Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
TALULLA
My mouth dries as his silky voice caresses me. I couldn’t even speak our entire way home. I’m too eager to finally touch him again. Properly.
The drive feels like it takes hours even though it’s only twenty minutes. Every red light is torture. Every turn brings us closer to home, closer to the bedroom, closer to finally ending this three-week punishment that’s been slowly driving me insane.
I don’t care what awaits me tonight. I just know that it will complete me. He enhances me in ways that I didn’t know were even possible, and what I feel for him is unbreakable.
The sweet torture he’s been acting on since this morning—when he ate my ass and prepared me for what I begged to have—is making me utterly and absolutely ready for him.
I know his cock is bigger than the butt plug that’s still very much secured in my ass. I’ve felt it enough times to know exactly what I’m in for. But instead of being scared, I’m foaming at the mouth. I want it. I want him. I want everything he’s been promising me for three weeks.
We park the car, and as soon as we lock the door behind us, Flynn is ready to play his part.
The house is dark except for the lights we left on upstairs. The security system beeps as we enter, and Flynn quickly disarms it. Then he turns to me, and the look in his eyes makes my knees weak.
“You’re my pet, Talulla,” he says, his eyes darkening as they travel over my body.
The words send a shiver down my spine. Not because they’re degrading, but because they’re true. In this moment, in this dynamic, I am his. Completely. And I chose it. I choose it every time.
I swallow some saliva before I repeat, “I’m your pet.”
I’m enclosed by his arms, my back against the front door, his breath caressing my neck. “You follow orders so prettily,” he says, his fangs tickling my skin.
And fuck do I wish he would just taste me. Just sink those fangs in and drink. Mark me. Claim me in the most permanent way possible.
But I know he won’t. Not yet. Not until whatever demons he’s fighting are laid to rest.
“Flynn,” I say in a whisper. “Please.” My tone sounds desperate enough, and with that, he picks me up.
Just like that, we’re in our bedroom. Vampire speed. One second we’re downstairs, the next we’re here, and I’m dizzy from the movement but also incredibly turned on.
My eyes can’t stop looking at his beautiful icy-gray ones. Dark red circles his irises—pure hunger and lust—and instead of frightening me, it makes my nipples pebble.
This is what I want. The real him. The vampire, the predator, the monster. Not the controlled version he shows the world, but the one who wants to devour me.
“On the bed,” my vampire’s voice is firm, demanding.
And just because I know him so much, I decide to play. “Or what?”
One of my eyebrows raises, and I see the moment his control snaps.
Flynn rips the back of my dress as if it’s a piece of paper. The act makes me gasp—he’s predatory, yet still gentle as he makes sure not to harm me. The expensive silk is in shreds at my feet in a matter of seconds.
“Wasn’t I clear enough?” His hand travels up my arm and grips my neck, his fingers gently tightening around my throat, cutting my air off completely.
And fuck, I can’t help but shut my eyes. The pressure is perfect—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make me lightheaded, enough to remind me that he could kill me in an instant but chooses not to.
That’s the power. Not that he’s strong enough to hurt me, but that he’s controlled enough not to.
“On the bed, now.” His voice slices me in the most erotic way, as if a pleasurable knife was actually cutting me open.
I obey without objecting. I sit right at the edge of the bed, waiting for him to tell me what to do next.
My heart is hammering. My pussy is throbbing. The plug in my ass is a constant reminder of what’s coming.
Flynn slowly unbuckles his belt and removes it from his sleek trousers. “You won’t touch yourself,” he starts, then runs his tongue across his lower lip. “That’s my job.”
“But—”
“No insolence, or I’m ending everything right now. Are we clear?”
Ending everything right now? Is he kidding? There’s no way I can resist any longer. After three weeks of not touching him, of having him torture me this morning, I might actually perish if I get denied his pleasure again.
“Yes,” I reply in a whisper.
“Yes, what, Talulla?”
My mouth slightly opens before turning into a grin. This is the game. This is what we do. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Heat reaches my cheeks, and I feel the dampness of my panties growing. Those two words should not have the effect they do, but here we are. My body responds to his praise like it’s a drug, like I need it to survive.
“Now give me your wrists.”
I do as I’m told, and Flynn proceeds to restrain me. The tension of the Italian leather on my wrists is so carefully induced. Painful, but never enough to leave a permanent mark. And I can still move my arms enough to know that I can get out of the grip if I really wanted to.
He always makes sure I have an exit.
