Chapter 4: I'm Yours as You Are Mine

-Arabella-

This is insane.

Sitting here on this man's lap, inside the most beautiful library I've ever seen, I can't seem to string together a coherent thought.

Ever since I bumped into him at the other estate, I haven't been able to stop looking at him.

This vampire BOUGHT me. He owns my time, my freedom.

He also saved my family from destitution in exchange for all of this, but the truth is, I shouldn't want him as badly as I do.

I thought I'd be terrified, that I'd start regretting the choices I made as soon as I stepped into my new role. But I don't. I can't think of anything else but his eyes, his deep voice, and now, the gentle way his hand caresses my shoulder and neck.

"Take off your clothes," he repeats in a whisper, and I begin to unbutton my blouse. I tilt my head to the side, welcoming his lips toward me.

Maybe he has glamored me without me noticing it, or he's performed some other mind-boggling trick, because all I can feel is anticipation of what comes next.

His fingers brush against my neck, and with his other hand, he pulls my hair away. Surprisingly, his touch isn't cold, but rather warm.

"It doesn't hurt. I promise," he whispers into my ear, and I feel the slightest prickle on my neck. It's more like a mosquito bite than an actual tear in my skin, and for a few seconds, I don't feel anything different other than his lips pressing into me.

Then it hits me, like a wave of dizziness, which makes me slump toward him. He pulls his teeth away from me and next thing I know, he's wiping my neck with a silk handkerchief.

I look up at him, expecting him to tell me to get off him, but he just cradles me there, holding me.

A pleasant numbness overcomes me, as if I've just had a little too much to drink in a very short amount of time.

"You're still dressed," he says, his voice booming in my ear that's so close to his throat.

And there I thought he was concerned about getting blood onto my blouse.

Of course not. This is happening, just like the agency told me it would.

Vampires have a different view of sex than humans do. For them, it's something even more primal, territorial. At the same time, they're immune to all human diseases, so they're much more liberal with whom they sleep with.

And they do like to play with their food.

I straighten up and slide my skirt down, kicking it off to the floor. The woozy feeling persists, but I don't feel weak, so I get off him and pull down my bra strap.

I face him while I unbuckle it and let it fall, and then I move on to my underwear, slowly pulling it off. A chill runs through my body once I'm done, standing bare and naked in front of him.

Today I've been inspected and prodded everywhere, so this feels almost routine, except for the fact that he's there watching me. I've never been ashamed of my body or a prude, but I've never done something like this.

And it's thrilling. I can see the desire in his eyes, the want.

His lips are stained red from my blood and he licks his mouth briefly, as if savoring the last drop of me he can. Never have his eyes left mine.

In a second, he pulls me back onto him and grabs my chin, turning my head so I face him.

"You are aware that you've agreed to all of this, right? You consensually signed the contract that allows me to do whatever I want to you within the limits of your physical safety," he says in a calm and gentle voice.

"I am," I say, inexplicably moved that he is asking me this. But seeing how his brother Desmond treated his attendant, this feels oddly kind.

"Not lying also means you don't have to pretend to enjoy what I do to you. When I fuck you, I want to know how you feel. I want to know if it hurts you, if you feel pleasure or pain. Do you understand?"

I nod, though I'm not really sure what he means. He doesn't want me to fake an orgasm?

"I have never fucked someone under a glamor or forced myself onto anyone, and I won't begin now, regardless of the skewed power balance here. You are performing a paid service, and I need to hear you say that you agreed to it."

Right now I don't give a shit about the contract or the agreement. I want him to touch me, to do things to him myself. I've never been so turned on by anyone in my life.

"Yes, I agree to all of it."

Maybe it's my religious upbringing, or the strict, almost puritan rules my mother tried to instill on me, but ironically, this seems like I'm being set free. Even if he is going to use me, I am using him as well, in a way. This way of seeing it feels intoxicating, liberating.

Everything about what I'm doing is wrong in all the right ways.

Ronan picks me up and carries me to a nearby desk, placing me on top of it. He then grabs my thighs and gently nudges them open, his hand suddenly on my pussy. A moan escapes my lips as his firm fingers caress my wetness in a circular, pleasurable motion.

I have to lean back to hold myself steady, but I don't want to close my eyes. I want to see him stare at me with that penetrating gaze of his, the one that is now shifting.

He looks almost hungry, lustful. Like there's a primitive hunger he's trying to keep contained.

