“What in the world are you thinking about?”
I look up and find Syrsee staring at me. “What?”
“You face is nothing but angst. What’s up?”
“Don’t you think that wanting my blood is a bit weird?”
“Abit?” She laughs, sitting back in her chair a little, giving me a really nice view of her breasts. “Of course I think it’s weird. All of this is weird.”
“Do you crave it? Or need it?”
“Hmm.” She studies me as she thoughtfully considers my question. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you want more right now?”
“I wasn’t thinking about it.” But her eyes are already looking at my lips. Then they slide up to meet my gaze. “But now that you mention it…” I get a coy smile from her here. And then she’s getting up and coming around the table to me. I grin as she lifts her leg over my lap and straddles me, settling her thighs on mine and placing her forearms on my shoulders, her fingertips playing with my hair right at the nape of my neck. “That was an offer?” Her voice is sweet and a little bit teasing.
“You really want more blood?”
“If you’re offering.”
I have a thousand questions. But mostly, I’m thinking about fucking her while she drinks me. She is, after all, naked in my lap.
She’s obviously reading my mind because her hand slips down to the zipper on my jeans. The button is still open so it’s an easy thing for her to just reach in and pull out my cock. I’m already hard, but when she starts stroking me, it gets even stiffer.
Syrsee is bold tonight. She doesn’t even hesitate, just lifts her hips up and presses the tip of my cock up to the entrance to her pussy. She’s already wet and the next thing I know I’m slipping inside her and she’s got her mouth pressed up against mine, whispering. “Let me drink. Please, let me drink.”
I bite, taste the blood for just a moment, and then her tongue licks it up. It’s over too quick. And then she’s asking formore. “Give me arealdrink, Ryet. Give me what I give you.” These words come out low and sultry. Almost like she’s trying to seduce me into it.
I know this is a bad idea. I’ve spent the last sixty-five years listening to Paul tell me how drinking too much is a very bad idea. But when she starts moving on top of me, I suddenly don’t care. Iwanther to drink me. And I want her to do this while we fuck.
I bite the palm of my hand, letting my new fangs sink deep into my flesh so the blood will flow easily, and then I put it up to her mouth, letting her take a good suck. And all the while she is writhing in my lap. Her hips grinding on me. I grab them, squeeze tight at the bones, urging her to move faster.
Suddenly, there is a swell of feelings inside me. Warmth, and chills, and fire, and ice. And while all this is happening a light, golden mist begins to swirl up from the floor.
We come at the same time and I’m absolutely sure the whole world can hear us. But the only thing on my mind right now is her. Her blood, specifically.
And the moment that the craving hits me, she’s offering me her neck.
I don’t hesitate. I’m not even capable of hesitating. I sink my teeth deep into her neck and she recoils from the pain. But I’ve got her arms pinned to her sides and I don’t relent.
The first draw is magic. And this is when I realize what we’re doing. We’re drinkingeach other. We’re mixing our blood. Her inside me, me inside her. Over and over.
Is this what it means to have your own personal Black witch? Someone who was made for you, and only you? Are we doing it right?
But I’m too distracted by the taste of her blood to give these questions any more thought. It’s sweeter now. More enticing than it was, if that’s even possible.
Flashing red lights are going off in the part of my brain that is still capable of logic, but I ignore them. Paul’s face is there too, and then suddenly his words are loud in my head. “Be careful, Ryet. This is Black magic you’re doing. You’re making something here.”
But Syrsee is moaning in my lap and we taste too good to care about consequences.
I must pass out,because the next thing I know I’m waking up on the couch. I don’t even know how I got here. Or Syrsee, either. She’s lying alongside of me, her face pressed into the cushions. The euphoria of the drink is gone now and there is a feeling inside me that I can’t quite place. It’s not shame, exactly. It’s not regret, either. But it’s something like that. Something worrisome. Something that lingers in my gut like a mistake not yet realized.
I close my eyes again and start trying to make sense of things.
Syrsee is drinking blood.
I’m eating food.
