Chapter 27
Max
Ihit send on the email listing out my latest round of prospects before shutting my laptop and leaning back in my leather desk chair.
Ergonomic, of course.
Since Star was involved in purchasing it.
I gazed around my home office, which she’d taken great care with decorating. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves contained reading material, framed photos, and mementos for all three of us—with plenty of cozy, oversized seating so we could all occupy the space together while I worked.
It was safe to assume my thoughtful yet incredibly clever mate had created this as a communal space to lessen the blow of me answering to someone else in my current vocation.
Official “headhunter” for Live & Lurk in Maine.
Aside from the pure glee I found in my job title, I enjoyed seeking out and vetting supernatural creatures looking for sanctuary—as we once had—before passing them along to my employer. These applicants would then be matched with local humans needing tenants and employees of their own.
Live & Lurk’s president, Billie, had first started the organization to recruit her fellow humans to this state, to assist the existing supernatural population. Once we connected, she realized the reverse was needed as well, and thus, a position was created for me.
Billie’s mate was a local, and fairly infamous, cryptid known as The Turner Creature. Oren—as he was known to us—was essentially a non-shifting wolven who’d stalked his mate on her family’s rural property for years before convincing her to leave Boston behind for good.
Fortunately for us, Billie remained a savvy businesswoman—much like Star and her cosmetics and skincare empire—because it was thanks to this non-profit organization that my family of three now lived in a restored, brick Victorian surrounded by a vast, private pine forest.
The perfect location for playing chase…
Rising from my chair, I circled my desk and approached the windows edged with stained glass, peering down at the backyard patio below.
Currently aglow with fairy lights—courtesy of Star—the setup consisted of comfortable rattan furniture spread out on overgrown pavers around a deluxe fire pit we enjoyed year-round.
The only thing currently missing were Damon and Star, who had been seated out there earlier, enjoying the evening air together while I worked, but apparently had both wandered off since then.
Where did they disappear to?
I cocked my head, smiling when I heard the familiar hum of Damon’s industrial sewing machine trickling down from his workspace in the attic.
Inspired by the muse, I see.
The sound of creaking floorboards had me turning, and I sharply inhaled to find the muse herself standing beneath the arched door frame, dressed in a delicious dress that was clearly one of our mate’s designs.
Be still my cold, dead heart!
Damon’s vision for the new Gunslinger Goth had taken off in the eight years since we’d put down roots again. With Star’s encouragement, and her willingness to inspire, he’d recently expanded into women’s fashion as well.
And thank Selene he did…
Our third was dressed in black—the color favored by both my mates—and while the style she wore had vintage elements I recognized, it was a wholly modern creation.
I’ve heard them call it “dark cottagecore”…
Whatever that means.
The dress featured a corset waist with lace-up front, a square neckline, and long, puff sleeves, all trimmed in lace. While Star’s upper half was deceptively demure, the flared skirt barely reached mid-thigh, resulting in miles of long legs on display.
My gaze continued downward, noting that she’d foregone heels and stockings completely, and I had to swallow my groan once I saw she’d painted her toenails blood red.
Which is my favorite color.
As expected, her makeup perfectly accentuated the ensemble, with thick, black eyelashes framing her big, blue eyes and red lips painted like a porcelain doll.
The perfect doll.
I suddenly realized she hadn’t said a word since appearing on my threshold, and when I looked closer, I confirmed she was staring at me in a distant, dreamy way I recognized well.
So my doll wants to play?
Star and I had explored dollification many times over the years, discovering the kink suited both our needs. Aside from the aesthetics, my predatory instincts were appeased by having a helpless toy to bat around while my mate was given the space to reign in her inner predator and fully submit.
Plus, I’ll never turn down the opportunity to worship her.
“How kind of Damon to send me such a pretty doll as a gift,” I purred, closing the distance between us and lightly trailing the back of my knuckles down her cool cheek. “And in such a pretty dress.”
I began examining the garment, making a point to only touch her skin “accidentally” in the process. This forced Star to suppress her shivers and whines—to remain completely motionless, like an actual doll.
Like prey attempting to escape a predator’s notice.
“I wonder if it’s a fuckdoll,” I mused, smirking when her breath hitched. “This hole could work for my needs…”
So there would be no mistaking my intentions, I traced her plump bottom lip with the pad of my thumb before forcing it inside her mouth, pulling down until she opened wide. Then I placed my hands on her shoulders and firmly pushed.
“On your knees.”
Star dropped to the parquet floor so forcefully, I winced, but then I thought of the imminent—if not short-lived—bruises forming on her bare knees and my already thickening cock pressed against my zipper insistently.
Let the torture commence.
As desperate as I was for her, I took my time pulling down my zipper and unbuttoning my slacks before slowly—so slowly—pulling out her prize.
