Submit To Her (Vamp Hunters 0.75)

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Submit To Her

Vamp Hunters 0.75

Elle Q. Sabine

Copyright 2016 by Elle Q. Sabine. All rights reserved, do not reprint in paper or electronic form without prior permission of the author. This material is supplemental material to books in the series Vamp Hunters (beginning with Hunt Her, published July 2016), published by Totally Bound. By reading further, you are stating you are 18 years of age, or over.

Vamp [vamp]: n. a seductive woman who uses her sensuality to exploit men; vb. to use feminine charms upon; seduce.

“Operation Late Night Tour for the New Employee is go,” muttered Wesley sarcastically, but Duncan heard.

He glared down the soldier. Theoretically they were peers. Wesley was the supervisor of the ground security soldiers, while Duncan supervised all gate operations, but Duncan often felt as if he was in charge of the younger, rasher Wesley as well as Duncan’s own troops.

Wesley shrugged, unconcerned by Duncan’s censure. “Don’t know why we are doing this in the middle of the night,” he grumbled. “It’s like we have to live up to stereotypical vampire lore.”

“We are Vampire,” Duncan huffed out, as quietly as possible. He didn’t know where their new employee was, but Owen Tudor and Martin Phillips had better hearing than the compound’s security dogs, which was saying something. Duncan considered the matter carefully, but it was entirely possible that Owen could take Wesley in a sparring contest, and Wesley didn’t like losing.

Wesley snorted, leaning up against the doorframe in the lobby. Owen, the Human Resources Director, and his assistant Martin were bringing MONA’s new attorney through the building as part of her tour of the compound. MONA was the nickname they’d given the fortress of the Master of North America, which in this generation was in north central Michigan. Centuries ago it had been elsewhere, but when Master Valor – the heir to Duncan’s Lord Valiant – found that his mate had been born in Michigan, the master and the lord had decided to build a new portal and fortress here, close to her childhood home.

Duncan hadn’t minded. Along with the other Tuatha serving Lord Valiant and the ruling Dannan clan, Duncan had left TirNa Og, crossed the Sidhe and entered the realm its people called Earth. He’d hunted here over the centuries, as many had, but this time Master Valor had taken Duncan’s vow of service and set him to organizing and guarding MONA. It was a great honor for Duncan and for his family, and Duncan worked diligently to be worthy of it. The men of his family had been in service, in a variety of ways, to the Dannan clan for countless millennia and several generations, in military and bureaucratic roles, as well as administering the Dannan palaces.

Service, indeed, was the underlying mission of the Sinn clan. In addition to the Dannans, Duncan’s brothers, father, and uncles were utterly devoted to the women who were the foundation of their families. In the privacy of Sinn lands and fortresses, behind the walls that were built to protect their females, the Sinn men would do just about anything to make one of their treasured females happy.

In Duncan’s mindset, this worldview seemed entirely natural. It wasn’t until he’d entered the world of the Dannans that he’d learned how often it was that the vamps they so treasured acceded to the demands of their men, a perspective which seemed completely contrary to Duncan’s viewpoint. The ritual vow that a Vampire recited when he swore fealty to his vamp made it clear that the Vampire was the one who was responsible for seeing to his partner. But even among the Vampires at MONA, there was the odd perception that when a Vampire found his mate, she would adapt to his world and would change her life to suit the Vampire. Duncan found the concept entirely at odds with everything the males in his clan had taught him and the expectation of every woman in his life, from his mother and aunts to his sisters and female cousins.

Still, he hadn’t found her yet. Someday, eventually, he knew he would. Once he did, she would be the cynosure of his life. God willing, she’d want to stay here, with him, supporting his master and the future lord. But if she didn’t? Duncan considered the thought. He’d go where she wished, do as she wished, would be as she wished. He could find some other way to support them, even in the human world, if he had to, and some less visible way to serve the Dannans. She would be everything, coming first in all he did, the center of his universe.

But that was a decision for later, for when she was found and accepted his vow.

In contrast to his irreverent companion, Duncan didn’t lean on the wall. He stood straight, but at ease, and waited. As the trio climbed the front steps, something inside him quaked. He blinked. His brain heated when the door opened and he heard her soft laugh. His knees weakened when she stepped into the light, following Martin into the lobby. Then he was on his knees on the tile, his heart beating out of control in the seconds after he met her eyes, seeing his own shock mirrored there.

He caught himself in the moment before he fainted, but it was only enough to keep from cracking his skull open. She opened her mouth to speak, but he couldn’t hear the words over the pounding of his heart.

