Most of the time. When my dick didn’t rise to the occasion… Well, then Domitia had her ways.
I was her slave. She owned my body. It was at her command.
I got off easier than my brother Hadrian. Luckily, all our sire wanted of me was my dick. She’d ripped Hadrian’s heart out—more than once.
“Are you saying you don’t want to fuck me?”
I want to growl at the foul words coming out of Zahara’s perfect mouth. Her lips are pink, a deep ruddy pink. There is a divot at the center of her top lip. A small pearl that I want to taste. My fangs sharpen, knowing that the flesh of her mouth is filled with her blood. At the same time, the blood I have in me rushes southward, answering the call of the beast.
“No, little one, I am not going to fuck you.”
Once again, my dick calls me a liar. It throbs in my pants, ready to take a bite out of the zipper that encases it behind the harsh cloth. It wants to get at Zahara. To get inside her. The lush lips of her face would be a perfect place to break two centuries of celibacy.
The hell I’ll ever let that monster out. I would die before letting it ravage her. I press the heel of my hand over the beast to leash it.
Zahara’s gaze tracks my movement, her dark eyes opening wider as she sees the impression of my cock against the fabric. The outline of my dick can be traced down my thigh. My hand is not large enough to cover my entire length.
“You see now,” I say. “You’re too small.”
Zahara’s plump lips curl into what I think she means to be disgust. Her brows pinch together. Her nose crinkles. Her lips purse. Like everything about her, I find the movements fascinating.
“Puh-lease,” she scoffs. “Every man thinks his prick is the biggest.”
“I don’t think, little one. It’s a fact. I am massively endowed. I would easily split you wide open.”
There are many women who like that. Women who wanted to be stretched so far that they tore as I pounded into them. I knew my dick had done its job when they couldn’t walk for days, sometimes weeks, after fucking my cock.
“I won’t let it hurt you,” I say to Zahara.
“You do know that the female body is made to shove out something the size of a watermelon?”
A watermelon? I’ve never heard of such used in sex. I’ve borne witness to women mounting horses. One even tried to fuck an elephant—to a fatal conclusion.
I don’t think that is Zahara’s aim. She doesn’t strike me as a masochist. Or a size-queen who aches for the stretch of an oversized phallus.
“I’m not the width of a gourd,” I say. “Definitely the length, though.”
She snorts at that. Her lips lift the tiniest fraction. Is that a smile? I’m not sure. I have never made a woman smile without my dick being put to use by her.
Just like her scowl, Zahara’s grin is beautiful, breathtaking. I need to remember what I did to make it happen so I can do it again. We were talking about my cock, and her vagina, and pushing fruit out of it. The idea of her vagina as a piece of fruit is definitely appetizing, both to my mouth as well as my cock.
“Like it or not,” she says, “we are going to have to fuck.”
I still don’t like the foul words coming from her sweet mouth. But my dick does. It punches at the front of my pants again.
“It’s the only way to break the curse,” she says. “The only way to get our land back.”
“Your land?”
“The Serrano vineyard is on sacred Tohono O’odham land.” Zahara’s gaze turns fierce. I see a fleeting image of the warriors of her past cross her features.
“Oh? Is that all?” I say. “Take whatever land in the vineyard you like. There’s plenty of room.”
The smile she wears slips. When it comes back, it’s clearly forced. “You don’t understand how ownership works, do you?”
“My mother sold me to a demon when I was just a boy.” I shrug; the words tumble from my mouth easily for the facts that they are. “I was born a slave. I’ve always been someone’s property.”
Her forced smile falls under the weight of my words. The sharp end of the blade she’s holding points down. Zahara looks at me, horror-struck.
“Oh, I don’t blame her. It wasn’t as though she loved me. Maternal love is a fairly new human concept. Most animals pop out their offspring and leave them to fend for themselves. My mother did feed and clothe me for a few years, at least.”
Zahara only stares at me. She doesn’t smile. I don’t know the words to say to bring back that grin. It seems inappropriate to bring up my dick and her vagina after talking about my mother.
I’m not sure. I wish Gaius was here to advise me. Though he was born lowly like me, his manners are perfect. I never bothered with the niceties of table manners and polite speech. No one ever wanted anything from me north of my cock.
What I do like is having Zahara’s attention fully focused on me. Her dark gaze roams with a bright light of compassion. But then she blinks, as though catching herself. She closes her eyes and looks away.
“Are you hurt?” I reach out to her.
She moves back. The pointy end of the blade is pointed once again at my heart. Doesn’t she know it’s her frown that cuts me more than that edge ever could?
“You’re trying to get in my head, aren’t you? Trying to make me feel sympathy for you so that I’ll let you go.”
“Do you mean mind control?”
The fact that she’s now glaring at my ear instead of directly
