Wait. Blood? My blood?I thought.Did I go off the deep end again and didn’t get the memo?
“You d- drank my blood? Seriously, you bit into my thigh and…” I trailed off. God, I sounded completely nuts. But my hands still had a death grip on those spectacular biceps of his and my legs were parted by his hugely muscled thigh pushed firmly against my center, still throbbing and wet.
“Am I wet because you turned me on,” I managed, “or would that be my blood because I’m a little freaked out right now.”
“Then I’ll distract you,” he smiled, and my scream strangled in my throat as he flashed a hint of fang. His mouth fastened over mine as his cock slid up inside me. It took some work getting all of Steve inside of me, and he hooked my knees on his arms and pulled me wider.
“I’m not-” god, could this man kiss, “I’m not a wishbone, you can’t fit that-”
“Yes, I can,” Steve promised, his hips doing a diabolical swirling motion that was bringing more and more of his shaft in, then out, then in again in graceful, small movements that were completely out of character for this gigantic … what the hell … like … I couldn’t say vampire.
I couldn’t.
But he chuckled; it was rich and smug and made me want to smack him. “You can. You can call me that if you want. But just Steve is better. Or Sir…” he gave another hard thrust, enjoying my yelp.
I actually put my hand over my mouth, eyes wide like that would do the trick.
“Aw … you’re shy. I can read your mind sweetheart, even if you keep your mouth shut.” Steve leaned back on his knees, knees wide and looking down appreciatively at his cock wedged inside me. Slowly sliding out, then back in, he took pity on my horrified expression. “Not all the time,” he allowed. “But when we’re connected like this?” There was an extra force behind the push this time with a bit of an extra grind as his hips thrust forward. One calloused thumb released my leg to gently stroke my unreasonably - still! - aroused clitoris.
“All the things I learn about you, Aura. All your secrets, your places inside that make you scream and come. How this…” his thumb was still stroking that spot and I was battling the need to let my eyes roll back and come again. “This little bit of you needs to be handled gently, huh? Delicately. You’re so sensitive.” This seemed to arouse him even more and he lifted me high enough to rest my ass on his thighs.
Oh, shit. The new position changed the angle of his cock, rubbing against the front of my channel hard, dragging the silky tip of his shaft against all those soft, secret spots that I’d never felt before. His thrusts pushed harder, in and out of me, in and out, pause, then a long, silky, slow slide to the top of my channel that made my back arch and I gave out a cross between a whimper and something that might have been a meow.
“Oh, my GOD this is all too weird!”
Steve had the gall to shake his head, deeply amused. “I can promise that I’m no god, so don’t call me that anymore.” He leaned in close, so close that I could see the changes in his face. His cheekbones were sharper, oddly elevated, his full mouth drawn back from hugely elongated canines, still smeared pinkish with what I assumed was my blood. And his eyes … oh, shit. His eyes were black. There was a color I’d read about once, a color so black that anything put on top of it disappeared, so black that it absorbed all the light.
Vantablack.
Steve’s eyes were Vantablack, and as I came, thrashing and gasping, I fell into those eyes, absorbed utterly with nothing left to catch the sun’s rays as they made their first, hesitant foray over the mountain.
Chapter 4: Nothing Darker
In which Aura questions her sanity.
The next day didn’t feel as debilitating.
Apparently, I was getting used to being ravished because I didn’t seem to need as much sleep. Even though like the two previous days, I woke up alone, a little sticky and again certain I’d not been the only one bouncing on my mattress the night before.
By the time I finished showering, it was early afternoon and I felt surprisingly … perky? Pulling my undies up my legs, I put a cautious hand on my inner thigh, frowning. The thin, delicate skin there was unmarred. I didn’t feel exhausted and draggy, the way I had when I’d given blood on a whim during Red Cross Day in college.
“So, this is ridiculous,” I told myself, “I’m being a sexually deprived nutjob and my subconscious is picking the closest, hottest thing to focus on. I’ll go for my run early, get the blood moving back into this withered brain and do some writing!”
I gingerly touched my thigh again. “At least the dreams were really freaking vivid, huh?”
This time, I took the path down to the main road and turned in the opposite direction. I’d just try this way instead, maybe I did get turned around the other day, so, I’d stick to the main road and - my bear repellent canister slipped and nearly fell out of the loop on my running shorts. Sighing as I re-settled it, I looked around to see a couple of smaller side roads, probably leading off to the other palatial cabins in the settlement.
Tightening my ponytail, I took off again. Yeah. I could do this “reclusive writer thing.” No one to bother me but the sexy as hell handyman. The air was thin and crisp, it made me feel sharper, more alert and I started running with more confidence, really pushing into the steep grade of the road and feeling my thighs and calves burn with the effort. This time, I made it as far as two miles - according to my Garmin - and I leaned over, hands on my knees as I took some deeper breaths. “I know where I am,” I announced confidently, “my cabin is two miles east and I’m going to make a 180 and head right back on this here main road and-”
“Are you lost?”
I gave a humiliating little squawk that sounded like an aggrieved pigeon. “You scared me!” I accused, putting my hand on my heaving chest.
The man had crept up on me in his stupidly silent Tesla, some fancy model that I was certain cost a ridiculous amount of money. “Sorry,” he said, stopping the car.
The door floated upward and I laughed. “What the hell is that?”
He was shorter, close to my height of 5”7 with dark hair and a goatee and brown, inquisitive eyes. “Those are falcon-wing doors. This is an X P100d,” he said, brow arched. Thrusting out a hand, he offered, “Kevin Sykes. My place is up there.” His head nodded to the side road I’d just noticed.
