Authors: Dakota Trace
Chapter Eight
With trembling arms and a sweat covered chest, Flannery lay slumped against
Braelyn
with his still hard cock embedded as deep as he could go. His elbows barely kept his considerable weight from crushing her slender form. Dazed from the intensity of his release, he couldn’t believe how fast nor hard he’d come.
And it’s all my damn brother’s fault. Him and his damned drug. It had nothing to do with that damn True-mate business he keeps spouting. I was able to fuck her without binding her. I just wish it hadn’t been so fast.
He’d wanted to savor every moment with the little banshee. Instead he’d pounced like a cat on mouse. Thank the gods he’d felt her come around his fingers because he was sure that she hadn’t received any pleasure from their coupling. He was almost certain he’d been too fast for her to have found pleasure a second time.
He hissed when her tense muscles clung to his cock as he eased out of her. There was no way he’d leave it like this. He would feel her coming around him before the night was over. Lifting up, he chuckled at the wet sound of their bodies separating, but chose to ignore the smattering of her virgin’s blood decorating his shaft. The need to see her face, to judge if he’d hurt her rode him hard.
Rolling her over, he gazed down at her lush still dressed form. With her arms raised above her head, she was laid out like a banquet under him. Her eyes were closed but her face flushed with what he knew was unspent desire.
“Look at me.”
Her lids slowly lifted before her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips. “Sir?”
Shoving up her skirt, he hooked her bare thigh over his hip before sinking back inside of her, hissing as her wet heat enveloped him once more. Grasping the bedding next to her head, he rested his upper body on his forearms while he rocked in and out of her in slow, easy, long motions, loving every soft moan it forced passed her lips. “You didn’t come with me.”
“I…can’t…” her lips parted as her hips instinctively followed his despite her protest.
He shushed her. “That’s not acceptable, little one. I won’t be satisfied until I hear you screaming the walls down around us.”
Her eyes widened and he saw traces of fear before she shook her head. “No! I can’t— I’m a banshee…I’ll hurt you…” A lone tear trickled out of the corner of her eye.
Something softened inside him at her obvious distress. Using his weight, he pressed her into the bed, but never stopped his slow thrusts, savoring the warmth wrapped around his cock. He nuzzled her neck before nosing aside the strap of her bodice in attempt to bare the swells of her breasts. “Wrap both of your legs around my waist.” He grunted deep in his throat, lifting his head when she obeyed. Sinking further into her clenching folds, he prayed for control. “Aw hell, you’re so tight.”
His arms tensed when she buried her face against his chest, muffling her squeal of pleasure. Threading his fingers thorough her hair while keeping his weight supported on his forearms took some doing, but he wasn’t allowing her to hide. Tipping her head back, he caught her gaze. “There will be none of that. I want to hear you scream. Your banshee cry can’t hurt me,
Braelyn
. I’m half god…” He ground his pelvis against hers.
They both groaned as her sheath rippled around him. Her hands flew up to find his shoulders as a long drawn out shudder wracked her frame. “But, I’ve been told…”
He tightened his grip on her hair. “I’ve trained with Banshees, little one, and I’m totally immune to their cries.” He lowered his head, allowing his mouth to brush over her lips. “You can scream as loud as you want without worrying about injuring me.” He moved a bit faster, smiling when her fingers dug into him, her eyes wide with surprise as he hit a different spot inside her. “Right there?”
“Oh….” Her teeth caught her lower lip, stopping her moan.
“No. Let it out. Quit hiding it from me,” he barked, moving harder against her, slipping one hand between them to thumb her clit. Her head tipped back before a shrill scream broke over him. Around him, he felt her tighten then clench strongly.
“Yes!” His hiss was swallowed by her panting cries of completion as she flew over the edge, dragging him over with her. Pleasure pooled in his balls before exploding up his shaft to spill into her womb. A brief flash of mourning consumed him at the idea he wasn’t going to impregnate his little banshee before he was swept away by his release.
* * * * *
“What level are you at, little one?” Sitting on the edge of the stripped down bed, still wearing his leather pants and his silver chain, Flannery looked every inch the Dom he was.
It had been a couple of hours since their last loving and she was anxious to experience what he’d promised. She’d been disappointed earlier when he’d rolled off her, only to pull her close to him—still clothed. Cradling her in his arms, he’d told her to rest. But now she was ready to give him the ultimate form of submission a banshee could ever offer: trust him to tease and arouse her with the element that could possibly end her life.
“
Glas
,
Sir.” Relaxing against the leather restraints, she watched avidly as he busied himself with the supplies. The ease with which he handled each item as he prepared them sent her confidence soaring about placing her trust in his capable hands. She’d chosen well. This was a Dom who knew exactly what he was doing.
“This is nothing more than rubbing alcohol.” He held up the bottle, before opening it. He poured a generous amount into a shallow ivory dish. “You don’t have any allergies to minerals, do you?”
She shook her head before remembering she had to verbally answer him. “No, Sir.”
He nodded, before picking up several cotton balls. Inserting several into the dish, he allowed them to absorb the liquid. Then he reached for a pair of black handled scissors. She jumped at the cool feel of them against her skin as he slid it under the neckline of her gown. “How attached are you to this dress, little one?”
