Think we might be nearing the end of book one!

Sexual Content Warning!

Chapter 17: The Definition of Insanity

For the fourth morning in a row, I woke with a start, skin slick with sweat, heart pounding in my chest, and a scream caught in my throat. A tear slipped free before the mattress dipping announced I wasn't alone this morning after all.

Taran sat on the edge of the bed with his arms braced on bare thighs and dark head hanging low. He didn't so much as twitch to alert me to the fact he'd somehow sensed my eyes flicker open before he asked, "Are you alright?"

Had I woken him? Had he slept next to me last night?

Eyeing his side of the bed told me nothing. The sheets were slightly rumpled, and his pillow was close to falling off, but that could have been me fighting off vampires in my sleep.

Every night since our disagreement, Taran disappeared down into the club and didn't come back until long after I gave up fighting sleep. Once or twice I'd even caught the sweet scent of perfume on his suit jackets and shirts before he could throw them in the basket. Instead of sleeping next to me as he had before, he slept through the day while I worked or studied, and then hid himself in his office for the few hours we were forced to cross paths.

With every day that passed, I was closer to being tossed back into my old life, and every day I told myself that was just fine by me. Having my attacker behind bars, or however he would be dealt with, would hopefully put an end to the nightmares, and constant feelings of being watched by something more terrifying than Wren. And once I was no longer under Taran's employ, even if the attack had been about undermining him there would be no reason to target me any longer. So it wouldn't matter.

"I'm fine," I answered curtly.

He gave me a quick glance then gruffly ordered, "Don't get up yet."

That was fine by me.

I lay still, watching him stand and cross the room to his chest of drawers where he raked around.

The fact his side of the bed was rumpled and he was wearing only a loose pair of dark boxers told me he'd slept next to me when he'd finished work last night, but the relief conflicted with the fact he hadn't touched me since our conversation either. I was sure he'd touched others - he'd admitted as much in our fight - that was what caused this strain between us.

Was he having sex with them too? To prove a point? Was his lack of interest in me punishment? Or something much worse – boredom.

I had to swallow a lump in my throat when Taran turned to me and flung something onto the bed. With the curtains still shut and the lights off, it took my eyes a moment to adjust as I fingered the bundle of material. It was the blue lace of one of my few underwear sets.

I glanced up at him with a raised brow but his back was already turned to me again as he moved to the wardrobe where Laura must have put away my clothes she'd brought from home.

"Put those on then kneel," he threw over his shoulder, before his nose crinkled in distaste as he pulled out a grey woollen cardigan. "I hope you're going to use some of your wages to go shopping soon."

The insult stung but all I could muster was a sleepy eye roll.

"I don't have time for this today. I have to get ready for work."

He cast me a dark look over his shoulder, a streak of light from a crack in the curtain lighting up one side of his face. A shimmer of silver over black warned me he was in a bad mood this morning, that whatever made him vampire was in control.

He watched me debate whether to follow his order or not with predatory stillness, one hand gripping the door of the wardrobe so tight it creaked on its hinges.

I slid from the bed, tugged the shirt I'd slept in over my head, and put on the underwear he'd chosen before taking the two steps it took to get to the middle of the room. The second I took a breath and slid to my knees, he let out a long breath, shoulders dropping.

That alone told me all I needed to know. It wasn't me Taran was upset with, something to do with me perhaps, but not me. And whatever had happened last night, he hadn't found what he needed in the club, or with anyone else.

He still hadn't touched me though. I'd waited in suspense on my knees until my legs had gone numb, and then been left disappointed when he'd picked an outfit out then allowed me to stand to get dressed.

Then as had become our new routine, he left for his office while I went to work.

Apart from chatting with customers, I did my job in silence, ignoring the feeling of intense eyes boring into me above. Taran could stare down at me from his office window as much as he wanted, I refused to give him the satisfaction of looking. And thankfully I had Laura sitting at the bar sketching away to give me something else to focus on. Her furtive glances were a small nuisance, and I felt self-conscious once I figured out it was me who she was drawing, but I was glad of her company.

Cait came skipping through the door too, plonking herself down next to Laura.

"Help me out, I want to tie this around my hair," she asked, holding out the purple length if silk that told vampires frequenting The Blackbird she was a donor.

Laura chuckled and took the silk from Cait's fingers to tie around her bright red ponytail. Her smile fell as the obnoxious creak of the staff door swung open. I knew who it was without looking, and pretended not to know exactly what was going on when Cait sighed and slipped from her chair.

