The Vampire Queen's Servant (10 page)

Of course, Thomas had been a
monk. Which made Jacob add another question to his list. Had
Thomas
done this type of thing with her? Because he'd assumed the monk was under the
vow of celibacy, he'd never even thought to ask.

Cold steel locked around his
ankle. A loose fit, but not enough that he'd get it off without shearing off
his heel. Trailing her hand down his foot, over his toes, she traced the lines
between them. Her lips were soft and warm on his knee, the area just below it.
He wanted to see her, but by holding the position she'd ordered he could only feel
her and strain his ears to hear her movements.

The contact of her mouth
tickled, making him quiver. Her lips curved against him. A smile, maybe. He
felt a prick, just the touch of a fang, and then her weight shifted. Putting
her back against his bound leg, she sat, letting his leg and the bed support
her as she took hold of the other foot and restrained it in the same manner.
There were chains attached to the manacles and she made some adjustment to them
which widened the spread of his legs with the pressure of her shoulder against
one of his calves.

Air touched his balls as she
made him that much more defenseless by somehow anchoring the chains to the
corner posts. He swallowed, told himself he could lie here. That he'd done this
willingly. He wasn't afraid of her hurting him, so why was a well of panic
trying to cloud his brain, take over his body and make it tremble as if he were
some type of untried virgin?

"Very nice." She
caressed the inside of his leg, dragging her nails over his thigh. His cock was
at full attention now as if it knew she'd straightened to look at it.

"Even better," she
murmured. Her body rubbed against his leg as she rose. She appeared like the
unexpected touch of a breeze up near his head, standing on her knees on the
mattress to the right of his straining hands. The neckline of her robe was
loose, showing him the crescents of her breasts. At his avid gaze, she spread
the upper part of the robe open, revealing her bosom completely. She had curves
like firm, juicy apples, the pink nipples capturing his attention and making
saliva pool in his mouth.

She pulled another set of
manacles on the bed. As she balanced herself, her hands closed on his wrists
and the metal snapped onto them, a series of clicks and pressure that told him
they were locked with a key like the ones on his ankles. Crossing his wrists,
she hooked the manacles together, avoiding contact with his fingers. A hard
quiver ran through his muscles as she used the key to sweep a lock of hair off
his forehead.

"You've stopped straining.
Reach for the edge of the bed as far as you can."

"Come down here."

"Obey me and perhaps I
will."

Her voice was breathless.

He swallowed the urge to reach
up before his hands were anchored and make her come down to him. For one thing,
she could easily slip away. But he was recalling her words.

If you can't obey me, I have
no use for you.

He wasn't sure that was true,
but some iota of good sense told him he'd better not test his theory at this
moment. So he reached as far as he could, feeling the muscles of his upper body
sliding up his ribs, stretching taut over his stomach. Her eyes reflected her
enjoyment in the show.

The arch in his back increased
as she moved away to tether the manacles with chain to the bed rail, drawing up
the slack further. Taking hold of the joining point of the manacles on his
wrists, she pulled on him, one sharp, decisive move that elicited a grunt from
him and stretched out his body several more inches. It would have taken a rack
borrowed from the Spanish Inquisition—or a vampire's strength—to extend his
body this far, and he felt the strain in his joints as she held him with one
hand, tightening the chains with the other to keep him that way.

The floor was gone beneath his
toes. She'd just made him completely helpless. The room had gotten
exponentially smaller, warmer. With his thighs spread, nothing protected his
genitals. His cock had no sense at all, staying high and stiff, calling all
sorts of attention to itself. The stretched position put pressure on the gnawing
hunger in his lower abdomen.

"Does looking at me make
you wetter, my lady?" Fighting panic, he asked the question with rough
demand, driven mad by watching her gaze course over him, linger.

"It does, Jacob. Would you
like to taste?"

"I would. If it pleases my
lady."

"You've learned your
manners well. I'll have to attend more Faires in the future." However,
rather than granting his desire, she sat on the bed, spread out the hem of her
robe's skirt in a half moon before her and smoothed it. Sitting there with her
dark hair falling on her creamy shoulders, she was bewitching, her breasts bare
and taunting him with their proximity. "My cunt is a hot, wet sheath, but
small and tight, my courteous knight. You seem generously endowed."

"Well, my lady, perhaps you
should let me make your silken walls more so with my tongue, for an easier
fit." He swallowed. "Christ, let me fuck you, Lyssa. Let me give you
pleasure."

