AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Come here, Quinn.
He went through that pass-through door, relieved to find it unlocked. He wasn't sure if he could handle the unspoken message if he'd had to knock.
Everything is about getting back to the bar and the ranch, to what we are normally.
She spoke the reminder in his head, but when her gaze slid over him, he saw his Mistress wet her lips, eyes widening just a bit. Despite his own discomfiture, his body had no problem responding to her approval. He was starting to find it hard to walk as she crooked a finger at him. "Come here, Quinn," she repeated.
The order actually helped steady him amid this tornado of what the hell. She was sitting on the bed in a sexy blue velvet dress that clung to her curves and stopped high on the thigh. She wore black stockings, and he could see the edge of her garters. She also wore some killer heels. She looked edible. For Butch?
No. Because it was expected she'd dress for dinner. For her pleasure and for those looking at her, which, yes, included Butch, but... She lifted her gaze to him.
Also to make my servant think of the only thing that matters. My pleasure, and how I will make him serve me.
When he approached at her gesture, she molded her palm over his thigh, slid her hand up over that sleek covering, cupped his cock and testicles, kneaded and played, obviously enjoying the way they felt under her touch. No preamble, just going right for what she wanted, like a man. Her other hand snaked around, gripped his buttock, dug in.
"Nice," she murmured. "I like this look on you. Maybe I'll have you wear these beneath your jeans in the future.
"I think I'd sweat like a son of a bitch doing ranch work. Not exactly breathable cotton." He touched her face, sliding his hand down over her lip. "It's all healed. How're the ribs?"
"All better. I might need some blood later."
"It's yours."
Holding his gaze, she rose to slide her arms around him. As she lifted onto her toes to kiss him, it became a thorough, tongue-tangling gesture that had him tightening his own arms around her, biting back a groan as she rubbed herself against his cock.
I know that, cowboy. I find a lot of pleasure in the thought you're all mine.
So did he, even if he was thinking he'd lost his mind. "So tonight?" He knew he'd regret asking.
She sobered, easing back. "I don't know, Quinn. Butch may want pleasure, pain or something in between. What he did to me earlier...he's allowed to punish a vampire in his territory, even push the issue of sex with me if he wishes. I can refuse him on that, though the avenues for recourse if he overrules me and forces it are pretty ineffective. But most of the time vampires exercise their hungers through their servants at formal occasions."
"So Dix is gay?"
"Gay and straight aren't really terms we have in the vampire world. Pleasure is pleasure. Butch has likely enjoyed men and women, and Dix the same."
Quinn tried to wrap his mind around it in some rational way, not panic like a calf let out of a chute. "So...ah...condoms?"
"Not necessary. Vampires nor servants can pass STDs. The only viral disease that affects us is something called the Delilah Virus, and I expect if Butch had that he would let me know before allowing his servant carnal knowledge of mine. We can trust his integrity on that."
She gave him a brief synopsis of the discussion in the garden then. It did loosen things inside him, to hear the specifics about Butch being in their corner, even though the guy still pissed him off.
"This is one fucked-up world," he said bluntly.
She gave him a tight smile. "Is the human one so different?"
"I feel like we've evolved past the whole survival of the fittest, might makes right thing. Or at least we've become enlightened enough to recognize it's not the best way."
"Here you have. How about in Haiti? Russia? Name your dictatorship? What you consider the rule of the land doesn't exist everywhere. Hell, it doesn't exist in nature at all. There is balance between weak and strong, where the strong survive and prosper and the weak adapt or disappear."
He had no answer to that, but fortunately she was distracting him, running her nails lightly up his thighs. She appeared to be fascinated by the way the sleek material outlined his groin and, under her regard, it had to expand its hold. He bit back another groan as she caressed him even more boldly, stroking his length.
"You're going to embarrass me."
"No." Her gaze lifted to him. "I want you to walk down there aroused, Quinn. I want you to show Butch you serve your Mistress, that nothing distracts you from her pleasure. That's all I want you to think about. If Dix is ordered to shove his dick into your ass, make you come, every drop is for me. Every pleasure you feel, however reluctantly wrested from you, from your understanding of what you are or are not, is for me. You understand? Tell me."