"Looks like I'm starting work early!"

Laura watched with pursed lips as Cait followed Taran through the back. Then grey eyes turned to me questioningly.

I shrugged and muttered, "I'm not a donor. Difficult to feed from someone who has panic attacks at the thought."

She didn't buy it. Not one bit. But instead of pushing she reached across the bar to poke at my door frown. "If the wind changes your face will stay that way.

"We're inside. There is no wind"

"Yes. We are inside. And it's deathly quiet. And I'm booored." She snapped her sketchbook shut. "We have an episode of Yellow jackets to watch and I wanna watch it before I'm bombarded with spoilers on Facebook."

Before I could protest that I still had an hour of my shift left, Ness nudged my shoulder and encouraged, "Go. She's right it's dead in here, and I doubt it'll get any busier. The look on your face is scaring away anyone who would want to come in anyway."

I rolled my eyes.

Sitting watching TV did sound better than standing about overthinking.

Laura grinned, knowing she'd managed to convince me. So I cleaned up my part of the bar and tore my apron off to follow her through to the house, pretending I wasn't very aware of a certain pair of eyes tracking me as I walked across the pub floor. My friend did her best to cheer me up, running to the kitchen to grab snacks and drinks that she dumped carelessly onto the probably expensive coffee table in the living room. I hadn't spent much time in here, it felt strange using someone else's home as if it were my own, even knowing that there were at least half a dozen vampires who also used the house attached to The Blackbird as their own. I however, was a temporary guest.

For a little while, as we watched a group of teen girls eat one of their classmates in disturbing clarity, I managed to forget all my troubles. It almost felt like being back in my flat, glass of wine in hand, Laura's gangly legs resting over mine as we stuffed our faces with sweets and chocolate. . .at least it did, until I caught sight of Wren storming past the door. He paused long enough to give me one of his usual icy glares that resonated in my very being, then continued to his room down the hall.

"Everyone has a sour puss today," Laura muttered, preemptively turning up the volume on the tv to drown out the string orchestra suddenly blasting from Wren's room.

God save whatever had pissed him off today.

By the time the episode was over, Laura and I had finished the bottle of wine and resorted to drunkenly giggling on the couch as the sun set outside. One more exam, one more class, and I would be able to enjoy the start of my summer hols. Which unfortunately meant making a trip to my parents at some point in the near future.

"Uh oh," Laura murmured into her glass of wine.

Smile falling from my face, I glanced over to see i5 wasn't just Wren who felt like glaring at me from doorways today.

Taran growled when I gave my attention back to Laura, and she arched a brow, silently asking why I was playing with fire.

"Finish your joke," I prompted, trying to scrape back the mirth that had warned me seconds ago.

"She can tell you later," Taran said. "I need you to come with me."

"I'm not done yet," I replied, wishing there was more of a mouthful of white left in my glass.

Laura sat up and pointed an accusing finger at the man behind me. "Have you done something? Is that why she's been upset?"

"Leave it, Loz," I muttered. It would be embarrassing to have to admit I had more than a passing attraction for a vampire who told me more than once I was a temporary amusement for him.

"So he did. I knew it! What did he do?"

I dared look at him again, words slipping away when I found genuine regret etched into the lines around his eyes. Ignoring Laura, he held out his hand to me and repeated earnestly, "Come with me, please."

My hand was in his before I could make a decision, and he pulled me gently to my feet with a rough exhale that could have been relief. It only made me wary. What did he want from me?

I followed him reluctantly and tried not to snort as Laura mimed slicing her neck.

His hand slipped free of mine once we reached the stairs, then he acted even more out of character by avoiding my gaze and taking to staring hard at the wall.

"Your bond with Wren must still be quite strong."

Not how I thought this conversation would start.

I folded my arms. But it was his conversation to steer.

"Wren has a bark, but he is also terrifying when he's calm, more so when he is right. . .I failed you as your Dom." He squared his shoulders and met my gaze, remorse scratching his voice. "I left you alone after we played quite hard. I shouldn't have.  I should have made sure you were alright. I've been ashamed since. I let my emotions get the better of me and in my position, that should never have happened. I'm sorry."

An actual apology did catch me off guard.

But did he really want me to believe he'd been avoiding me out of shame? I didn't know what to say to that claim. The only thing stopping me from calling it an outright lie was his mention of Wren. Taran would never admit to having another point out his fault unless it was true.

