Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 (29 page)

“Hurry up and get him out of here,”
Tristan grumbled.

I stuck my tongue out at my boyfriend
and rapped my knuckles on the headboard once more.

Bane seemed really happy to get a
response. “Great. Um, I’m out of here. Going back to my home office
in Louisville, Kentucky. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Tristan gave him an enthusiastic wave.
“Goodbye.”

I nudged him. “Behave.”

Innocent of Tristan’s antics, Bane kept
talking. “Fizz is recovering, though she’s too scarred to go back
to stripping. Poor girl, Hazel really did some damage that can’t be
fixed. She’ll be going into the Witness Protection Program, so I
guess they’ll find something for her to do after the heat dies down
a little. Both her and I have contracts on our heads, placed by the
Beasts. On a national level, since Fulton Falls’ chapter has
completely disbanded.”

“Yikes.” Bane wouldn’t be safe anywhere
now. Scary stuff.

“I don’t know if you heard, but Hazel
was conjuring large amounts of blood from small samples from the
baby dragon. Some kind of quadrupling spell I understand, except it
did a lot more than quadruple the quantity. Then he had another
spell, a transference spell I think they called it, that would get
it into the bottles and pouches that came through their
distribution company, the one under Bottle’s name. After their
initial success with the experimentally contaminated pouches that
were popping up all over the Southeast, they decided it was time to
go for it. They tainted a huge number of lots, including the ones
we saw being put on the ship to England. We managed to find all of
it before they got on the market. It would have been wholesale
genocide on the vampires worldwide if we hadn’t caught them when we
did.”

Sounding bored, Tristan said, “I have
stock in the company that makes Blood Potion Number Nine. It
plunged into the toilet on the news.”

Trust a vampire to be interested in his
bottom line. Nevermind how many would have gone to their final
deaths if the dragon’s blood had hit the market. “Gee, I guess
you’ll have to buy your next suit off the rack,” I said
unsympathetically.

“Fortunately, my assets are diversified
enough to cover my butt. Figuratively and literally.”

I had to laugh at that.

Bane went on. “I wanted to say thanks
for all your help. If it wasn’t for you … well, things would have
turned out a lot different, maybe. I’m just sorry Tristan Keith
gets all the credit for your work.”

“He’ll make it up to me,” I said,
ogling Tristan’s undiminished erection. I wasn’t put out that he
was the big hero of the whole tainted blood takedown, having sent
in his shifter staff to ‘discover’ the baby dragon. A lot of
politicos are declaring him a shoe-in for that vacant seat in the
state legislature now.

I don’t mind the lack of kudos. As a
ghost, I can’t testify in court anyway, so we’re all keeping my
involvement quiet while the rest of the Beasts are up on charges.
The important thing is vampires aren’t going to be destroyed, and
Bane and Fizz are still alive. I can deal with being invisible when
all things are considered.

Bane was starting to squirm
uncomfortably. Uh oh. I thought the big, bad wolf might be about to
voice his feelings. I can smell awkward sentimentality a mile
away.

He proved me out. “I wish … aw hell. I
mean heck. I don’t do this sappy crap well. You’re an awesome lady,
Brandilynn. Maybe when my time’s up on this earth, you’ll have
dumped the boyfriend and I can look you up. Anyway, until then …
take care of yourself, girl. I appreciate everything you did to
help me out.”

With that, he lumbered off. I’ll be
honest. I hated to see him go. We listened to his heavy tread move
down the hall and then the stairs.

“Another poor man succumbs to the
charms of Brandilynn Payson,” Tristan said, shaking his head a
little. “At this rate, you’ll have a harem.”

“No I won’t.” Lusty thoughts or not,
dealing with the needs of two men was stretching my resources
enough, thank you very much. When I’m not thinking with my libido,
adding Bane to the mix doesn’t seem like a good idea at
all.

Tristan regarded me seriously. “Once
the bottling and distribution plants have been cleared and
re-warded and certified safe, I’ll switch from live
donors.”

