Seized by the Vampire Lord (Dark Lords) (6 page)

“Alas,” he said, “I am cursed with a flawless memory.”

Artlessness hadn’t helped at all.  Cerise decided to try a new tact.  “Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” she snapped.

His eyes narrowed.  “Angry as I was at your trespass, I might have let it go if you had only been honest with me.  I don’t care for liars, my dear.  I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you.”

Cerise gaped at him in dawning horror.  She’d been so certain she could talk her way out of this, she hadn’t even
tried
to resist when he had grabbed her.  Now he held her in an unbreakable grip.  She struggled anyway, trying to break free.  For a moment, she thought she had managed to break his hold, and in the next breath, she discovered that he had only released her to scoop her up into his arms.

Without a word, his face set in grim lines, he strode from the room, ignoring Cerise’s efforts to wiggle out of his arms.  By the time he’d reached her room, she was gasping with exertion and so tired, it was only fear that drove her on.  Reaching her room, he kicked the door open with one booted foot, crossed it in three swift strides, and dropped her onto the bed.

The plush mattress bogged her down.  The bed covers tangled around her as if they had a mind of their own.  Cerise kicked out at Daegon as he came onto the mattress, digging her nails into the covers to drag herself to the other side, out of his reach.  Her feet struck air, and he caught her flailing legs, pinning each one in turn as he stripped her stockings off.  He hauled her back toward him, his strength overpowering her, flipping her onto her back.

Daegon straddled her bucking body, hard muscled thighs clamped tightly around her hips.  Cerise pummeled him with her fists, but it was like striking a stone statue.  He was immovable, unyielding.  He caught one of her wrists and knotted a stocking around it.

Cerise screamed and scratched him, trying to pry his fingers loose as he tied the other end to a bed post, pulling her arm taut.  He caught her free hand, giving her a thunderous, black look that had shivers crawling up her spine.  In seconds, he had it bound to the opposite post.

She glared up at him when he stilled, looking down on her.  Sensual malevolence gleamed in his sapphire eyes.  His chest rose and fell with heavy breath.  He lifted one knee from her hip, settling it between her thighs as he slid a hand up her gown, beneath her shift.

Cerise’s heart halted as his fingers smoothed up her thigh.  He watched her under heavy brows, stopping his exploration at her garter, slipping his finger beneath it, around it.  He dragged it slowly, sensually down her leg until he’d freed it from her.  He moved back, keeping one leg trapped beneath him, prisoner to the feel of his heat and hardness.

He grasped her ankle and lifted it to his mouth.  He kissed the fine bones, his lips hot, soft.  She didn’t ask what he planned—her toes curled with the knowledge, shy and eager all at once.  He nibbled the arch of her foot as he massaged her calf and instep with strong fingers.  Closing her eyes, Cerise moaned, pleasure spreading up her leg in a warm rush.  Already her trapped foot felt neglected.  She thought she could accustom herself to his brand of punishment.

His teeth grazed her toes, tugging them, lips pulling in sucking kisses.  Tingles shot through her.  She wanted to beg for more.  His mouth pulled away suddenly, and something wrapped tight around her ankle.  Cerise’s eyes popped open to see him secure her leg to the bed post with her garter stretched taut.

She felt immediately betrayed.  She began bucking again, clenching and unclenching her hands with the desire dig into his flesh.  “You bastard!”

He said nothing as he removed her second garter and locked her kicking leg into place.  He sat up on his knees, between her spread legs, studying her a long moment as she shot daggers at him.  As if coming to a decision, he leaned forward, grasped the neckline of her bodice, and ripped her gown and shift until her breasts erupted from the torn fabric.

Cerise gasped in outrage, struggling until she became aware that his eyes had transfixed to the swaying shake of her breasts as she moved.  He looked on her with such dark hunger in his eyes. She shuddered, her body convulsing with a piercing ripple of desperation.  His mouth tightened in a grim line and he continued his path of destruction until her gown and shift lay in two halves, one on each side of her body.

