Chapter Ten - Desiree
Once Felicity started singing, I lost my celebratory mood.
Vane and I retreat to our room upstairs while Vyvyan takes a lonely bridesmaid up on her offer to be her evening’s blood source. Tomorrow will be long, with wedding events starting at eight in the morning, but I hope to find time between now and the after-party to talk privately with Jax.
He’s upset. And before he could tell me the truth, we were interrupted.
If Jax and Anselm broke up because of me, he needs to say so. I’m terrified of breaking his heart a second time, especially since he’s already falling apart. He deserves better.
I need Vane to stop antagonizing him. Jax is going through a lot. We’re not getting back together, but I also don’t want him to feel like we can’t be friends. His breakup shouldn’t have been a surprise to me. Why didn’t Jax tell me the truth?
“What’s troubling you?” Vane asks, shrugging off his fancy jacket as he walks into the closet. I kick off my heels, leaving them scattered on the beautiful vintage rug. I curl my painted toes into the soft fabric.
My phone vibrates. I pull it out and toss the spiderweb-beaded pocketbook onto the bed.
Misty
Send pictures! Miss you.
I smile. Years ago, after Misty shut me out for being Vane’s progeny—a secret I was willing to keep forever—I never thought we’d be friends again.
But not long after I moved back into the Nest following my stay in Lua to help Tanith heal, Misty reached out.
We talked, cried, and promised never to lie to each other again.
The relief I felt at having her back still lingers in my chest.
Vane exits the closet. He notices my discarded shoes with a scowl.
He despises messes. “Desiree.” His single word carries a warning.
We’ve discussed how cleanliness is next to godliness more times than I can count.
I’ve never understood how that applies to vampires.
We are closer to daemons than angels, are we not?
“Sorry, Dad,” I joke, bending to pick up one heel. When I stand, Vane’s crimson eyes lock onto me, rooting me in place.
I swallow hard.
“Say that again. See what happens.”
I smile innocently, like the little shit I am. “Say what?”
“You know what.”
“You don’t like it when I call you Dad?” I laugh. “What about Daddy?”
Vane’s pupils dilate before he closes his eyes briefly, as if fighting himself.
I saunter toward him, rising on tiptoes to whisper low and steady. “Do you want to punish me, Daddy?” Deliberately, I drop the shoe in my hand. It thuds on the floor. “Oh boy, what a pigsty.”
Vane exhales sharply. I turn away with a laugh, continuing to finish my bedtime routine. But Vane grabs me, scoops me up, and throws me onto the four-poster bed. With a shriek, I bounce against the mattress.
He cages me beneath him. Anticipation coils low in my core, sharp and sweet.
“It’s not wise to provoke a vampire, Desiree.”
The wetness gathering between my legs is impossible to ignore. “Is that a threat?”
Vane smirks. “Threats don’t seem to work on you anymore. Maybe I should try punishments instead.” He flips me over on to my stomach, then jerks my hips up. The blankets muffle my gasp as he yanks my skirt up, exposing my bare ass to the cool air.
Our sire bond allows me to feel his emotions as if they are my own. Right now, he’s justifiably annoyed but also mad with desire. I wiggle my butt, taunting him.
“You’re right, I’ve been a bad girl,” I tease. He stills. “Maybe I need a spank—”
Vane cracks a hand against my flesh. A gasp leaves my lungs, but the brief sting transforms into a rush of blissful sensitivity. My skin is hyperaware of his every touch.
“Again?” he taunts. “Or do you promise to behave?”
“You sound more like my dad than my mate,” I reply, muscles clenching for more of that addicting heat.
This time, when he spanks me, the sound sears through me like wildfire. A high-pitched whimper escapes me before I can stop it. I float; nerves buzzing as slick heat spreads and dampens my inner thighs. I need more of him, his hands, his mouth—every inch of him claiming and filling me.
“You do enjoy being punished,” Vane observes.
I’m not looking at him, but I feel the bed shift. Is he leaving? No.
“Are you fucking edging me?”
My body is strung so tightly it hurts. I could snap. My hips strain for friction, for him, for anything. The hunger is deep, pulsing, and impossible to ignore.
“No, please … I’ll be good. Just touch me. I need you.”
Vane peers over his shoulder, offering a smile that makes tears of arousal fall from my eyes. He unzips his fancy carry-on bag. “On the contrary, I’m getting you something to help take that edge off.”
“What is it?” I sit up, and the throb between my legs worsens.
