Chapter 8
Damon
Max struck so fast, I barely saw him move.
One moment, he was still standing by the door, uncharacteristically skittish—like a cornered animal about to bolt. The next, I was flat on my back, arms pinned to the mattress as he lapped at my bloodied chest like a wild beast devouring a kill.
I don’t understand what is happening here…
But I love it.
Unconventional sexual practices were nothing new in my world, and since it also happened to be the doves’ favorite topic of gossip in the off-hours, I’d been privy to it all.
At least, I thought I had…
I couldn’t recall ever hearing about a client’s thirst for blood, but with the way it seemed to have unleashed Max’s true nature, I was every bit on board.
He can drain me dry if he wants to.
As long as he fucks me first.
“How do I taste?” I teased, running my fingers through his thick hair, giving it a teasing tug.
Max growled—like a dog protecting its food—but then his shoulders relaxed and he lifted his head, blowing out a slow breath before smiling down at me apologetically.
“Exactly as I imagined.” He brought his blood-tinged lips to mine. “Better.”
The metallic taste that hit my tongue reminded me of the oysters from our first dinner together, which Max had treated me to several times since then. They’d become a favorite, but now I hungered for something entirely different.
“Max!” I gasped as he returned his attention to my chest, yanking down the camisole to get at my nipples—teasing them with his tongue and teeth. “Please… Please, I need…”
I need your blood.
What?!
I could have blamed the whiskey, but the truth was, this man brought out a side of me I’d never known existed—a primal urge to consume and be consumed in return.
Max froze before slowly lifting himself up and sitting back on his heels, eyeing me warily. “I’m going to need you to be specific, pet. Tell me exactly what you need.”
Thank goodness he can’t read my thoughts.
Despite my newest desire seeming to match his, I was oddly hesitant to share. Instead, I refocused on my original reason for cutting our night on the town short.
Needing him to claim me.
My gaze trailed over the man currently straddling me. His pants were stretched taut over his muscular thighs and the area between them was noticeably tighter than usual.
He’s still far too dressed for my liking.
“I need you inside me,” I whined, lifting my hips, seeking friction for some modicum of relief. When Max simply arched an eyebrow expectantly, I obediently elaborated, “I need your cock inside me.”
He chuckled as he slid off the bed and began meticulously removing his many layers of clothing. “My cock has already been inside you, Damon—inside that perfect mouth. Or have you forgotten how you begged for it?”
I pushed up on my elbows to better glare at him. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
A few nights ago, I’d finally convinced Max to fully undress for me—to allow me to give him pleasure for once. He’d seemed uncharacteristically reluctant, despite my begging, and once he’d removed his shirt, I’d thought I understood why.
His entire chest, and down both arms, was covered in gorgeous art—both pictorial and geometric. Although vastly different, it reminded me of the markings I’d seen on the Ute and Shoshone, which I knew represented not only accomplishments and status but spiritual protection as well.
“It’s like a story…” I’d murmured, reverently running my fingertips over the faded designs, wishing he’d tell me what they meant.
“Yes,” he’d replied tightly. “The story of my past life.”
Something in his expression had told me I wouldn’t be learning more—not just yet—so I attempted to lighten the mood.
“Do these designs go lower?” I’d teased, toying with the buttons on his pants, knowing how much he loved to play.
Just as I’d hoped, his face had lit up. “Hmm… I suppose you’ll need to see for yourself.”
Finally!
That was all the permission I needed to drop to my knees, taking his pants to the floor with me. While no further tattoos were found, he had the most beautiful cock I’d ever seen—so thick, I shivered just thinking about how perfectly he’d fill me up.
But then, I’d noticed the incision.
It was a vertical cut through the foreskin on the upper side of his shaft, immediately noticeable once I wrapped my hand around him and felt the excess skin on either side.
“Who did this to you?” I’d hissed, loosening my grip and gazing up at him through rage-filled tears—convinced I was seeing evidence of the past trauma he’d only hinted at.
I’d never wanted to kill anyone before, but I knew I wouldn’t hesitate to spill blood if I were to come face to face with the monsters responsible for injuring what was mine.
Yes, I think of him—and his cock—as mine.
Max had stared down at me in shock before a slow, gleeful grin stretched across his face.
“The long-dead village elders are to blame, I’m afraid.
Don’t worry, pet. It’s simply the now-healed results of Tuli—a rite of passage for boys entering into manhood.
” He paused before adding, “And I was given a choice at the time.”
His expression did something complicated after he finished that sentence, but I was too flabbergasted by this new information to focus on more than the current issue.
With anger no longer clouding my vision, my gaze dropped to his cock once again. It had looked nicely healed, and the unusual appearance did nothing to dull my hunger, but first, I needed to be certain this wasn’t an issue for him.
“Does it still hurt?” I asked, glancing up, closely watching his face. “Will I hurt you?”
The last thing I would ever want to do.
He’d sharply inhaled before burying his rare vulnerability beneath a smirk. “No… but if you’re that worried, you could start by giving it a kiss.”
After rolling my eyes, I did as I was instructed—sweetly kissing Max directly over his scar before swallowing him down to the root, relishing the sounds I coaxed out of him as he buried his hands in my hair and filled my stomach with seed.
It still wasn’t enough.
Back in the present, Max was gloriously naked and on his knees, removing my boots as usual, which reminded me I’d hidden one more surprise beneath my outerwear…
“Damon.” His voice had taken on that growly edge I craved. “Are you wearing stockings?”
