Chapter Seventy-Six

Havermouth, Present Time

Talen eased his teeth from her, his tongue stroking over the wounds to heal them. He had drunk no more than he normally did, she thought, though it had been enough to give her the light-headed feeling of having had slightly too much wine. If he intended to make a habit of sating his appetite with her, he was waiting until she had used the vitamins for a few days to compensate for his drain on her. And that made sense.

You are reasoning out the circumstances in which a vampire feeds from you, she told herself, testing to see her own reaction to the bald truth of the situation. She didn’t care. There was almost a reckless absence of self-regard to the lack of caring, an absolute surrender to the opinion of Havermouth in that she held no value in herself other than her usefulness to the supernatural creatures that inhabited the town.

She couldn’t find the anger with Talen that seemed all too ready with the Triquetra, and she didn’t know why. Perhaps because although she knew that Talen was using her, he was gentle and respectful within the framework of that use. He made her feel important to him, valued, precious… And the Triquetra had always made her feel cheap and soiled, in comparison.

She was intelligent enough to recognize that there wasn’t that much of a difference between the Triquetra and Talen… And yet, the differences that existed mattered. They MATTERED.

“Daddy, sate your monster with me,” she twisted, seeking his mouth with hers.

He flipped her beneath him and activated the thrust function of the vibrator again so that she exclaimed against his lips, arching. He rose over her and edged his way up her torso until his knees were in her armpits. He gripped his cock and stroked from base to tip. “Open your mouth, little demon,” he growled down at her. “I am going to fuck it.”

Her jaw dropped in obedience, parting her lips, and he stroked with a thrust of his hips, into the hollow that her mouth formed for him. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he groaned, as he felt for and found her hand. He guided her to cup his balls, her fingertips against his perineum. He pressed against them. “When you feel that I am near to coming, press here like this,” he told her breathlessly.

She couldn’t reply with his cock in her mouth, but she rested her fingertips in the right spot, cupping his balls, and felt the changes in their position as he thrusted into her mouth, pleasuring himself on her tongue, the sack tightening as he neared orgasm, the shaft beneath her tongue swelling in preparation for release.

She pressed down at the pivotal point and felt him jerk in her mouth as he groaned out his orgasm, without the spill of cum. The bedframe groaned under his hold – a vampire’s grip on the metal stressing it to an abnormal extent. He breathed out slowly, releasing his hold, the frame recovering.

“Very, very good,” he purred down at her. “I like how well you follow instructions. Shall we see if you can do as well twice? If you fail, and if I come, little demon,” his eyes glowed red. “I will strap you into a forced pleasure harness and you will come and come and come.”

She stared at him, breathing heavy, trying to decide if that threat actually sounded bad… or not. “I am… A little conflicted, daddy,” she admitted breathlessly. “Part of me is worried about that… threat. And another part of me is wondering…”

He laughed with genuine humour and slid down over her until they were lip-to-lip and eye-to-eye. “We will explore every tolerance that you possess and walk the edge between pain and pleasure, little demon,” he purred into her ear. “Your obedience decides which way you experience it, as fun or as punishment.”

She was reminded of Heath’s caution: “You choose how you behave towards us. You know what we’re after, what we want and need from you.” She shivered. “I’ll behave,” she whispered. “You don’t have to make it… unpleasant.”

He stilled for a moment, and she felt his breath sigh out against her cheek. “Morgana,” his voice was a deep murmur. “Pleasure or punishment… it is not intended to be…” She felt the grimace of his features. “You do not fear me,” he said firmly. “I will never, never, abuse your trust,” his hands rung her wrists, pushing them into to mattress beside her head and she lifted her face to meet his eyes.

“I am your caregiver, Morgana,” he told her. “I exist to pleasure and please you, to support, guide, and look after you. I will punish you,” his eyes darkened with desire. “I will punish you, but I will do so in ways that we both enjoy, in ways that make us both come. If you are ever, ever, afraid of me,” he added with a tilt of his chin that spoke of pride. “Then I am in the wrong. I am not being the caregiver that I should be. I have let the team that we are down.

“Do you understand?” His brow lowered to hers. “Morgana?”

Her heart and body ached, pain and lust blending into a confusion of need and emotion. “Daddy,” she whispered. “I understand. Fuck me, please, and let me feel it. I want to… feel it.”

