Stopping, his hand went to her neck, the lightest of pressures as he leaned in close. “Well, get some understanding. I say shit, you do the shit. Got it? That is how this is gonna work. My house, my rules. I can get my belt, got a whip somewhere, a paddle, some rope? That don’t work, I can take you out there, let Jumper and Dante play with you, change your mind, yeah? You want to escape me, deal with the little dogs, Starlight? There are a couple of little dogs right out this door. You better get some fucking understanding and start listening.”
“What is happening?” Her heart beat hard in her chest. She didn’t know what was happening. “What do you want?”
“This is happening because of your little sightseeing trip from Hyde to South Bloc, Sophie. ‘Cause I found you first. This fucking hot body all wrapped up and left out for me to find. Practically fucking gift wrapped. Or maybe you are a trap, little sweet-bait hung out for all the hungry mongrels. That rain came down, turned you from a dumb vampir girl waiting for a fucking troll in the hell zone into a sexy little kitten just waiting to be taken. You need a keeper. I will be that keeper.”
She didn’t know if he was angry or aroused.
“My keeper?”
“That’s right, your keeper, I own you. All your pain, all your pleasure. Sometimes it’s gonna hurt, and you are gonna take it. You are going to give me your tears and fucking take everything I have for you, because finders’ keepers. You know that shit, right?”
His self-satisfied shark grin flashed white in the dark.
“But why? Why would you want that?” She couldn’t help the stupid, mystified question. He didn’t sound like he just wanted to use her once or twice.
“Oh, sweet baby girl. I guess I’ll have to show you, teach you, why someone like me would want to eat up something as tasty and sweet as you.”
He kissed her again, mouth open and tongue inside, raw and insistent. She yielded, kissed him back, collapsing under his dominating force.
“Again. Say it again,” he said between kisses.
“You own me,” she breathed as his mouth went to her cheek, her jaw, and her neck. One hand bracing himself, the other on her breast, he went back to playing with her. Brushing back and forth over the nipple he had tormented, the zing of it, part fear he would hurt her again, part sensitized pleasure, making her dizzy with uncertainty.
He did that sucking thing again, and again, the sharp sting of it and feel of his teeth making her whine. Harsh then gentle and back again, making him impossible to predict. The constant change wouldn’t let her drift away or find any way to shut him out and escape in her head.
He was a lunatic with all the power. And his touch was a drug
He pulled off the shirt she was wearing, tossed it aside. He spread her legs so he could kneel between them. Then did more than just look—he devoured, ate her up with his eyes, savoring the lewd display she made for him.
His assessment left her feeling exposed and adored, abused and cherished. Her senses flipped back and forth between extremes. He could have anyone. She wanted to yell at him, remind him, shake him. Why was he bothering her when she wasn’t ready for any of this? Why was he looking at her like she was worthy of something? Why did he look so hungry?
His manhood made his snug-fitting briefs bulge outwards. She’d seen naked men before on the computer or in photography books, but the reality of this huge man tucked inside his briefs, the end straining the elastic band like it could pop out at any second, was much different from a photo.
“Shit. Nineteen and every fucking guy’s jerk-fantasy. Tits, hips, and ass. Nipples standing up hot from my touches, just pleading for attention. That tiny little bald cunt. You wax?”
Sophie blushed. She’d had curls there, but they were more yellow than on her head. Katya had seen her dressing one day, told her she looked like a dog that peed on herself and took Sophie “as a gift on her seventeenth birthday” to get waxed.
The vampir had no body hair. Some of them had hair on their heads and spiky little eyebrows or might wear a wig, but as a rule, they thought body hair dirty. Sophie had been glad to leave the wax place without having every inch of skin waxed.
“Words,” he commanded sharply.
“Yes.”
“No secrets from me, Sophie. I’m gonna know all of you. Every tiny bit of you. You on birth control?”
“No. Why would I be? It would taint the offering.”
“Huh. Don’t like that; you’re too young to be havin’ babies. We got time for fun, you know? We need to take care of that.”
Were they having this conversation? Yes, she was too young, and everything else. Did this mean more than one night, one weekend?
“I’m not gonna suit up for this sweet kitten, though. Not gonna. I can get a witch pill, easy.”
“Please. Micah.” She sat up. Almost tried to scramble away when she heard that. “No. Please, not witches. Not sorcerers. Isn’t there another way?”
“Why? Isn’t that what most red-bloods do? I know there is still some of that chemical shit around, but it’s years old, Sophie. Can’t be safe.”
“It’s not. But neither are witches and sorcerers.”
