Her forefinger he drew all the way into his mouth, fellating it. There was no other word for it, and she couldn't have imagined it could feel so good. Applying sucking pressure, he slid his hot mouth up and down its length. Her entire hand turned warm and tingly.
The slow slide of his lips made her want to slide her own lips over the broad, red head of his cock. She reached for his belt, but he clamped his free hand over hers, decisively lacing their fingers together. There'd be no reciprocation. He squeezed her hand.
And bit the tip of her engorged forefinger. The blood spurted out. She cried out in surprise—at the release, and the pleasure. He flicked his tongue over the bleeding tip, fast as flame, tickling, teasing, building pleasure. Not just in her finger, but everywhere. Her lips, her nipples, between her legs, down in her toes. With a gasp of surprise, she came. It was a funny, shuddery little orgasm. Not deep, but it rolled across her skin from head to toe.
"Alex!"
He paused to give her a knowing smile, then dragged his tongue over her palm. All the nerves in her hand were exquisitely sensitive. His mouth opened at the base of her palm and his teeth flashed in the candlelight, longer and sharper than she'd ever seen them. They closed on her upper wrist.
Her hand flew open and went rigid. The bite hurt, yes, but that wasn't the primary sensation. What she felt was a body-deep tug. At his call, all her capillaries and veins opened wide and her blood raced to his mouth. She watched Alex's face. His eyes were closed. He looked like he was praying and God was talking back.
Helena swayed. It was a rush. A head rush. A cunt rush. A full body rush. She nearly toppled out of her chair.
Alex raised his head from her wrist. A smear of blood stained the corner of his mouth. He looked as dazed as she felt, but he still held her other hand tight in his lap. They both breathed hard while he waited for her to say something.
She said, "More."
He swept aside the cups and candlesticks and laid her out on the white tablecloth. It pleased him to see her like this. She could see it in his eyes. They seemed to grow larger as she watched, their black depths burning hot. Quiet as a phantom, precise as a surgeon, he circled her, choosing his points of attack with meticulous care. Her right ankle, the inside of her left thigh. The hollow behind her right ear. Each bite made her climax. Each bite left her more languorous. Each bite left her wanting another.
This must be what opium is like. This is how you die of pleasure.
He loosened the tie on her dress and spread it wide. He wasn't toying with her extremities anymore. He might bite her neck. He might lose control and kill her, like the elk.
His face taut with desire, he scanned her exposed skin. Her body ached for his touch. She twisted under his gaze, rolling from one hip to the other, her fear melting into raw desire. Touch me, please. Kill me if you want, but just touch me.
He covered her breasts with his hands, unclasping her bra as he did, like a magician. The bra fell away and her breasts gleamed like ivory in the candlelight, the tips pink and hard. Unspoiled.
Needing his mouth.
His teeth.
A little moan of anticipation escaped her.
"Helena," he murmured, and he crawled up on the table with her, bending low to suckle her breasts, first one and then the other, lashing the nipples with his tongue, then sucking the points into his mouth. He sucked until they were swollen and tender.
And finally, as she knew he would, he bit her breasts, incising four points around each nipple, pushing her further and further into the netherworld between pleasure and pain. But she never said no. She never wanted to.
Instead she held on tight to the table's edges, riding each bite like a dark wave. Thin rivulets of blood trickled their slow way down her belly, down her sides.
Alex gathered her into his lap, opening the cuts wider so they bled freely, laving her with long, steady strokes. His low, satisfied moan vibrated through her body.
"Beautiful. So beautiful."
It took her a while to realize that he wasn't speaking aloud.
But that was about the time he slid his hand down her panties.
He took a deep pull on one breast while he rubbed two fingers over her slick labia. It happened fast. Her toes curled. She took a deep breath. And another. And another. There wasn't enough air. All she could see was golden light.
"Come for me, Helena."
The golden light behind her eyes coalesced, contracting and then exploding outward like a sun. Alex took her throat while her climax shook her, and she knew he was feeding off the white hot light inside her.
The sun inside her.
When it was over, she opened her eyes to slits and saw his face above hers, streaked with tears, his eyes glowing with adoration.
"Thank you, solnsta moyo. My sun. My only light."
An ear-splitting shriek pierced the peace between them.
Lacey stood in the doorway.
Chapter 11
Lacey turned and ran.
Helena opened her eyes, really opened them, and took a hard look at Alex. His mouth was smeared with blood and his bright tears. She was covered with blood. As was the tablecloth. And the front of his white shirt.
Lacey would call the cops.
Helena jumped off the table. Her legs, shaky from blood loss and orgasm, almost gave out on her. She stumbled to the door, Alex right behind her.
She gestured him back as she ran out the door, holding the front of her dress closed. The snow stung her bare feet. Lacey's truck was roaring in fast reverse down the drive.
"Lacey!" she screamed, waving one arm.
The truck came to a screeching halt and the passenger door flew open.
"Quick, quick, quick!" Lacey yelled, and Helena jumped into the warmth of the truck. Before she could say anything, Lacey gunned it.
Helena saw Alex on the porch, his face stark as he watched them race away.
"Are you all right? How'd you get away? I thought you were dead. I swear to God I thought he'd just killed you."
"No, I was fine."
"Honey, you've been hurt. You're in shock. I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No, I don't need the hospital. I need to go back. You need to meet Alex. He'll explain."
"I bet he would. With a chainsaw. I knew something was going on. I should have come over sooner. I should have called the cops. You've been alone with him for days."
"No! Well, yes. Sort of."
"When you didn't call about Milligan's, I called you, and your phone just rang and rang. I knew it was off the hook. And your cell went straight to message."
Helena swore to herself. She'd left her cell phone down in her office, and Alex had probably unplugged the house phone because he didn't want his gourmet extravaganza interrupted.
"Really, I was fine. What you saw looked bad, but it's not."
"That's called Stockholm Syndrome, honey. Identifying with your kidnapper."
Lacey fished her phone out of her jean jacket and started punching numbers with her thumb.
"Don't!" Helena grabbed the phone. Lacey fought to keep a grip on it, swerving all over the road as she did.
"Shit!" Lacey let go in order to avoid a truck. The screen read 911. Helena hit the disconnect button.
Lacey shot her an angry sideways glance. "Why are you protecting him? He's getting away while we fight."