"Yes ma'am." He swallowed. Fuck. Damn. Could he do this?
The next moment, it was a moot point. He was following the pendulum curve of her delectable ass down the hall, tracking the length of her legs. The sheen of the stockings and a glimpse of those garters led him like the carrot in front of a stubborn mule's nose. He felt her amusement at the comparison, and it made him feel better. No matter what happened, they were connected. Together.
Always, Quinn. Her shoulders straightened, chin lifting as if she'd increased some type of resolve inside herself. When she reached the first floor and turned toward the dining room archway, she sent him one final thought. No matter what happens, promise me not to doubt that one thing.
Dix was wearing the same kind of shorts. For a wiry kind of guy, he looked like he had a pretty sizeable package himself. Not that Quinn had any desire to look, but when a man thought something might be used as a weapon against him, he tended to size it up. Dix was standing against the wall behind his Master's chair, just as he'd said. Quinn held the chair for Selene and then, emulating the other servant, he stepped back against the wall behind her. She gave him a flickering glance, apparently not realizing Dix had given him the instruction. She greeted Butch as if the two of them were cordial acquaintances, just sitting down for a friendly dinner. With an edge to it.
The quiet Mexican woman--Yolanda, he assumed--served, once again coming and going like a shadow. At Selene's glance, Butch explained. "She's a second mark. She's been with me quite awhile, a gift from my sire on his last visit, about..." He considered. "Ten years ago. Diego tends to travel and disappear for a few years at a time. She's an incredibly good cook. Dix and the hands get the most benefit from it, but even the small portions I can eat as a vampire are worth it."
He lifted a bottle. "I comfort myself by figuring out the best vintage to go w
ith those bite-size samplers. I've learned to be a wine connoisseur, because alcohol is the one thing we can have to excess without unpleasant effects to our digestive system. You probably have a pretty advanced palate, making up all those drinks in New York."
"Texans have pretty advanced taste buds, all those Tex-Mex flavors. Don't assume I'm a snob."
He chuckled at that. "Here. See what you think, Yankee." He poured her a glass and Dix came forward to bring it to her before he returned to his spot.
"Midwesterner. I'm from Michigan originally." She sipped, nodded. "That's very good."
From there they proceeded into unexpectedly typical dinner topics. Butch spoke of some vampire-related things, but he also asked Selene about the bar and New York, even directing a few questions to Quinn about the ranch. Those discussions sometimes included Dix's input, verifying or differing in approaches. It was an odd setup for dinner conversation, but it seemed to work. Yolanda brought out some small plates with bite-size portions of what Quinn expected would be his and Dix's dinner later.
He hadn't eaten since breakfast, because they hadn't really known what the plan was, and now he knew he should have taken the time, because the rumbling of his damn stomach was going to embarrass Selene. Then again, since he didn't know what the after-dinner entertainment would be, maybe it was best to face that on an empty stomach.
"Quinn." Selene gestured to him. "Come kneel by my chair."
In front of them. Christ. A little awkward and self-conscious, he came to her chair and dropped to one knee, placing a hand on the back of her chair by her shoulder, his bent knee brushing hers. That position felt a little better, a little less servile. Given Butch's speculative look, he maybe should have done it the other way, but she touched his jaw, bringing his attention to her.
Only me. There's only me in this room. How about you kneel to me the way you would in your bedroom? Or mine?
As she held his gaze, he found he could do it. He put the other knee down, sat his ass on his heels, though he kept a hand on the chair back. She gave him a forkful of what he had to admit was one of the best enchiladas he'd ever tasted. Yolanda brought more out, as if summoned by Butch, and Selene fed him most of it as she spoke with the master of the house about casual things. Quinn tried not to think of himself as a dog being handed scraps from the table, and it was easier than expected, because in this position, he could see his Mistress' stockinged thigh, the edge of the garter.
