Chapter Three

“And you’ll wear the outfit?” Ryle nodded at the garment hanging limply in my hand.

“If it completes the scene for you.”

“Oh yeah.” He pressed his lips to mine and cupped my cheeks. “Everything about you is perfect, baby. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you. I want all the experiences, all the memories I can get while we’re together.”

I stared into his earnest eyes. “Yes, I want that too.” I glanced at Aimery. “With both of you.”

Aimery inclined his head a fraction to acknowledge my statement. But I sensed he was staying still and silent because this was my and Ryle’s time.

A sudden burst of energy flooded me. It was as if my inner Mistress suddenly decided it was time to introduce herself.

I pushed back from Ryle. “Give me that bag,” I said sternly.

A wash of excitement crossed his face, then he rushed to give me his mysterious black bag.

I took it with a flourish. “Now strip and be on your knees by the time I come out of the bathroom.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He pulled at the base of his T-shirt. But I didn’t wait to watch him pull it off instead I dashed into the bathroom and shut the door.

Once inside I could feel my heart pounding to the same rapid tempo as the train on the tracks. I dropped the robe to the floor and pulled on the body stocking. It was tight but comfortable and the modesty panels made it sexier than if it had been completely see-through, plus the stocking effects really were quite realistic.

I admired my shape in the mirror. Good eating and sunshine had filled out my curves making me more womanly than when I’d been in London. I also had a nice tan. My hair, freshly brushed, fell in silken waves and I completed the look with a swipe of the brightest red lipstick I had in my makeup bag.

I investigated the items Ryle had brought along to enhance our fun. There was a set of handcuffs—black leather with golden buckles—a silken blindfold and a flogger with a scarlet handle. I’d never held a flogger before and I let the thin strands of leather weave through my fingers as I studied the silvery streaks that wound through the many slim strands. It was no ordinary flogger. Ryle’s skin, like all vampires, was super-sensitive to silver, and while nothing else would give him pain, sensual or otherwise, silver would sting, burn and give him the sensations he craved.

I would have to keep my wits about me, even in the final throes of both of our pleasure. Silver, for my husbands, was playing with fire.

When I pulled open the door, Ryle was on his knees, naked, his head bowed and his hands resting at his sides. He looked glorious.

Aimery was still in the chair, and as I stood backlit with the flogger resting in one hand and the blindfold and cuffs in the other, he roamed his gaze over me.

I said nothing as my skin heated under his scrutiny. I set the items on the bed then reached into the cupboard and found a pair of high black stilettoes. I slipped them on and instantly felt my torso lengthen, my chin tilt and my breasts jut forward.

Feeling suddenly more confident in my new Mistress role, I strutted over to Ryle, stood in front of him and let the rumble of the train vibrate up through my soles.

“Look at me,” I said, tipping his chin with the point of my index finger. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel…” His startling blue eyes widened at the sight of me in the outfit he’d chosen, “that I will give you anything, anything at all that you want from me.”

“And do you have a safe word, in case I push you too far?”

“You never will. I love you too much to deny you anything.”

“Ryle.” I reached for the flogger and tapped it against my leg. “Safe word.”

“Nemesis.” He stared at the strands of silver catching the light and sparkling like threads of tinsel.

“Nemesis, okay.” I bent and spoke onto his lips. “Now get on the bed, kneeling and facing the window. I want to be able to get to every inch of your delectable body. Your arse and your dick.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He rushed to obey and a glut of excitement barged through me. Ryle being submissive was completely out of character but hell, it suited him thoroughly and I thanked my lucky stars that he was mine to order about.

His skin was pale against the jewel-colored bed covers and his short, white-blond hair all the more ghostly contrasted with the dark paneling behind him. Like Aimery’s, his muscles contracted and bunched beneath the surface of his chilled flesh as he moved, immeasurable power and strength lurking for when he needed it. He was a killer, a creature of the night, a devourer of blood, yet he was a pussycat when in my control.

How had I gotten so lucky?

I reached for the cuffs and nodded at his hands. I kept my expression stern and my demeanor one of absolute authority.

