Though she was in pain and heartbroken that she’d disappointed him, he’d also taken away the fear she’d felt, sitting on the mountain path. She’d whispered I’m so afraid because she felt so alone with all of it, but this . . . She’d affected Evan enough to make him angry. Maybe it wasn’t his intent, but with every strike, it felt like a part of her was being bound more firmly to him and Niall. Perhaps firmly enough that her entire soul wouldn’t go to Stephen when he was killed. Maybe a vital splinter would be left here, with them, and that would make the rest bearable.
“Twenty-five.” She barely got the words out, and when he stopped, she wasn’t aware of it immediately, holding the pose and ready to count out another.
“Stand up, Alanna.”
It wasn’t easy, but this time he didn’t snap at her. His voice was stern, but not angry. Her body was stiff, aching, and the edge of the bench had left furrows in her knees. Turning to face him, she kept her head bowed, her hair curtaining her face, teasing her breasts and stomach, her smooth mound.
Evan didn’t speak, just stared at her long moments. She kept her hands at her sides, waiting, wondering if she should kneel, but he’d said to stand. Her ass was still throbbing, and she knew there’d be bruising, blood vessels exploded under the skin. With Evan’s second mark, she would heal faster than a human, but she would still see and feel those marks tomorrow.
“When I am done with you,” he said, “you will go inside and sit in the straight chair at the living room desk. I want it turned around to face the room, so Niall and I can see you. You will keep your back straight, your ass pressed down fully on the seat, and your knees parted, ankles hooked around the legs. I want you to feel your punishment.”
“Yes, Master.” That ache in her throat made her words thick. Strands of her hair close to her face were damp from tears. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please let me make it right.
He muttered a curse. Plunging a hand in her hair, he yanked her head to the side, so her chin was pressed against her left shoulder. She cried out as he sank his fangs into her throat, a ruthless penetration where pain was obviously intended to be part of the experience. He had her waist in an iron grip, and she needed the support. As he drank deep, she had to grip his rigid biceps because the dizzying rush of blood made her knees buckle. While his long fingers spread out to press into her sore buttock, his other hand continued to grip the opposite side of her neck and her hair, holding her fast to him.
He was demanding, passionate about his feeding. His hand slid around her body, leaving her buttocks to push between her thighs. As he rubbed her in a knowledgeable way that had her arching up against him, it pressed her breasts into his chest. She was already wet, had become aroused while he punished her, because that was in her nature as well, so she made a grateful mewl as he sank his fingers into her, scissored against that slickness.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been lost in pleasure to the point of physical disorientation, but this had started on the emotional end and then incorporated the physical. Longing. The word stuck in her mind as he hiked her up his body and sat them both down on the picnic table, her straddling him as he continued to feed, now holding her backside with both hands, kneading her against his stiff cock beneath his jeans. He wasn’t gentle, mixing the pain with the desire, but that wasn’t why it was excruciating.
He controlled the pace, working her against him, even as her response built, and she wanted to rub against him more fiercely. He had his arms over hers, so she could only cling to his shirt along his rib cage, wish that she could get her arms around his shoulders. She still had her face pressed to one. Even after his hand had left her neck, she’d obeyed the indication that he wanted her to stay in that position.
Then he moved a hand back between her legs, furrowing in to find her wet folds and manipulate her clit with a demand that went along with the aggressive feeding. She thrust herself against his touch in a coital rhythm, no thought, just desire taking over. She hadn’t been able to spare a thought to what Niall had been doing during her punishment, but when Evan pushed her upper body back, her shoulders were caught in Niall’s sure hands.
Evan’s steel gaze was tinged in red, pure predator as his eyes coursed down her body. If she’d had any clothes on, she was sure he would have laid his hands on her shirt and simply ripped it, tearing the bra open beneath it so her breasts would spill into his waiting hands. Niall held her still as their Master leaned forward and licked away the blood he’d allowed to drip down her collarbone onto her breast. His fingers were still scissoring inside her when his fangs sank into the ample curve. She cried out, her body shuddering from the overload of feeling, but then he pulled his fingers from her cunt.
“Please, Master . . .”
She’d never begged without it being commanded. But the loss of his touch, her heart so open, her soul so afraid, her mind whirling at this sensual assault, seemed to make it essential.
Niall’s arm banded across her shoulders as he moved closer, his body pressed up behind hers. As his hand slid over her hip bone, a noise broke from her throat, anticipating. She arched up violently, her breasts and jutting nipples on bold display for her Master as the Scot’s thick fingers thrust into her, his thumb working across her clit. Where Evan was relentless, breathtaking skill, Niall was strength and power, overwhelming. She was helpless in their hands.
