Free Neck Deep In Vampires (A BBW Urban Fantasy) by Georgette St. Clair Page A

about.”
                  “I know, I was kidding. You’ll never cheat on me.” He sounded unbearably smug.
                  “Well, aren’t you the overly confident one.”
                  “Nope.” He grabbed me, picked me up, and slung me over his shoulder. I weigh 180 pounds; a normal man would have staggered and dropped me. Nicholas, with his vampire strength, made me feel as if I was light as helium.
                  He strolled across the massive living room, and brought me into a huge bedroom with a flagstone floor.
                  He dumped me on the bed, bent over me, and ripped my shirt off with both hands.
                  “Nicholas!” I gasped. I’d liked that shirt.
                  He ignored me, bent down, and began tearing at my pants as if they were tissue paper. He pulled the shreds of fabric off. 
                  I squirmed and struggled underneath him, laughing. Dimly, I realized that I was still weaker than I should be. If separation from Nicholas was my problem, shouldn’t I be stronger now that we were back together?
                  I quickly forgot about that, though, because Nicholas was dragging me up the bed, over that silken comforter.
                  He moved me to the headboard of the bed, and in shock, I realized that there was a leather strap, with cuffs attached to it, dangling from the bedpost.
                  “They have silver threads in them,” he said, and before I could protest, he moved in a blur of motion and secured my wrists in the cuffs. “You’ll be helpless.” Silver renders vampires helpless. A silver dagger to the heart was one of the few things that could kill us. If we wanted to take another vampire prisoner, we’d use silver-coated cuffs.
                  I was truly Nicholas’ love slave right now. He was going to have his way with me, and there would be nothing I could do to stop him. That knowledge almost made me come right there on the spot.
                  But wait. Why did he even have restraints already on his bed, in this rented house?
                  “How long have you been here?” I demanded. “Who are those straps for? Did you use them on somebody else?”
                  He shook his head at me. “Frankie, Frankie,” he chided. “I brought the straps with me for you, and only you. I was absolutely certain that I would bring you back here, and punish you all night long for leaving me.”
                  He bent over the side of the bed and grabbed a leather bag, which he dropped onto the bed next to us. His eyes gleamed as he surveyed the contents.
                  “Are you ready?” he asked.
                 
                 

     

Chapter Eight
                  Moving in a leisurely fashion, Nicholas began stripping off his clothing. He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He unzipped his pants and let them slide to the ground, kicking off his shoes.
                  His body was the stuff of a Renaissance sculptor’s dreams.  He was leanly muscular, with a broad chest dusted with black curls and a washboard-flat stomach.   His long, thick cock jutted from a thatch of dark curls.  His muscular thighs had wrapped around me many times, clenching in the throes of passion.
                  He just stood there, his heated gaze roving over my body. I felt my skin tingling as his gaze caressed me, and he wet his lips with his tongue. That tongue. Oh, the things that tongue had done to me.
                  Slowly, casually, he moved to the bed, sliding to a kneeling position next to my prone, restrained body.  This was part of the punishment. He knew how badly I wanted him. He wanted to watch me squirm and plead, wanted to watch as the fires of lust consumed me,