“Yeah,” he groaned, his eyes closing. “Yeah, I want to feel it too.”

He eased the vibrator out of her, tossing it, slick with her cum, onto the bedcovers so that it left a darkened patch on the fabric, before taking its place, the pleasure of his cock thrusting deep into her so intense with the but plug, and her body already sensitized by multiple orgasms, that she sobbed in a breath.

His lips met hers in a gentle kiss, his hands framing her face, his fingers in her hair. “Alright, little demon?” He murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

“You feel good in me, daddy,” she mirrored his hold, burying her fingers into the silken strands of his hair. “So good.”

“A little harder now,” he warned her. “A little faster and harder.”

“Fast and hard,” she replied. “Take me.”

He thrusted with a low grunt of pleasure, and she felt the mattress compress beneath her hips as he pushed her into it. He increased speed and force, until she could not even lift into his strokes, but simply lay and received his cock into her, the groan of the bed and the slap of their skin meeting, making an erotic music, unmistakable as fucking.

“Oh, fuck, more,” she pleaded. “More, daddy.”

His hand cupped her arse, holding her so that he could fuck her harder, deeper, faster, and her body exploded into orgasm. His teeth pierced her skin, and she gripped him tighter to her, gasping as he buried himself deeply into her as he combined taking her blood with his orgasm. He drank for longer, the sensation of his mouth on the erogenous zone of her neck almost soothing, seeming to settle into rhythm with the throbbing of her body that followed orgasm, the pulse tightening her cunt around his cock, as if milking every last drop of cum from him.

She stroked her hands over his back. There was something rather magical about providing sustenance for another person from her body, she thought dreamily, and must be similar to how a mother feels when breastfeeding a child.

He pressed a kiss to her skin as he finished taking what he wanted. “Ah, little demon,” he murmured into her ear. “I could very easily grow addicted to you.”

“Good,” she turned her face towards him and kissed his cheek. “Because it should be both ways.”

“Hmm,” his lips curled against her skin, and he lifted to look down at her. “Is that so?” He stroked her hair back from her cheek, tenderly.

“Yes,” she admitted, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It is.”

He lifted from her and walked over to where his clothing hung over the chair, carrying a flat black box back with him. “I have a gift,” he said, sitting on the mattress beside her. “That I would like you to wear.”

“You don’t have to, daddy,” she sat up and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “You have bought me so many fun gifts already.”

“This is… Well, it is fun for me,” he said. “But it is more of a symbol.”

“A symbol of what?” She ran her fingertips through his chest hair, toying with the piercing through his nipple. She thought immediately of the Triquetra’s knotted triangle on her collar bone. That was also a symbol, and a mark of ownership.

“Of an agreement between us,” he opened the box to show her. Within lay an open circle of metal, the ends joined by chain links through which was hooked a small padlock. A collar, she realized. A discrete, beautiful, blood slave collar, similar to the collars of submissives in the BDSM scene. The collar was made of white gold, framed by yellow gold, and the white gold was tooled in a twisting pattern that reminded her very much of Rhett’s knotted triangle.

“What does the pattern mean, daddy?” She asked quietly. There was a strong feeling of recognition, as if destiny or fate had connected the Triquetra and this vampire with her, like the looping, linking designs that both used to symbolize what they were.

“It is a design special to me, belonging to my family,” he explained.

Any other vampire who saw that design tooled into the collar would know who she belonged to, she thought, or that she belonged to someone, at least. Like the Triquetra, Talen was marking her as being his.

“It symbolizes the agreement between us, that we both wish to continue this,” he said. “I will hold the key to this lock. I will wear it around my neck, as you will wear this around yours.”

She pressed her lips to the back of his shoulders. If she accepted the collar, she was accepting her role as his blood slave. She slid off the bed and knelt between his knees, running the palms of her hands up his thighs as she looked up at him. "Will you put it on me, daddy?"

He set the box to the side and lifted the collar from the velvet. The gold was cold against her skin as he positioned it so that the infinity knot rested above her collar bone, and she bowed her neck forward whilst he secured the lock.

“Beautiful,” he murmured his approval, sliding his fingers over the ring of gold, as she lifted her face to look up at him. “Now you are mine, little demon.”