The Vampire Queen's Servant (4 page)

The recollection of Thomas's
instruction was an irritating intrusion. Jacob didn't ask women's permission to
drive them to pleasure. He took his cues from their bodies, their gasps, the
clutch of their fingers. With her response, he felt an aggressive need to prove
he could take over her senses. Perhaps it was because she was challenging him
in a way no woman ever had. Or perhaps it was because he sensed against all
logic and Thomas's teachings she needed him to try to take her over. But for
the moment, he chose to obey Thomas's directive. In his own way.

He made himself look up at her.
"My lady, you don't need to tear me limb from limb to destroy me. Just
deny me the taste of you now. May I give you pleasure?"

He was already giving her
pleasure, on so many levels all Lyssa could think was she wanted his lips to be
doing far less talking. But the part of her that still hung grimly to a shred
of rationality was reassured by such hard-core evidence of Thomas's tutelage.
She suspected her answer was obvious to him, since her eyes could not help but
drift down his bare upper body to the hard and impressive evidence of his own
desire, revealed by his spread thighs. His cock was a long hard ridge against
the hose, held against him only by the tight constraint of the fabric. There
was a small wet area marking the tip as she'd suspected.

"Put your mouth on my cunt,
Jacob," she said softly. "Prove to me you want to be my slave."

Most human servants were not
fond of the term, but that was what they were. Bound to her service forever,
compelled by an oath to serve whatever need his Mistress demanded of him, a
servant could not deny the true nature of the role. So she used it
deliberately, watched his gaze flicker, a flare of resistance. But as she
moved, intending to push him back from her, he wrapped his arm over her bent
knee, his palm hot on the inside of her thigh as he levered it outward and
followed the line of it beneath her skirt, the gossamer fabric drifting over
him as he worked his way ever closer, his tongue now on that tender pocket of
bone and flesh at the joining point of thigh and hip, his jaw brushing the
outer labia beneath her soaked panties.

"Vanilla," he murmured
against her flesh as he turned his head. His mouth nuzzled her fully, still
separated from her flesh by the panties. She quivered at the contact.
"Powder. Perfume. So sweet, m'lady."

His voice was husky, muffled by
the fabric rucked up onto his broad shoulders. She curved her legs up on those
shoulders, resting her heels along the slope of his back. However, she clutched
the arms of the chair, not daring to allow herself the intimacy of touching him
with her hands. It had been two years since she'd allowed a man to touch her
like this. This was simply bottled up lust, being released with the
uncontrolled explosion of anything kept too long under pressure. But God, now
she wanted him to keep talking. The trace of Ireland was there the more he got
aroused, and it vibrated against her flesh.

Talk, don't talk. Smile,
don't smile. My lady, your moods are as mercurial as the weather, and ten times
as hard to predict.

Shut up, Thomas
. It was her mind imagining what the monk would be saying to her
now, but the recollection was so strong she could almost believe he might be
standing here, watching them with amusement. She'd no wish for a third party at
the moment.

Jacob worked his hand beneath
the skirt, hooked her panties, pulling the crotch aside so he could lick and
nuzzle her flesh. She sucked in a breath, moved against him. Shoved actually,
pressing her wet heat into his mouth, his nose and chin, unable to prevent
undulating against the friction of that soft beard. It and the tickle of the
moustache were a rough contrast to the moist texture of his mouth, his invading
tongue.

Ah, gods… deep inside of her. He
plunged, working her, his lips moving on the outside while that tongue thrust,
caressed.

Jacob Green. I give you
Jacob
…

He knew her clit better than her
own fingers, alternating light butterfly touches of his upper lip against it
with the rougher abrasion of his moustache, even as he sealed his whole mouth
over her, brought his tongue out to play with her clit before delving in again,
fucking her with his mouth in a way that made her think of that big cock
prominently outlined in those indecent hose plunging into her cunt, stretching
her.

The orgasm detonated in her body
as if he'd tripped mines strategically placed at every erogenous point. Her
breasts, her lower abdomen, her arched throat, her brain, heart, soul. Even in
the soles of her feet, pressed hard against the taut skin of his back, her toes
curled into him. Everything screamed with the release so that she had to bite
down on her tongue to prevent her vocal cords from doing the same.

Even so, a long moan broke from
her, a quiet, broken sound that almost sounded… pleading.

