Rans shoved my bound legs wider apart and licked up the length of my parted folds, the flat of his tongue rasping across my clit. I exploded, the sound of my breathy cries shocking in the relative quiet of the palatial bathroom. I was still trapped in place—unable to do anything more than jerk and buck helplessly in the water—but it quickly became obvious that Rans wasn’t done with me. Over the course of the next who-knew-how-long, he nursed me to a second shattering orgasm with fingers and mouth, followed by a third.
When he finally surfaced and prowled up the length of my body, I was panting as though I’d been the one underwater all that time. He was hard again, his erection sliding along the crease of my hip—inches from where I needed it more than I needed my next breath.
“Please,” I begged shamelessly, arching beneath him. “Oh, god. Please... please... I’ll do anything, just fuck me!”
His mouth slanted over mine, smothering my words. Devouring them. He swallowed my loud groan as his cock rammed home, drinking in the desperate sounds I made as he fucked me roughly, churning the water around us into waves. Before I could properly brace for it, my body clenched. I jerked my lips free of the kiss, the back of my head thumping against the side of the tub as a full-throated scream tore free of my throat.
Every muscle convulsed, my body clamping around his dick and pulling him along with me. My vision whited out, despite the fact that my eyes were squeezed tightly closed. I only realized that I’d slipped beneath the surface without meaning to when a strong hand pulled me up again, coughing and gasping and still coming.
“Mother-fucking sonuva bitch,” I rasped, once my wits started to return.
Rans slid off me with an uncharacteristic lack of grace, and shook his head as though to clear it.
“Note to self,” he muttered, sounding thoroughly wrecked. “Put the person who still needs to breathe on top for the actual fucking. Sorry about that, love.”
A startled bark of laughter escaped me, and I coughed again. “Believe me—the uncontrolled cursing wasn’t intended as a complaint,” I clarified. “Kind of the opposite, actually.”
He snorted. “Oh? Well, that’s good to hear.” Fingers smoothed waterlogged ringlets of hair back from my face, and he kissed me again before adding, “Now... stop being witty, will you? You’re still supposed to be floating in sub-space. Relax for a bit while I get you untied, and then I’m drying us off so I can put both of us to bed.”
I let him fumble at the knots holding me bound in place, blinking up at the spotless white ceiling. “Seriously, though,” I said. “That was without a doubt the most intense sex I’ve ever had in my life. And I wasn’t even feeding from you.”
He unwrapped my left wrist and rubbed at it, making the skin tingle pleasantly. Then he kissed it and moved to my other wrist. “The more stubborn the sub, the harder they eventually drop,” he said lightly. “And you, dear heart, are high on the list of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.”
“Uh. Thanks... I think?” I continued to stare at nothing, my brow furrowing as I poked at the strange and unfamiliar feelings he’d cracked open inside me.
Next, Rans unbuckled the belts that had held my legs bent double. “Hmm. This leather may never be quite the same again. Ah, well. It was worth it.”
I was still distracted, busy making mental connections. My eyes shifted to him as he frowned down at the waterlogged straps he was holding.
“Tell me something... was this whole elaborate setup a case of a vampire trying to train a succubus to be more trusting, using sex?” I asked.
He tossed the belts aside. Metal buckles clinked against the marble floor beside the tub. His blue eyes regarded me frankly as he started massaging my knees and calves, working out the kinks from being bent double for so long.
“Among other things, perhaps,” he said. “Why? Do you think it’s working?”
I prodded at the little oasis of mental serenity, which seemed to have appeared within the disorganized turmoil that usually defined my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, not sure quite how to feel about the idea. “God help me. I... kind of think it might be.”
NINE
MUCH LATER, AFTER Rans had inspected my finished salt-dagger properly and given it his seal of approval for limited use in a fight, we lay together in a tangle on the couch. I’d poured a second cast of salt-infused resin into the mold, but it would take time to cure. With nothing more pressing to do, I was subjecting Rans to a movie marathon of Interview with the Vampire, The Queen of the Damned, and Dracula 2000.
“This is quite possibly the worst film I’ve ever seen,” he said with something like awe, as a group of vampires attacked Lestat at the music concert in Death Valley. “How is it that I’ve never heard of this atrocity before?”
“Probably because it only has a twelve-percent approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes,” I said around a mouthful of popcorn.
“Seriously?” Rans asked in clear disbelief. “Twelve percent of people approve of this?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? At least the cinematography is decent.”
He blinked at me. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I... honestly couldn’t get past the lack of a cogent plot long enough to notice.”
I’d just shoved
