It should have been enough to see her this way, begging beneath him, but his deep instincts demanded more, wanted to see proof that she could not escape. He reached between the cushions of the banquette, drew out one of the coils of satin rope that were stowed there, and lapped it around her joined wrists. Maddy’s eyes widened, but she did not protest. Both of them were playing out an ancient drama.
He tied the end of the rope off at the wall of the booth, stretching her arms over her head.
The words came out of him without thought. They’d been waiting to be spoken all his life. “You belong to me now, body, blood and soul.”
Eyes heavy, she mouthed, “Yes.”
Gregor hooked his arms into the crooks of her knees and thrust into her, sinking himself in a single stroke. Maddy moaned, her body taut, the whites of her eyes visible beneath her lids. There was no quarter here. This was not lovemaking.
He wrapped his arms beneath her and held her throat to his mouth. Staying deep inside her, moving slow, he worked up and down the length of her throat, nipping and sucking, taking more of her heady, powerful blood with each puncture. Madelena was the true elixir, the substance which would sustain him for the rest of his life.
Wrapped around her, buried inside her, his bloodstream suffused with her, even the physical boundaries between them blurred. He thrust faster and faster, bruising his hipbones against the battery belt. Her legs came up around his hips, and her high heels dug into his back. She was straining against the rope, she was crying his name—their thoughts were one, their bodies were one, they were so very close to the edge, bound together, agonized, ecstatic.
Madelena’s breath caught on a high cry, and she went still. He latched onto her throat, closing the circuit, and her orgasm began to flow. Drinking deep, Gregor rode it with her for a few seconds before his own began. Caught in a feedback loop, their climaxes amplified and echoed one another, trapping them in a firestorm of pain, love and pleasure combined.
Gregor held on to sanity by his fingernails, ripped apart by an ejaculation that went on and on like nothing he’d ever experienced. Was it her orgasm?
Shuddering and shaking, Maddy sank her teeth into his neck, jacking into his blood supply. She swept through him. The claiming was mutual. Her cunt contracted over and over, milking him as he gave and gave, gave her everything he had. And all the while, her blood was in his mouth, singing to him about love even while it was killing him.
He lost track of time, of place, there was just this connection, this exquisite, dragging torture, slowly becoming less and less, until there was only them, and they were quiet.
For a long time, neither of them could move. Eventually Gregor untied her wrists. Neither said anything because words seemed intrusive. They just shifted positions so that they were spooning, and Gregor held her close. Maddy’s cheeks were still wet with tears, she didn’t know up or down yet, and she was dizzy with blood loss, but it felt amazing. She was reborn.
They intertwined fingers and she kissed his hand. Or was he kissing her hand? The division between them was very thin. She floated high, flushed with happy chemicals, her consciousness twining and twirling with Gregor’s in a slow, eddying dance.
Bit by bit, the music from the dance floor asserted itself—she hadn’t even noticed it the whole time they’d been together—and they settled back down to earth, and reality, a small room strewn with his clothes and a club that needed tending. They were no longer joined, but they could be again, with just a wish.
Gregor kissed the back of her neck, as he always did when they woke up in the evening. He started to say something, then had to stop to clear his throat. “Is your plug still tight? You okay?”
Maddy slapped his hand off her cord. “Gregor, I swear to God I will beat you—”
“Alright, alright.” He laughed.
Maddy rolled to face him. Despite fucking themselves within an inch of their lives—or rather, because of it—he appeared ten years younger than he had when they came into this room. His eyes were brilliant, his cheeks pink.
“You’re ready to conquer the world.” She brushed his hair out of his face. There was no way she could love him more.
“Done that.” His grin was all too satisfied.
“Now what, then?”
“Enjoying the spoils, I guess.” He kissed her. As gentle as it was, it stung. Her lips were thrashed.
“Settling into domestic bliss, you mean?”
“Mmm, domestic.” He circled his finger around her tender nipple, which was ringed with bite marks, demonstrating his notions of domesticity: bed, snacks, bed, snacks in bed, bed then snacks.
“Does that include wedding plans?”
Gregor scowled. “What do you mean? We’re as married as we’re going to get. That was it, sweetheart. We just did it right.”
“Not according to our moms.”
“Ah, Jesus.” He rolled over and covered his face with his hands.
“Exactly. Jesus wants us married—in a church. Which one is up for debate. To that end, my mother wants to invite your folks over for dinner.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Maddy shook her head. “She wants to know what kind of broth your parents like best.”
“Tell her she doesn’t have to cook at all.” Gregor grinned, showing all of his gleaming teeth. “If she’ll just sit still, my parents will serve themselves.”
He deserved the punch—he really did.