips into a straight, stoic line, she didn’t blink at the anemic lashes he delivered.