Lust Bites

by Kristina Lloyd

  Ignoring the possibility of other insomniac explorers, he slid off his clothing, undressing far faster than any human could have.

  Within seconds he was naked in the moonlight, but still his pale skin tingled. He moaned, knowing that only the gentle caressing touch of Teresa’s hands could soothe him. Only her hands could both rouse and give ease to the fury of desire. His own hands, running over his limbs, his torso and his belly, only seemed to aggravate his need.

  Yet he couldn’t stop. He stroked his body, fingertips tracking over his dense musculature, imagining it was her fingers that were moving, sliding and tantalising. His cock was aching and heavy, standing out from his body now, a bar of darker flesh in the blue-white light of the moon, a strangely human phenomenon taking over the body of an other than human male.

  At last, he took himself in hand, growling at the impact of his own touch, baring his fangs and tipping back his head, eyes closed.

  ‘Teresa!’ His voice was a low rumble of feeling as he began to stroke and pump his flesh. He knew it was not her hand, but in a state of passionate fugue, his own touch was the next best thing. His mind was able to trick him, and he seemed to see her beside him, and hear her breathing and smell her myriad delicious scents.

  She was touching him, fondling him, loving him, making him moan with delight, his thighs flexing as he pushed and pushed into the delicious enclosure of warm, skilled fingers. He wrapped his free hand around his torso, but in his imagination, he was clasping her to him, even as she clasped and caressed his cock.

  The sensations built and spiralled, the intensity mounting. His sharp fangs pricked at his own lips as he fought to contain his vampire roar of pleasure. He tasted his own blood, the flavour sweet but inert. It was no substitute for fresh warm, living blood, but the fact that it had once had life goaded and lifted him to the point of no return.

  ‘Teresa,’ he shouted again, no longer able to contain himself as his penis leapt and his spine felt as if it were melting in a white flame of climax.

  Chilly semen jetted from between his fingers, creating a silvery arc that glittered momentarily in the light of the moon. And as it hit the dark surface of the pond, Zack groaned and swayed, his spent body crumpling as he collapsed and curled up on the damp turf, stunned and sobbing with release and renewed longing.

  4

  It was so hot. Longing for cool, and not sure whether she was awake or asleep, Teresa kicked off the covers.

  Her eyelids felt heavy and it was an effort to open them. Blinking, she surveyed the unfamiliar room.

  Yes, right. She was at Hindlesham Manor and she was sharing this room with Zack. Who was currently nowhere to be seen.

  He likes me. I like him. But we can’t do anything about it for some reason.

  Groaning, she turned over again. Knowing what the deal was only made her want him more. When something was forbidden, it automatically became the most desirable thing in the entire world. Sod’s Law.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured his lean male body and wished that he hadn’t shot away for a walk in the middle of the night. Even if they couldn’t make love, it would have been comforting to sense his sleeping presence across the room.

  She imagined his return. And that he’d changed his mind. She imagined him gazing at her, his beautiful blue eyes on fire with lust. He’d lick his lips and his sharp white teeth would glint.

  Why on earth am I always thinking about his teeth? Teresa wondered.

  Her hand flew to her neck. She seemed to feel the sharp prick of him nipping her there.

  Squirming against the sheets, she touched the place where she imagined him biting her, and with her other hand she massaged between her legs through her pyjamas.

  A low moan echoed through the room, and Teresa’s eyes flew open again.

  It wasn’t her!

  Across at the window, but looking into the room rather than out of it, stood Zack.

  She opened her mouth to speak to him, but he made a shushing gesture with one forefinger across his lips. A fraction of a second later, he was beside her, and she felt too mesmerised to wonder how he could move so quickly and so soundlessly. The bed dipped as he sat down beside her.

  Heavy inertia flooded her limbs. She couldn’t move or speak, yet her senses were acute and the entire surface of her skin felt electrified, receptive, and tingling with an almost sentient longing to be touched. Her hand was still between her thighs, pressing against her sex, her clit. With her other hand she was still touching her own neck.

