Love Bites (16 page)

Boots clicked briskly on the floor. Ice rattled. Footsteps returned.

A second hum joined the first, the sound pitched just slightly higher. Sounded like a . . .

Another stream of wax splashed over her left nipple. She clamped her teeth over her yelp, just managing to swallow it back.

The yelp broke loose anyway as Marrok plunged a thick vibrating buttplug up her arse. Even so, it didn’t hurt as much as it could have; he’d done a good job lubing the buzzing toy—that must have been what he’d been up to in that long pause—and she hadn’t known to tense, being blindfolded and distracted by Cador’s wax play.

Even so, the pair of vibrators, each buzzing vigorously, stretched her pussy and arse right to the edge of pain. She felt utterly stuffed as they vibrated against each other through the thin wall of flesh between them.

The combination of pain and pleasure—and the more concentrated blaze of Cador’s wax—made her toes twitch in helpless reaction. “Damn, Marrok, I didn’t know you had a sadistic streak,” Morgana gasped without thinking.

“That,” Percival breathed in her ear, “adds two more strokes to the fifteen I already owe your arse.” Then he pressed a handful of crushed ice against her desperately erect clit and hot, stuffed, swollen pussy. The contrast with the hot wax made her entire nervous system vibrate like a tuning fork.

Her stream of curses shot the swats her Master owed her all the way to twenty.

*   *   *

B
y halftime, the vampires had abandoned the pretense of giving a damn about the game. They marched her down to Percival’s dungeon room, where they chained her up as he had the night he’d accepted her Oath. The blindfold came off, letting her get the full effect of being surrounded by horny vampires.

Once again, her Master began with the deerskin flogger, painting a stinging pattern across her arse and upper thighs. A glance over her shoulder revealed the men watched her like a trio of cats eyeing a plump canary. Morgana tried to keep from giving them any really entertaining jerks and twitches. As Percival’s smacks grew harder, she kept her mouth stubbornly closed against the urge to yelp.

She did have some pride, after all.

After five blows, Percival put the flogger away in the enchanted sterilization box before turning to his wall of toy shelves. After a nerve-wracking pause, he chose something that looked like a Ping Pong paddle from his collection. Swinging the paddle with idle revolutions of his wrist, he sauntered over until he was close enough to murmur in her ear. “Do you really think I’m going to let you get away with playing
macho
with me?” He put such sneering emphasis on “macho” that she winced.

Definitely a miscalculation.

He drew back and let fly. Despite Morgana’s grim determination to remain silent, the first impact shot her up on her toes and tore a cry of startled pain out of her mouth.

“Well,” Cador drawled to Marrok, “she definitely felt that.”

The big knight laughed. It was not a kind sound at all. Percival echoed that laugh with one even nastier and proceeded to tear into her with four more blows that had her bouncing in place like a paddled four-year-old. She managed not to scream again, though.

Just.

Finally handing the paddle off to Marrok, Percival stalked over to lean against the dungeon wall beside Cador.

Shooting a resentful glance over one shoulder, Morgana saw all three men had really impressive erections. Though her arse blazed like a Samhain bonfire, she found herself intrigued.

*   *   *

P
ercival expected Marrok to take it easy on Morgana, given the hiding he’d just given her himself. Turned out he’d underestimated his friend’s nasty streak.

The big knight didn’t go after her at anything close to full strength any more than Percival had—he’d have broken bones. But his five swats definitely made her dance on her toes, hissing in pain between her teeth. In lieu, presumably, of yelping.

The little witch really had more pride than was good for her. If she’d let herself yowl, Marrok might have taken pity.

Cador, of course, wouldn’t have held back even if she’d screamed the house down. The redhead took his time with the paddle, landing his five with unpredictable pauses between them, careful not to let any kind of pattern develop as he swatted that pretty, bright red bum. Like Marrok and Percival, he was cautious with the force he used, making sure he didn’t hit her too hard. Morgana rewarded him by squirming deliciously as she gasped, tears rolling in a stream down her flushed face.

Even so, she smelled of aroused pussy, delicious masochist that she was.

Jesu, she’s hot
. Her lovely breasts bounced as her arse-cheeks quivered delectably until Percival’s cock jerked hungrily into his button-fly. He wanted to fuck her so badly, his back teeth ached.

He wasn’t the only one, either, judging by the wood his friends were sporting. His possessive inner cave wolf didn’t like that one bit. It still wanted to drag her off to enjoy in greedy solitude.
Down boy
.

