Read Online The Vampire Queen's Servant by Joey W. Hill - Free Book Online
Authors: Joey W. Hill
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surrendering, she surrenders to you. When you let yourself go, it's only when
you're certain she's become lost in you. In the passion you've given her."
Did he detect a certain edge to
her tone, as if she resented the women he'd had before? That would be absurd.
Almost as absurd as his relief when he saw no evidence of Rex's presence in
this room. Nothing to remind him she'd been alive long enough to have been
touched not only by her husband, but by many other men.
She caressed his hips, holding
him as she rose on her toes to press her mouth under his ear. "If you wish
to be my servant, you must learn what surrender truly means." Her hands
slid under his arms and she began to toy with one of the shirt buttons, the
color on her nails shining faintly in the soft light. "So don't make me
gag you. I want to make use of that pretty mouth of yours, that clever tongue.
You'll stay silent from this point forward unless I command you to speak.
Remain still."
He'd begun to raise his hands,
intending to clasp them over hers on his abdomen, but at that he stopped,
battling his own will. Taking a deep breath, he made himself lower his hands
back to his sides.
"Good. Very good."
As she opened his shirt, she
moved closer, the barest brush of her body against his back, his buttocks. Her
breath tickled his spine through the light fabric.
Though he knew it was a defense
mechanism, Jacob tried to sort out the questions he had, mundane and less
mundane, as if writing them down in his head for later reference. Anything to
keep himself motionless as her fingers tormented him with nothing more than the
unfastening of his shirt and her command to be still. Why did she breathe? Did
she like coffee? Max had said she preferred a pot brewing in the foyer of
Eldar, but she hadn't even asked for a cup. Was it the aroma? Should he make
her breakfast? What was the driver doing? Had she ever had a man self-combust
and die, incinerated by the fire she ignited in him?
Placing her palms on his now
bare stomach, she kept one there while moving the other up to find his nipple.
He swayed, leaning back into her as sensation shot through him. Her arms
tightened, holding him. He felt her pleasure in his response, in the way she
touched her lips to his neck. While he'd never thought of the throat as an
erogenous zone for him, it apparently was now, for his cock became harder every
time she went near it.
"Perhaps you're thinking
this will be like those times when you
let
a woman control the moment.
Let
her ride your cock to climax while you held onto the bed rails and
pretended you were bound. Soft games of pleasure with no real risk, the dark
areas of yourself untouched, vulnerabilities unchallenged."
She came around to face him, her
fingernails scraping his skin as she followed the waistband of his jeans, just
inside the band of fabric. "Lovely musculature. Mature, lean. Not the body
of an untried boy. There are scars here. You've fought battles."
"I've—"
"Hush. You do not have my
leave to speak."
A sharper command this time, in
a tone that shot resentment through him. She began to hum softly to herself. As
if her dialogue was intended to be a one-way conversation, like a potential buyer
examining a thoroughbred racehorse. He suspected she was doing it that way
deliberately to goad him.
On the other hand, her
expression was focused, fascinated, as if she'd been given a private viewing of
a special work of art and was standing alone in a room with it, envisioning it
as hers. The look in her eyes was enough to make him want to reach for her,
hold her against his aching want.
That response grew even more
intense when she unbuttoned his jeans and opened them, reaching in to clasp his
hard cock and adjust it, bringing it out of the recesses of the pants. Moving
closer, she let go to run her hands back along the inside of the jeans to palm
his bare ass. Pushing her knuckles against the hold of the fabric as she
kneaded him, she rubbed the satin of her
surrendering, she surrenders to you. When you let yourself go, it's only when
you're certain she's become lost in you. In the passion you've given her."
Did he detect a certain edge to
her tone, as if she resented the women he'd had before? That would be absurd.
Almost as absurd as his relief when he saw no evidence of Rex's presence in
this room. Nothing to remind him she'd been alive long enough to have been
touched not only by her husband, but by many other men.
She caressed his hips, holding
him as she rose on her toes to press her mouth under his ear. "If you wish
to be my servant, you must learn what surrender truly means." Her hands
slid under his arms and she began to toy with one of the shirt buttons, the
color on her nails shining faintly in the soft light. "So don't make me
gag you. I want to make use of that pretty mouth of yours, that clever tongue.
You'll stay silent from this point forward unless I command you to speak.
Remain still."
He'd begun to raise his hands,
intending to clasp them over hers on his abdomen, but at that he stopped,
battling his own will. Taking a deep breath, he made himself lower his hands
back to his sides.
"Good. Very good."
As she opened his shirt, she
moved closer, the barest brush of her body against his back, his buttocks. Her
breath tickled his spine through the light fabric.
Though he knew it was a defense
mechanism, Jacob tried to sort out the questions he had, mundane and less
mundane, as if writing them down in his head for later reference. Anything to
keep himself motionless as her fingers tormented him with nothing more than the
unfastening of his shirt and her command to be still. Why did she breathe? Did
she like coffee? Max had said she preferred a pot brewing in the foyer of
Eldar, but she hadn't even asked for a cup. Was it the aroma? Should he make
her breakfast? What was the driver doing? Had she ever had a man self-combust
and die, incinerated by the fire she ignited in him?
Placing her palms on his now
bare stomach, she kept one there while moving the other up to find his nipple.
He swayed, leaning back into her as sensation shot through him. Her arms
tightened, holding him. He felt her pleasure in his response, in the way she
touched her lips to his neck. While he'd never thought of the throat as an
erogenous zone for him, it apparently was now, for his cock became harder every
time she went near it.
"Perhaps you're thinking
this will be like those times when you
let
a woman control the moment.
Let
her ride your cock to climax while you held onto the bed rails and
pretended you were bound. Soft games of pleasure with no real risk, the dark
areas of yourself untouched, vulnerabilities unchallenged."
She came around to face him, her
fingernails scraping his skin as she followed the waistband of his jeans, just
inside the band of fabric. "Lovely musculature. Mature, lean. Not the body
of an untried boy. There are scars here. You've fought battles."
"I've—"
"Hush. You do not have my
leave to speak."
A sharper command this time, in
a tone that shot resentment through him. She began to hum softly to herself. As
if her dialogue was intended to be a one-way conversation, like a potential buyer
examining a thoroughbred racehorse. He suspected she was doing it that way
deliberately to goad him.
On the other hand, her
expression was focused, fascinated, as if she'd been given a private viewing of
a special work of art and was standing alone in a room with it, envisioning it
as hers. The look in her eyes was enough to make him want to reach for her,
hold her against his aching want.
That response grew even more
intense when she unbuttoned his jeans and opened them, reaching in to clasp his
hard cock and adjust it, bringing it out of the recesses of the pants. Moving
closer, she let go to run her hands back along the inside of the jeans to palm
his bare ass. Pushing her knuckles against the hold of the fabric as she
kneaded him, she rubbed the satin of her
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