When he woke, the lobby was vacant. Owen, Martin, and Wesley had discreetly disappeared. He kept his eyes closed for as long as he could and inwardly castigated himself. Duncan had just met his vamp, and his response was to fall into an unconscious and unhelpful heap at her feet.

He’d never live this down.

 

“I can tell you’re back with me,” Rachel murmured. She knew the words were not as commanding as her usual tone, but she was still in shock. She knew, of course, about the Vampire and their entrenched belief that a single female in all of time and all the universes could be one’s mate, or vamp, but that was just lore. She wasn’t that sort of female.

She’d accepted the position of the company’s – compound’s – attorney only after a long and careful process. Owen, the human resources director, had been as cagey as she’d been. After multiple interviews where every word had been very carefully crafted, they’d negotiated contract that, despite all her legal prowess, was so tight that she wouldn’t be able to whisper outside the walls of MONA without sacrificing her stock portfolio and her retirement. The MONA executives hadn’t breathed a word about bloodlust or fangs, guaranteeing only that the travel agency business operated completely within the law. Only later did she learn that they hadn’t meant US law, but one completely foreign to her. It was up to her, replacing a retiring predecessor, to make sure the Vampires stayed under the radar of US law as well. To say she’d been shocked was an understatement. But the inexplicable had now jumped the curb into the bizarre.

Owen, as part of her rather unorthodox orientation, had warned her that it was possible she was a vamp. He, like all the executives at MONA, was Vampire, and most of those seemed to be from the same Tuatha clan, which explained the relatively similar look of the pasty white men who ran the place. He’d explained that one of his gifts was prescience, and while he couldn’t identify who and what her future was, he knew she would be important to the Tuatha.

As a black woman, she had snorted and denied any such possibility.

One look at Duncan and her derision was jettisoned out the window. He was as pale as the rest of them, with a boyish face and a mouth she just knew would grin as wickedly as anything she’d ever seen. His jaw and chin were covered with scruffy hair, just too long to be from not shaving but not precisely a full beard. She immediately wanted those lips at her pussy, sucking on her clit while she clutched his hair. But Rachel told herself she’d be damned if that turned her into a weak-kneed, simpering chit of a girl. She’d worked her ass off for years and had finally landed a job that threatened to crack the glass ceiling she’d been staring at all her life, and no man was going to take it – or her blood – from her.

But there was no denying her body’s reaction to him. Even unconscious and lying flat on his back, he was rugged beauty personified, the sort of man who belonged on a big screen or on a poster taped to the ceiling over her bed, instead of in it. Still, when she’d seen him, every nerve ending from her nipples to her clit had lit up and her heart had pounded so hard she’d almost succumbed to the same faint he’d suffered. And, while she’d never before been telepathic, his mind had been wide open to her during that impossibly brief moment before he’d fainted, a miasma of information she couldn’t even yet begin to sort through.

The only thing that had made sense was his overwhelming reaction. Vamp, his mind had projected – no, more liked shrieked – before he’d fallen to the floor and his thoughts quiet.

The others had heard his mental shout as loudly as she had, and quickly excused themselves, all grinning.

Rachel glared at him, then paced to the windows at the front of the office building before returning to his side. Her shoes, her professional working heels, clicked impatiently on the marble floor. Of course she wanted him. But she wanted him on her terms. She was not going to let him dictate her life. He was going to wake up and follow her fucking lead.

Obediently, his eyes flickered open. They were so dark brown that they were virtually black. Struggling to maintain control, Rachel drew in a quick breath, pursed her lips together and raised one eyebrow.

Duncan had the grace to blush. He started to sit so Rachel raised a hand, palm out to stop him. He froze immediately, not taking his gaze from her. “If,” she began, “we are to have a successful relationship going forward, you must not try, not now or in the future, to take over my life. I am not now nor will I ever be a submissive miss. Understood?”

Duncan was silent for a long moment, his eyes on hers. She suspected he was trying to read her mind, but didn’t care if he could or not. What she wanted – what she needed – was some acknowledgment that he accepted her terms.

He lowered his eyes. “Yes, minha senhora,” he murmured, the words a husky rumble that immediately caused a heavenly vibration between her legs. Oh, she would love for him to use that tone with his lips more appropriately placed. And he had said … my lady. Lord, he had read her mind, or was reading it. Duncan had said My Lady in Portuguese, of all languages. He knew what her forays into the world of sex had been, limited though they were. And he must know that English was not her native tongue. So he could read her mind.