Maybe that was why he'd given me such a cold look earlier, my moping must have been effecting his mood so he was forced to have Taran fix his wrong, he'd been forced to defend me, again.

"You've had a long shift," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck in an uncharacteristic show of awkwardness. "Tomorrow is your final exam, and I owe you aftercare, so I've run you a bath. It'll be ready in a few."

He turned to enter the en-suite, probably escape me staring at him with my mouth agape. Was overdue aftercare Taran's way of apologising?

Had he not been the one to put an end to our agreement by ignoring me for days?

Rubbing my face, I took a deep breath to recover from emotional whiplash.

This couldn't go on.

I didn't want to get hurt this way, led on and dropped at a whim. I had enough of feeling likeable toy to dress up from my family. It was time to say the safe word. I could sleep in the living room until it was safe to go home, and talk to Taran only when it had something to do with my attacker or work. It was time to stop lying to myself. I didn't belong here. All these thoughts circled and merged to form a rant I aimed to throw at him before packing my things and leaving his room for good.

It would be the first time I'd broken up with someone I wasn't in a real relationship with.

But the moment Taran reappeared in the bathroom doorway, my resolve crumbled.

I'd imagined what he looked like without clothes on plenty of times but it didn't compare to the real thing. The rest of his body was as covered in tattoos as his arms were; crescent moons shapes crossed with arrows, strange tangled beasts and symbols all in an earthy orange tone. Pride of place over his heart was a blackbird in flight, a feathery wings stretching out nearly to his other shoulder.

It wasn't just the artwork worth admiring.

My legs squeezed together as my eyes trailed over his muscled form, toned and exuding a strength that made me feel even more vulnerable than I already did in his presence. There was one place I couldn't bring myself to look at no matter how hard it was.

"Shy," he remarked on a tut, making no attempt to hide his broad smirk as he placed his folded clothes on the dresser. I couldn't help but look. Stare. Lust after. "How can you be after all we've done together?"

The reminder turned my blood cold.

Because, I thought, I wasn't sure if what we were doing, what we'd done, had come to an end or not after we'd spent three days acting like passing acquaintances. Apparently it wasn't over, not on his end at least. Which was what I'd wanted, right? Unless he'd spent the last three nights fucking other women, but that was a question I wasn't brave enough to ask no matter how I felt. A naked Taran was a very distracting Taran.

"Come on, while the water is warm." He held his hand out again, but this time I was reluctant to take it. It would make me a fool. An insane fool.

"You know I don't like asking twice."

My gaze met his, the tangled web of emotions in my chest becoming ever more knotted seeing the same searching desperation on his face that I often felt. That need for someone to escape with.

Like the vampire he was, he gave up waiting for my decision, and I pretended he was making the choice for me when he grabbed my waist and hoisted me over his shoulder, followed by a sharp spank on my ass.

I gasped. "Taran!"

He stopped, but the final bit of self-preservation I had melted the way strong fingers slid tantalisingly up my thigh. "Yes?" he prompted, a note of caution in his voice.

"I. . .I. . ." Biting my lip, I finally gave in. "Let me take my dress off first, yes?"

His answering laugh was full of self-satisfaction.

I was feeling quite satisfied myself, granted a delicious view of Taran's ass. Unfortunately I was being placed back on my feet within a few steps, enclosed in the steamy bathroom as he closed the door. There was no escaping now.

I gave Taran my back as I stripped of my own clothes, but somehow managed to get my foot tangled in the strap of my dress. He chuckled as I hopped on one foot, reaching out to steady me. My hand flew out to brace myself on his chest, the palm of my hand landing on the blackbird Tattoo. Taran immediately stiffened and grimaced.

I whipped my hand away again, clearing my throat. "Sorry."

"No." He peered down at the spot my hand had been with a look of confusion. "No, it's alright. You can touch there."

There? As opposed to placed I wasn't allowed to touch?

When my own confusion marred my face, he took my alone to turn me towards the bath. Steam billowed up from the the mountain of bubbles, the mild scent of lavender tickling my nose.

"I have hard limits too," he explained at my ear, for the first time ever pressing the length of his naked form against my back. "In you get, or do I need to lift you in?"

Pondering on the meaning of his words only gave this moment so much more meaning. He didn't like touch, not in certain places, was that why he'd kept his clothes on? But not today. And that meant something. Something that made my traitorous heart flutter in my chest.

