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Hes the ship you can trust.
Gen slipped out to go get more flour. While Chloe didnt feel the need to hide anything from her, she was glad for the moment to get a little more one-on-one. But what were talking about doing, at The Zone. Hell be bound. A s if he needs to be released, as if Im the one to rescue him.
No. Marguerite took up the spatula again, began to free cookies from the tray. Hes bound because he is at his strongest, gives you the most of himself, when he surrenders to you. While Brendan is the type of submissive who can do that without the chains, this takes you both back to the symbolic, reminds you both of what he can be to you. A nd you to him.
* * * * *
Chloe stood in the shadows. He was blindfolded with the cravat that would have gone with the outfit, but theyd left his sensual mouth free to speak, and now he did. Is someone there? he asked quietly, knowing there was, because shed opened the door. She wouldnt be surprised if he knew it was her, but he would let her lead this, let her set the parameters, not try to set it on the course he wanted. Topping from the bottom. Something a submissive like Brendan would never do, not once he was in scene.
Shed wondered if she would dare step into that circle of light with him, but now she did, her boot heel making a scrape on the floor which was a temporary stone overlay mat, a cobblestone to match the holographic background. The only actual physical things were a few crates, the wall and lam p post, but it all looked so real. There was a fog drifting through the air, the wet smell of the earlier rain. That, and her outfit, helped her become completely what she wanted to be in this moment.
She came out of the shadows and fog, enjoying the scrape of her heels on the stone, the way he cocked his head listening, how his hands tightened around the chains holding his hands above his head. When she reached him, the first thing she did was palm his cock, that hard, impressive curve beneath the stretched fabric. He sucked a breath through his teeth.
Did you keep your promise, Brendan? she asked softly. You sent me all those chocolates. Was that to tell me you saved all of this for me?
Every drop. I havent touched myself since you last did it. Please, let me see you. I need to see you.
Instead she rose on her toes, put her lips to his throat, curved them back and let him feel the prick of fangs. He stiffened at the pressure, and she put her hand on his side, curving inward with the long sharp nails shed also donned. For good measure, she rubbed her mound over his taut thigh and almost groaned herself at the pleasure of it. Its dangerous to be out on the streets this late at night. No telling what trouble a groomsman will find.
A long pause, then he cleared his throat. Yes, my lady.
She smiled, delighted that hed injected a bit of what sounded like Cockney dialect into his voice. Didnt you know there are creatures of the night that seek blood? A mans seed. Theyll drain him dry of both.
A nd which will you be seeking, my lady?
I want it all, she whispered, and lifted up onto her toes, clinging to his shoulders to take his mouth.
For the first second, she was just hanging on, because at that contact, he became a ravenous animal, telling her how much he had in fact missed her. He clamped down over her lips, his body straining toward her, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers. Exploring the enamel of her pricey but very authentic-looking fangs, he tasted her mouth, tasted her as she tasted him.
A s the kiss dragged on blissfully, she pressed herself against him, let him feel the rest of her ensemble. It was a black sleek corset over a skirt made of strips of black silk that looked like they could have been spun from a spiders web. The strips went all the way up to the waist and parted to show her bare skin, nothing beneath it. The corset was strapless, so her breasts rose high, cradling the ruby and pewter pen
dant between them.
The pewter looked like fangs, the rubies like drops of blood dangling from them.
Reaching up, she tugged the cravat free of his eyes. She didnt drop it, though, preferring to tie it around his bare throat, so he felt the restriction as she knotted it. Hooking her fingers in it, she suckled his bottom lip and then eased back enough he could sweep his gaze over her, taking in her black-lined eyes, the red crimson of her lips, the way Gen had done her hair so it was a froth of exotic curls around her face.
Holy God, he said fervently, deep pleasure in his eyes, but deep need as well.
Not exactly the way to entreat a soulless creature of the night, she observed, a touch of a smile on her lips. What do you want, Brendan? She backed up a step. This pussy? These breasts?
Yes, he said low, gaze burning as her hands ran over them, caressing, stimulating.
How about this heart, this soul? She asked that quietly, and watched his expression change, as she knew it would.
I want to give my lady pleasure. I want to give you pleasure.
She retreated another step. Do you remember the game Red Light, Green Light, Brendan?
He studied her, his hazel eyes so vivid and intelligent. A hundred thoughts were tangling with the lust he was obviously feeling, such that the heat of it emanated against her, made her want to get closer, not further away. But she knew what she wanted, and she was going to have it.
I remember it.
Good. Heres your question. What do you want? With each wrong answer, I back a step toward the door. If I reach it, step through it, we werent meant to be.
Chloe.
No. She shook her head. I need the right answer, Brendan. For both our sakes. What do you want, Brendan? For yourself?
