Questions, I’ve many, but none more urgent than knowing his name and knowing who he is. Oh, would he tell me that?
‘My name is Ben.’
My eyes fall from his, and I swallow a squeal at the tail end of the voice that booms in my mind. I nearly choke. Inhaling deeply, I hold that delicious excitement in my chest to calm the tremors of lust and victory coursing through my veins. I know his name, and it’s as simple and gorgeous as he is. Ben. My Ben. Now I know for sure he can see into my mind and hear my thoughts. Is listening to me like that immoral and rude? I want to think so. Hey! Maybe I did not want to know his name. Maybe I liked the anonymity. Did you think of that big shot?
He moves closer and his thighs press onto mine. His hand slides up my arm leaving a trail of goose bumps. He entwines his fingers in my camisole strap and slips the silk back into place on my shoulder. He follows the move through by sweeping the finger across my collarbone to rest at the base of my neck before sweeping up the middle of my throat and flicking off the end of my chin. This tips my head back and he holds me with those eyes, dark and bottomless.
My god, he could rob me blind with my eyes wide open. He is beautiful.
‘Yes, you did.’ The reply is a whisper and my knees knock together.
I slant a look at him from under my lashes and the corner of my mouth curves. His head lowers a fraction and our lips come closer. Oh my, is he going to… I have a flashback to our kiss in the shower and the walls quaking. My mind conjures images of us and a bed. “Show me,” I blurt. “I want to know what you are.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Can’t I enjoy a soul-shattering kiss? I’m frustrated now.
Um, Lee, you need to see what he is, and build trust … remember? You stand at the brink, at a precipice. You have to make a choice soon, and by god, you should make it educated. You should know exactly how damned you are before choosing to embrace it for an eternity. Is the loss of your immortal soul not worth being clear over? Is that not worth postponing a kiss that will shake the foundations of what you know and blow your brain out the side of your skull?
I guess….
Taking back that fraction of distance he’d closed between us, he watches me have this internal argument. Rather than seem perturbed, he looks charmed, and like a man who adores his love enough to see her idiosyncrasies as endearing rather than disturbing. Ben holds out his hand, and I clasp it without hesitation. His palm is cool, smooth. The tips of his fingers curl around mine and apply firm pressure.
He smiles and immediately my eyes seek his fangs. Most often, his mouth is closed, and I’ve yet to hear him speak to possibly catch a glimpse. My heart trips over. There! His pointed canines are flanked on both sides by two smaller teeth. How intriguing. I bring my other hand to clasp the side of his head, cupping his cheek. I guide his head down to meet mine half way, for privacy, and let my fingers stroke his skin. The stubble on his jaw pricks the pads of my fingers. Stubble? His hair can grow?
‘Does it bother you?’ he asks. The question has an undertone of humour. Hmm. Does the man I want to devote myself to flashing fang in the middle of a nightclub bother me? I nod. I do not think it’s safe for him to be so conspicuous. A brief pause from him then more humour, ‘Would you protect me from those who would harm me?’
Ugh. Yes! Again, there is no hesitation on my part when I think this, possibly a hint of impatience. Say whatever persuasion he works on those around us fails, and someone sees him for what he is, there would be pandemonium. I don’t like it when situations get out of control. I like order, for things to go my way, and right now, my way was for the world to continue to ignore us so I could remain in this whimsy bubble where it’s okay for me to be mindlessly attracted to this monster.
My fingertips move from his cheek to slide over his full bottom lip: firm, silken. I remember his mouth pressed to my own, urgently dragging over my skin. I have thought of nothing since. His lips part, eyes grow hungered as I push my finger in. The tip of his tongue strokes the pad of my forefinger as I let it drift up and skate over a fang. Oooh, a shiver races up my spine arching me into him when the point grazes my skin. He shudders too and nips the finger none too gently before I remove it from his mouth and clasp his chin.
Now Lee, remind him now before you forget.
“Show me,” I repeat and do not let my gaze waver from his. I see he accepts. My hand falls from his face to rest at my side, fingers twitching. I look over my shoulder to Bethany and my sombre face lightens. “I’ll be back in ten.”