Don't think, I told myself, as Taran so often said, my job was just to feel. So I did. Dipping a foot into the bath, I sighed as the heat radiated up my leg, goosebumps pebbling flesh. I sank gratefully into the water that cleansed and drained away the stress from my muscles.

"Move forward, give me some room."

Obviously I knew what he had intended, but I still felt a wave of disbelief and trepidation in my gut that fought with the throbbing already growing between my legs. Eyes on the bubbles popping as I shifted forward, I held my breath as Taran joined me, his strong legs sliding either side of mine, water sloshing against the sides as his bulk filled the large tub.

A finger trailed up my rigid spine, trails of sparks following. I could hear the smugness of a smirk in his voice as he murmured, "Lean back."

I did, keeping my gaze straight ahead on the tiled wall as my back met his chest, bristles of coarse hair scratching at my skin. A chuckle vibrated into me, Taran's fingers trailing over a line of fading red across my stomach from a particularly hard blow from the flogger he'd used what now felt like weeks ago. My body responded instantly to his touch, every inch of my buzzing with awareness, relishing in how it felt to be this close to him, trying to keep still when I could feel him already hit and hard against the curve of my rear. Wanton, that's what he made me.

How had I fallen so low again so quickly?

I'd been ready to end it, was sure he had been too, and yet here we were taking a bath together like a couple dating might. It was too mundane for my vampire, too dangerously relationship-y.

"I didn't think you were capable of this," I admitted, expecting retaliation in the form of a spank to my thigh or pinch somewhere sensitive.

"Of having a bubble bath?" he asked, perplexed.

I laughed. "Well, I suppose that too, but I meant being gentle."

To that, he administered the reaction I'd first been expecting with a sharp pinch to my nipple. Gasping, back arching, my head flew back as the pain sent a zap of electricity to my core.

"There wouldn't be pleasure in the pain if I wasn't gentle sometimes," he said, lowering his head so his cheek brushed against mine, teeth nipping at flesh. "I take it you forgive me for being an arse?"

I hummed, eyes fluttering as his fingers continued to toy with pebbled flesh. It was hard to answer. Not just because of the heat he was working up in my body but because everything about this was new territory, a new kind of intimacy with no protocols to hide behind. I no longer knew what the rules were.

"I might forgive you," I drawled, allowing my fingers to trail up his thigh, exhilarated when he let me. "If you tell me more about what exactly aftercare is and what it entails." And what you've been doing for the last three days. . .

"It's perhaps one of the most important aspects. As your Dom, taking care of you is part of my duty; especially when we're pushing boundaries. You've experienced how distressing a come down can be, how did it feel when I left you after?"

It hurt him to say it, but I did appreciate that he took responsibility for the mistake. Because I'd felt awful. Dejected. Overwhelmed. Cold and too hot, tired but too wired to sleep.

"Not good."

He must have nodded. The water shifted as he reached over to pick up a cloth and soap. "After our fun, even tamer exploits, it is all about you. For however long it takes you to stop trembling every time I touch you, it is your time; whatever you need you get - chocolate, juice, a bath, a nap."

"Anything at all?"

"Within reason," he amended on a light chuckle, taking my wrist in his hand and lifting it out of the water to run the soapy cloth over my arm.

"I do forgive you," I said, because he was making an effort, pushing his limits, and because I could practically smell the shame on him as much as I could still sense a wall between us that I doubted I'd ever breach.

"Are you not needed in the club?"

A muscle in his arm jumped, the only indication my question had touched a nerve. I couldn't help it. I had to know. At first, he didn't answer, moving the cloth in small circles across my chest, tactically avoiding my breasts, to wash my other arm.

"No," he finally answered, his movements slowing. "I'm taking a night off. This place was left to me by my maker in his will, you know. Means I'm the big boss, and I can choose my hours."

"How did he die?"

A stupid question.

His nails dragged across my hip after the roughened cloth, causing a trail of goosebumps to follow in their wake, but despite his displeasure at the question, he answered, "Car accident."

A car accident? I blinked. That was so. . .mundane. Such a common death for a creature of myth and legend. I'd expected some fantastic tale of a search for glory or exhilarating adventure, because surely so-called immortal creatures would need to face extreme conditions to die, plus they assumed his death to be an accident from what I'd gathered.

"He was driving along the Drumochter Pass late one night, I imagine well over the speed limit in one of his sports cars when a lorry came out of nowhere - according to police reports. The lorry driver got away with a few cuts and bruises, but. . .." He took a ragged breath. "But my maker was not so lucky. He was decapitated in the wreck; one of the few ways that will kill our kind. If it wasn't an accident, it was someone close to him that orchestrated it. McCreary was always careful not to let on about where he was going until he'd been and gone."

