Page 23 of Ouch! My Vampire Doms Keep Biting Me
“I’m not scared,” I say. “I just don’t want you.”
He tilts his head back and laughs. “Little mouse. The pheromones you’re pumping out tell a very different story. You must be dripping for us. We’re big on consent, though. Enthusiastic consent.”
Curiosity forces me to speak. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means he wants you to beg for it,” Will says.
Xander’s voice is low. “Otherwise, we leave this room now and you can toss and turn until your little mousy self falls asleep.”
I don’t want them to leave. But I don’t want to admit, out loud, that I will die if they don’t act on this. It’s a matter of survival. Can I really be blamed? I need this like I need to breathe.
I’m stubborn, though. And yes, still scared.
A long, silent moment passes.
Xander gives a huff of annoyance and steps away from me. “Just as I thought—”
“Don’t go,” I whisper.
He freezes, waits. There’s a look of superiority on his face that makes me want to crumple, but I refuse.
I say, “I…will you…will you bite me?”
The two men exchange a look.
“Only if you want us to, love,” Will says.
“I don’t,” I say quickly.
Xander shrugs. “You may change your mind. Just know if you want it, you’ll have to beg for it.”
A fresh wave of arousal rushes through me. How? How does he do that to me? The very thought of how exposed and vulnerable I am, and how in control they are, it’s mortifying.
“Up you go,” Will says. “Take off your clothes, love.”
“Right…right here?”
“You want it?” he asks. “You’re going to have to work for it.”
I’m so needy, this is embarrassing. I consider standing up and walking right out of this room, away from these sexy vampires, and out into the dangers of the night. I could do it. It would be less uncomfortable than sitting here, indecisive and horny.
But if I walk away, I’ll never get this chance again. I know that on a soul-deep level. This is the moment where I take exactly what I want. It’s the only moment when I can, the only moment I have control over what happens next.
So I stand. I face them. Tug my shirt over my head. I’m not wearing a bra. Will blinks slowly, like a pleased cat. Xander gives me no reaction whatsoever. I toss my shirt to the side and notice Xander’s eyes flicker with annoyance. A neat freak, maybe? I take off my leggings and underwear, toss them to the other side so they don’t land near the shirt. Xander’s mouth tightens.
I file this little nugget away for later.
Naked, I stand before them and wait. Will remains on the couch. I don’t know him all that well, or his expressions, but I think he looks happy with my body. Xander, who has been standing this whole time, makes a slow circle around me. I force myself not to turn my head to follow his progress. This is even worse, being examined by him like I’m a sculpture in a museum exhibit or something. What would he have to say about the composition of my body? The lines, the angles, the overall structure? The design, the color palette?
Something about his slow walk reminds me of a passage I read in one of the BDSM books upstairs. It described how, in a Dom/sub relationship, sometimes the Dom will “inspect” the sub. Is that what Xander’s doing? I straighten my shoulders, but lower my gaze.
“Nice and humble,” he murmurs, getting up close behind me. I can feel his breath against my earlobe.
I don’t say anything. I can barely concentrate on anything that isn’t these men.
Xander’s voice is low. “I’m going to touch you. But you need to ask for it.”
He reaches around from the back, his hand coming toward my pussy. He’s so sure, so forward that I think, for a moment, that he won’t really make me ask. But his palm stops just shy of my mound. If I pushed my hips forward, he would make contact.