Vane reaches into the bag and pulls out a sleek black box. He breaks the seal and takes out what looks like a wand with a blunt, circular head. No way. He’s not serious, is he? Before I can ask, he presses a button, and a rough, vibrating sound scrapes my ears. My breath sputters.
“A vibrator? You brought a vibrator to my brother’s wedding?”
His smirk widens. “I packed with your pleasure in mind, sweetheart.”
“Why not just touch me yourself?” I challenge, trying to hide my sudden shyness behind a facade of bravado.
Vane chuckles. “Are you nervous, Desiree?”
I roll my shoulders back. Am I? I’ve experienced all kinds of kinky sex with Vane, and I’ve used vibrators before, but never with someone else, never with someone watching my every reaction so intently.
There needs to be honesty between us, so I admit, “Yes.”
Vane’s eyes warm. “You are in control here. What do you want to do?”
I bite my lip. I don’t want playtime to end. “Give it to me.” I reach out my hand.
Vane smiles. He hands me the silicone-covered device. It’s heavier than expected, yet soft in my palm.
“How do you want me?” I ask.
“I’ll take whatever you give me.” He settles into a tufted cognac-colored chair beside the window. His shoulders are relaxed. He crosses his legs, resting his hands in his lap as a decanter of blood breathes beside him.
I wet my lips. “So self-sacrificing.”
Setting the vibrator on the bed, I reach behind me to unzip my dress.
The bodice loosens as I peel it down my chest, deliberately slowing my movements as I roll the fabric over my hips before kicking it onto the floor.
Vane’s upper lip twitches. I smile. Ruffling his feathers is my favorite thing to do. He’s right about me being a brat.
I slide my underwear down my thighs until I am completely naked.
My clit throbs as I reach for the wand. I press the button, and the buzzing sound returns. It’s too intense, so I adjust the dial, turning it down until it produces a low, agonizing pulsing. Perfect.
I rise onto my knees, turning my back toward Vane, giving him a generous view of my ass.
His arousal hits me through our bond, every bit as hot and demanding as my own.
I spread my thighs, straddling his imaginary hips, and slide the vibrator between my legs.
The toy grazes my skin, and the first surge of vibration tugs a moan from low in my throat.
I roll my hips, glancing over my shoulder.
Our eyes lock. He’s as starving for this as I am.
Rocking forward and back, I exhale his name on my next breath.
Fuck. It feels too good. My free hand grips the duvet as I ride the little toy, back arching and breasts heaving.
We never break eye contact. I’m art come alive, crafted just for him.
“Is this what you wanted?” I rasp.
His ragged breaths shake his chest. He’s barely holding himself together. “I’ve never seen anyone or anything as adoringly perfect as you.”
“I’m not perfect.”
One of his hands strays to his thigh, gripping hard. “To me you are.”
I moan. I love it when he says sweet things like that.
As I continue moving against the vibrator, waves of pleasure crash through me.
I gyrate my hips with urgency; my orgasm is so close, a tightening deep in my core.
Vane’s jaw clenches. Through our bond, I can taste his arousal, like pomegranate seeds bursting on my tongue.
It’s a dizzy rush, hurtling me toward release.
Fuck. I can almost feel Vane inside me.
“Vane,” I cry, raw with need. “I want you.”
“Soon, my love.”
My breaths are fractured bursts of air. I press down harder, chasing the friction. My world shrinks to the sound of the thrumming toy. I’m so close it hurts. Hips rocking harder, I reach for release.
“I want to see you fall apart for me,” Vane commands. “Say my name when you come. I want to hear it.”
The ache inside me has me by its teeth. I grind helplessly, gasping for more.
“Vane.” His name tears from my lips. Pleasure rips through me. I’m lost in the slick, shattering sensation. Everything is too much, and still not enough. I come, loud and messy, but I know Vane loves every second of it. It’s what we both wanted.
When the final shock wave disappears, I collapse onto the bed. Nudging the wand with my knee, it rolls away, still buzzing somewhere nearby. I breathe heavily into the duvet, unable to move.
Vane’s hand gently brushes over my back, grounding me as I descend from the intense high.
“You liked performing for me, didn’t you?” he asks, prideful.
I manage a small nod against the cover, still too dazed to speak coherently.
“Can you handle more?”
I nod again, more eagerly this time. “Gods, yes.”
“No gods, Desiree, just me.”
Vane’s strong hands position me onto all fours, and anticipation shoots through me like electricity. My breath saws in and out, and Vane runs a finger between my legs. I’m embarrassingly wet. He hums satisfactorily.
“Hurry,” I whine.