I got the sense the last part was said more for his benefit than mine, but I found myself offering anyway, "Because he had enemies."

My father was the same, always so hush hush about his business trips and where they were taking place.

"Yes, Little Mouse. Because he had enemies. Even Gwydion and I only had breadcrumb trails to follow if we wished to find him on his travels."

My brow furrowed. Did their maker not even trust the vampires he'd created himself?

A hand urged me to lean forward so my back could be washed, and I mulled over what Taran had said in somewhat relaxed silence. Until he placed the cloth back on side, curled his fingers into the roots of my hair, and gave me a dose of stinging pain by yanking my head back. He smirked down at me, lips twitching at my small grimace as my neck strained. Then soothing warm water was carefully poured over my hair, roots released so fingers could run through the strands. I nearly sank into him again, but the moment I moved from the position he put me in, I got an upside down view of a stern face. I stilled again, letting him get on with his task. Then those strong fingers were working shampoo into my scalp, massaging away any remaining tension to draw a soft sigh from my lips.

"Will you tell me something now?" he inquired.

"I suppose," I replied, nervous of what he might want to know.

"The first day we met, when you were taking around my office for your phone, you said you were panicked because you needed to get back to your parents, but I've not once heard you call while you've been here. Even the mere mention of them makes you stiffen."

Well. I supposed I had asked about his father, his vampire father anyway, so it was only fair.

"I love them," I said honestly, glad I could close my eyes while he rinsed my hair of shampoo.. "But I don't like them a lot of the time. They aren't good people. They see the world in very black and white, so did I for a long time until Laura. However, they won't change their views no matter what facts are presented to them. My mother thinks a women's work is having babies to be raised by a governess, attending charity galas and fundraisers, looking pretty on the arm of a husband and running a household like she's in Downton Abbey.

"I went to a fancy all girls boarding school from age eleven, only saw my parents on holidays, and after that most of my friends went to universities like St Andrews or Oxford, and then joined companies owned by their parents or other family and business partners. That was going to be my life too. I was going to be stuck as a dress-up doll for my mother and then a trophy for whichever man my parents thrust upon me that I found the least detestable - if I couldn't find a man from a suitable family on my own of course, they aren't barbarians."

Taran snorted.

"I grew up very privileged. I had everything I ever asked for, horses, dance lessons, holidays to every corner of the globe, I shouldn't complain that I didn't get to wear what I want, or had to lie about who I voted for in an election, but that life was suffocating. I want more. I want to really know the world I live in, and not through rose tinted glasses. I want to make a difference somehow. And I want the freedom to decide what I do, who I'm friends with, where I live."

"You're allowed to complain," Taran said. "Wealth doesn't equate to happiness or emotional security. I'm sure parents love you too, and will come round once they see you are safe."

"What do you mean?"

"If they are decent people, if they truly love you, then perhaps their reaction is out of fear rather than simply prejudice alone. If it is not, then you are better off without them. You're smart, and scrappy, despite your upbringing."

He grinned at my scrunched expression.

Scrappy, was that a compliment?

"Thank you?" The sentiment was oddly nice of him.

"You're welcome. Oh, and tomorrow, I will take you to Uni for your final exam."

Okay, what was happening? Had he had a personality swap? Had Wren hit Taran too hard on the head? And wait, how did he know it was my final exam, was he keeping track of my classes?

Sharp pain stole a gasp from my lips, my back arching to lessen the sting as strong fingers tugged my nipple. Water sloshed as my leg kicked out, hands flying to brace myself against the porcelain of the bath.

The scruff of Taran's stubble raked across my cheek, his breath hot against my skin as he grit out, "Manners. I just offered to do something nice for you."

How could he expect me to say a word when each roll of pebbled flesh between his fingers sent fissures of heat between my legs, the very spot the fingers of his other hand were slowly creeping towards?

My head fell back on a breathy moan, hips grinding against nothing in their desperation for friction. He had denied me for days, left me alone, maybe it was time to get payback. A smile stretched my lips as I dared lower my own hand so I could rub the bundle of nerves crying out for touch.

I was so close already, so close. . .

"No." His growl sent my heart racing.