He held them out, palms up, and allowed me to fasten the leather onto his right wrist. He watched my movements with acute intensity, his body poised and his lips parted.

I hoped to heck I got this right and gave him what he wanted. It seemed it was a fantasy he’d got himself pretty worked up over. A sense of responsibility was setting itself firmly within my desires.

“Lift your arms.”

Again he did as instructed.

There was a rail attached to the wall above the bed, and I looped the small chain that held the cuffs together through it.

I clicked the cuffs around his left wrist then moved back, to admire my captured slave.

“Is that comfortable?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress.” He nodded and the shadows captured his profile against the wall—proud, straight nose, neat square chin and high forehead.

He was stretched long with his arms above his head and his knees bent on the mattress. He had small tufts of underarm hair, a fraction darker than that on his head, and the outline of his ribs could be made out as his body elongated because of his harnessed position.

My attention settled on his rigid cock. Thick and full it jutted from his pubic curls and beneath it his balls hung heavy. Like his face and chest, the shadow of his cock was also gracing the wall of our room and looking particularly magnificent in silhouette.

I licked my lips and glanced at Aimery.

He’d clasped his fingers on his lap and was watching me intently, his eyebrows pulled low and his back straight and stiff. He was obviously looking forward to the show.

“I’m going to take away your sense of sight,” I said, turning to Ryle again. “So that you can really feel, really concentrate on the heat of my strikes and how all that intensity will travel to your dick.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He’d already closed his eyes. “As you wish.”

“It is as I wish, as is the fact that I want you to use your safe word if at any time it becomes too much.”

“Yes, Mistress. Of course, Mistress.”

Balancing one knee on the bed, I reached up and tied the blindfold over his eyes. The long loops of silk hung down his nape, tickling the top of his spine.

I touched my fingers to his lips, tracing their shape then let my caress float down the column of his neck and onto his chest.

He trembled slightly as I circled his nipples, first the right and then the left before stroking over the small scar he had there.

“How did you get this?” I asked.

“A fight, Mistress, many, many moons ago.”

“Who did you fight with?”

“Not who. What.”

I stilled my caressing. “Explain.”

“A wolf, Mistress, from the Carlton Pack. We had an altercation, when I was in Russia. He caught me with his teeth.”

I pressed my lips to the scar and wished he hadn’t had to defend himself from a vicious wolf. “How come he managed to mark your skin?”

“We are sworn enemies for many reasons. Their ability to pierce our skin with their teeth is just one of their revolting qualities.”

“I hope I never meet one of these nasty Carlton Pack wolves.”

“I hope that too,” Ryle said. “With every beat of my heart.”

I decided to push on with the task at hand, dipped downward and pressed a kiss to his navel.

He sucked in a breath.

“You’re so hard,” I whispered, knowing my breath would be warm on his cool skin. “Hard and ready for me to make you come.”

“Yes, Mistress.” His voice suddenly had a breathy quality to it. “Please, Mistress.”

I curled my fingers around his dick and gave a few firm push-pulls.

He groaned and canted his hips forward as though pressing in for more of my touch.

“Are you ready?” I asked, reaching for the flogger with my free hand.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Still holding his cock, I swung the flogger at his ass. I let the strands slap lightly against his skin and the sound whispered around the room, belying the extreme hit of pain they would have delivered.

“Argh, fuck.” He jerked and I nearly released his cock with the forcefulness of his movement.

“Too much?’ I asked, fear washing through me that I’d started off too hard, even though it had only been a very gentle, very fleeting blow.

“Hell, no, it’s just…been a while since I’ve had silver heat.”

“But it’s what you want?”

“Yes, fuck…yes.” He dropped his head back, so that his face was angled at the ceiling. “More, please.”

I slapped him again with the same strength behind the lash and was treated to another flinch and a groan. His cock became denser in my hand and a pearly drip of pre-cum seeped from his slit.

“Let it build,” I said, “harness that pain and send it here.” As I’d spoken I’d stooped and swiped my tongue over the tip of his cock and gathered up that delicious droplet. “Let it burn you up, just here. It will be so intense when I let you climax.”

He groaned and I struck again, squeezing his cock at the same time.

