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Authors: Joey W. Hill
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robe against his cock where it was
taut and erect, revealed by the open fly.
His hot flesh felt the bite of
the open teeth of the zipper, but it couldn't dampen the inferno of desire
raging through his blood like the sudden rise of lava in a smoking volcano.
When she tilted her head, her lips were so close he couldn't resist any longer.
"No," she murmured.
"Yes," he insisted.
When he closed the gap, he
stumbled forward at the lack of contact. She was no longer there, empty air the
only thing in front of him.
"Take off the rest of your
clothes, Jacob."
He spun awkwardly and saw a
flash of her, then she vanished like mist with that rapid speed vampires had.
His gaze went to the ceiling, knowing gravity didn't necessarily limit them,
but he found nowhere for her to perch.
"Clothes off. Lie across
the bed with your feet on the floor, your arms stretched over your head as far
as they can go. If I have to tell you to do it again, I'll
make
you do
it and crush your male ego." Her voice was a sensual caress, coming from
several places in the room, moving like a capricious wind, disorienting him.
"But even worse, I'll tie you down and leave you like that for several
days, until you realize what belonging to me truly means. Enough to regret
it."
Jacob lifted a lip, curled it in
a snarl. "Give it your best shot, my lady."
He couldn't say why he did it.
Maybe because he didn't want to capitulate so easily. Maybe because he had no
game plan for this other than his intuition and unwillingness to be controlled.
He didn't see her coming. A
shove knocked him to his knees and the shirt was ripped off his shoulders. When
he flipped to his back, it was floating down to the floor. The candles
flickered with the passage of her flight.
Rolling into a crouch, he didn't
bother removing the pants. They were a tactical disadvantage open and low on
his hips, but by the time he lifted a hand to remove them, she could be on him.
He waited for it, that sense of impending air movement. Guessing her next
direction based on her last strike, he ducked away, twisted back and grabbed,
managing to seize a portion of her robe and tumble her across his legs.
Anticipating the lightning move
of her hand, he reared back and dodged the grasp. He clamped down on her wrist,
a move he knew she could easily counter by breaking his arm. But he had to
believe the point of this impromptu match was not to injure. While he
understood she was trying to prove something to him, he was just as determined
to get his own message across.
He would be her servant. He wouldn't
be livestock. At least that was what his pride told him, drowning out the voice
of his psyche that said there might be darker issues involved in his
resistance.
She'd frozen in a half-standing
position, her slender forearm cuffed by his grip while she stared at him, two
feet between their faces, her foot planted between his knees. He'd pulled her
robe of her shoulder, exposing most of her right breast. Even as the pleasure
of seeing that milk white curve made his body respond, a sense of shame swept
him at this evidence of rough handling. Knowing how much stronger she was, he
nevertheless eased his grip at the feel of those fragile female bones. With his
other hand, he reached out and slid the satin back up on her shoulder, his
fingers whispering along the collarbone, itching to trail down her sternum to
cup one of those soft curves.
She straightened, drawing back
from him. Her gaze narrowed. "You've fought vampires before."
"Yes, my lady."
"In the limo, you were
wearing weapons. Several. I don't remember that Thomas had any particular skill
with weaponry. In fact, I worried about his fingers when he handled kitchen
knives."
"He told me of your
enemies, of your world. My brother is a vampire hunter. He taught me how to
fight them. But I quit. Thomas felt that was another reason I was qualified to
be your servant in a way he wasn't. His words, my lady. Not mine." He
added it quickly at her
taut and erect, revealed by the open fly.
His hot flesh felt the bite of
the open teeth of the zipper, but it couldn't dampen the inferno of desire
raging through his blood like the sudden rise of lava in a smoking volcano.
When she tilted her head, her lips were so close he couldn't resist any longer.
"No," she murmured.
"Yes," he insisted.
When he closed the gap, he
stumbled forward at the lack of contact. She was no longer there, empty air the
only thing in front of him.
"Take off the rest of your
clothes, Jacob."
He spun awkwardly and saw a
flash of her, then she vanished like mist with that rapid speed vampires had.
His gaze went to the ceiling, knowing gravity didn't necessarily limit them,
but he found nowhere for her to perch.
"Clothes off. Lie across
the bed with your feet on the floor, your arms stretched over your head as far
as they can go. If I have to tell you to do it again, I'll
make
you do
it and crush your male ego." Her voice was a sensual caress, coming from
several places in the room, moving like a capricious wind, disorienting him.
"But even worse, I'll tie you down and leave you like that for several
days, until you realize what belonging to me truly means. Enough to regret
it."
Jacob lifted a lip, curled it in
a snarl. "Give it your best shot, my lady."
He couldn't say why he did it.
Maybe because he didn't want to capitulate so easily. Maybe because he had no
game plan for this other than his intuition and unwillingness to be controlled.
He didn't see her coming. A
shove knocked him to his knees and the shirt was ripped off his shoulders. When
he flipped to his back, it was floating down to the floor. The candles
flickered with the passage of her flight.
Rolling into a crouch, he didn't
bother removing the pants. They were a tactical disadvantage open and low on
his hips, but by the time he lifted a hand to remove them, she could be on him.
He waited for it, that sense of impending air movement. Guessing her next
direction based on her last strike, he ducked away, twisted back and grabbed,
managing to seize a portion of her robe and tumble her across his legs.
Anticipating the lightning move
of her hand, he reared back and dodged the grasp. He clamped down on her wrist,
a move he knew she could easily counter by breaking his arm. But he had to
believe the point of this impromptu match was not to injure. While he
understood she was trying to prove something to him, he was just as determined
to get his own message across.
He would be her servant. He wouldn't
be livestock. At least that was what his pride told him, drowning out the voice
of his psyche that said there might be darker issues involved in his
resistance.
She'd frozen in a half-standing
position, her slender forearm cuffed by his grip while she stared at him, two
feet between their faces, her foot planted between his knees. He'd pulled her
robe of her shoulder, exposing most of her right breast. Even as the pleasure
of seeing that milk white curve made his body respond, a sense of shame swept
him at this evidence of rough handling. Knowing how much stronger she was, he
nevertheless eased his grip at the feel of those fragile female bones. With his
other hand, he reached out and slid the satin back up on her shoulder, his
fingers whispering along the collarbone, itching to trail down her sternum to
cup one of those soft curves.
She straightened, drawing back
from him. Her gaze narrowed. "You've fought vampires before."
"Yes, my lady."
"In the limo, you were
wearing weapons. Several. I don't remember that Thomas had any particular skill
with weaponry. In fact, I worried about his fingers when he handled kitchen
knives."
"He told me of your
enemies, of your world. My brother is a vampire hunter. He taught me how to
fight them. But I quit. Thomas felt that was another reason I was qualified to
be your servant in a way he wasn't. His words, my lady. Not mine." He
added it quickly at her
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