The whole point of this exercise was to teach his inner possessive White Fang that Morgana le Fay was most definitely
not
his mate. His Oath Servant, yes.

Mate,
hell
no.

If he even gave her so much as a hint she had that kind of power over him, she’d be leading him around by his dick for the rest of his immortal life.
No, thank you.
He was, by the Grail, going to keep the upper hand in this relationship if it killed him. He was the Oath Master. Morgana was the Servant.

Period.

Cador tossed aside the paddle. Giving Morgana a slow, lustful grin, he ran a hand the length of his jeans-clad erection and cupped his balls at her.

White Fang growled like a chainsaw.

*   *   *

M
organa felt like a human dish of Crêpes Suzette—as if some sadistic chef had spurted liqueur all over her arse and lit it on fire. The pain was a bright, furious heat that made her want to fight her chains, despite the pride that demanded she hide any vulnerability from the hungry, watching men.

They had paddled her like an errant schoolgirl until it had been all she could do not to scream. But though she’d avoided that humiliation, at least, she hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop the flood of tears that rolled down her cheeks in helpless reaction to the pain.

But the thing that truly infuriated her was how bloody arousing the whole experience had been. Even as that paddle hit her arse in solid jolts that drove her onto her toes, some perverse part of her thoroughly enjoyed the way they watched her. Those thick, predatory shafts straining behind flies, so long she half-expected cockheads to pop up above the knights’ belts. Hot eyes focused on every twitch and flex of her body with stark masculine lust.

Especially Percival, who visibly battled jealousy. Marrok and Cador might be his brothers, his partners, and his dearest friends, but it was obvious he absolutely hated watching them touch her. The conflict in his eyes blazed like a torch burning in a dark room.

Yet the men had shared women before without jealousy. In fact, judging by the way they talked about it afterward, Percival usually joined in his partners’ wicked male joy without reservation.

This time was obviously different. As if she was different—something more than just a submissive toy, an Oath Servant he could fuck and punish however he chose.

Don’t be stupid, Morgana
, she told herself.
You’re nothing to Percival but his latest piece. Forget that, and you’ll be left broken when he walks away at the end of the year.

She was concentrating so hard on her dark thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed that Cador had started freeing her, beginning with her ankle cuffs. Her knees buckled when he released the chains holding her wrists over her head.

“Hey.” He scooped an arm around her waist and pulled her upright, a frown between his auburn brows. “You okay, Morg?”

“Fine.” She straightened, vaguely aware that Percival halted his strides toward her as she steadied herself. He still looked worried. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right.” Cador swooped down and caught her under the knees, then lifted her into his arms with effortless vampire strength. “I think you need a bed.” His teeth flashed in a wolfish smile. “Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind one either.”

He swept her through a doorway. Morgana blinked. The promised bed took up damned near every inch of the available space—and it wasn’t a small room. “Horned God, you could land fighter jets on that thing. It’s huge.”

Cador laughed as he put her down on the mattress. “Well, it’s designed for four . . .”

“Or more,” Marrok added.

“I can see that.” Its massive brass frame gleamed like gold, set with rings obviously intended as attachment points for chains. “And you could tie them all up, too.”

Cador displayed his teeth in his best evil smile. “And frequently have.”

As the two knights joined her on the bed, Morgana glanced around for Percival. He was still standing in the doorway, his massive shoulders bunched, hands curled in fists, gray eyes stormy.

A warm hand caught her chin, turning her head and angling it up. To her astonishment, Cador’s mouth came down on hers in an impassioned kiss. Morgana froze.

She would have expected any kiss of Cador’s to be nakedly carnal, maybe even vicious, with a great deal of pressure and teeth, maybe even a deliberate fang-rake designed to draw blood.

This kiss was nothing like that. It was slow, almost . . . tender, asking rather than taking, with a teasing stroke of tongue and lips that intrigued her into opening her mouth for him. He grew more forceful then, but in a way that suggested passion more than savagery. His warm, strong hands cradled her face, his mouth feathering over hers, his tongue playing in tiny strokes and smooth swirling caresses. It was a delicious kiss, ripe with need and sensuality—the kind of kiss that could effortlessly seduce a virgin or tempt a more experienced woman into bed against her better judgment.

Fifteen hundred years, after all, gave a man a long time to practice all kinds of useful skills. Percival, too, knew his way around a woman’s mouth, when he was in the mood to seduce instead of demand.