I nodded. The big sacrifice. He was
really going to do it for me. That totally got my thoughts off
Bane.

“Meanwhile, your admirer is gone and I
want to get back to our afternoon delight.”

“With pleasure.”

A tie appeared around Tristan’s neck.
He unknotted it and used it to bind one of my wrists to the
bedpost. Like some crazy magic act, he did the tie bit three more
times until I was splayed out on the bed, wrists and ankles bound
helplessly for his pleasure. Poor, poor, lucky me.

“All mine,” he sighed with great
contentment. His hands swept over my body, simultaneously caressing
and claiming. The possessive gesture had my body clamoring to be
taken in an instant.

He started with my breasts,
concentrating all his attention on the left one. Kneading it
gently, testing its soft suppleness, he brought my senses alight
with just that touch. I looked at the intensity in his eyes, the
heat from them seeming to creep through my body. I’d love for
someone to explain to me how a man could do that just with his
gaze.

Tristan rubbed his palm over my nipple,
making it pebble in delight. As it grew hard, he took it between
finger and thumb, rubbing it tenderly at first. Then he pinched
harder, sending a little dart of pain through me. My pussy seeped
honey at the show of power, and a tiny whimper escaped my lips. One
corner of his mouth quirked upwards at the sound. He loved being in
control. I loved him being in control.

He bent to capture the mound in his
mouth. He sucked me in deep, his teeth closing over my flesh. I
began to pant as they pressed harder and harder, building to an
ache. Slowly Tristan pulled his head back, dragging those teeth
over my skin as he went, leaving pink trails over the ivory
expanse. He ended by tugging hard on my nipple, and I squirmed with
the intense sensation.

Giving that aching breast a smart slap,
he went to work on the other. Fingers, mouth, tongue, and teeth
reddened the flesh, making me moan in mingled pain and arousal. I
was helpless against him, unable to do anything but succumb to his
mastery over me. I loved every second of it.

He was testing me, seeing if I would
submit to even his darkest leanings. We both knew I could use my
safeword or even transport elsewhere at any moment. But my thoughts
were centered on utter surrender, on pleasing him by yielding all
control. I was his sub, his woman, his slave for this tryst. It
drove me wild to pretend he owned me, that I had no say in the
matter. My mouth, my pussy, my anus, my whole body belonged to him,
and I could refuse him nothing.

Tristan spanked my breasts hard with
stinging, open palms. I cried out with every meaty clap of his
hands against my vulnerable skin and twisted in my
bonds.

“Stay still for the discipline,” he
ordered. “You may not move.”

So I was forced to endure the
punishment, dealt not for any transgression but because it pleased
him. And I wasn’t allowed to squirm.

There comes a point in sensual pain
when it ceases to hurt. The intensity remains, but it transmutes
into something else. There was profound sensation, and tears flowed
like rivers from my eyes, but the heat and the throbbing became all
encompassing, taking me away from the torment. It wasn’t just my
sexual parts that roiled and bubbled with bliss now, it was my
whole body. It centered where those wonderful, powerful hands took
me to task, the thudding contact reverberating throughout me. My
cries were no longer pained. The sounds I made voiced pure sensual
delight.

Finally satisfied with my compliance,
Tristan’s attention went lower. My pussy flexed hard and slow in
response to his evaluating stare.

“So wet,” he growled. “You’re having
quite the pain slut turn today, my girl.”

He was so hard his cock was curved
tight to his belly. My acquiescence to his superiority was driving
Tristan crazy and enhanced my desire to submit even more. I lay
open and vulnerable, knowing what he would do before he did it.
Reminding myself to lay still and accept his wishes.

He spanked my defenseless pussy,
turning the already burning flesh even hotter. The sharp contact
with my clit drove spikes of ecstasy through me, every strike
driving me towards orgasm. I bit the insides of my lips together,
fighting to hold out, fresh warm tears renewing the streams from my
eyes. I was desperate to come, but I wouldn’t without my master’s
permission. And I wouldn’t ask for it though my body begged for
release under that heavy hand’s prompting. It was entirely up to
him whether I would be allowed orgasm. If he withheld it, then I
had no choice but concede to his decision. It wasn’t my body to
assert my will. It was his. All his.