He stood up and walked around the bed, studying her naked curves.  From her line of sight, it was horrific.  Her skin was pale save for the blushing rose of her nipples, standing at attention, and the thatch of auburn hair at the apex of her thighs.  Mortification swept in a heated wave down her flesh, leaving her pink with embarrassment.  There was nothing she could do to stop him from looking his fill of her.

Watching her blush, his face expressionless, he reached into a pocket of his coat and withdrew a handkerchief from its depths, slowly folding it into a triangle.  She knew what he was going to do.  She tried to twist her face away from him, but there was only so much she could do to escape the inevitable.  He tied the kerchief around her eyes.

She felt the rustle of air as he straightened and moved away.  His boots sounded hollow on the wooden floor.  She followed the sound of his steps to the foot of the bed.  Did he truly stand there as she guessed?  Watching her?  Studying her exposed lips and breasts?

A soft sound, barely perceptible reached her ears.  She realized it was the sound of cloth falling to the floor.  The bed dipped near her feet.  Her muscles jerked in response.  Her breath quickened.  Her skin tingled with heightened awareness of his approach.  Dear god, what had he planned?  She shivered, imaging him naked, imaging what that beast betwixt his legs must look like.  Would he use it on her—would he hurt her with it?

Insufferably, heat suffused her limbs and the shadowy cleft between her thighs.  Moisture dampened her folds, cooling in the air they were exposed to.

His hands closed around her ankles, and her skin jumped.  Gooseflesh rose on her skin as he skimmed his palms up her smooth musculature, his thumbs drawing along the inside of her legs.

His thumbs skated the crease of her thighs, so close to her weeping folds, her sex clenched in anticipation.  He passed them, and she barely restrained a whimper as he moved up her hips across her belly.

She felt the abrasion of his breeches between her thighs as he settled closer, lifting her up until her buttocks rested on his splayed thighs.  His fingers traveled up her ribs, skimming the sensitive curve beneath each breast.  Her nipples drew up into hardened beads.

He rounded each curve with his thumbs, the pads callused, abrasive in a way that was purely male.  That feathery touch was too much.  She felt his weight sink into her chest, hold still her lungs.  She couldn’t get enough air for the expectant hush holding her in thrall.

His lips were suddenly there, increasing the unbearable ache, plucking one nipple like a succulent berry.  Fire curled in her breast.  She arched her back, straining against her restraints.  His mouth covered her distended nipple and sucked, hard.  His fingers worked her other breast in a slow, firm massage until it was swollen and heavy with the need to feel his mouth upon it.

Cerise shuddered when he attended to her other breast the same as he had the first—with molten fire that licked at her every nerve.  She didn’t know how much more she could take, and his punishment had only begun….

She bit her bottom lip as his mouth trailed down her ribs, nipping her flesh with teeth, lathing with tongue.  His wet kisses dried on the path behind him, cool in the air, shivering on her skin.

She thought she would die of anticipation by the time he swept past her navel and lower stomach, descending to the hair that covered her sex.

His fingers played in it, tickling down to her swollen lips.  They twitched with the teasing sensation.  She felt his breath, hot and heavy against her apex.  And then his tongue swiped a path up her creamy slit.

Cerise gasped at the pure, shocking contact.  She jolted as he pushed through her folds and found her clit.  Her hips jerked up as heated ecstasy spread from the stab of his flicking tongue against the bud.  She moaned, straining to get closer.  Her core clenched with arousal, cramping her womb with a great longing for something more.

Sensing her body’s demand, he plunged one long, tapered finger into her vagina.  Cerise screamed, jerking her hips in an effort to tilt them to the pleasure.  She was unaware of the desperate pleas erupting from her throat.

He growled against her, the baritone rumbling inside her with trembling sensation.  Burning, searing waves of lust rose to a crescendo as he lapped her, stroked that finger inside the rippling core of her.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving her achingly on the edge of something, something she wanted so badly, she screamed with frustration.