And yet . . . and yet. Luscious and tempting though it was, there was something missing from Cador’s kiss that she always felt even in Percival’s roughest conquests of her mouth.

Every time Percival kissed her, she always sensed some fierce emotion, some deep hunger that somehow told her that not just any woman would do for him. As if Percival needed her as much as she needed him, little though either of them wanted the connection. Though, of course, she knew better.

Cador’s kiss, skilled though it was, held none of that need, not even reluctantly. Not even the illusion of it.

Finally, he drew back. She stared blindly up at him, still absorbing the realization that there was something real and intense between her and Percival. Some mutual need she really didn’t want to name even in her deepest heart.

Cador glanced away from her. Morgana followed his taunting gaze.

Percival had moved closer to the bed until he stood over them. Rage flamed in his eyes, a reaction to both the kiss and that sneering glance Cador had just shot him. Morgana sucked in a breath.
Is Cador
trying
to set him off?

“I think we could all use a distraction,” Marrok murmured, moving between her legs. Pushing her thighs apart, he settled on his belly between them. Two fingers parted her labia as he lowered his head and gave her a long, juicy lick that ran from her perineum to her clit.

Morgana jerked and gasped in startled pleasure.

Which was when Cador palmed one breast and sank his fangs into her throat. Delicately tugging and stroking her nipple, he began to drink in deep swallows.

Percival’s growl could have come from a rabid werewolf.

M
organa stiffened in alarm, rolling her eyes to watch Percival where he stood tense in the doorway. But with Cador drinking from her and Marrok swirling circles around her clit, it was hard to hold on to that sense of danger.

Both men were really, really good at what they were doing.

Which in Cador’s case, seemed to be deliberately trying to piss Percival off. The big knight moved, stalking closer to the bed, his gray eyes as frigid as a sleet storm. He stopped dead, one fist half-cocked as if he battled violent impulses.

Morgana stared up at him, uncomfortably aware of Cador’s lips moving on her throat as Marrok licked and fingered her pussy with delicious skill.

Perversely, she found Percival’s possessive rage somehow added to her arousal as much as it scared the hell out of her. For a long moment, she and the gray-eyed knight stared at one another as if balancing on a knife blade. Something told her that a blink at the wrong time would spill him into rage.

Instead, he reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, jerked it off over his head, and sent it sailing across the room as he went to work on his belt. Its buckle jangled as he unbuttoned his jeans and bent to jerk off his boots. Any other man would have had to hop around awkwardly to perform that maneuver, but he got them off without a hitch. Stripping out of his jeans, he kicked them aside.

And straightened, so magnificently naked, Morgana had to catch her breath. His cock jutted at her, angled upward in silent testimony to his lust, long and ruddy and delicious.

The rest of him was just as stunning, a big, scarred warrior who’d never lost the tan he’d had when he’d become a vampire. Muscle worked and flexed in tight plates over his body as he bent over her where she lay on the bed. His mouth found one erect nipple as his right hand caught the other, forcing Cador to surrender his hold.

Stretched between the three knights as they used their mouths and hands and teeth on her, Morgana felt deep inner muscles begin to clamp. “Let me come!” she gasped to Percival, feeling deliciously helpless, deliciously submissive. Half-expecting he would deny her.

But he lifted his head and growled, “Come, then. Come hard.”

He bit her, sinking his fangs into the breast he’d been teasing. The merciless blend of bright white pleasure and stabbing pain fired her over the edge like a dried pea from a shotgun. The arousal the knights had built all day with a combination of dominance, pleasure, and calculated cruelty exploded like a piñata.

Morgana screamed, jerking like a seizure victim with the rolling pulses of her climax. The men pinned her in place as they continued tormenting her. Crying out, she hunched her hips against Marrok’s face, mindless and lost.

A moment later, he turned his head away from her pussy. She felt his cream-smeared lips against her upper thigh, then he, too, bit deep, taking her femoral artery.

Around her throat, the bespelled collar heated, making the skin tingle as Gwen’s spell went to work healing the blood loss while the three men drank.

By the time they drew away, Morgana lay utterly boneless, floating in lassitude.

“So she’s merely your Oath Servant,” Cador said to Percival, his tone cool. “Nothing but another piece of pussy. Was that why you just looked at me like you wanted to gut me?”

Morgana’s eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Was Percival motivated by simple sexual possession, or something more? Something deeper?