A growl startled her, because it wasn’t human. Evan’s head lifted, and she followed his gaze to the edge of the clearing where a pair of wolves, attracted by the scent of blood, had appeared. Seeing humans, they were uncertain, but Evan made up their minds. Baring his fangs, he snarled at them with the clear message that they’d stumbled onto a much bigger, scarier predator. They were gone, their gray pelts melting into the brush.
Yes, Evan might be a less arrogant, less ego-driven vampire. But in that moment, she knew it didn’t make him one less bit savage predator than any other vampire.
As if nothing had disturbed his concentration, he returned his attention to her, a thrilling and terrifying thing. Cupping her breasts, he suckled the nipples, then bit down around one again, making her moan with the pain, but he wasn’t as ruthless this time, and it was mixed with all the other sensations. She was hurtling toward orgasm. “Master . . .”
Wait. Evan’s command was as daunting as his snarl at the wolves. But Niall’s fingers were diabolical, as if the servant was determined to make her break. She panted, she wailed, she shuddered, she fought it with all she had, until tears were coming from her eyes and her nails dug into Evan’s sides through the shirt. He watched her with those still vampire eyes even as his mouth teased and nipped, made her nipples aching and full. Leaning back from her, he opened his trousers, adjusting to free his cock, thick and ready, the flesh a pale marble in the dim light of the clearing.
As he straightened, Niall’s fingers pulled out, and he returned his grip to her arms. As Evan took hold of her hips, the Scot lifted her as well, the two men taking her up to mount the vampire’s erect cock. Evan pushed her down in a slow, indescribable descent, her body stretching to take him, even as it convulsed in that state of near climax. Niall’s fingers flexed on her upper arms, his mouth pressing against the tender flesh below her ear.
“Hold here,” Evan said, his voice remaining in that growl, fangs still showing. He pulled her hips in close, so that her throbbing clit was pressed to their joining point, his fingers tightening on her bare ass as she quivered. “Don’t you move.”
Niall had withdrawn, was doing something behind her, but she held her Master’s gaze as he coiled his hands in her thick hair, making her be still as he caressed her. She couldn’t help it, her internal muscles were making little clenches on his cock, and he gave her an admonishing look.
“Behave.”
“Trying, Master. Hard . . . not to move.”
He looked down her body, where another trickle of blood had crossed her navel. Now he dipped his fingers there, smearing the blood in a wide slash across her abdomen, then lower, over her bare mound, teasing her clit as she gasped and shuddered, continuing to hold his gaze, since that was what he seemed to desire.
It was what she wanted, too.
He wasn’t angry anymore. His order was driven by lust, the truth of it in his eyes, in the deep invasion of his cock. So she needed, had to say it.
“I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry.”
“You should be.” He squeezed her ass, making her whimper. “Be quiet. Feel.”
He spread her buttocks as Niall’s well-lubricated fingers dipped into her rear entry, oiling her up for penetration. Her shuddering increased. Having the two of them inside her . . . she wanted to devour Evan’s mouth, wanted to press her breasts against his chest, but she had to settle for staying still in his grasp, holding her captive to his desires as he registered her every reaction.
Niall set his hands alongside Evan’s. He’d removed his shirt, but she could feel the scratch of his open zipper on her buttocks, suggesting that, like Evan, he’d simply opened his jeans to ready himself for her. She was naked and vulnerable, underlining her full submission, her surrender to them.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling so much of her heart involved in a coupling with her Master or anyone he commanded to take her.
“You’ve done this before, muirnín?”
No. She’d never done it like this before. Never felt this way. But then she realized what Niall was asking. Anal penetration. He was making sure he wasn’t going to hurt her, determining how slow he needed to go. When the tears spilled out, Evan caught them with his mouth, cupping her face. She couldn’t help it, she rubbed her lips against his jaw, wherever she could reach, and then he turned his mouth to hers. She licked his fangs, cleaning off the blood, and then moaned as he sealed his mouth over hers, sweeping her away in the kiss.
She’s done it before, Niall. Just never like this. Join us, neshama. Close the circle.
Niall pressed a kiss to the tender bone at the top of her spine. She marshaled enough brain cells to push against him properly, to allow him to break through those muscles. But she had to fight with everything she had not to come, because the dual stimulation, this sudden claiming by both men, pushed her right over.