He bit the inside of one thigh.  Her vaginal muscles clenched with agony.  Her clit throbbed with neglect.  She wanted to kill him, realizing now the extent of his punishment—the buildup of sexual desire and the pain of denial.

“You bastard,” she ground out, shaking with fury and receding pleasure.

He nipped her thigh sharply in response, sliding back until his hands wrapped tight on the rounded curves of her buttocks.  He titled her to him and buried his mouth in her mound.  He squeezed her cheeks, bringing her close, closer, so that his tongue thrust deep inside her vagina.

He curled inside her, his nose rubbing her clit until she thought he would smother.  She didn’t care.  All that mattered was the pleasure, building inside her again with each liquid, fluttering curl.  He ate greedily until the walls of her sex shook with ragged tremors.  Then he withdrew once more, plying the inside of her thighs with his teeth and tongue.

He nipped her hips, allowing her desire to subside.  Perspiration dotted her skin, between her breasts, soaked her hair.  He slid his body up hers, the silk of his shirt agony on her sensitized skin.  He tortured her nipples once more, pulling them with his lips, suckling them.  She begged him to stop.  She begged him to continue.  She fought her bindings, unsure if she were free if she’d kill him or cling to him.

As her shaking calmed, he dipped down and began again, stopping each time she neared that place she so desperately
needed
to go.  She was mindless with need.  Her belly cramped with pain.  Her skin hurt under the slightest touch.

He released her, and she felt that he sat on his knees, looking down on her.  She was almost thankful he didn’t touch her, unsure which was the greater torment—the constant arousal or the loss of it before release.

She heard a rustle and then he leaned forward.  A hot, hard object nuzzled her aching cleft, sweeping through her slick, agitated folds.  She shook her head, unable to find her voice.  She trembled, her vagina seizing in mindless response.  This,
this
would ease the suffering.

She felt his shudder rip through her thighs.  He groaned, and the sliding became a push.  It stopped, nestled in the entrance of her vagina, so close to where she needed it.

“Stop this torment,” she begged, her pride finally giving way to blistering need.  She squirmed as much as she could, trying to get away, trying to get closer.

“I cannot.  Not until you tell me what I want to hear.”  He pushed again, retreated, and slipped along her folds.  The rigid length of him tortured her clit.  She felt bruised, battered, her flesh so sensitized, her nerves felt damaged.  The brush of his thighs spread tingles through her system.  The slide of his cock debilitated her.

“What?  What do you want?” she begged, digging her nails into her palms, fighting the growing need like impending doom.

“You know,” he ground out, coming down on top of her, squashing her breasts, teasing her nipples.  He ground his engorged length against her clit.

She cried out from the bruising pressure.  She knew what he wanted now.  She would give it to him, if only to halt the pain.

“I looked at it,” she gasped, her belly spasming painfully.  “I … I didn’t read it.  I looked.  I lied.  Please, please stop this.  I can take no more without going mad,” she said, shattered, rambling mindlessly in agony.

A shudder rippled through his body.  His muscles went rigid.  A soulful groan poured from deep inside him.  He tore himself from her, coming off the bed.  His breath was harsh, cutting down her own heaving cries.

“You drive me to the brink,” he whispered hoarsely, and then she heard the door slam shut.

Cerise screamed in rage and frustration, her energy renewing in a burst that had her fighting her bonds until she collapsed in exhaustion.

Chapter Six

Cerise didn’t know how long she laid there, her body tingling, convulsing as if she were dying with some strange malady that had taken root.

She had no way of seeing to know how late the hour grew.  No chance to free herself and no means of venting her anger other than screaming herself hoarse and cursing his name.  It may have been hours, minutes—she didn’t know.  She knew only that she continued to pulse with impending desire up to the moment he returned.

She was not aware of his presence until the blindfold was removed.  She blinked blearily up at him.  His dark eyes met hers.  His expression was indescribably gentle, remorseful.  His hair was ruffled, as if he’d been gripping his temples in frustration.  She’d never seen him without being groomed to perfection.  It made him look more 
human
to see his brow creased with lines of concern.