I knew what I was talking about when it came to experiencing sensual pain. Ryle had spanked me on many occasions, starting from the very first time he’d fucked me back in London. He loved the way my skin bloomed pink, the blood rising to the surface with each strike.

Aimery had been sitting watching then too.

I shot a glance over my shoulder.

Aimery was leaning forward, knees apart, elbows resting on his thighs. His mouth was a thin slash and his dark eyes almost black. He gave the smallest of nods when he saw me looking his way.

He was enjoying himself. This was satisfying the voyeur in him.

I returned my attention to Ryle and continued to take him to a place where pain and pleasure became one—a delicious tangle of wanting more, needing less and a sub-space where nothing existed except the delights and torments of the body. I struck him several more times then stroked the flogger down his back, slowly, teasingly, knowing it would be super-intense for him to feel silver this way when he was in such an aroused state.

He arched his spine and shifted on the bed. I was trailing kisses of fire over his cold flesh. He seemed to want it, judging by the way he shivered and shook, but the way he writhed and bowed made me double-check.

I stilled and licked the ball of his shoulder. “More?”

He nodded. “Yes…more.”

“You may succumb to your orgasm,” I whispered. “Come for your Mistress and show me how much you like this scene.”

His cock twitched in my grip and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he climaxed. The concrete feel of him was delicious and it was all I could do not to take him deep into my throat and order him to spurt hard and fast in my mouth.

“You’re doing so well,” I murmured, resisting my sudden urge. “Just keep going for this last bit and it will feel amazing.” I moved away so that I could swing my arm at an easy angle and still massage his cock.

I hit the pale orbs of his arse cheeks, again, and then again and soon lost count of how many strikes I’d delivered. His skin didn’t reddened despite my harsh treatment, but I could guess by his reaction to the silver flogger that it felt burned. It was a sharply erotic sensation that I adored and craved, and judging by Ryle’s frenzied state, so did he.

Within a minute or so he was groaning—a long low sound punctuated by gasps. I picked up the pace, increased the power behind the strikes until suddenly he stilled. His cock seemed to solidify in my hand and his buttocks clenched.

I rubbed at his shaft with a rapid force, whacked him again, with extra gusto, and then was rewarded when a long rope of cum shot from the end of his cock and onto the bed. I quickly scooped up some of the cold fluid and used it as lube, continued to work him through his orgasm and gave one final, biting strike with the flogger.

“Ah, ah, yeah fuck…” he shouted. “That’s it!”

“So sexy, Beatrice,” Aimery said sharply, excitement lacing his tone. “Really bloody erotic to watch you—”

A deafening screech rang through the cabin and I was thrust forward as the train slammed on its brakes.

Everything went black. The lights flashed on again, then off. I’d just made out Aimery standing and whipping around to face an almighty crash at the window.

My head banged into the paneling and my body folded into a bundle. I felt Ryle shifting as pain screamed across my scalp and down my neck. Air was knocked from my lungs and my knee twisted beneath me.

Still the awful noise continued, it was disorientating and I called out for Ryle who was still trussed up next to me, or so I’d thought, because a chill wind had burst through the window and now I couldn’t make him out at all.

“Ryle, where are you?” I called.

Nothing.

The violent deceleration made it impossible to move. The train was crashing, I was sure of it. Jolts and bumps, shaking and shifting were pinning me in one place. With a brutal lurch I was flung in the opposite direction and then instantly careened backward at another angle.

Fear gripped me. The train was off the rails. I screamed, flailed my arms and was tossed to the floor. Suddenly an almighty force scooped me up, and the agony of super-cold fresh air blistered into my lungs. I was being held tight and firm and squeezed against something hard and solid.

A brilliant flash of red and orange turned to a white-heat that flamed around me as the wind rushed past my ears.

I was out of the carriage. Racing along. Being carried. I attempted to move from the grip about my waist but couldn’t. My breaths were hard to catch, my heart beating wildly and the pain in my head was intensifying.

I struggled to focus because my eyes felt scorched from the explosion. I tried to scream but no sound came out. I was floating, flying, my limbs were numb, my body not my own.

Everything went black, still and deathly quiet.