She starts, as if she’d forgotten I was with her, and wiggles her finger at my half empty glass. “The same?”
“Please,” I reply, and manage to hold off the wobble in my voice for a second time.
With that, Ben walks and I follow in his slipstream, my hand in his. The crowd parts, but it’s not obvious; the floor does not divide into two crowds. People simply take a step to the left if they are in our direct path, or step backward when about to cross us, and then move forward again as if someone hit a rewind button.
We stop at the edge of the room by a booth of people, and Ben becomes still, as he so often does. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one pays us particular attention. People dance. Luminous glow sticks wave back and forth and sweaty hands punch the air. The music pulses; red and electric blue lights flicker and flash in violet streaks across the walls. The cancan girls above gyrate and preen, blowing kisses to those below. Black lights revolve highlighting spillages of body fluids on the floor and on people’s clothes. A girl walks under one and glares at me. I smirk, clearly she’d been up to no good judging by the florescent smear and spatter marks on her chin. The smoke from the machines coils around the ankles of booted, heeled, and sneaker clad feet. Sloshed, an Emo stumbles from the crowd, wife-beater bottle in hand, yelling something about defiling the next bitch that crosses his path. He projectile vomits into a bin before being tossed out the front door with his equally pissed mates.
Ben murmurs something and my attention reverts to what he is doing. The people in the booth freeze and put down their drinks. The whole thing is creepy and disturbing to watch if I’m perfectly honest with myself. Such an immediate and total loss of one’s will. They get up, glassy eyed, and leave. One by one, they pass me and melt into the swarm of bodies, effortlessly blending into the dance.
Okay then….
Using his grip on my hand to propel me forward, Ben inclines his head to the now vacant booth. It’s rounded, the sides so close together I have to twist my ample hips to make it through the gap. Inside, I’m cocooned by wall to ceiling black velvet. The seats are padded and deep, and a low glass table reaches my shins. The light in here is weak, a candle looks about to extinguish and it does, leaving a coil of wispy smoke.
Chapter 4
Lee Likes To Watch
The music is somewhat muted now. This booth is a cosset of heat, darkness, and the smell of sex.
Ben comes in behind me, and my body goes on high alert; fight or flight response, I think. What an odd time for it to kick in.
As if sensing my body’s preparation to do something silly, with a speed I cannot match, Ben twists me around by the shoulder, and has me on my back with my camisole pushed up under my breasts. I lift my head up, mouth forming an O. How impatient he is! My jean button is already unfastened. He growls and presses a kiss to my navel. Adrenaline pumps hard and fast now, but I’m going nowhere so I disregard the urge to run. Ben lies between my legs and urges them to hook around his waist. I think he likes that move more than I do. When his eyes lock on mine they widen in surprise at the cool, considering look I analyse him with, because I’ve figured out what he’s doing.
Oh, my darling, what were you expecting? A woman who falls to pieces and trembles in fear of who and what you are even as she craves to be with you? I’ve already done that, and I survived it, see? With a small smile, I think of how I’m not afraid, and that how fast he moves does not shock me. I think, when he kisses me, it’s my own personal
slice of heaven, and I would give everything for him to do it again.
With a chuckle of relief I feel down to my toes, he leans over and starts at the base of my neck, letting his lips rest there. Then he moves up over my collarbone and rubs his cheek against it. Higher, to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, as he presses a kiss to my pulse point. Hovering at my throat, he breathes in deeply and sighs, his cool breath blowing over my skin. He bites me, a tiny thing without breaking skin, and my heart rate doubles. I whimper, and no, I’m not going to bother to hide it. Holding my breath is making me dizzy. Finally, his mouth moves to my ear and brushes over the outer shell.
He says, “Choose.”
Holy mother, that voice! Dark, smooth, and laced with raw power. A delicious energy buzzes over my skin and makes me quiver. My inner ear tingles. And that is from a whisper. What will happen if he shouts at me? My fingers grip the edge of the faux velvet booth. Looking out onto the crowded dance floor is easy; his gaze is on my throat instead of entangled with mine.
