At any rate, the ‘right’ strap-on—according to Rans—was a three-strap model with a built-in bullet vibrator nestled in the g-string-shaped cup of material that would go between my legs.
“You can thank me later,” he said, once the paper-wrapped package was paid for and deposited in an unmarked plastic bag along with a bottle of appropriate lube.
The dildo itself was roughly the size of an average human cock. It snapped into the receiving ring on the harness, held in place by its flared base. It was more or less realistic in terms of color and shape, though it did have enough of a curve at the tip to proclaim its usefulness as a prostate toy.
I just hoped my instincts about this whole thing were on-point. Otherwise, this evening was going to end up being, shall we say... a bit awkward. It was fairly clear to me that Rans was humoring my little venture, more than anything. Not that he had anything against me plowing him into the mattress with a fake dick; it was just that his mind was still firmly elsewhere.
And therein lay the rub. He and I had decidedly different expectations of what was going to happen once we got back to our suite. And while I’d been relieved to discover that prying into his emotional state earlier had resulted in a frank conversation rather than a relationship minefield, I still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that I’d earned the right to ask of him what I was about to ask of him.
Because... centuries-old vampire.
Twenty-six-year-old ex-waitress.
To say that there was something of an inherent power imbalance in our relationship was an understatement.
The door to the stateroom closed and locked behind us; Rans tossed his designer suit jacket carelessly over the back of a chair. A moment later, he was relieving me of the bag containing my recent purchase, which landed on the plush mattress with a bounce. Then I was in his arms, and his mouth was slanting across mine, his lips seeking the best angle.
And... yup. The practiced seduction was exactly what I’d expected from him after our little talk. It was not, however, what I was after tonight.
Here goes nothing, I thought, and pulled back enough so I could lift a finger to his lips, barring them from returning to mine.
“I think we’re having two different conversations here, lover,” I told him gently. “And I want us to be on the same page tonight.”
A faint look of confusion furrowed his brow before he consciously smoothed his expression and pressed a kiss to my fingertip. “I wasn’t aware that conversation was on the evening’s itinerary,” he murmured against my skin.
“I think it needs to be, though,” I said.
He backed off, though his hands still cupped my shoulders. “All right. Converse away.”
I took a steadying breath, aware that as a rule, I wasn’t at my most clear-headed when I was surrounded by his scent and the reassuring caress of his supernatural aura.
“You’re doing that thing you always do,” I explained. “And that’s not what I want tonight to be about.”
The furrow of confusion returned. “That... thing I do?” he echoed.
I nodded. “Yes. The thing where you play to my fantasies, and make sex into a performance that you think I’ll enjoy.”
The confusion deepened into a frown. “I assure you, love—I derive rather a lot of enjoyment from it, too. Have I not been making that sufficiently clear?”
I cupped his jaw, stroking a thumb across his stubble. “I’m not arguing the point. Just observing that I don’t think it’s really what you need tonight.” I paused. Swallowed. “We’ve never really talked about it in depth, but I figured out early on that part of what you were getting from our... relationship... was a way to turn off your brain for a bit. As a succubus, I could do that for you in a way that normal humans couldn’t.”
For a long time, I’d told myself that my animus-sucking ability was the main reason Rans bothered to stick around rather than leaving me to my fate. I was a convenient way for him to forget his worries for a few hours by being drained sexually to the point of exhaustion, or—on a couple of memorable occasions—unconsciousness.
At the time, I hadn’t been able to imagine any other reason why my emotionally stunted and thoroughly ordinary self might be appealing to someone like him. Hell—if I were being honest, I still struggled to understand what he saw in me. But at least now, I’d accepted that he must see something.
Evidently, I’d surprised him with my words. In fact, I’d surprised him speechless, which might have been a first in our relationship.
Eventually, he managed to drag some words together. “Zorah... I... won’t deny the appeal of dulling the edges now and again. My mind can be a very loud place sometimes, and as a vampire, the options for quieting it are fairly limited unless I want to hunt down an endless supply of junkies to drink from.”
I dredged up a smile for him, still stroking his cheek. “Yeah... best not. Sounds ethically ambiguous.”
He didn’t smile back. “But I hope I haven’t given the impression that I’m using you as a way to... what? Self-medicate?”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m saying. Besides, in the beginning, the ‘using’ was much more on my side than yours. I was literally feeding from you, after all. If anything, I was just relieved that there seemed to be something in it for you, too.”
“There were many things in it for me. There still are.”
My heart gave an unexpected little thud-thud, fluttering against the wall of my chest.
“I know you don’t need me to keep from starving anymore, love,” he went on. “But I want to be very clear about this—I gained satisfaction from the knowledge that I was providing what you needed, completely apart from any psychological benefit I enjoyed by having my brain turned off for a bit by mind-blowing demon sex.”
I saw an opening