He changed tactics, pushing me ever
harder in an effort to make me disobey. I was quaking all over with
the effort of staying still, staying silent, and not coming.
Tristan tormented me with the cage of my own flesh, licking an
aching nipple, plunging two or three fingers into my cleft, now
pulling free and shoving one wet digit into my rear passage as he
sucked hard on my clit. Then spanking my breasts and pussy some
more. Stopping to let his tongue slip slowly and sensuously through
the swollen folds.

He was all over me, now rough, now
gentle, now cruel, now sweet. Everything he did to me drove me
harder against the wall of need, determined to break me and make me
climax despite my will to serve him. I was in a state of pure,
rapturous anguish. Heaven and hell combined, and I was lost in
blissful misery.

At last it was Tristan who conceded the
battle. “All right, my love,” he gasped, laying his body on mine.
His cock, so hot that I thought it might leave a seared mark on my
flesh, homed in on my trembling, desperate orifice. As Tristan’s
mouth closed over my lips, his rigid length slipped inside, slowly
spearing me.

The tension in Tristan’s body told me
he was as overwrought as I was, but he refused to rush our merging.
He pressed a bare inch into me, and then paused, as if to torment
me with longing. And it was torture when I wanted all of him
sheathed deep, deep within me. It was then that I almost lost
control, almost demanded him to pound his flesh into mine. But I
hung on, even when he slid only another inch in and
paused.

In contrast to the almost timid way his
cock crept into my pussy, his tongue raided my mouth with ardent
abandon. It rampaged and ravished, tasting every nook and cranny,
his mouth sucking my tongue in to feel the hardness of his teeth,
the smooth silk of his palate, the velvet of its twin. If a mouth
can make desperate love to another mouth, that’s what Tristan
Keith’s did to mine.

And still his cock moved in ever so
slowly. I felt hugely swollen inside, as if to make up for the lack
of man that should be there. My sheath flexed, trying to draw him
in deeper. My sex was a riot of need and want and desperation, and
still he gave himself in minute doses.

I sobbed into his mouth, growing more
desperate by the second. He ended the devouring kiss and looked
down at me, his gaze eager and cruel.

“You may beg me now,” he
said.

Strangled words poured from my throat
in supplication, as if a dam had been opened up. I’m not sure they
were even coherent or intelligible. The one thing I did know was
that there was no mistaking the agony in my voice. As I beseeched
him, Tristan watched me with the expression of a benevolent tyrant
hearing a condemned man’s last plea before sending him to the
gallows. His cock continued to travel oh so slowly down my hungry
path.

At last I gave up, knowing I could
never hope to sway him, my beautiful and cruel tormentor, that he
might keep me on the edge of ecstasy and despair for hours. Maybe
forever. I was lost, as lost as a woman could possibly
be.

Tristan didn’t say a word. He propped
himself over me as if to do pushups. The next second, he was
plunging in and out, pounding his delicious strength into me,
taking me hard and fast and I was on that roller coaster ride up
and up and up, coming closer to the peak of the highest drop,
suspended there, waiting for that last shift in gravity…

“Come, Brandilynn.”

Plunging, plunging into the depths at
neck-cracking speed, swallowed up in the fall, then jerked upwards
again only to plummet once more, flying, my screams trailing behind
me, and Tristan’s bellow joining the riot of sound and
sensation.

Man, what a ride.

When Tristan’s weight settled on me
once more, I wished the ties binding me away so I could wrap my
arms around him. We held each other, feeling our very happy, very
satisfied sexes convulse together. This warm, contented part wasn’t
as crazy amazing as what had just happened, but it was every bit as
good. This is where my heart basked like a beach bunny tanning on
the sand. Who needs excitement with a bunch of lawbreaking
shapeshifters when you can have this kind of complacent
quiet?