Handsome Bastard (7 page)

Nothing felt better than rubbing a lust-ridden woman until she shook with need. Nothing except filling her with his cock. Soon. Very soon.

He continued stroking her, moving his fingertip in tantalizing circles over her tender nub. Lost in passion, she ran her hands through his hair and over his shoulders while thrusting against his teasing hand.

Blood pounded through her body, stirring Cyprian’s bestial hunger. He recalled the previous night when she’d scraped her tongue against his fang and given him a taste of her delicious blood. Eventually he would have a deeper drink of her, but not tonight.

A few more strokes of his finger and he knew she was ready. He covered her body with his and filled her with a long, slow thrust. By the time he reached his hilt, she came hard. Her wet pussy squeezed his cock in a heart-pounding rhythm. While she shook and writhed, Cyprian pumped into her. In spite of his desire, he didn’t forget her injuries and made an effort to be careful with her. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all concerned with gentleness. Her fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair and her legs locked around him as he drove her toward a second climax.

“Oh yes. Oh please,” she moaned. Just before she came a second time, Cyprian covered her mouth in a fierce kiss. He absorbed her cry of fulfillment, then tore his lips from hers and came, his body straining and heartbeat echoing in his ears.

He recovered far more quickly than she did and left the bed. After washing his hands in a basin of water, he looked at the meal he’d ordered to have waiting for him after exercise. Fruit, bread, cheese and wine. Though he had wealth enough to eat exotic food, Cyprian’s taste remained simple. He didn’t care to indulge in the types and quantity of food consumed by many wealthy Romans.

Perhaps his taste in food as well as his lenient attitude toward his slaves had to do with his upbringing. No matter how his conditions had changed over the centuries, part of him would always be a farm boy.

“What were you thinking of just now?” Leotine asked softly.

He turned to find her watching him through sleepy eyes, her lush body completely relaxed upon the bed.

“Nothing of importance.”

“It’s just that you looked…sad almost.”

Again her perceptiveness impressed him. Though he hadn’t actually been sad, memories of the past sometimes made him uneasy. In spite of how much time had passed, occasionally in a flash of intense memories, he’d feel as if he was the same fatherless child with little chance of becoming anything more than what he was.

Even with a blood-drinker’s power, Cyprian had fought hard to achieve his position in society. Few remained who knew his humble beginnings. Sextus was among them.

“Master?” Leotine sat up, an almost concerned expression in her eyes.

“I was thinking of…nothing. It was a time long past. What would you like to eat? You must be hungry.”

Her eyes sparkled. “You can rouse a woman’s appetite.”

She rose from the bed and joined him in looking over the selection of food. Finally she chose grapes and cheese. Gazing at him, she said, “Come back to bed.”

He took the wine and followed her to the bed. Leotine knelt beside him. Lowering her gaze, she plucked a grape then glanced back at him and held it to his lips. He took the sweet fruit from her fingertips. While he chewed, he watched her bite a grape in half and longed to feel her lips, teeth and tongue on his cock.

“What do you enjoy?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What makes you happy? Dancing? Long walks? Good food?”

An endearing little smile spread across her lips. He realized it was so charming because it was absolutely genuine. “All those things are nice. I love spending time in the garden. Slaves don’t have the chance to enjoy gardens very often.”

“Here you can. The garden is at your disposal any time you like.”

Leotine sighed and glanced down at the grape rolling between her fingertips. “Why are you like this?”

He knew exactly what she meant. Such displays of kindness from master to slave were rare. She wouldn’t be the first in his household to question his actions or his motives. Yet once he won a person over, few betrayed his loyalty. Cyprian prided himself in being a lenient master, but disobedience and disloyalty met with punishments as terrible as his indulgences were good.

“I believe happy slaves serve better. Unless I’m given reason to punish him or her, I see no reason to mistreat any member of my household, be it man or beast.”

“Few share your opinion,” she whispered, still toying with the grape.

“Others are free to run their households as they see fit. This is mine. Now are you going to eat that grape or keep it for posterity?”

She grinned and popped the purple fruit between her plump lips.

An odd twinge darted through his chest. In spite of himself, he found her adorable.

I hope to the gods that I win you over, Leotine, and you don’t become deserving of my wrath after all.

* * * * *

For days, Leotine continued the same pleasant routine. Cyprian told her he wanted her at ease in her new surroundings and completely recovered from the beating she’d suffered at Julius’ hands. Rather than live with the slaves, she was given a cubiculum close to his and allowed the freedom of the villa. Each night after he completed his exercises, he would summon her to the bath. She would oil and massage him, then they would make love and share a meal together. Afterward he went off to attend business, leaving her to spend her time however she desired. Later he would send for her again for more lovemaking. In spite of his vigor, he remained a gentle lover, at times almost frustratingly so, especially when he hinted at the sort of carnal plans in store after she’d fully recovered.

Instead of his gentle though pleasurable touches, she longed for him to possess her like a beast. Claim her utterly. Her darkest, most fearful desire was for him to bite her, sink his fangs into her flesh while thrusting his steely cock into her cunt. That particular passion shamed and terrified her. She was born to We Who Serve Humanity. Her thoughts about this blood-drinker were filthy and despicable. Punishable by death from her kind, yet the longer she remained in Cyprian Augustus’ household, the more she began to question the values of her strict upbringing.