The room is smoky. Vivacious, I would say if I’m ever asked again, when I’m of sound mind. The electro pop flows smoothly then becomes sharp, jagged, and intense. The DJ raises his fist signalling a change. Headphones the size of small rocks cup his head and his reflective sunglasses gleam as his head bops. His mouth opens in parody of a roar as he pushes his audience, dares them to demand more, then the baseline drops and the crowd loses control. Arms and legs thrash, clammy bodies buck, the movement fed by the undercurrent of tribal drums and sonic booms. Dubstep.
Lee, if you were to sit on a speaker what would happen? Would the molecules of your body simply vibrate apart?
A singer with dark chocolate skin and dressed in spandex sashays onto the stage. She looks like a black widow spider wrapped in buttercup petals. Her slim hips grind with every syllable she warbles over the multi-layered beats. The synthesizers pick up on her higher notes before the tightly coiled reverberations of the base kick in. Everything speeds up and blurs into a chaotic jumble.
The melody mimics the leisurely sweep of my eyes across the nameless bodies that writhe together until I spot them. They’re cruising, checking out the other couples with open lust in their expressions.
He hears me the moment I’ve chosen. Ben’s head turns slightly, dark hair flicking into his eyes. He smiles wickedly and strokes my inner thigh. Ah, I have enough moral fibre to blush at his blatant delight at my choice. I did not mean to make it complicated, or kinky, but it has to be them. I think. They will not be new to this kind of play. Better to choose people who will glean pleasure from what we do if they do so in everyday life of their own free will. Right?
Or are you trying to make this better than what it actually can be, Lee? Making excuses for debauched behaviour already, I see.
The man – good looking, with short dirty blonde hair styled into a Fohawk, graceful eyebrows, and a generous bridge to his nose – pulls his companion – a sweet looking thing with wider-than-normal blue eyes, and a ditzy smile – from the dance floor to start our way. I rub my lips together and cock my head. She is pretty, not beautiful. Her hair and makeup are perfectly crafted to give the impression of beauty, but a real connoisseur of physical perfection would see past that.
I glance down at Ben through my lashes. He plays with the sterling silver belly button ring I had done when I was thirteen years old. I had been mad at my mother because Bethany had hers done, and we did everything together, but my mother would not sign the consent form no matter how many times I assured her I would run away from home if she did not agree. Instead of acceptance, she had stated they were for “cheap sluts, not middle class sweethearts” like me. That had really ticked me off. Trapped in the hormonal fuckfest that was my teenage years, I had heard that as an insult branding Bethany a slut. Naturally, I forged my mother’s signature and had it done anyway.
Ben’s body shakes with laughter as he listens in on my childhood memory, and his tongue replaces his finger for a leisurely swipe. I gasp. Will he like the tattoo that coils around my upper thigh and hip? Did he see that when we were in the shower? Would he trace it with his tongue if I asked him to? Should I try and flash it at him somehow?
‘Do as you will,’ Ben thinks. ‘They will not remember us.’
Hearing this from him has my knees pressing together, despite the fact he is between my legs, and my lower stomach clenches.
The couple slip into the booth, and for a moment, nobody moves. Ben ignores them and I look them over, wondering how far this will go. Sure I like to watch, but … I don’t share.
‘Good,’ Ben replies to my thoughts, and turns his attention to the girl. Face flushing, … the young woman? What are their names? ‘Jake and Lily,’ Ben supplies helpfully.
Ah, okay. Lily strokes Jake’s chest, unbuttons his shirt, and scrapes her fingernails down his hard abs. He’s gloriously ripped; someone has a gym membership I see. She unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans.
The sound of that zip is scandalous. I want to look away now; those pesky morals tugging at me to do what’s right. My face flushes and my fingers tap a beat on my knees. Here is the secret to why watching is pleasurable: what you see is considered private and forbidden. Ignoring that feeling of taboo is why it feels good in the end. Therefore, I lock my body, and settle back to enjoy the show. It’s that simple action, that decision to not look away, which kick-starts the sexual tension, where your clothes are too tight, your mouth too dry, and your sex too wet.
