When she went for the blindfold, he covered it with one hand. “Don't,” he said in a husky whisper. “Just don't.”

Instead, she brushed his hands aside, and took the blindfold off. He kept his eyes closed for a minute, but her fingertips were teasing his lashes. Though he felt only the soft pads, he kept his head still, mindful of the razor tips he now knew she wore on several of them, not just the thumb.

Then he forgot care, lost all his attempts to pull himself together, when her mouth pressed against the corner of his.

5

COAXING his lips open, she startled him with the deep, soft embrace of her kiss, her hand coming behind his head to hold him there. He opened his eyes to find her face close, stark tenderness and deeper shadows in her blue-green gaze. Charlene was gone, and it was just the two of them.

Closing his free hand on her forearm, he coaxed her down to the tile with him, her knee resting between his spread thighs as he slid his arm around her back, brought her closer, and then that kiss renewed itself in earnest.

She hadn't seemed to mind that he was covered in oil, that it had smudged her pretty, sexy clothes. He wanted to take those off, rub oil on her so they would slide against each other. Intertwine fingers.

Comfort. He needed the comfort of her body. There was no thought or role to play; it simply was.

When he began to ease her down, himself above her, he hoped that the chains around his throat and one wrist were long enough. At the flicker in her gaze, he swallowed, pain gripping him at the tension that rippled through her, having him over her like this. “I won't hurt you,” he said. “I just . . . I need.” She nodded, those blue-green eyes filled with understanding, and something else. Though this moment was unexpected, an unusual tactic for what he knew of Dommes, he knew she was like nothing he'd ever known. She'd known he wouldn't scrub tiles, or suffer having a man's mouth on his cock. But she'd convinced him that she was entirely in control, capable of doing it to him. For that brief treasure of time, the voices had stilled, caught in the same paralysis as his body. Whatever, whoever she was, it couldn't be described. As she said, it simply was.

He moved down her body to the boots. Swallowing, fighting with a new idea, that the relative position of their bodies had nothing to do with who was in control here, he lifted his gaze. “May I remove your boots, Mistress?”

“You may, Gideon.” Her voice was soft, her mouth a wet promise, still glistening with their kiss.

He undid the intricate laces and buckles, and then, on impulse, he slid a hand beneath her slim calf, lifted it so he could kiss her instep. Electric current ran up her leg, the way she shuddered. His cock was starting to rise to full performance again, which he'd consider nothing short of miraculous if it wasn't for the stimulation in front of him. Slowly, watching her, he adjusted her leg a few inches to the right so he could move between them, up to the side fastener of the latex pants. Watching her face, he slid the zipper down. She was the only thing under them, and his fingers trailed over that slim strip of bare skin, a precious indulgence, before he worked them off her smooth, long legs.

She was shaved of course, the pale lips of her pussy as delicate as rose petals around the darkly flushed clitoris. Another time, he would want to taste that, drink his fill, nuzzle the silken labia, bury his nose in her musk. But now he was swamped by the power of a Mistress, letting him lie down upon her, sink deep into her. Like a Goddess allowing man to return to Her earth, be buried in Her comfort and promise forever.

This was a woman, but something more than either one of them was commanding this moment. It was in the vulnerable set of her mouth, the quiver of her body. A connection, a delicate house of cards that he didn't want to shatter, so he kept his mind out of the equation. Even if this wasn't what a Mistress would normally do, it was all right. He didn't have to analyze it. No thinking.

He was barely able to reach her, the collar keeping his chest a few inches above her uptilted breasts, a temptation even still encased behind tight fabric. It was as if he were a beast, kept chained while a lady took her pleasure of him, the restraint intended to keep his teeth away from her. He could accept that.

He wanted to keep her safe, especially from himself.

She'd held such iron control, but here, holding her, she was all female. More delicate than himself, smaller, less physically strong, with bones that could be broken. He placed a hand on her knee, then slid it up her thigh, seeing his tanned, weather-roughened skin, the size of his hand against the milky expanse of slender leg.

She could deny him. He wasn't sure why she wasn't, because he knew that intimacy didn't happen here that often. It was more about the head games and physical release. But when she'd walked in, she'd been the answer to the question of this place, the one that had nagged at him, made him ache, and kept him coming back. She was the one he'd sensed here from the first.

He and Jacob had shared that, an intuition that some would say bordered on psychic, anticipating something that they often couldn't define. He'd used it in times past to stay alive. Maybe this was the same, because some vital element of survival certainly lay in this room.