Panic blossomed for a few seconds, but she gritted her back teeth and took control of her rioting emotions. He’d said minha senhora. He had acquiesced. To her. Her nipples tingled and hardened inside her bra.

Duncan groaned for her, making the noise that threatened to escape her throat, the noise she refused to make. It sounded delectable, coming from his lips. This time, he rolled off the lobby sofa and ended on his knees.

She stepped toward him, knowing she would have to at least take a few drops of his blood to have complete access to his mind. It seemed he could already read hers. Telepathy must be one of his gifts, because when she stopped in front of him, he stayed at her feet and looked up, swallowing heavily. She met his gaze, waited for him to speak.

He obliged, saying directly, “You want me to be your sexual submissive – no, to submit to you.” He drew in a deep breath. “I can see the prospect greatly arouses you, and that arouses me.” His words hit her hard, a gush of arousal leaking from her. He reacted immediately, almost as if he were a pointer suddenly fixed on his scent. His body stiffened, he lifted his chin an inch, and the planes of his face hardened, bringing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

Rachel had to work to breathe evenly, taking in his posture as well as his proud bearing. Heat spiraled through her middle, a direct result of the intense arousal gripping her womb and squeezing.

His voice so low that the guttural words were barely discernable, Duncan continued. “While I can accede to you in most ways, I cannot relinquish my role as your shield. I will be sworn to protect you from danger. In such a situation, I cannot stop and consult you, I will be compelled to take action first and confer with you after.”

Rachel considered him. In truth, she didn’t mind being defended if in danger. She was hardly a pushover and had done some self-defense training, but she felt certain that Duncan’s natural instinct to defend her would be a much more powerful response than any she could muster.

Still, time would tell. She could wait, to see if the reality of his actions matched the sincerity of his words – if he could do as he thought was possible. Lord knew, men came in all forms and surely there were submissive ones out there, though perhaps not many who genuinely sought to be in such relationship permanently. “Tell me, Duncan, do you live in an apartment or one of the townhouses?” Rachel asked him. She’d been promised a townhouse, but until the moving truck arrived with her furniture, she was residing in temporary housing – a suite in the apartment building that the vampires called the “barracks”. It was the most luxurious complex ever given such a title. She didn’t mind taking Duncan to it, but hoped he might have accommodations that were somewhat more private.

She intended to scream before she was finished with him, and as often as she wished.

Duncan’s head jerked. Obviously following her thoughts and realizing what that meant, he clenched his hands into fists as he struggled to control himself. “Townhouse,” he grunted, the word ragged.

“Take me there,” she commanded. He jumped to his feet, obviously eager to oblige, and went to her side, offering his arm. She slipped her hand inside his upper arm, sliding her fingers over his bicep. Even through his shirt she could feel the strength in his muscles. Rachel wanted to purr. She would be putting that strength to good use, as soon as possible.

The townhouse, a mere two hundred yards away, surprised her. She’d expected a sloppy bachelor pad. What she found was an austere interior, almost devoid of personality. Duncan had apparently moved in his clothing, a bedframe with plain if high-quality bedding, and a sofa. He had one stool at the bar that might have come from the local superstore. The remaining rooms were were empty, the walls a uniform dove gray that had probably been applied when the unit was constructed. She stood in the master bedroom, turning around to stare at the virtually empty room, and tried to imagine his reasoning.

He offered it immediately. “It was just me. Didn’t seem to be any reason for anything but the absolute necessities.”

“At least my furniture will fit,” she stated dryly.

“If you desire it, nothing would please me more than to live in your home, minha senhora,” he said, his voice deeper again. “No matter where you make your residence.”

“I just got here,” Rachel pointed out. “And you’re already settled.” She looked about again and added, “At least professionally.”

“Yes,” he agreed cautiously.

Rachel looked at him, standing still in the room beside her. She wondered, then decided to try. “Strip, Duncan. Let me see how beautiful you truly are.”

He did, his eyes not leaving her. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Beneath he wore a navy undershirt and he removed that as well. She frowned as he dropped it, but it wasn’t as though there was anywhere but the floor or the bed to leave his clothes – and she had plans for the bed.

She had plans for his chest, too. Rachel didn’t glance again at the laundry littering the carpet. His chest was a glorious landscape that begged for and deserved her full attention, but he was already busy following the orders she’d foolishly given. He unbuckled the leather belt at his waist. Next time, Rachel promised herself. Next time, she’d undress him herself, one piece of clothing at a time, exploring every inch of skin revealed with exquisite care.