Jake closes his eyes and lets his head loll back to rest on the wall behind him. Lily tugs his erection free and wraps her glossed lips around it, sliding down and taking him fully in her mouth.
Ben watches all this with a measure of distraction; his gaze keeps coming back to me. I make an educated speculation that usually he would receive her attentions, but because I’m here he wants to do it differently. If I want to completely submerge myself in his lifestyle, I should push him to do everything authentically.
Could I handle it?
He moves toward them, pauses, and looks back at me with something indecipherable in his eyes.
I incline my head, accepting of what he is about to do. Too late to back out now. He must show me what this is all about, or it’s all over, and it would kill me for this to end; for the promise of what we could be to end.
Lily bobs up and down on the flesh lodged firmly in her mouth, and her hand comes up and stretches in his direction.
Give me a break! You’re feeling jealousy over this? Pull it together, Lee. The anticipation on your darling’s face is born of hunger not lust. Right? Or are sex and feeding intrinsically linked? Could you live with such a thing, having your man getting turned on by his victims? Well, let us see.
Ben clasps her wrist, turning it over until even I see the bluish veins running beneath the wafer thin surface of her skin. They’re weirdly easy to see … is the booth still dark? Does she have florescent blood or something? No … they throb for him. Is that even possible? Why can I see that? Is that how our bodies react when one of Ben’s kind is near and ready to feed? His chest heaves as he brings her wrist to his parted lips. I school my expression even though I shriek inside, glimpsing fang before the blood crawls down her arm in a thick rivulet of deep red.
I stand up ready to run? To scream? What am I doing here? I could leave; just walk away and never look back.
Walk away from Ben, Lee?
Trembling, I sit my ass back down, and my hands grip my knees. My darling opens his eyes, which had slipped closed on the first bite, to watch my reaction. My face is unmoving, and my eyes must show how disturbingly calm I am, for his twinkle at me as his pupils shrink to slits again.
I’m certain this change is a reaction to lust and not blood, and that he lusts for me not her.
Lily twitches, groans, and sucks Jake harder, cheeks hollowing, greedily taking all of him in. He pants, thrusting in and out of her mouth with his bottom lip wedged firmly between his teeth, his hand on the back of her
head holding her in place. They are quite diverted with each other, and seem to be enjoying themselves immensely during this oral intromission. So does my darling, for that matter, and again I feel the sting of jealousy so intensely it numbs all other emotion.
Ben jerks like he’s been shocked and lifts his head. His satisfied look melts into one of indifference. He pauses then brings her wrist away from his mouth, but not before the tip of his tongue flicks over where he’s bitten. His tongue drags along her skin to lap the blood that escaped the feeding. The whole time his eyes are on mine. Did he feel my envy? Is that why his feeding was so brief? It couldn’t be nice to be eating and have such negative energy killing your buzz.
“Sorry,” I mutter, and push my face into my palm, embarrassed at how petty I can be. Oh, I’m only human, I guess, and that reaction is ordinary.
Ben releases Lily’s arm and she stops sucking Jake. She sits up. At first, I think she is going to scream, but she straddles Jake, who bolts up to see why his pleasure has stopped. In three controlled moves she grabs his turgid flesh in her hand, shoves her panties aside, and impales herself on him.
I recoil in shock. Too much, too private! I grip Ben’s upper arm, a warning in my eyes.
He shakes his head and motions to them with a casual sweep of his hand. ‘I have removed their inhibitions. Nothing more.’ A beat of hesitation. I ease back some considering his words. He is not telling them to do this? ‘Everything they’re doing, they want to do,’ he assures me again. I relax fully. Ben would not lie to me. He’s a straight talker. Instinctively I know and like this about him.
And I do like to watch.
Lee, see how much easier depravity is becoming for you?
Settling back in my seat, I take in the scene before me. She rides him ardently, head thrown back, arms looped around his neck.
Die, My Love Page 4