He ties me up for show, but the real dominance he loves is knowing that I stay even if I could get out of it. I submit myself willingly to him. I let him have control over me because I decide it.
I stay because I desire him in every fucked up way.
This is my power. Not the ability to escape, but the choice to stay.
“Lay down on your stomach. I promise it will feel good.” He smirks before adding, “Eventually.”
Then he grabs my chin and licks my neck up to my ear, and then gently nibbles my lobe. I can’t help but shiver in pure ecstasy.
Having him threatening me turns me on in a scary way. Because it shouldn’t, yet here I am, almost squirming with a soaked pair of panties.
Flynn grabs the back of my neck and holds me down in place. He’s still standing, growling at the vision of me ass up in the air for him.
The scent of my arousal is filling up the room, and I know he’s going insane as well.
“Your smell is magnificent,” he says as he starts to bring his hand down on my ass.
A moan escapes my mouth as soon as the sting of the slap gets to my skin. The pain blooms into pleasure, hot and sharp.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, Talulla. I need you to understand that.”
“Yes, yes, yes, I understand,” I reply with a desperate voice.
“I won’t be gentle as I usually am.”
I can’t help but snort. “You? Gentle?”
I know my comebacks make him harder. I can hear the way his breathing changes, can imagine his cock straining against his trousers. And I need him to be hard. I crave him like I’ve never craved anything in my life before.
He presses my head down into the pillow, making it basically impossible for me to breathe.
And I like this. A lot.
I want him to be completely himself with me. I don’t want pity. I don’t need soft. I need him. Every side. Every shade. Even the darkest one. I can take him. All of him.
Even if I was born to kill his kind, the way I want to hunt him is only lustful. I was born to love him. I’m sure of it.
“Are you done being a brat?” he asks before letting me breathe again. “Apologize.”
“I’m sorry, fangs.”
Then he moves to the foot of the bed, grabs my ankles, and pulls me down to him. I didn’t even realize he has silk ribbons in his hands.
After making me spread my legs to tie my ankles at the base of the bed, I’m now pretty damn immobilized. No way of getting away from him.
Not that I want to.
“We’re not playing anymore, little hunter. What’s your safeword?” he asks me as if he didn’t know it already.
“I don’t need—”
A sudden slap on my ass makes me gasp. That was hard enough to leave a pretty bruise, I’m convinced. And maybe I should worry about the fact that I won’t sit straight for days, but who am I kidding? I’m loving every second of it.
Kind of glad I have the weekend ahead of me to recuperate before going back to work on Monday.
“Safeword. Now,” he growls at me.
“Rosu,” I whisper. Red.
“Rosu,” he repeats, his tongue licking my thighs. “Always so fitting.” He hums against my skin. “You’re going to teach me your beautiful language one day.”
Did he just say he wants to learn Romanian?
Am I dreaming?
The thought makes my chest tight, makes my eyes burn with sudden emotion. He wants to learn my language. The language my grandma taught me, the language of my childhood, the language I use when I’m too overwhelmed to think in English.
He wants that part of me too.
I turn to look at him, at his magnificent presence as he slowly unbuttons his silk black shirt. Then he gently folds it and puts it on the chair in front of the closet.
Gods, he loves silk.
He’s going to make me wait and beg for a long time. I know it. I continue to stare at him as he takes his undershirt off, letting me see his perfectly sculpted chest.
I’m basically drooling at the sight of him. I need him everywhere right now.
Pale skin stretched over defined muscle. The V of his hips disappearing into his trousers. The trail of dark hair leading down. He’s beautiful in that inhuman way that vampires are—too perfect, too symmetrical, too much.
“Flynn, please,” I moan, raising my ass, trying to find any possible way to close my legs to give myself some sort of friction.
“Patience, my love,” he replies, unbuttoning his trousers and taking those off as well.
I can easily see the shape of his cock. He’s so hard and ready. The thought of his entire length balls deep in my ass makes my pussy throb. I can feel my wetness seeping down my legs.
And I know he’s enjoying the view of me at his complete mercy, ready to be fucked and toyed with as he pleases.
“Flynn, I’m already dripping,” I say between pants.
The click of his tongue followed by a growl tells me he’s enjoying this very much. “Oh I know, red ruby. I fucking know how ready you are.”
“Please,” I beg as I hear him get closer to the bed again.
“You’re my little slut, aren’t you, Talulla?” he asks as he positions himself between my legs and raises my hips up to him.
I grip the railed headboard to find some balance on my elbows.