  Zack just stared at her, as if the effort of speeding across the room had drained him and he was resting, restoring himself, feeding on the sight of her touching herself.

  His hair was awry, his curls wild and beautiful. They appeared to float as he tipped his head on one side, even now hesitating. To Teresa’s horror, he began to edge away.

  No … No, I shouldn’t do this, she seemed to hear him say.

  But, as he made to rise and leave, Teresa willed him to hear her silent command.

  Stay!

  Moving closer again, Zack smiled almost shyly, and the teeth she’d been so fixated upon glinted whitely in the moonlight filtering in through the fine gauze curtains. She wanted to sit up, reach out and run a fingertip over their sharp biting surfaces and test their keen edge. In her imagination, blood welled from the pad of her forefinger – and, like fate, Zack lunged forwards, grasped her hands away from her body and pinned them in one of his, above her head.

  Then he kissed her while his other hand searched and found her breast.

  Oh yes … Oh hell yes …

  There was an exquisite roughness about both the kiss and the caress. A fugitive lack of finesse that excited her senses even more. The way Zack’s cool tongue probed, and his long fingers squeezed and fondled her only heightened her impression that these explorations were fresh and new to him. She mewled beneath his lips, her virgin lover fantasy surging up and taking flight.

  Her response electrified him. Still kissing hard, and massaging her breast, he threw one long leg across her and angled his hips to rub his crotch against her thigh through her silky pyjama bottoms. He was hard as iron, cool and unyielding as he rocked his hips and circled his erection against her flesh.

  Teresa began to wriggle in his hold, wanting to press more of herself against as much of Zack as she could reach. She could feel the chilly nature of his body through her pyjamas and the shirt and trousers he wore, but the near contact set flames of lust surging.

  He was unusual. He was special. He was like no man she’d ever been with or wanted to be with before. Being kissed and touched and rubbed up against like this was driving her to madness.

  ‘Zack, please …’ she finally managed to gasp when he allowed her mouth a moment of freedom and turned away, pressing his face into the pillow as if he were hiding it. ‘Please let me free. I want to touch you.’ She twisted towards him, trying to kiss him again, nuzzling his face. ‘Let me look at you. I want to kiss you … Please, Zack.’

  ‘No!’

  The word was extraordinarily loud and shocking. As if a lion had roared in her ear, Teresa shrank back, fearful yet more impossibly turned on than ever.

  Zack released her hands, but with that strange, unnatural turn of speed of his, he was over her again, half lying on her before she could draw breath. With one long, cool hand he covered her eyes.

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  Teresa obeyed him instantly and without question. A part of herself – floating high above the proceedings – was outraged at such submissiveness, but the woman who lay beneath Zack accepted dreamily and complied.

  Even when he took away his hand, her leaden eyelids didn’t lift. She felt him move off her, but she couldn’t follow. It was as if she were pinned to the bed by some force she didn’t understand. Even her arms, free now, lay inert at her sides.

  Moments seemed to stretch out like elastic as she lay there, and she could feel his cool gaze coasting over her satin-clad limbs. Obediently blind,
she still seemed to see his dark head tilt again, in slow contemplation.

  But then there was a sudden, sharp, tearing sound, totally unexpected. In the shock of it, the spell on her eyes was broken and they fluttered open. She saw a flash of movement, then all went dark again, and she felt smooth cotton being tied around her head in a makeshift blindfold. The cloth smelt deliciously of Zack’s floral cologne.

  What had he done, ripped a piece of a fine expensive shirt, just to cover her eyes?

  He obviously had, and the action induced a rush of new excitement. There seemed to be no knowing what to expect next. One minute Zack was insisting they be just friends. The next, he was an innocent, tentative lover. And the next, he was dominant enough to play erotic blindfold games. Being with him was a switchback ride, like a sleigh on the Cresta run – her body was a well of pure adrenaline.