“Not at all, Sir.” It was the truth; she’d only worn it twice, once during the fitting and then at the banquet. Now it was a barrier between Sir and her body. Its purpose was served, now it needed to be disposed of.
A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Good.” A few snips later she felt the cool air caress her torso. A low masculine sound of appreciation rumbled free of him, before a warm hand cupped the swell of her breast. She moaned when the wet warmth of his mouth enveloped the nipple. When his tongue flicked over the tip of it, she jerked on the tethers. He chuckled and released it, to only blow across it. An icy shiver of pleasure consumed her.
“Ah, I see my little one loves not only heat play but temperature play in general.” He nuzzled the valley between her upturned mounds. “Perhaps, next time I shall bring a bucket of ice to tease you with.” A nip along the inner curve had her gritting her teeth to keep from begging for more. His mouth abandoned her as he straightened. “But this time, I think we’ll focus on the cupping.” He ran a hand over the curves exposed to his gaze. “Let’s get this off you, little one.”
Several snips later she was shivering as her entire body was exposed to his gaze.
What will he think about the fact that I’m bare? I know he had to have felt it earlier.
“What the hell happened,
Braelyn
?”
The anger radiating off him startled her. Bewilderment competed with unease.
What did I do to anger him?
“Sir?”
His blue eyes snapped with anger. “Who hurt you?”
“Hurt?” She knew she sounded like an idiot but she was having trouble following the conversation. Her body’s longing for more blocked her brain from comprehending his question.
He stroked over the forgotten bandages on her side. “These. I know I didn’t do this. I recognize the method of bandaging. You had this done by
Bilé’s
personal healer, which means you were either hurt when you arrived or…”
“I…it happened after I arrived.” She rushed to add onto the bare truth, afraid he would leave her to hunt down the idiot guard who’d attacked her earlier. “…but I heal fast. Please don’t stop, Sir. This is the only chance I have…”
He gave a disgruntled sigh. “This goes no further until I know the extent of the damage, little one. I can’t risk making it worse.”
“Please, no…don’t, Sir!” She tried to roll away, to move out of his reach. It was hopeless, she knew, being bound the way she was.
He drew back, frustration evident on his face. The submissive inside of her longed to sooth it away, to let him see what he wanted, but if she did he’d stop for sure. For once in her life, she wanted something more than she wanted to obey.
He grabbed her shoulder to stop her. She had a feeling he wanted to shake her. “Why are you fighting me on this?”
She bit her lower lip. “You’ll leave, Sir.” Staring up into his determined expression, she knew she didn’t have a choice. He’d see them whether she’s wanted him to or not.
His scowl eased. “And if I promise to stay and finish this?“
“Then I’d tell you it happened earlier, when Ramses attacked me.” She exhaled heavily. “I wouldn’t scream for him. A banshee’s cry is detrimental to other demons. I couldn’t risk it.”
A fine tremor shook her body when he peeled away the bandage on her left side. She could only imagine what he saw. As a recipient of demon wounds inflicted when she’d crossed the wrong demon while delivering a soul to
Bilé
, she knew all too well what they looked like. They would be red streaked and swollen with the black centers. Luckily with her
godling
blood, she never caught the fever as other banshee’s did.
He picked up a tube. She watched as he smeared clear ointment on his index finger. “So the ass-hat dug his nails into your sides? I’m surprised you don’t have demon fever.” Keeping his touch light, he smoothed the ointment over the puncture wounds.
She wanted to giggle at the light touch, but manage to resist as he tended the wounds on her other side. “No, Sir. I’m immune to it. Come tomorrow they will be gone and all I’ll have is the memory.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’d like to make another memory to replace it, Sir.”
Picking up the soiled bandages, he tossed them into a nearby trash can, before opening a small metal box she hadn’t noticed before. She realized it was a first aid kit when he drew out two clean bandages. After he soothed them on, he leaned over her with one arm. “Are you sure,
Braelyn
? We don’t have to do this.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek.
Her heart raced. “More than anything in the world, Sir.”
He gave a brief nod. “Of course you would.” He brushed his lips over hers. “But I won’t forget what Ramses did, little one. His day will come— after.”
“After, Sir?” She knew she sounded breathless but didn’t care.
“Yes…“ His eyes glowed with passion. “…after I’ve driven you out of your mind with pleasure.”
Chapter Nine
Handling a pair of silver-tipped bone chopsticks, Flannery turned each cotton ball with deft movements, making sure the rubbing alcohol completely saturated them. He rested the chopsticks on the edge of the dish before picking up one of the glass globes, examining it for any cracks or other deformities, paying close attention to the curved lip. A good Dom insured all of his equipment was in order before allowing it to ever touch his sub.
The last thing he wanted after finding the wounds on
Braelyn’s
luscious body was to accidently cut her with a chipped globe. Taking this extra time also insured he didn’t hurt her. He needed a few more minutes to calm the berserker rage which had flared earlier.
“You’ve said you’ve seen fire-cupping before, little one?” He set aside the cup he’d been examining.
“Yes, Sir. I’ve seen Master
Anithal
perform several times.” Her face flushed. “That was, of course, until my mother found out what was going on. After that I was banned from the Underworld unless I was specifically delivering a soul to
Bilé
.”