The neediest little sound escaped her at the sight of my cock, but when I arched an eyebrow, Star’s body went lax, her gaze going distant once again.
Good girl.
“What an obedient fuckdoll you are.” I lazily ran my crown over her bottom lip, spreading precum back and forth. “So obedient, I bet I could just jerk off into your mouth and you wouldn’t move at all.”
Star’s eyes widened imperceptibly, and I grinned in anticipation of the torment ahead. There was nothing our girl loved more than swallowing our cocks—aside from taking us both into her perfect cunt—so it was going to take all her self-control to stay in character.
“Such a good girl,” I praised as I spit on my hand and began to stroke, pausing ever so often to tease my magic cross piercing, centimeters above her tongue. “And if you can remain a good girl, I’ll be sweet to you in return.”
My mate’s eyes narrowed as her gaze met mine, immediately identifying my words for the threat they were.
If you’re naughty, you’ll be punished.
This was what made playtime between us so thrilling. Unlike consent—which was non-negotiable and could be revoked at any time—the rules we followed were fickle. I had a vague idea in my head of what might constitute disobedience, but I also might not know until I saw it.
And by then, it will be too late.
Luckily, we both would enjoy Star’s punishment, but in the meantime, the battle of wills had begun.
Time to raise the stakes.
Raising my wrist, I pierced the skin with my fangs, allowing the blood from my last meal to trickle into my palm before taking myself in hand again.
“Keep that pretty mouth open for me, baby,” I murmured, increasing my pace as her expression grew desperate. “We wouldn’t want to spill a drop on your new dress.”
Star’s arousal scented the air, and her hands clenched into fists where they rested on her bare thighs, but otherwise, she remained still and open.
I was mesmerized by her submission, like always, and as my hand shuttled faster over my cock—as my focus tunneled on the prey at my feet—I knew I wouldn’t last long.
“You’re so good for me,” I growled, my vision going red as my balls drew up tight. “And good girls get rewards.”
I think I deserve a reward as well.
No longer satisfied with simply giving her a taste, I dropped my cock onto her tongue and grabbed her head with both hands before shoving my full length deep into her throat.
Star whimpered long and low as I emptied everything I had, and with the way her eyes rolled back and her body shook, I suspected I wasn’t the only one who’d found their release.
Naughty girl.
I leisurely pumped until she’d swallowed every drop then calmly zipped myself up again.
Punishment time.
Noticing she was trying to discreetly pull her short skirt farther down her legs, I crouched and batted her hands away—revealing the dampness on her inner thighs and the damning puddle on the floor between them.
Apparently, she also didn’t bother adding underwear to this outfit.
I tsked and grabbed her wrists, rising to stand and dragging her along with me, eager to continue our game.
“You needed to come that badly, baby?” I teased as I scooped my mate into my arms and carried her across the room to her favorite oversized chaise lounge. “Well, who am I to deny you as many orgasms as you want?”
Along with some you don’t.
After unceremoniously dropping her onto the chenille-covered memory foam, I dropped to my knees, slung her legs over my shoulders, and shoved my tongue deep into her still quivering pussy.
While “accidentally” forgetting to retract my fangs.
“Max!” she screamed, arching backwards as she immediately soaked my face.
Two down, more to go.
I nipped Star’s inner thigh, reminding her to hush, then refocused on dragging so many orgasms out of her, she wouldn’t be able to walk by the time I was done.
More thrashing accompanied the next two—followed by more warning bites—but the fight left her after that. When Damon finally joined us, our third was nothing but a shivering, sweating mess, sprawled out on the chaise like a broken doll.
So perfect.
“I take it you liked the dress,” he chuckled from behind me—a statement not a question, because I adored everything these two magical creatures created.
“My favorite design yet,” I confirmed as I stood, pulling him close to share Star’s flavor with him. “Although the prototype may be ruined.”
Oops.
“Damon…” Star gasped, weakly reaching for him. “Help…”
Of course, she was only joking. We all still used the stoplight system as safewords and not once had “red” crossed her lips.
I didn’t hear “yellow” either…
“Don’t move, gorgeous.” Damon pulled his iPhone out of his pocket with one hand while smoothing down her skirt with the other. “This would make a perfect Instagram post… and a lockscreen.”
One of them will need to show me how to add a lockscreen again.
Now that my workday was done, I left my mates behind in my office, so I could change into my preferred at-home clothing.
A long smoking jacket, lined in satin, in blood red.
The less clothing the better, nowadays.
Once I returned, Damon was curled over his muse, fucking her into the chenille—owning her, for now.
One of Star’s favorite games was to let our sweet boy think he was in charge before swiftly taking over, so I claimed a neighboring chair, helped myself to a cigar, and sat back to watch the show, content in my slice of paradise.
As close to heaven as I’ll ever be.
Of course, that was when someone decided to disturb my peace by ringing the goddamn doorbell.