Roland said, “Ah, the creatures of the night, such music they make.” He meant the vocal, enthusiastic racket she’d made while being fucked by a bastard.
“All right. You’re not a bastard, then. You’re a wanker.” But Teresa meant that with affection, and anyway he seemed to agree with her.
She tried to make it sound as if she were making a terrible accusation.
She wondered if she’d managed to keep all trace of appreciation out of her voice.
He said, “You were teasing me. And it moved things along.”
“No. You enjoyed it. Your cock got hard – harder! – when you smacked my arse. You like to spank girls. That’s what you’re into. And you tied me up.”
“I tied your wrists. And I did ask you if you wanted it, first. You wanted. And you’ve got a lovely arse. So, yes, absolutely I enjoyed spanking you. Unless you tell me not to, I’m pretty sure I will again.”
He stopped and waited for her to speak. Teresa said nothing.
She was being asked to give an important kind of consent. It should be a solemn moment. Those smacks on her bottom had felt good. They brought a kind of satisfaction, reaching a part of her that she’d almost given up on. But she wasn’t going to explicitly ask him to spank her. Pride ruled that out. Nor was she going to tell him not to. As the silence stretched on he looked more serious, and then slightly worried. It was important to him, too. At last she laughed at him, but still said nothing.
He said, “Noted. I’m taking that as consent, unless you tell me otherwise?” He left another pause. Teresa poked him in the stomach. “All right. Consent taken, and you’ll pay for that. But it wasn’t getting spanked that upset you. It was not being able to bite me.”
“Yeah. I like your blood.”
“I’m sure my blood’s very nice. But I like it inside my skin. It’s tidier.”
“It’s a brilliant colour. Like passion. And it’s full of life.”
“Yeah, I can see all that. But you like it … a little more than most. More than you said when you said you weren’t like those other Real Vampires.”