His lips part for a split second, as if he's about to speak, but thinks better of it. Then he kneels and his mouth is on me, his tongue slowly feeling my wetness. Another moan escapes my lips and with his arms, he grabs my ass and presses me onto his face, which is now buried between my legs.

An explosion of pleasure rocks my body as his tongue enters me, a slick, warm feeling that makes my body vibrate.

I refrain from screaming, and what comes out of me is like a whimper, which makes him stop and pull away.

"What did I tell you about lying?"

Panting, I straighten up just as he stands and picks me up from the desk, moving me toward the couch. He sets me down next to it and stands right behind me, his fingers tracing my spine and slowly coming down to my ass.

My heart pounds in anticipation of what he plans to do to me, and I can't think of anything else but his touch. I hear the sound of fabric rustling, and then he uses both hands to spread my ass wide open.

"Scream, if you want to," he says, and once again I feel his mouth on me, this time, from behind. His hand squeeze my buttcheeks as I inevitably do as he says, moaning and squirming as his tongue caresses my wetness, sucking and kissing me.

His lips devour every inch of me, and his hands navigate my ass, waist and legs as the intensity of his motions rises, as well as my breathing. I'm panting and my heart races. I feel like I'm about to reach climax when all of a sudden, he stops again.

"Fuck, you taste delicious," he says, stepping around the couch and sitting back on the armchair. He licks his lips and sits down, loosening his tie.

He's lost his jacket, and as I recover myself and stand, I can't help but notice how his buttoned shirt is way too tight around his arms. His chest slowly rises and falls, as if he, too, is trying to catch his breath.

Wisps of his dark hair cover his face and he loosens his bun while he looks at me coldly, as if assessing what I'm going to do next.

I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do.

What I do know is that I want him over me, inside me. I haven't been with many people in the past, and those experiences weren't anything like what he's just put me through.

It would seem that he's the one wanting to please me, and not the other way around.

Part of me hates myself right now. I've always been so angry with the way the world functions now thanks to his kind, how they own most of the businesses and have driven humans to do all the menial, low-paying work that no one wants to do.

Because who would prefer an employee who needs to eat and sleep to survive when they can have one who doesn't need to rest for so long and only needs some blood every day or so as nourishment?

It's unfair, and everyone would be better off without vampires.

At the moment, though, all my pent-up anger has dissipated.

"What are you thinking of?" His voice interrupts my thoughts as I stand there, still naked and breathless.

"Why did you stop?" I say, not wanting to share the truth of what I was thinking.

He owns my body and my life, but he will never own my thoughts. Those will always be my own.

A half smile appears on his lips. "I take it you didn't want me to stop?"

"Do you always answer questions with more questions?" I say automatically, for an instant forgetting that I shouldn't be so impertinent.

I'm realizing I'm going to have to suppress most of what's in my mind if I'm going to behave according to his rules. And most importantly, I'm going to have to think before I speak.

"You're going to have to learn some discipline, Arabella." He frowns, but the wicked smile returns a fraction of a second later.

"You can't have it both ways," I say, feeling bold. "Sir," I then add, since I'm walking the line here.

He looks at me quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"You want me to be honest with you and tell you what I think, but my honest answers also offend you."

"You never answered me. Did you want me to stop?"

He knows the truth to his question. The way I squirmed at his touch has already told him what he wants to know. But he wants me to say it.

"No, I didn't want you to stop," I say, trying to keep my voice level. Admitting this out loud is harder than I thought it would be.

But it's true. My body still wants him, despite everything.

"What do you want me to do to you?"

Want. Again that silly word that's tossed around so carelessly.

I want my freedom so I can see my family again.

I want to change history and schedule another date to go to the agency, so we wouldn't have been in the same place at the same time.

Because this isn't how this is supposed to go.

Sure, I could have been stuck with someone like his brother, who seems to be ten times more dangerous and hateful. So I should be grateful for that.

Ronan doesn't seem cruel, or evil—for a vampire, that is.

But I'm not supposed to like this. I'm not supposed to want this or enjoy it or be asking for him to fuck me. Because that's all I want right now.

It's like I'm possessed and intoxicated with this exhilarating oxymoron: I'm free from the clutches of propriety while I'm this man's captive.

"What if I told you I want to do things to YOU?" I say, the words slipping out of my mouth.

His eyebrows rise as he tilts his head, observing me.

"You're a strange human, Arabella," he says after a few seconds of me waiting expectantly. "Go ahead. I suppose that right now, I'm as much yours as you are mine."

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