other girl, mouths wide open. Grunts and murmurs of male appreciation filled the room, especially when the madam picked up a black leather switch. The girl held her cheeks apart, and the madam thwacked the girl’s rear thoroughly with the leather straps. After the girl’s buttocks were flushed red, the madam lifted a device from a table, a long rod of black with a tail of peacock feathers and two gold chains attached. Graceful fingers dipped the rod into a tall brass container and withdrew it. Clear, viscous liquid dripped from the tip.
“What is she doing?” Without thinking, Serena asked the question of Drake Swift.
She immediately regretted letting the words slip out.
“Penetrating her arse.”
A quiver of heat and agony shot through Serena.
The madam pushed with hearty force until the rod disappeared deep into the girl’s bottom. The girl was rocking and panting with each thrust, her loose auburn hair tumbling over her back.
Once the rod was within to the hilt, the woman—the madam—looped two chains around the girl’s bare thighs. She attached two to the girl’s corset. The girl giggled with delight, waggled her bum, and began to spin and dance around the room. Peacock feathers swirled and spun with her wild motions.
Mr. Swift breathed heavily. Serena felt the warmth of those deep breaths against her ear.
“Does that not hurt?” she asked. Her own bottom tingled.
“It pleasures her,” he insisted. “She will perhaps reach orgasm many times. Eventually she will wish to remove it, for it is large and is spreading her wide. After several hours, she will yearn to stop. That is when she will be selected by a vampire as his companion and he will heighten her pleasure.”
Serena could not understand why the thought of such a bizarre thing made her own body weak and shivery.
The madam continued to slap the girls on their bottoms and continued to slide large rods into their derrieres. She chained each one in place. A larger and larger rod was used on each girl. For the last, a beauty with chestnut ringlets, two other girls held her to support her as the madam worked the enormous black pole inside.
The first girl was already straddling a man’s lap, crying out in pleasure as she bounced upon him. The chains were taut, straining to keep her filled. Two other girls lay upon a divan and began to kiss each other’s privy curls. One banged her bottom roughly against the divan. The other spread her thighs wide and wriggled. Did that provide stimulation?
Men—vampires—sprawled on the various chairs, watching the display, exuding raw sensual power. All were cast in shadow, so they looked mysterious and dangerous. Some crooked their fingers—summoning a girl to dance before them.
The girls would play with their nipples or hold open their nether lips, then spring around to display their bottoms. One girl with enormous breasts was able to reach her nipple with her tongue, eliciting a cheer from the bright-eyed man watching her. Another man dragged the girl toward him, until she crawled on her knees on their chaise. He pulled her hips to his face so her quim was at his mouth. With his large, gloved hands, he began withdrawing the rod and thrusting it in her, the chains attempting to resist.
Serena realized his tongue was licking the girl’s privy parts, tasting the moisture there, and the vampire made hungry, growling sounds. Another girl crawled between his thighs and began to undo the placket of his trousers.
Serena’s face was aflame, her throat dry and tight.
Mr. Swift leaned forward—heavens, she felt his erection push against her backside. He was aroused. She wanted to push back against him. But she tried to stay completely still.
“Is this the sort of thing you do?” she croaked the question at him. She should disapprove. But she found watching so arousing, so irresistible.
“Is it the sort of thing you would want to do, little lark? Wouldn’t you wish to perform for him, to entice him beyond all control?”
She had no answer, swallowed hard. “But those women are enticing vampires. The vampires will feed from them, hurt them.”
“But you know vampires do not always kill—and the only ones allowed here are those with control over their feeding urges. And the girls are well treated, in a way. They have warm beds and beautiful clothing, and are very well fed. They have every comfort they could imagine. These are not girls trapped and abused by a brutal madam.”
“They are free to leave?”
“Yes, but they don’t leave.”
“Why not—if they have freedom, why would they not take it?”
Swift leaned closer. “Because they need to offer their blood. They cannot exist any longer without joining with a vampire and surrendering their blood.”
“Slaves? Or worse—food!”
“In all relationships, one partner feeds on what the other offers. In different ways. The vampires are as much their slaves.”
“I don’t believe that.” She glanced up and caught Lord Sommersby’s gaze. She saw the way his lips parted, the tense way he held them. Shadows shielded his eyes, but something in his expression knocked all the air from her chest.
Slowly, like a prowling beast, Lord Sommersby walked toward her. Instinctively, she wet her lips in anticipation of his touch, his kiss. She was living her dream. She moved back from the rail, which pressed her derriere against Drake Swift’s rigid erection. She was aware of her heat, her scent, her wetness, and the power of the two men who had vowed to protect her.
Serena gasped as Drake Swift kissed the back of her neck. As he suckled. A burst leaped from there like a tiny firework. It raced through her, furiously fast, and exploded between her legs in a flood of wetness.
Ecstasy. Pleasure. Goodness, at just that touch—that hot, lovely touch—she’d climaxed!
She cried out.
5
Addicted
Jonathon heard Miss Lark’s little cry of pleasure and almost came on the spot. A bolt of sensual agony crippled his legs, and he had to stop walking.
Miss Lark’s head arched back, her cheeks flushed pink, and she breathed frantically. She’d climaxed at just the touch of Swift’s mouth to her neck. Of course she would. She was a born vampiress.
Swift groaned, “Yes, sweeting,” and reached for her plump breasts.
Jonathon clamped his hand on Swift’s shoulder and shoved his partner. Swift took a step back, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
This wasn’t the first time Swift had pleasured a woman Jonathon had wanted…
“This isn’t a game, and Miss Lark is a respectable lady.” Jonathon kept his voice low, but his temple throbbed and he felt the beat of his pulse in his skull. Damn, he was hard and aching for Serena Lark. He hadn’t sought sexual release in a year. Frustration kept him sharp on the hunt. And what woman would want to be the mistress of a man who spent his nights slaying demons and his days locked in a laboratory, slicing the brains of vampire cadavers with a scalpel?
He