The blond knight froze, staring at him. Then, at last, he spoke, his tone hard and chill as a blade. “Are we going to fuck her or not?”

The pain of dashed hope made Morgana squeeze her eyes shut. Bitterly, she wished Cador had kept his mouth shut.

*   *   *

C
ador and Marrok stripped quickly, Cador folding his clothes neatly and piling them on a chair while Marrok tossed his into a corner.

Morgana, surrounded by handsome, naked vampire Knights of the Round Table, indulged her curiosity shamelessly. Marrok was massive everywhere, with a sheer muscled power that put her in mind of a warhorse. He had some truly horrific scars, reminders of the strikes he’d suffered from arrows, knives, and swords in his mortal days. One white starburst pattern over a brawny thigh she remembered as being the result of a mace blow that shattered the bone. Though she’d been Camelot’s healer then, he’d owed his survival more to a miracle of God than her skills. What feeble magic she’d been able to command before she drank from Merlin’s Grail had been of little use against that kind of blood loss and infection.

So to Morgana, all those scars didn’t detract from Marrok’s nude beauty. They simply made it clear what kind of man he really was. A hero to the marrow.

A very well-hung hero, at that. His cock, Merlin help her, was in proportion to the rest of him: big. Very big. And thick, as it swayed over his heavy balls.

Cador, though shorter than his teammates, appeared almost as powerfully built proportionally as Marrok. He could have modeled for Michelangelo or da Vinci with all that elegant sculpted muscle, his red-fox hair spilling to his shoulders in a gleaming waterfall of silk. His cock didn’t look quite as thick as Marrok’s or Percival’s, but its length was every bit as impressive. And she knew just looking at it that it was more than thick enough to feel delicious when he drove it into her.

No doubt about it
, she thought.
I’m in for one hell of a ride. I may not survive, but I’ll die smiling.

The three had apparently shared women often enough to have it down to a science. Marrok stretched himself out on the bed and fisted his intimidating cock-stand. “Come here, darling,” he purred, in a tone she’d never heard from him.

Licking abruptly dry lips, she crawled across the mattress to him, swung a leg over his hips and began to lower herself gingerly down on that very big cock. Fortunately, she was still thickly creamy from her orgasm, and the sensation of his slow, sliding entry made her catch her breath. He didn’t try to thrust, but let her set her own pace, evidently knowing just how intimidating his organ could be. So she was able to relax as she took more and more of him, stuffing herself in a delicious downward glide.

Still, by the time her bum touched his thighs, she felt full to the throat with cock. She knelt astride him, eyes wide, trying to get used to the stretch of his width, not to mention the sheer spearing length of his shaft. He smiled at her lazily and reached between her legs to tease her engorged clit. Morgana gasped in pleasure.

“That’s it, relax,” he purred. “You can move when you’re ready.” He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “I’m in no hurry. I’m happy just where I am.”

Percival grunted. “To put it mildly.”

Marrok’s thumb teased over her clit, back and forth, then in slow, lazy spirals. Each tiny stroke sent another sweet jolt of delight through her nerves, making her shiver and gasp. Need rose, intensified. Finally she could stand it no longer and began to straighten her legs, rising slowly, carefully off the massive shaft.

Up. And up. And up. She could feel the contours of his cock teasing the walls of her cunt. And Horned God, it felt good. It seemed the big shaft twanged pleasure centers she hadn’t even known she had. Head falling back, she began to sink again, letting him fill her centimeter by centimeter, raking over sensitive nerve endings until her awareness of the ruthless stretch began to fade. Or at least, seem a hell of a lot less important than the glorious delight.

Something moved in Morgana’s peripheral vision. With a lazy sigh, she turned her head in that direction.

Percival stood by the bed, a tube of lube in one hand as he used the other to slowly rub a glistening layer of lubricant over his broad cock. His gray eyes, heavy-lidded, were locked hungrily on her face.

Cador, meanwhile, knelt on the mattress near her head, watching her just as intently, lust hot in his eyes.

A wave of heat rolled up her torso, making her face burn as her mouth dried out. The idea of all three of them buried deep in mouth, pussy and arse was intimidating. Yet that anxiety only intensified her arousal.

“Mmmmm,” Marrok purred, rolling his hips to shaft her slowly. “I think she’s ready, boys.”

“Well?” Percival lifted a brow at Morgana as he squirted more lube into his palm and slicked it over his cock. “Are you?”