This time, this first time together, she would just try to keep up. She untied her black trench coat and unbuttoned it, following his example in letting it fall to the floor. Beneath she wore a figure-hugging champagne-colored pullover dress. It flattered her figure, particularly her ass, and she decided to leave it on for now. She tipped her head and focused on Duncan, who had paused as she’d removed the coat.

At the movement of her head, he started and swallowed hard. He immediately began working on his clothing again. With the ends of the belt already open, he attacked the button on the front closure of his pants. Those clever fingers, Rachel decided, would do very well working on her. She intended to be certain they did. She stepped toward him, arousal washing over her. He noticed and huffed heavily, his fingers catching unsteadily on the button as it slipped free.

She fixed her gaze on the zipper. He was clearly aroused behind it, unable to keep the front of his pants from lifting. She guessed he was commando, hoped he was. The fraught expectation in the air might crack audibly if he had yet another garment on beneath those pants.

“Carefully,” she murmured silkily, making a conscious effort not to lick her lips.

“The only fucking way,” he muttered, focusing on the zipper as he eased it down.

“Good boy,” she praised, when the zipper was down and the pants fell to his hips. Only a gentle touch was required to drop the pressed black linen slacks to the floor, leaving him completely nude down to his shoes and socks. She eyed those garments unhappily, but he quickly toed off the shoes and lifted each foot in turn to strip off his socks, leaving his body completely bare to her.

Rachel beckoned with one hand, admiring the hard male body waiting for her directive. “Come here, meu querido,” she purred, echoing his Portuguese endearment.

He was startled but stepped forward in her direction, clearly eager to be closer.

“I want to taste every inch of your delicious body,” she told him, wondering at the husky sensuality in her own voice. “But not until you help me remove this dress.”

“Yes,” he agreed immediately. Eagerly, he reached for her.

To her surprise, he wasn’t rough. His touch was extraordinarily gentle, reverent even. His fingertips brushed down her thighs to the bottom of the garment where the knit fabric clung to her thighs, just above her knees. He gathered it in his fingers and urged it upward, sliding it over her legs to reveal the lacy tops of her stockings, her perfectly practical but silk ivory garter belt and matching panties, and higher still to reveal the lacy bra. She helped by lifting her arms so that the dress cleared her head with as much grace as could be expected. The movement strained the confines of the matching bra. Her breasts, full to bursting out the top of the half-cups, strained and settled.

When he dropped the dress to the floor, his gaze dropped to her breasts instead of her face, or her legs, or her panties.

Rachel considered that and shook her head, shaking her head so her hair settled into its usual no-nonsense shoulder-length bob. The length was the dark ebony of her ancestry but she used massive amounts of gel to keep it tame.

“What would you like now, Duncan?” she asked curiously. “Do you think we want the same thing?”

His eyes flew up, meeting hers with an intensity she hadn’t expected. “I want you spread out on my bed, as comfortable as possible, your panties off, so I can settle between your legs and taste that – worship that – elixir between your legs for the remaining hours of the night,” he told her bluntly.

The words made Rachel want to weep with desire, and do nothing more than fall back into the bed. But if he was intent on pleasuring her, she wouldn’t be able to learn as much about him as she desired.

“Perhaps later,” she allowed, smiling at him benignly. “Before that, there’s the matter of learning what manner of man is going to spend those hours pleasuring me, and feeding him. I believe providing your nutrition is one of the delights of being your vamp, isn’t it?”

“Yes, minha senhora.” He inhaled deeply, opening his lips slightly to allow his fangs to descend over his bottom lip. Rachel caught her breath. Between his legs, his already turgid cock jerked and a bit of pre-cum began to glisten.

Rachel backed up to the bed, her ivory satin heels still in place. She sat at its foot, before she lifted a hand and beckoned for him. He prowled forward, intent on her. Hoping it would entice him, she tipped her head to the side and shook her hair a bit, stretching her neck.

He growled, then blinked and frowned. Duncan started to grin, but his own fangs got in the way and nicked his lower lip, drawing a drop of blood. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

Rachel wanted to ask him how he knew to pander to her Portuguese-language ancestry. Her parents had come to the United States from Angola, where they spoke the language natively, and she had learned it from them as her first language, spoken at home. Instead of pursuing the topic, however, she put her palms flat on the bed behind her and leaned back, exhibiting her bra and breasts. Duncan groaned again, and without direction, knelt at her feet. He palmed her knees in his hands and opened her thighs so that he could inch closer. She helped him by edging forward to the end of the bed.