When not occupied with Cyprian, she made a point to get to know the other slaves, particularly those in the kitchen. She had arrived with no weapons and when the time came to destroy Cyprian she would at least need access to a knife. More likely than not she would have no trouble finding a weapon. There always seemed to be one of his personal collection readily available, either a sword or a dagger. It was as if the fates were there, constantly reminding her of her duty. At one time, it would have been so simple to kill him. Lately she’d become frustratingly squeamish whenever she thought about plunging a blade through his heart. The same heart she would so often feel beating strong and steady against her face as she lay in the comfort of his arms. It troubled her how much she had come to enjoy being with him, both as a lover and a companion. When they talked over dinner, he listened to her with interest. The expression in his eyes ranged from amusement to raw lust to tenderness. Often she needed to remind herself that if she wasn’t careful, he could beat her at her own game.

What had happened to the heartless bitch who was so respected within her faction’s ranks?

* * * * *

The following night, rather than call her to the bath, Cyprian asked her to come directly to his cubiculum. She found him already washed, lying naked atop the bed. As usual, one of his many swords rested against the wall. If the cunning beast ever fell asleep with her beside him, closed those beautiful eyes so she wouldn’t have to look into them when she struck, she could seize the opportunity to attack.

At first she had thought a buildup of trust would be the best route to take, but lately she had started to believe that the faster she left his villa, the better.

“Good evening, Leotine,” he said, glancing at her lazily, though his eyes had already taken on the inhuman glow she knew meant arousal. Not that she needed his eyes to tell her that. That state of his cock revealed it. His erection saluted her from its dark nest of wiry curls, a glimpse of the pleasure-filled night to come.

“Good evening, Master.”

He gestured with his hand for her to approach, his long fingers beckoning her with slow curling and straightening motions. Somehow he managed to make even that subtle movement arousing.

She strolled to the bed in a leisurely fashion that gave her enough time to discard her clothes on the way so when she reached him she was naked. Sliding atop him, she pressed her knees and thighs to his lean sides and trailed her fingertips over his chest and collarbone.

Cyprian studied her carefully. He ran his hands over her arms and legs then caressed her face. His fingertip traced her cheek where one of the cuts Julius had given her had faded to an almost imperceptible scar.

“You’ve healed well. Do you feel as if you’ve adequately regained your strength?”

“Yes, Master.” Her heart thrummed with anticipation. Perhaps now he would venture into the sort of lovemaking he’d been teasing her with.

“Good. Tonight we’ll try something different. He reached to the floor then raised his hand. Manacles dangled from it. “Have you ever been bound, Leotine?”

“As punishment?”

He shook his head while grasping her hand gently in his, using his thumb to stroke her palm. “Not as punishment, but for pleasure.”

“No, Master.”

He snapped a manacle around first one of her wrists, then the other. Drawing a sharp breath, she stared at her bound hands. If he tied her, he could do just about anything to her. Maybe this was a form of punishment after all—one from the gods for her doubts about destroying a monster. Knowing how easily his kind smelled fear, she tried to keep control of herself. Too late.

“A little fear is a good thing,” he said, standing and using the chain between her manacles to drag her to her feet. He tugged her across the room to where a small pike protruded from the wall. “It can keep one safe from impending danger, yet also enhance arousal through anticipation. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you, Leotine? Wanting to be completely overpowered by someone who cares about your pleasure.”

“You can’t care about me. I’m a slave.”

He chuckled. “You don’t believe that. I’ve made it plain that I do not mistreat my slaves and have granted you more freedom than any other man would. And I can sense lies, Leotine. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Silence.”

“I don’t understand—”

His mouth covered hers in a rough kiss. His tongue thrust between her lips while one hand squeezed her left breast and his other cupped her soft mound, massaging lightly. After licking her bottom lip, he broke the kiss only to trail his tongue along the side of her neck. She stiffened, every muscle in her body taut as a bowstring when she felt his fangs press against her flesh. Gods, he was going to bite her, perhaps kill her. Even worse, make her one of his kind.

Instead he closed his lips and kissed her from throat to breast.

“You’ve been here long enough to know I can feel for my slaves,” he said quietly.

A soft moan escaped her throat when he took her nipple between his lips and sucked. He licked and teased until the delicate bud was so sensitive that his touch was almost painful, then he moved to the other nipple.

“Oh, Master,” she panted, her hands twisting in the bonds, her body arching closer to his.

He dropped to his knees and rained kisses over her belly. The tip of his tongue swirled around her navel. Positioning himself so his mouth hovered over her clit and his breath stimulated her, he said, “Oh,
Cyprian
.”

“What?” she panted.

“When we make love, you don’t call me Master.”

“I don’t?”

He held her gaze, the expression in his eyes making her feel as if she was melting through the floor. “You never noticed?”

“No. I meant no disrespect,” she breathed, squirming as he began licking her clit in the exact place and rhythm that drove her to near madness. During their time together, he had learned her body as well as she had learned his. He was the only man in the world who knew how to make her scream in ecstasy.