  Now the effort of keeping her eyes closed was gone, another sensual gate opened wide. The tingling electric field across her skin ramped up sharply. The weight of her silky pyjamas against her breasts seemed to oppress her, and she inched herself restlessly about on the bed as if her body was reacting and fizzing like a volatile chemical.

  Perfectly instinctive, Zack began to unfasten her pyjama top. He slipped each button from its hole, but didn’t open the panels, moving all the way down to the hem with her body still covered. Then, and only then, did he pluck apart the leaves of satin and expose her. Warm night air sluiced deliriously across her skin.

  ‘Touch your breasts. Show me what you do.’

  The words were soft but they made Teresa shudder with desire. Swallowing hard, she drew in a great breath and tilted her head back against the pillow. Her face was hot beneath the blindfold. She’d never displayed herself this way, never performed for a man. She’d always wanted to, but somehow a fugitive spirit had stolen the desire away from her at the critical moment, whispering subversively that the man just wasn’t worth the effort.

  But now, in the face of strange, mysterious Zack, it was she who seemed to be the unworthy one.

  Her face flamed brighter as she took her nipple between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it this way and that, enjoying the twist and tug of it, and the way she always managed to feel the sensation between her legs, as if a ghostly hand was shadowing hers, tweaking her clitoris in the same rhythm. Tonight, the phenomenon was more intense than it had ever been, and instinctively her free hand flew to her groin, so convinced was she that Zack had slid his fingers between her legs and begun to play with her.

  But there was no hand down there but her own, and as she wriggled her bottom against the mattress, she clasped her sex and gripped it hard.

  Zack uttered a low murmur of approval. She squeezed harder, making the breath catch in her throat.

  The clock on the mantelpiece tick, tick, ticked as she handled herself and outside, in the park somewhere, an animal howled. Sticky juice began to trickle down into the cleft of her bottom, oozing from her as sensation gathered and massed.

  ‘Stop a moment. I can’t see …’

  A cold hand prised her fingers away from her crotch, and then slid down her pyjama bottoms, leaving them bunched at her knees. Teresa groaned anew, imagining her exposure, and how rude and wanton she must look with her nightclothes opened and pushed apart to reveal her breasts and crotch to her cool eager watcher.

  ‘Continue …’

  His voice was still low, but there was a faint ragged edge to it. Teresa longed to see his face, and the desire and excitement painted on it. Again, she had that gut feeling that despite the odds against it, Zack wasn’t all that experienced. And this situation was as new and exotic to him as it was to her.

  Tentatively, she touched her belly. She didn’t know what to do. Masturbation certainly wasn’t new to her. She did it quite a bit. But in the dark, on this magic night, all her experience was stripped away from her. She felt new and innocent, just as she sensed Zack was. They were like two enchanted teenagers experimenting.

  His hand took hers, guided it towards her cleft. Her heart turned over in her chest – he was trembling.

  Oh, bless you, you beautiful man …

  Then he withdrew his hand again, and let it rest on her thigh, cool and light.

  Parting the lips of her sex, she slid in her fingertips, astonished by the swimming abundance of the slippery liquid there. She was wetter than she’d ever been. So ready for something. For anything. She sought out her clitoris, and gasped at the contact. She’d never felt so hyper-sensitive either.

  Pinching the tip of her breast, and circling one fingertip around her clit, she suddenly laughed, thinking of the old children’s co-ordination game of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. It was quite an art, fondling herself this way, but she was excelling. The way her sex fluttered and leapt betrayed skill.

  In a world of darkness she seemed to see Zack again, his face intense, almost intimidating. He looked nothing like the kind composed Zack who’d given her a home and his company and friendship. His expression was fierce, hungry, wildly feral. His eyes glittered with an unearthly light, and his mouth curved strangely.

  His unfamiliarity frightened her, but there was no way to escape it. It was in her mind so closing her eyes, behind her mask, made no difference. There was only one thing to do – go on with her task.

  She fingered her clit. She massaged her nipple. The sensation of gathering, deep in her belly, became an ever tightening knot. She couldn’t keep her bottom still on the bed, and in her mind’s eye, Zack devoured her lascivious wriggling. His fingertips curved like talons into the tender skin of her thigh.