His fingers closed into fists as
he braced himself for what might come next. Protecting her he'd been prepared
to do. Taking care of her. But he hadn't expected to be at her total mercy.

"Not just yet. I think you
need a test in obedience first. You're talking out of turn again. I'd also
advise you to think twice before you ever call me familiar again." Rising
to her knees, she spread the hem of her robe out like a curtain just above her
knees as she straddled his forearms. As she looked down at him, he had to fight
the urge to crane his neck back, see if she had spread open the garment enough
to give him a glimpse of heaven.

"I'm going to move over
your body now. If you don't remain still, I'll stop, get off the bed and leave
you this way for an hour as punishment before we start again."

In this position he could fondle
the base of her bare ass with his fingertips, for the back of the robe was
draped over his hands. But as she stared down at him, he didn't.

She walked on her knees, as
delicate in her movements as a crane through water. Watching the hem lift above
him as she moved toward his head, he felt the wave of trapped heat beneath. He
inhaled her a moment before she released the robe and it drifted over his face,
closing him into darkness. The soft fabric brushed his jaw, the lines of his
shoulders and biceps as she moved along the length of his arms, now like a wild
cat gliding slowly over a fallen tree. When she straddled his head, her thighs
brushed his temples, the heat of her cunt just above him as she progressed.

He registered wetness on his
forearm. Warmth. Arousal she'd left there.

All intentions to obey
dissipated. Perhaps she'd do as she'd threatened. Perhaps not. That was her
decision. This one was his, and he was going to make it damn hard for her to
make hers.

He eased upward so she'd know
his action was premeditated and began to lap at her, his tongue making the
second sweet contact of the night with those slick lips. He didn't rush, didn't
try to devour her in one bite. Didn't want to nip at her like a dog and make
her jump away. He teased, stroked, made her hesitate on the point of decision
of what to do about his disobedience. Whether to follow her own mandate or
decide it was worthwhile to take some time to mull it over.

In this position his chin and
lower lip had the best access to her clit and so he rubbed her, letting her
feel the rough friction of the trimmed fringe of his beard as he delved deeper
with his tongue, using his neck muscles to strain higher. Oh, sweet Jesus in
heaven. That was a shudder of response against his mouth. As he clamped his
lips more tightly over her, starting to suckle around his thrusting tongue, he
nuzzled the tiny puckered entrance to her backside with his nose.

She dug her hand into his chest
and the upper part of his abdomen for balance. The imprint of all five fingers
seared his skin like a tattoo. She began to rub herself against his mouth, the
wet heat of her body lubricating her movements so he felt his cheeks, mouth and
chin getting damp. He reveled fiercely in it, her taste. He might have sold his
soul to take her just once in the quiet, magical dimness of her bedroom.

She started to move toward his
feet again, leaving his face. Turning his head, he bit the inside of her leg
gently, trying to hold her through persuasion, but she kept going, the skirt of
the garment whispering over his face, a trail of pitch black filled with her
scent. Her knees moved over his shoulders, then back to the bed on either side
of him. When the robe slipped from his face she'd reached his hips. She turned
to face him, swinging her leg over his cock and giving him the incredulous hope
she'd impale herself, give him that welcoming glove.

Instead, she seated herself on
his stomach and untied the robe, letting it drop off her shoulders and pulling
it free so she sat upon him completely naked. His gaze moved over her. His lady.
His Mistress. Why it was so easy to think of her that way had to be more than
just Thomas's training, and he knew it. While he couldn't explain it, he
couldn't deny the swirl of primitive desire taking him over, making him willing
to do whatever she wanted to accept him.

As all born vampires were, she
was perfect. Not a blemish to her pale skin, no memory evoked by childhood
scars. Now he could see what he'd known from tasting the sweetness of her
pussy, that she had no silky black hair between her legs to match the God's
bounty spilling over her shoulders and down her back.

As he watched, she reached
between her legs with both hands and came away with wet fingers. Starting to
rock her hips again, she stroked herself against his stomach. Bumped his cock
with each undulation of her ass, performing a sinuous dance upon him.

His throat was dry as she arched
back, a lithe move to trace her damp fingers along the inside of his right leg
and then his left. Her backside pushed his cock down with the crescent angle of
her body. She ran her hands along the outside of his calves, then his thighs,
marking him with the honey she'd gathered on her hands. In that position, if he
could ignore the screaming in his neck, he could look down his body to an
unimpeded view of her pussy in its glistening state.