“Will you take off your shirt? Be completely naked with me?” As she removed it, she arched up, the way she would if he'd entered her and she'd lifted herself toward him, an unconscious offering. Her breasts brushed his chest, a brief contact. His heart hammering up behind his ears, he helped, closing his hands on the delicate fabric and setting it to the side. Her breasts were round and firm, a perfect size for her torso and hips. He wanted to devour. He wanted to worship.

He wanted to find what felt so close, what he hadn't had in so long, that she seemed to hold in those blue-green eyes.

As he shifted forward, bracing himself on one arm, she rested on her elbows, lifting a hand to his face.

“Take your cock and guide it into me, Gideon. I want to watch.”

“Do I . . . I'm not wearing . . .” He didn't want to say it, because he had a powerful need to feel her without any barriers, but he struggled to remember that there was a reality that couldn't be ignored. As always.

She held the depressing thought at bay, sliding that razored thumb-nail along his jaw, a gently lethal motion. “I can't get pregnant, and I'm not worried. You've always shielded yourself, until now. Haven't you?”

Not in a million years would he have ever fucked a woman without a condom on. Not the kind of women he'd sought for release and comfort. But the fact she knew it, as well as accepted how much he needed to do the opposite now, was enough to strangle him with the need to be inside her.

He nodded, unable to speak, and she pressed her thumb against his lip, making a tiny cut. “Then obey me, Gideon. Guide your cock into me.”

Gripping himself, he took his eager member to those soft lips, rubbed the head there. As much as he wanted inside, he wasn't a complete dick when it came to being a lover. He wanted to be sure she was ready for him, but there was no worry of that. She was so slick he slid halfway in without intending it.

When she contracted on him, he growled at the bliss of it. Her gaze lifted to his face, her lips parting.

It was Heaven and Hell. He'd never teetered so close to both at once. Then her legs widened, ready to take him all the way into the cradle of her body, rock them both to completion.

Instead of continuing that slide into Nirvana, his mind froze.

High on the inside of her thigh, there were two puncture scars. The kind that remained when a vampire fed from such an intimate spot. Not just once or twice, but on a regular basis.

There was no mistaking it for anything else.

He jerked back on his knees as if he'd seen a rat trap waiting to snap down on his cock. “Let me loose.”

Because she was obviously adept at reading people, he wasn't surprised to see her body language change as swiftly as his. Her expression went blank, her body tensing. But as her muscles flexed, telling him she was about to slide out of range, he shot a hand out, clamped down on her arm. “Unlock the rest of these fucking chains,” he said.

She looked down at his bruising grip on her arm, and then her gaze came back to him. Her eyes were hard to read, but her tight mouth said she didn't care for being manhandled. “Or what? You'll break my arm? Hit me? Threaten me? We have twelve cameras on us right now, Gideon.”

“Which you signaled your staff to shut down when you decided to go this route with me. I saw the hand motion, the red lights blink off, cut the audio. You didn't want them to see or hear their unflappable Mistress spreading herself like an eager bitch in heat.”

The flicker in her gaze told him he was right, but it didn't hold fear, as he'd expected. It was ice. He told himself he didn't care that he might be hurting her, that he'd destroyed this moment. It was a house of cards, right? He should have known. It was another trick, another dead end or dark alley holding nothing but more of what he always knew. He shouldn't have looked for more. This was as much a lie as that night with Jacob and Lyssa had always been. He should have accepted that a long time ago. His cock was just fucking with his head.

Regardless, he must have felt he owed her one shot, because he didn't block her when those lethal nails raked across his chest. One swipe of an angry cat's claws, laying him open with a burning flesh wound.

Then he caught the arm. He was tempted to twist it, but he didn't. She didn't struggle against him, though. She glared at him as if she were fully armored in her clothes, not wrestling naked with him on cool tile. Her hair slid over his arm, a reminder of how he'd wanted to bury his face in it earlier.

“If you let go of my arm,” she said coolly, “I will release your chains and you can collect your things and go.”

“Are you willingly his?” He knew the truth would hurt, because this woman didn't unwillingly give anything of herself. He was certain of it, which made what she'd been about to do that much more excruciating.Ah hell . As if his mind wanted to torture him further, he realized now what the unidentifiable musk mixed with her arousal was. Another man's seed. It was the scent of his own, staining the tile beside them, that helped him make the connection. It could be some other man's, but he'd lay good money it was the vampire's. She didn't seem the type to spread her affections casually, which only made this hurt worse.