I firmed my jaw, beginning to stand on wobbly legs. “I said I am ready for you to claim me, Lord Ashfen.”
He stopped me with a mere look. Something palpable took hold of my limbs, like an invisible power forcing me to my knees. “No need to stand,” he explained. “When I’d rather have you crawl to me.”
My neck went hollow and I flexed instinctively. Garroway chanced another frightened look over his shoulder at the man who owned him.
Skartovius smiled wickedly, beckoning us forward with a curl of his fingers. “Don’t look so scared, cub. You canbothcrawl to your master.”
Chapter 43
I was a marionette in the hands of a master puppeteer. Skartovius Ashfen pulled my strings and I went where he wanted me.
After my zealous coupling with Garroway near the inert body of our prisoner, something opened up inside me. The pleasure had been intense—the relieving of years of stress and frustration much-needed—yet it was more than that. It was a sensation ofletting go, allowing someone to take the commanding position, when I had always fought tooth and nail to defend myself.
It was a strange conundrum I found myself in. On one hand, crawling on my hands and knees on the cold stone ground like a dog was humiliating, degrading, and objectifying. On the other hand, the act was liberating and energizing.
It helped I wasn’t alone in my degradation. Garroway crawled after me, eager to please the master he’d been losing a connection with and the new mistress he was developing a bond with.
“You’ve tempted me long enough, love,” Skar said.
I padded along at his side as he walked. I swung my ass and lost myself to the depraved moment. Gravel bit into my palms and knees, making me wince before the tinge of pain melded away from my lustfulness.
My fluids and Garroway’s cum trickled out of me as I moved, dripping a trail of arousal between my legs.
Skar gently ran a hand through my hair and I closed my eyes, nearly letting out a purr. His touch was warm and inviting. My head in this position only reached his waist.
It was ironic: Skar held power over me and, despite my current position, I knew it was reciprocal. I controlled the nobleblood vampire simply by existing and making his life unmanageable and ravenous.
When the nobleblood led us out of the cell, he closed and locked the door behind him so Dimmon couldn’t escape once he awoke. Then he took us through the chilly corridor and into the wider, warmer, brighter hallway outside the jail room, where he stopped on the ornate red rugs. The softness of the carpets was a welcome respite on my palms and knees from the harsh grit of the jail room.
The double doors at the back of the hall were closed and barred. On the other end, the stairs leading up to the first level were empty. He had made sure to plan this situation to leave the three of us alone.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Skar frowned down at me. “It’s time you take responsibility for what you’ve done to me, Sephania. Don’t you agree?”
I nodded instinctively, chewing the inside of my cheek as my thoughts went dim. I noticed the pronounced bulge snaking down his thigh—evidence of what I had caused.
His lithe hand caressed my cheek, my chin, lifting my face as I closed my eyes and melted. Slowly, I began to rise to my feet at his urging. It was a lingering motion, my hands ghosting over his leg, the outline throbbing against his slacks, and up to his tapered waist.
My hands dipped beneath his tunic, finding tight abdominals and a wiry body that drew me in. I wanted to spend all evening inspecting every dip and plane of his well-muscled body.
Garroway joined us on all fours like a bitch in heat. His cock wagged between his naked legs, just as rock-hard as he’d been when fucking me against the cold wall in the cell. The dhampirbegan to rise onto his knees when he saw me standing at Skartovius’ side—
Before Skar put a hand out. “Not you,” he ordered. “Your punishment is my pleasure, cub.”
I glanced down at Garroway’s face with a tinge of remorse. There was only imminent glee in his eyes. He nodded adoringly at his master, like his mind had been warped and twisted to fit Skartovius’ need.
On his knees in front of his master, Garroway nuzzled his cheek against Skar’s thigh. The nobleblood wrapped an arm around my middle, crushing me close to him so my breasts shoved against his chest.
“It’s unfair Garro and I are both nude and you’re completely clothed,” I whispered in Skar’s ear. My hands rustled his clothes, embracing him tightly, wishing to shed the outer layer from his scalding form.
“I’ll decide what is fair or not, temptress,” he answered in a low voice. “It may not be this way for long.”
My hard nipples brushed against the coarse fabric of his tunic when he squished me closer against him, and I let out a small mewl in his ear.
He gave me a smug smile and dipped his chin. His full lips brushed over mine then parted. I took his tongue into my mouth as he plastered me with a demanding kiss. He seared our lips together and I moaned in his mouth, tasting hints of fire and cinnamon.
My arm wrapped around the tall vampire’s neck. I pulled him closer, coaxing the kiss deeper. My free hand fell on Garroway’s bald head below us, between us. I rubbed his pate and then moved my fingers deftly to Skar’s waist, my hand dipping inside his pants. There I found my prize—hard, thick, long, and smooth.
“Help our pet along,” Skartovius ordered. “Make him prepare me for you.”