“Maybe…” I teased, unbuttoning my pants so he could pull them off, along with my drawers, sighing in relief as my aching cock was freed. “Maybe I wanted to try and tempt you into revealing who you truly are.”
Max was oddly quiet, ghosting his fingertips over the silk covering my legs, toying with the leather garters holding them in place just above my knee. “What if you don’t like what I am once I show you?” he whispered, peeking up at me from between my legs.
What.
Not who.
“Max…” I sighed as I situated myself more fully on the bed and took myself in hand. “There is nothing I could learn that would make me dislike you.”
Especially as I may be falling in love with you…
I knew it was ridiculous for anyone—much less a man as uninterested in romance as me—to feel so strongly about someone they’d only recently met.
But, apparently, you can’t argue with fate.
Max and I had spent every night together these past few weeks, and that time was not only spent in the bedroom.
Aside from gambling at the Royale, we’d eaten at every restaurant and boarding house in town, attended performances by traveling acting troupes, and simply sat out under the stars and talked.
He’d led a far more interesting life than I had—traveling the world while I’d never left this town—but he still made a point to ask me questions, to discuss the books I’d read, and to treat me as his equal.
So why is he behaving as if we’re so different?
“Have you ever fired these guns, Damon?” Max’s question had me pausing mid-stroke.
“Yes…” I replied, confused why he was bringing this up of all things. “That is—was—my main responsibility at the House, to protect the doves. It’s why I’m sticking around until the Madam can find someone new—”
“Have you ever killed a man?” Max continued conversationally, joining me on the mattress before settling himself between my legs.
“N-no,” I choked out as he batted my hand away and wrapped his around both our lengths at once. “I c-could, however… if it was necessary.”
He chuckled low and dark, stroking us together, rubbing those natural ridges of his over my shaft, making me whimper and squirm.
“Is that so?” he purred. “I wonder what might be considered a necessity for murder…”
I was nearly out of my mind with desire at this point, but in a moment of clarity, I realized this wasn’t simply a strange avenue of dirty talk. It was a test.
He’s killed someone.
And he wants to know I won’t judge him for it.
The idea that anyone in the West would look down their nose at honest survival was preposterous, but Max had come from the city, and I had to assume they did things differently there.
“It would… depend on the… situation,” I panted, feeling what would be my first orgasm of the night galloping down my spine. “But I know I would kill for you.”
The instant the words left my mouth I knew how intensely true they were. Loyalty to Madam Roulette and the House of Eternal Moonlight had been hammered into my head since birth, but that devotion paled in comparison to what I felt for Max.
So much for being uninterested in romance.
Apparently, it was also the correct answer. Max smiled and leaned down to lick his way into my mouth, increasing the speed of his strokes until I was writhing beneath him, moaning against his lips until I covered my stomach in release.
“Good boy.” He delivered one last kiss before swiping his hand through the mess and transferring it to my hole. “I wonder how many orgasms I can get out of you tonight…”
“Max, please!” I sobbed as he stuffed me with thick fingers, expertly massaging my prostate while I unraveled. “I just need… I need your cock.”
My heart nearly stopped as he still looked unsure. “Aren’t you concerned about—”
“No!” I exclaimed, already feeling another orgasm building but not wanting it to happen until he was inside me. “I insisted every man before you wear rubber but I don’t want… I need to feel you Max. Please, please, please!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he chuckled, reaching for the jar of Vaseline on the bedside table to lubricate himself. His gaze flickered to my neck as he added, “I’ll try my best to behave.”
“I don’t want you to behave,” I muttered as he lined up his cock with my entrance. “I want you to fuuuuuuu…”
My words ended with a choked sound as he slid home, pressing my thighs to my ribcage to ensure he went as deep as possible.
It’s still not enough.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, starting up a slow rhythm, making my eyes cross as he hit my prostate on every pass.
“Stop holding back,” I gasped, earning a sharp thrust in response. “Please, Max…”
Please, hurt me.
Max growled and increased his pace until the high-class hotel room was filled with the sounds of our skin slapping, our groans of pleasure, and the headboard banging against the wallpaper.
More…
I need more!
At this point, I could barely form a coherent thought, but the buzzing sensation in my veins was impossible to ignore.
Moremoremore.
“Please…” I begged, pulling him closer and tilting my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. “Bite me, please…”
“Damon.” There was an almost panicked edge to his voice I’d never heard before. “You don’t—”
“I do!” I exclaimed, raking my nails down his back as my body shook in impending release. “Make me yours.”
With an inhuman snarl, Max latched onto my neck, and I cried out in ecstasy as I felt his teeth neatly puncture my skin.
Yes.
This.
My orgasm was near-blinding, a cocktail of pleasure-pain so intense, I wondered if I was still conscious—still on this plane of existence. Max also seemed to be experiencing a similar euphoria as his thrusts had turned desperate, erratic, near violent as he drank me down.
Thisthisthis.
I went limp in his hold, which only served to spur him on. With another snarl that confirmed his “more animal than man” assessment, he pressed his hips flush against me, holding me in place with his weight and teeth as he filled me with seed. Claiming me as his.
Finally.
His mouth found mine, wet with my blood, and I bit down on his plush bottom lip—hard enough to puncture the flesh, needing to taste him, to combine our essence into one.
You’re mine as well.
Thoroughly spent, I didn’t protest when he withdrew, nor when he soothed my ravaged neck with gentle licks before trailing kisses down my bruised body until I’d melted into the mattress.
The bone-deep exhaustion I usually experienced after our encounters began to creep into the corners of my consciousness, and the last thing I heard before sleep overtook me was an answer to my unspoken prayers.
“I am yours… forever.”