He licked his own blood from his lip, and bent his head so that he could lap at the skin revealed on her inner thigh just above the lacy top edge of her stocking. “I can speak and understand any language,” he mumbled, dragging the front of his fangs over the sensitive skin, up toward her pussy, still concealed by her panties. That particular piece of lace was soaking wet but still covered her. He turned his head and caressed the skin on her other thigh. His lower teeth pressed into her skin as he sucked her flesh into his mouth.

She moaned softly, lifting one hand to ruffle his hair, encouraging him.

He huffed for a moment, shifted his head slightly.

Duncan’s fangs sliced into her. For a half-second, she froze in shock, then shuddered violently as an unexpected orgasm shook her.

By the time the vibrations in her head and groin eased, he was sucking tenderly on the mark where he’d fed from her. Theoretically, she knew he could take control of her mind now, not just read it. Rachel didn’t want him to have any more power over her than she had over him, so she tangled her hand in his hair and tugged.

He lifted his head obediently and followed her down as she laid back, covering her.

That first delicious moment where his body scraped over hers was as monumentally satisfying as it was hunger-inducing. The underlying irony of the moment caught her, but she knew both reactions were true. She’d never craved the weight of a man’s body on hers before, but this one fit her perfectly. At the same time, the sensation of his skin and body hair rubbing over her skin set her pussy on fire. She ached to have him inside her as well, her desire unsated by the orgasm she’d just had.

His forearms rested on either side of her head, but she kept her hands twisted in his hair, bringing his face closer until his lips touched hers. As a first kiss, the contact was fiery. Duncan did not touch her tentatively. He had not done so on her thighs and he did not do so now with her lips. Neither did he crush them. But he did press his lips against hers, his tongue supporting his caress by tracing the line where their lips met before pressing inside her.

She allowed it for a moment, then bit down in warning.

Duncan immediately withdrew his tongue and started to draw back, but she held his head firmly in place, and used her own tongue to trace his lower lip where he’d nicked himself a few minutes earlier. The wound was healing but she caught it in her lips and sucked deliberately. Rachel wanted the taste of the sharp coppery blood on her tongue.

To her surprise, Duncan didn’t resist. Indeed, his hard cock pulsed against her garter belt and her mons, still concealed by her panties. He shifted his hands and cupped each side of her face, stroking the hair away from her eyes with his thumbs. “Bite down, minha senhora. Please,” he spoke in her mind, the words so clear and direct that Rachel knew she wasn’t imagining the telepathic connection.

She did as he asked, even though her canines were dull. Her teeth were enough to break the skin, already thin where it had begun to heal.

Rachel barely tasted the blood before a flood of knowledge from his mind began pouring into her. Overwhelmed, she stilled, trying to absorb it. This wasn’t any psychic explosion, like that moment of shock when he’d first seen her and recognized what she would be to him. This was the intentional opening of his mind to hers, as he’d already offered her his body.

But it was too much. Duncan seemed to know, to understand. He drew back, breaking the kiss and sucking on his own lower lip to stop the bleeding. But she still couldn’t move, caught up in Duncan’s past. He lifted her and moved her to the pillows at the top of the bed, stroking her gently for a moment before sliding his hands under her, cupping her bottom, and slowly pulling down her panties.

Once he’d tossed them, sodden, to the carpet, Duncan settled beside her and waited.

It seemed a long time before she could stir, before she could peer up at him, her eyes narrowed. “Your mother is Japanese,” she said.

He raised a brow. “My father isn’t. What does it matter?”

Rachel huffed. “She’s Japanese royalty, you dolt. A princess, even if it was generations and generations ago on earth. I’m hardly up to her weight. My parents were African merchants, black –”

“Stop right now,” Duncan suddenly ordered, sitting up in bed and glaring at her. “What the hell is going on your head?” he demanded, all trace of submissiveness gone. “You are unbelievably intelligent, clever, determined, ambitious, and gorgeous. Your soul is warm gold and, by the gods, you have the bearing and pride of a queen. If I ever hear such nonsense out of your mouth again,” he threatened, “I swear an oath I will –”

He cut off abruptly, as if he realized how his rant might be interpreted. But his outraged defense of her, despite his adoration of his own mother, had resettled her. “You will what?” she challenged.

