I also want to suck him off, take him deep down my throat, have him hammer in there, pushing me past all limits.
As he continues to finger me, a soothing, rolling post-orgasmic precursor to more, I want to push him.
I want to see just how far his control lasts until it cracks down the middle and opens, spilling the center of him out.
In the park, it was wild. I crave that insane side of him.
Like then, I want to break him.
Destroy his need for control.
“You’re mine.” He whispers the words.
He keeps up that steady beat in me, working the rope in precise rhythmic movements that threaten to destroy me.
“What if I don’t want to be yours?” I ask.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“You would rather me be your prisoner?”
“Doesn’t it have its perks?” he asks softly. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“And what do you want?” I gasp as a shiver of delight runs through me. I can’t move because the slightest lift of my hips changes the rope’s tension.
I’m greedy enough to want that beat he’s got going. I want to sing the song.
I’m crazy enough—crazy in all the ways he’s hinting at—to want to see what he’s going to do next.
“Things I shouldn’t.” He leans down, sucking on a nipple—the one he hadn’t bitten this time. He plays with the rope across it and licks a line down to soft-rough cord, biting and pulling, all the while he doesn’t stop fingering me.
And I’m falling apart. I want…I want more…
“I want you,” he whispers. “I wish things were different.”
“You want me to be human?”
“Don’t you want that, Monty?”
Bitter bile rises, burning my throat. I can see it, using Nell for her humanity, to ride it second hand, remembering what it was like.
He sees it as a gift, one he feels like he stole from me.
But when I think about it, I’m glad. At first I hated him for it, blamed him for taking my life away, but I’m starting to seethat I’m better than I was. I’m a vampire, a killer, top of the world.
My entire existence, I’ve felt powerless. Now, I can do anything.
With him, I can do anything.
“No. Not anymore,” I say.
He grabs my tied hands and hauls me half up, hooking my hands to something on the wall behind the sofa, or maybe it’s the sofa itself. But I’m forced to awkwardly kneel, thighs apart, the ropes pushing into me, against me, and everything’s tight and borderline painful. It makes me throb, even as I raise my head to glare through the blindfold.
Taking my hair, he pulls my head back and rips the cloth from my eyes so that I can see him hovering over me, staring down at me, his face close.
“I can’t—” He stops. “I can’t lose you. I told myself I could. That I was stronger than this. I was wrong.”
His words break me, and my chest clenches. Maybe I have been looking at this all wrong. “You’re a vampire. An old one. You don’t need me.”