My nipple was released so he could bat my hand away, my throat collared in his grip too to pin me against his chest. Mounting pleasure was obliterated and ignited with even more fever at the same time. My pussy clenched around nothing, my clit pulsed, and if it weren't for the teasing way he rolled his hips up so the head of his cock nudged my pulsing clit, I might have dared to fight his grip. I shivered despite the warm water enveloping us, or maybe it was another desperate attempt at friction.

"Do I need to spank your ass again?" he threatened, squeezing his fingers so tight around my throat that my breathe was trapped. His voice dropped low. "Do you need reminded not to touch or take what isn't yours without permission?"

He softened his hold just long enough for me to spit out, "No. I'm sorry, Sir."

I went pliant, submitting by body to his will as he so often demanded of me. A husky laugh answered, followed by teeth nipping at my earlobe before he whispered hotly, "That would have been a far more compelling 'no' if you weren't grinning while you said it, Little Mouse"

Was I? I couldn't tell. Arousal scorched my skin and my lungs burned for air. I felt as if I'd stepped off a cliff and was plummeting downwards, or as if gravity had been switched off and the only thing keeping me anchored was Taran's hand around my throat. It hurt, it would bruise, and he only relaxed his fingers long enough for me to choke in another desperate breath before clamping down again.

Oh god, how right he was; fear only made the pleasure that much more electrifying.

He chuckled again as my body squirmed against his, movement causing his cock to twitch. "You want touched? You already started, so go on."

No, that's what I would have said if I could speak. Rosy cheeks and a splutter as he allowed me to take another breath were enough for him to understand. But not enough for him to admit defeat. His hand slid up my wrist until it covered mine, and he used his own fingers to press mine in agonisingly slow circles over my clit. That was all it took to snuff out my hesitation. Even after I began to move my fingers on their own, he kept his guiding mine, his chest rising and falling more erratically with every spasm of my body and each strangled sound that managed to escape past his choking hold of my neck.

Blood pounded past my ears, black dots infesting my vision. The bathwater felt cold against my skin as my hips lifted to press myself more firmly against my fingers, only to grind back again, eager to feel the throbbing of Taran's erection. His own hips jerked, and my vision blacked out all together as the action caused him to sink into me, the stretch alone nearly enough to tip me over the edge. I gripped the bath tighter, my other hand stilling as much as it hurt to deny myself.

Grinding himself deep, shifting so we slid deeper into the water, the new position caused him to hit a spot inside that made my body convulse as if electrocuted.

"Did I say you could stop touching yourself?" He accentuated the taunt with a rough thrust.

It'd been too long since he'd let me breathe that my mind stumbled to understand what he'd hinted at, my fingers fumbling to obey when I did. As soon as soaked digits were moving again, sliding over the slick bud, bumping against where Taran was buried inside me, he let go of my throat to grip my hips and began to pound hand into me without mercy, causing waves of water to splash over the side of the bath.

My cry bounced around the room, a firm hand on my hip keeping me from rising away to escape the onslaught as my insides clenched. He hadn't given me permission to come but how did he expect me not to when his teeth were nibbling at my neck, his growls and groans grating out right by my ear in a way that made my eyes rolls back.

"I need to. . .please. . .Sir," I begged between ragged pants.

"Say it, say it and I'll let you. Beg me. Tell me how much you need to come."

I shook my head on a whimper, and he hissed in displeasure. Fast but purposeful thrusts lost all control, becoming jagged and shallow, his fingers raking at my hips.

"Then tell me who's fucking you. Tell me who owns the orgasm you're craving."

The fact he didn't attempt to manipulate me into saying what he wanted made the roll of my hips to meet his falter. He took no note, biting my throat with blunt teeth so a flicker of fear spiked my veins. I couldn't take anymore. Could barely remind myself to keep breathing when being kept on the brink threatened to drive me insane, when his hand sliding up to weigh a breast in his hand only set my overstimulated body alight.

"Tell me!"  he demanded roughly. "Tell me who owns you!" He tossed my hand out of the way to replace his fingers with his own, strumming over my clit without mercy so I became a twitching mess, the pleasure so intense tears streamed down my face. My back bowed away from his chest, body going taut as my walls clenched around the cock now buried deep.

Later I would tell myself I only gave him the answer he wanted so the delicious torture would end, that he'd only asked it because he was as caught up in the same passionate delirium I was. At that moment, I didn't care if he'd been fucking anyone else in the club, only that he was fucking me now.

Gripping his arm, face turned to press a sweat damp cheek against his chest, I broke under the pressure of a soul-tearing orgasm. "You do! You own me!"