Duncan sniffed. But Rachel knew he was sorting through her mind, looking for a way to finish his earlier oath that would make his point without breaking her spirit. To her surprise, he jumped off the bed and disappeared into the corridor that led to the master bathroom and dressing area. She frowned, but he returned after only a short moment, a large flat box in hand.

“What is that?” she demanded, sitting up and drawing her feet beneath her.

“This box,” Duncan told her evenly, kneeling on the bed before her and setting the box at his side, “contains your crown jewels.”

Rachel laughed, mocking the claim. “I am not royalty.”

He gave her a swift grin, and her breath caught in her chest. It was as magical as she’d imagined, as charming and utterly youthful as any she could conjure. His face lit, his teeth flashed, and his eyes danced and she wanted to kiss him until he did it again.

“You are, you know,” he said seriously. “My mother is a princess, and you are my vamp. That makes me a prince, and you a princess.”

She frowned at him, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was veering.

“Furthermore, my father is the head of Clan Sinn, and while he might not be the Master Valor or the Lord Valiant, he is one of the Lord’s cabinet. He is a king in his own right – as much as the rulers of the Pendragons, Medicis and Tudors. I am his son, a prince of Clan Sinn. You are my vamp, and these are the crown jewels due you.”

Rachel shivered, suddenly overcome. Duncan was deadly serious, and not an ounce of doubt echoed in his words. He tipped up the lid on the box and Rachel tried to see over it but he raised a hand and met her gaze before he spoke again. “You are my treasure, and your soul sustains me.” He reached in the box and withdrew something small. She strained to see, but he reached past her and removed her own earring, replacing it with the one in his hand. He repeated the process at her other ear, and her entire body reacted to the heat in his gaze. But he was not finished. “I am your shield and your shelter, I follow wherever you go.” With the words he fastened two bracelets at her wrists, links of teardrop diamonds and platinum swirls that she stared at in frank fascination. “Here and in all creation, now and forever more, I pledge to you all of me.” With those words, he withdrew a tiara of platinum and diamonds, a work of art so spectacular that Rachel tried to back away, fearful of the fortune in his hands. But Duncan was relentless, sliding it into her hair and waving his hands over her in some mysterious pattern she couldn’t grasp. She knew it was a spell, a magic that would keep her draped in his diamonds until he chose to release them.

“I defend your lifeblood, your spirit, and your soul.” With those final words, Rachel knew he had bound himself to her. It was as if her inner spirit had opened and welcomed his into her, as she’d already welcomed his body and mind. She would never be free of him again – and she did not want to be. As if he was experiencing the same, and perhaps he was, his hands shook while he took a large teardrop diamond and platinum ring from the box and slid it over her left ring finger. It was an exquisite work of art, matched to the bracelets at her wrists and what she remembered of the tiara.

“Now,” he said roughly, “now you are mine, as much as I am yours.”

She reached out and cupped his cheeks, not able to decide what to say, but he knew precisely what to do even without her instructions. He knew what she needed.

He reached for her and drew her forward onto him, where he still knelt on the bed. His cock was hard and full and ready, and she slid down on it, stretching to take him fully within her. A strangled moan came from his throat as she shifted on him, adjusting to the length and hardness inside her.

“That’s it, minha senhora,” he murmured, sliding his hands up her spine and unhooking her bra. She felt it fall to her elbows and let him slip it away as she experimented with rising partially on her knees and sinking down again.

The movement caused him to jerk, to shift himself. His hands fell away from her and sunk into the mattress beside his hips. Duncan leaned back slightly to improve the angle at which he penetrated her.

Above him, Rachel’s view of Duncan’s chest and abs was unparalleled. “You are so beautiful,” she whispered, repeating her rise and fall. Fucking him, she knew, would be one of the truly marvelous joys of her life from now until forever. His delightful cock inspired as much pleasure as she knew his wicked tongue would.

His gaze burned into her. She reached for him, sliding her hands over the clenched muscles of his abdomen as they worked to establish a rhythm. The heavens knew she was going to explode in a climax of epic proportions, even if he hadn’t yet spent hours with his mouth on her pussy and clit.

“I will, you know,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m fantasizing about it already. I’m planning for it. Not just once, but often, frequently.”

The words and the turgid length thrusting inside of her sent her wits spinning. Pleasure, already looming, skittered up her spine and exploded in her mind. As attuned to her as he was, Rachel knew, Duncan couldn’t stop himself from following her into the abyss.

Afterward, fully satiated and at one with each other, they sank to the bed together, and she slept soundly in his arms.