“Yes,” she gasped, rising off Marrok’s meaty erection and sinking down again. Meeting Percival’s burning eyes, she swallowed, arousal clawing at her. “God, yes!”

He gave her a feral grin as he climbed onto the bed. “Bend over him.” Breath coming fast, she obeyed as he straddled Marrok’s thighs. “Don’t tense.”

She drew in a deep breath as he stroked his fingers over the tight, sensitive pucker between her cheeks. He pushed past the tight ring slowly, carefully, greasing the channel with deliberate strokes. “Merlin’s Balls, I love your arse.”

She caught her breath as his strong fingers played against Marrok’s stroking cock through the thin flesh of her rectal walls. The extra stretch stung, yet there was something darkly seductive about it too.

Marrok drew out in a slow, silken slide, paused at the mouth of her cunt. Waiting for his partner to enter.

Percival pulled his fingers free of her anus, replacing them with the smooth crown of his shaft. For a moment both thick heads filled her side by side, and pain bit her, tearing a gasp from her mouth.

“Shhhhhhhh,” Percival crooned in her ear. “Let go. Just open to us.”

Marrok’s index finger stroked another tight circle around her clit. The juicy chime of delight rang through her, and she shivered.
Both of them,
she thought, caught between pain and pleasure, fear and raw lust.
Both of them in me.
Morgana’s eyes drifted closed at the unbearable eroticism of it.
Ooooh, yes . . .

Slowly, carefully, Percival pressed his long prick deep, making her gasp at the stretching sting, the sense of being taken so hard, so ruthlessly, in such an unaccustomed way. When he finally, finally reached his root and began to slide out again, Marrok began to press in.

Morgana cried out, feeling for a wild moment that they were going to rip her in two. But as she panted helplessly, Marrok’s fingers busied themselves again with her clit, and Percival’s sword-callused fingers found one nipple, began to pluck and play. His other hand fisted in her hair, pulled her head around. His teeth found her ear in a gentle, arousing bite. Straining, she managed to turn enough to find his mouth. They kissed, hard and famished, as the knights’ cocks edged past one another, raking her delicate tissues with every stinging pass.

With her senses so thoroughly overwhelmed, she was only distantly aware of Cador moving across the bed to kneel by her head as she crouched between his partners. “I’m feeling neglected.”

She drew away from Percival’s demanding kiss to find Cador’s rosy cock bobbing beside her face. She eyed it as he held its thick base. “Now, Morg.” With a sigh of pleasure, she swooped in to suck its head between her lips. It made a fine distraction from being stuffed like a Christmas goose.

The logistics of being fucked fore and aft while simultaneously giving a blowjob almost defeated Morgana for a moment. But as she paused in confusion, Cador began thrusting gently into her mouth, falling into effortless rhythm with his partners. Which probably told her more than she really wanted to know about how many times they’d shared a woman like this.

So she let her eyes fall closed and concentrated on suckling him as the three men cradled her between them, shafts sliding in and out. The pain of Marrok’s and Percival’s possession began to fade away, leaving only the hot pleasure of their cocks and skillful fingers hitting every bundle of nerves she had.

Until it began to seem she was floating in sweet euphoria, only vaguely aware of Cador’s murmuring hot, obscene orders about what to do with her tongue and teeth. Knowing nothing except the feeling of hard, hot bodies rolling against hers, thick shafts stroking, stroking . . .

Until the fire blazed up, and she screamed, the sound muffled by Cador’s cock . . .

*   *   *

M
organa convulsed against Percival’s chest as he braced over her, shafting her in long, delicious digs. Her rectum clamped on his cock, a hot rippling sensation that almost tipped him over into climax, but he paused, determined that he would, by God, be the last to come.

With a strangled roar, Cador pulled out of her mouth to shoot across her cheek and down her chin. Eyes closed, obviously lost in erotic euphoria, she didn’t appear to notice.

“Oh, Merlin’s balls!” Marrok gasped, rolling his hips up so hard he almost threw Percival off-balance. One thrust, two, and the big knight threw his head back and bellowed. The feeling of his cock sliding past Percival’s through Morgana’s thin flesh ended any hope of control.

Snarling, Percival ground in to Morgana’s exquisitely tight arse, thrusting with such force that she had to grab Marrok’s hips and hold on to brace herself.

Fire blazed up from his swinging balls and tore up his shaft in spurts that made stars flare in front of his eyes. He roared, freezing there, his cock buried in her to the root, pressed tight to Marrok’s in her pussy.