More, more, more… If I could
just be lost like this for a decade, forget everything that's happened
…

She wanted to ride that furious
wave far out into the ocean so when it melted back into the sea, she'd be left
in a place of quiet peace and wild beauty, where nothing was required but
simple existence.

He made it easy to imagine such
a resting place. As she forced herself to come down in convulsive shudders, her
body jerking, he overlooked nothing. He kept going, slowly suckling her sex,
alternating with teasing licks, nursing her through the aftershocks and then
cleaning her with his mouth, making sure he took every drop of her juice before
he gently pulled the crotch of her panties back in place, kissing her over top
of them in a way that made her close her eyes, shudder again. Even then he
didn't just pull away and leave her immediately without the close heat of his
presence. His mouth drifted back over her thigh, down toward her knee as his
hands followed the same path, straightening her skirt as he came from beneath
it.

She couldn't let herself get so
far offshore. Off balance. She had to regain control. This was happening too
fast. This wasn't a dinner she'd picked up in a bar.

"Keep your head bowed.
Don't look at me."

She could tell the quick snap of
the command startled him as his head began to rise. But she didn't want him to
see her in this half-reclined pose, her legs open to him as a woman would with
her lover, showing him how he'd taken her to a boneless aftermath.

"Did I not please you, my
lady?" He obeyed her, though she noted the tension in his shoulders, the
splay of his fingers taut on his thighs as he dropped out of the squat onto his
knees. He kept his spine straight and shoulders back even as he bowed his head.
A warrior being deferential to his queen, but not necessarily submissive. She
was aware of the difference, and it confirmed what she'd sensed. Thomas had
taught him the proper motions, but Jacob did not truly understand what it
meant. Only she could teach him that,
If she
accepted him.

A human servant could be a lover
when she wanted one, someone who met her needs large and small. This man,
physically powerful by mortal standards but helpless as a newborn to a vampire,
nevertheless had a quiet confidence that made her feel feminine. As if she
didn't always have to be strong, the way a woman was supposed to feel around a
man she trusted. Yet she could lift him with a finger or rip him apart as she'd
threatened.

It had been a long time since
she'd felt a violent desire that could drive her hunger to a pleasurably
uncomfortable level. But his words, those blue eyes, his impudent caresses,
even that inappropriate need to smile so often, were rousing a different sort
of hunger. One she'd been willing to forget and do without. Until now.

She was going to take him home.

Damn you, Thomas.

She didn't fall into
daydreaming, losing sense of place and herself. She didn't act on impulse. Despite
those warning signs, she impulsively reached for him now, curling her nails
into the firm skin of his biceps, exerting pressure.

She wanted to know how he'd
respond to a woman's desire without her commanding it. She almost wished he
would fight her, struggle, but he gave her something as satisfying. More so.

Without hesitation, he surged up
from the floor. Taking her by her upper arms, he lifted her to her knees on the
chair as he erased the distance between them, closing his mouth over hers in a
hard, demanding kiss.

All that desire he'd kept banked
roared over her in full, raging force, goaded she was sure by the things she'd
made him do against his nature.

As a woman, she'd missed this.
God, how she'd missed this. She avoided the intimacy of lips when taking a man
for her meal. Their kisses came off weak, disappointing, giving her dinner a
distracting, unpleasant taste.

This was distracting, but not
the least bit disappointing or unpleasant.

Kissing her way deeper into his
mouth, she let him feel the shape of her fangs against his tongue, a deadly
expression of pleasure. As she raked her nails up his back, there was the
satisfying gouge into flesh. Cutting into one of the lash scars, she found the
river of life that flowed beneath it.

His breath was hot in the cavern
of her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands gripped her hair. He
pressed her body between the back of the chair and the pounding of his heart.

Tracing his lips with her
tongue, she opened her eyes to look up into his. They were open as well, filled
with desire and determination both. Glory yes, he was a dominant man. In his
touch, in the way he held her, kissed her, she felt it. It was instinctive to
him to take over, lead and protect. He would whisper things in her ears only fit
for a creature of the night to hear. Dark desires, ways he would try to claim
her. For a moment she imagined it, trembled with the feel of it, even knowing
her own desires were even darker, her will stronger than any mortal man's.

But for this moment there was
only dizzying sensation. Waves of it turning colors in her mind, overwhelming
her. Tightening his hold on her hair, he yanked her head to the side and
gripped her throat with his teeth, his tongue licking a pulsing artery.

She stiffened against him, her
fingers digging into the gouges in his back she'd made as her body rippled in
uncontrolled response.