  ‘Oh … oh … oh…’ she burbled. And, between her legs, her sex rippled like a mirror, preparing to fling her over the edge into pleasure.

  A hand joined hers in her cleft, one big male finger pushing inside her, sweetening the sensations, making them perfect.

  Teresa shouted, her hips bucking, her core clenching and clenching on the cool unyielding intrusion that curved inside her.

  Climaxing, climaxing furiously, she wrenched at the blindfold. She had to see him. See his face and his eyes.

  But when she did – in the midst of orgasm – her consciousness slid sharply sideways and veered away from her.

  Zack’s eyes were red, and his beautiful mouth framed pointed fangs.

  5

  The rattle of crockery woke her.

  ‘Hey, sleepy-head … Ready for breakfast?’

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  The heavy net curtains were still drawn but the room was light. It was daytime – with a dullish-looking sky, but perfectly normal.

  And Zack, in a soft dark-blue casual shirt and jeans, looked perfectly normal too.

  Teresa fought the urge to shrink back against the pillows. Her mind’s eye overlaid Zack’s pale but fresh-faced appearance with the terrifying modifications from her dream.

  Surreptitiously, she fished around under the covers and found her pyjama jacket chastely buttoned and her trousers right where they should be. Even so, the sensations of the night were still vivid.

  She’d been blindfolded, but somehow still able to see. And she’d blushed with furious embarrassment on exposing herself to Zack, and masturbating at his command.

  But, oh, that hadn’t been the most extreme thing.

  Those last seconds; Zack’s eyes red and burning – and his teeth.

  Oh dear God, his teeth! Her vampire fantasies had invaded her dream now, and with bared fangs, Zack had been hell bent on biting her!

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Clear blue eyes regarded her with concern. White, even, but perfectly un-pointed teeth glinted in a smile.

  He was holding a tray, set for breakfast for one, tempting and indulgent with eggs and bacon, toast and jam, and fragrant coffee.

  Am I OK? Teresa wondered.

  The juxtaposition between dream and reality still made her head feel vaguely woozy, and right at the edge of perception, she detected just the edge of a sli
ght, peculiar hum. Tinnitus, possibly? She’d have to get that checked out when they got back.

  ‘I’m fine … thanks, Zack,’ she lied, but, even as she spoke, the sumptuous aroma of a full English breakfast were setting the world and her thoughts straight again. ‘It’s just that I had a really weird dream … I think it’s sleeping in a strange bed though.’ The silvery hum had disappeared, and she smiled back at him, and sat up straight. ‘But I’m all right now. And this lot smells heavenly!’ She patted her lap and Zack set the tray carefully in place on its folding legs.

  ‘You’re spoiling me! This is fab,’ she mumbled a moment or two later through a mouthful of sublime savoury bacon. ‘I haven’t had breakfast in bed for years.’

  ‘We’ll have to rectify that when we get home. You need a decent breakfast at least once a week. A piece of toast and a mouthful of coffee as you run out of the door just isn’t enough. You need more than that to see you through the day.’

  Teresa’s heart turned over. He was so thoughtful. But she suspected they both knew it wouldn’t happen. There was no going back to their harmonious state of house buddies now. The thought of that cut like a knife, but there was no reason to spoil the next couple of days by dwelling on it. She returned her attention to mopping up egg yolk with fried bread.

  And yet, as she munched and sighed with pleasure, she found herself watching Zack where he sat in an armchair, calmly sipping his breakfast while he read the paper.

  What is that stuff?

  When something looked like blood and smelt like blood, did that mean it actually was blood?

  No, vampires are fiction. Dracula and Buffy aren’t real. They’re just stories.

  He doesn’t go out in sunlight, but he claims that because of his allergies.

  Stop it.

  He appeared to be in his mid-to late-twenties, but who was to say that was how old he really was. She hadn’t known him long enough to tell.

  Stop it.

  But weren’t vampires possessed of unnatural speed and strength?