I was so caught up in my "get even" scheme to realize I might just be poking the bear. The massive, really pissed-off bear.
And let's be honest, adding a finger in the booty hole was probably a big no-no for this alpha. Who knew alpha vampires were so touchy about impromptu butt exploration?
Mr. "I'm-too-alpha-for-ass-play" seemed to enjoy my little digital adventure more than he'd like to admit. If I hadn't pulled the plug (pun absolutely intended), he would've been shooting off like a hormone-crazed teenager in 0.2 seconds flat.
I guess I've discovered Rhyland's secret on/off switch. Who knew the key to bringing a thousand-year-old vampire to his knees was hidden in his own backyard? Talk about a plot twist!
Note to self: Maybe ask before going on a spelunking expedition in Rhyland's bat cave next time.
Now, the million-dollar question is: do I dare poke the bear (or, in this case, the vampire's ass) again? Or should I file this little tidbit away for a rainy day when I need to turn The Viking Vanguard into putty?
Next time, I'll bring a map and a headlamp. After all, there's gold in them thar hills!
I put on my best 'I'm not scared, you're scared' face and try to explain, "I was just trying to even the score, Rhyland. I won that bet, remember? That's how bets work. You know, you win some, you lose some, you get tied up and fingered some?"
Rhyland growls low in his chest, sounding like a pissed-off lion. "Yeah, well, remind me never to bet against you again, sweetheart." He bends down, his lips brushing my ear, hand still clamped around my neck like a sexy vise. "Because you play dirtier than a pig in mud. And I'm about to show you just how filthy I can get."
I almost smirk at that but think better of it. He's already madder than a wet hen, and who knows what he'll do to me. He releases my neck and steps back, but suddenly, I'm stuck to the wall like a fly on flypaper.
What in the...?
My corset is then ripped from my body (magically, might I add), leaving my girls out in the open, and my nipples harden.
It hits me like a ton of bricks—Rhyland's using his telekinesis on me. Something he's never done before, and it's scaring the ever-loving shit out of me. He could've Jedi mind-tricked me anytime he wanted, but he never has.
Until now.
Oh boy, I think I might have just opened Pandora's box with a crowbar and a stick of dynamite.
"You pushed me, Dani. Remember that. You asked for this," Rhyland grumbles as he stalks towards me, his eyes blazing with fury and desire.
"Rhyland…What're you doing…?
"You think you're so clever, don't you? Turning the tables on me like that." He magically tightens a phantom hand around my throat. "Well, sweetheart, you've just opened a can of fucking whoop-ass. And I will ensure you feel every single consequence of your little game."
Shit.
I try to gulp around the tightening on my throat, it's so bizarre he's touching me withouttouchingme.
"All is fair in love and war, baby," Rhyland says with a smirk—feeding me back my own words.
Ourplay on words.
I'm frozen in place, unable to move a muscle as he fists his hand in my hair, yanking my head back to force me to meet his gaze. "What the hell am I going to do with you, Angel?"
Fuck me hard like the hot Viking stud you are.
I open my mouth to reply, but before I can utter a word, his lips crash against mine in a bruising kiss. He plunders my mouth like a man possessed, his tongue thrusting against mine in a filthy dance that leaves me breathless. I moan into the kiss, my body melting against his as he consumes me.
Without warning, he spins me around, pressing me face-first against the wall. "I'm done waiting. I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until it's milking my cock dry," he rasps, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. "You went too far, Dani."
Was it the drugging? The kinky rope action? Or maybe my adventurous finger exploration? Hard to pinpoint exactly what's got his Viking panties in a twist. Probably the unholy trifecta of all three. I mean, a girl's gotta get creative sometimes, right? Not my fault he's being such a drama queen about it.
I suck in a sharp breath as Rhyland lines up his Viking battering ram at my entrance. My body is shaking like a leaf, equal parts terrified and turned on. He starts to ease in, and holy mother of all that's holy, it's like trying to park a jumbo jet in a bicycle rack.
Inch by glorious inch, he works his way in until he's buried to the hilt, stretching me like I'm silly putty. "Oh, fuck," I whimper, my head flopping back onto his shoulder. He starts to move, slow and deep like he's trying to reach my tonsils from the other end.
I'm caught somewhere between "Is this what dying feels like?" and "Please, sir, may I have some more?" as Rhyland sets a rhythm that's slow, deep, and threatening to rearrange my internal organs.
