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With great reluctance, he heaved himself out of bed and headed for the shower. By the time he had the water turned on full force he was hard as a steel rod again. It seemed all he had to do was think of the ethereal Selene, and his cock stood up and saluted. Leaning against the tile wall, the spray beating down on his body, he cupped his balls with one hand while he rubbed his cock with the other.
Yeah, he knew he was supposed to call her to do this, but if she was mad at him, that was probably just yesterday's game, everything re-set now. If he didn't release some of this pressure, he wasn't going to be able to focus.
As her image danced in his brain he stroked himself, another orgasm gathering deep inside his body like a coil of steel set to spring. He saw her fingers wrapped around him, her lips surrounding the head of his shaft, her tongue lapping the flesh sheathing the hard rod of his penis. The muscles at the base of his spine stiffened, his balls tightened and he erupted like a geyser, spewing the thick liquid over his hand.
He struggled to even out his breathing as the water washed away the semen, evidence of his body's addiction to this woman. It took awhile before he could draw a full breath, his heartbeat steadying down to something close to normal. But it took him longer to dry himself off, his limbs heavy, his body protesting his demands on it.
Wiping the steam from the mirror over the sink, he stared at himself. Then his gaze landed on the mark on his wrist, no bigger than the sting of an insect. It jumped out at him as if bathed in a spotlight. Vaguely, he remembered her nicking him with his pocket knife, then her mouth sealing over the spot, but he'd thought it was part of his dreams. Well, that explained the relocation of his pocket knife. Was that why he was so weak? Was he crazy to let someone drink his blood, play into her fantasy about being a vampire? He had a ranch to run.
After a vampire gives the second mark, she can speak in her servant's head and allow him to hear her thoughts, when she wants him to do that. Her words from the night before were as distinct as if she had just uttered them. But last night she had refused to give him that second mark. She had laid out all the reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea. Accused him of being a romantic when he embraced the idea of hearing her voice in his head. But he wouldn't mind carrying her voice around with him all the time. It soothed him, calmed him, even as her touch drove him to extreme peaks of sexual arousal.
If serving her was the key to their intense physical pleasure, he was definitely all for it. Even if it meant serving her on his knees. Who the hell would have ever thought that would be such a turn-on for him?
His buttocks clenched again as he remembered her promise to fuck his ass with a strap-on, wrists bound to restrain him. His poor exhausted dick tried its best to harden again. The feel of his fingers in that hot dark tunnel had been so arousing he'd had to grit his teeth to maintain some semblance of control. And they were his own damn fingers. His breathing accelerated and he gripped the edge of the sink. It seemed Selene might be otherworldly after all, since she apparently had cast some kind of spell on him.
He touched the mark on his wrist, enraged again at the thought of her marking Turley so she could feed. Feed, for shit's sake. Whether he truly believed everything she told him, he planned to do whatever it took so her mouth never touched anyone again except him. He would tell her so, tonight. Make damn sure she understood.
Annette was cleaning up the counters when he finally made it into the kitchen. She gave him a hard look but said only, "I kept your breakfast warm in the oven. You look like you need it. The coffee's fresh."
"Thanks."
There was no way he could put his body through the rigors of ranch work today. Anyway, he still had records to update--weight gain, feed mixture and myriad minutiae that went into breeding saleable stock. He called Dave Ojeda on the two-way and told him to take care of whatever needed doing out there. He, Quinn, would be in his office if they needed him.
But even the paperwork seemed to tax him. His mind kept wandering, remembering Selene's body, her satiny skin, the brush of her glossy hair against his body. The incredibly gentle touch of her fingers even as she drew yet another exhausting climax from him.
In her joke about her shrine to Satan he'd detected an odd anxiety, as if she wanted to discourage him from fully believing in the vampire thing. He was a practical man all in all, not one to be drawn in by hustlers, promises of easy money or miracles too good to be true, but he also knew how to draw conclusions from the available evidence, and there was a lot of evidence gathering when it came to Selene. Her obvious worry last night that he was actually starting to believe her might just be one of the biggest indications it could be true. If he were a vampire trying to blend, wouldn't he depend on people's skepticism, their easy dismissal that someone who thought they were a vampire actually wasn't, to protect the truth?
But his open-mindedness to the otherworldly was only part of why he was going along with this. The real reason, he was sure, was the unexpected bond he felt with Selene. The idea of being her servant wasn't at all unappealing. And the craziest thing? He was beginning to feel comfortable with the concept. The big alpha cowboy was actually settling in to the idea of giving control to a woman who was as insubstantial as a faery and barely came up to his chest.
You're addicted to the sex.
Well, yeah. Maybe. It was certainly better than any he'd ever had in his life. But it was more than that. She had a power over him that bound him more tightly than any lariat or whip yet he welcomed the restraint.
I am so fucked.
He finally lay down on the couch across from his desk, where he fell into a half-doze. But he was restless, taunted by thoughts of a naked Selene straddling him. Giving up, he went to sit on the back porch, hoping fresh air would cleanse his addled brain. It might have, if the butterfly hadn't appeared, riding a current of air to land on his knee.
Quinn stared at the gossamer wings, that same smoky blue of Selene's tempting eyes and the liquid gold of her hair. Damn. He could almost hear her regal voice, commanding him.
Would you take off your clothes out here if I told you to, cowboy?
Quinn shook his head. He was losing his fucking mind.
Annette gave him an odd look when he gave dinner a quick pass, excusing himself and muttering something about lack of appetite.
"You feeling okay, Quinn?" she asked.
"Yes. Fine. Good." Horny. "I just need to get down to the bar."
"I thought that new manager you hired had everything under control. Rumor is she's some hot piece."
Rage boiled up inside him. "You tell anyone who runs their mouth that Selene is a lady, a sharp one, too smart to fiddle with the likes of anyone around here. If I hear any talk or see anyone taking liberties they'll be looking up at the sky from a dumpster."
"Okay, okay!" She held up her hands. "Pardon me all to hell."
"She's doing a damn fine job, in case you wanted to know. I just thought I'd see if she needed a hand."
He could feel Annette's eyes boring holes in him as he headed out of the kitchen. The woman was too smart for her own good.
He showered once more, even though he hadn't done any hard work during the day, and shaved carefully. Again he touched the mark on his wrist. According to Selene the third mark was the one that made him fully her servant. So if the second mark was an interim step that would give them both more energy but not completely bind him, why wouldn't she do it?
Whether he believed everything she said or not, it stunned him to realize how intensely he craved that second mark. Maybe even the third one. As he brushed his teeth, splashed on aftershave and dressed in clean clothes, he was besieged with an urgency to see her, so much so that he had to stop himself from speeding as he headed down the highway into town.
Despite it being a weeknight, After Hours was busy. Carol was on shift tonight and moving easily from table to table, serving drinks and bussing the empties efficiently. Apparently she'd had the Selene speed-training program. Selene was behind the bar, mixing
drinks, working the cash register and bestowing her public smile on each customer who ordered.
He moved into the barback with her, filled two beers for customers and tapped her on the shoulder. When she gave him a cool stare, it was clear she'd been fully aware of his arrival. As usual.
"You're in my way, cowboy."
Whoa. What the hell? "Just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed."
"Of course I do. I don't need you hovering." She frowned. "Or are you doubting my abilities?"
Okay, this was not about getting in her space. It had to be about him falling asleep. Damn it, this was what he'd been afraid of. But she had to know she'd worn him out. Hadn't it been her telling him to close his eyes?
"Listen." He drew a breath. "I want to apologize--"
She bumped into him as she took a bottle down from a back shelf. "Not now. I have customers to serve."
Though he bristled at her tone, a glance around showed way too many interested ears perked. This was getting him nowhere fast. He'd best wait until the crowd died down and he could get her alone.
"Fine. I'll be in the office," he told her shortly and headed down the hallway.
