Lust Bites

by Kristina Lloyd

  Naked on the bed, he was an object of pure beauty. His skin was milky pale but had an exquisitely dense sheen like polished marble. Muscles in fine long slabs adorned his arms, his torso and his thighs.

  His cock was astonishing. Large, jutting, fiercely hard, it reared up from his body, silky and seeping and rosy pink.

  ‘I thought your sort didn’t have circulation … how does this come about?’ She ran her fingertips along it, making him hiss and clench his jaw. A tiny trickle of his own blood stained his lip as he bit down.

  ‘It’s not circulation – just hydraulics.’ His voice was low and ragged. ‘I don’t know how it works but right now I’m just glad it does!’

  Tipping her back on the bed, he started to explore, his cool fingertips travelling over her body in sweeps that were both hungry and tentative. Again, she got a strong impression that he was in brand new territory, that he was a novice – but one whose powers of instinct and empathy were phenomenal. Maybe it was something to do with what he was? And he could read her feelings and her thoughts? Whatever it was, his touch was perfect without any need for coaching.

  Teresa trembled as his mouth began to move on her. Studiously avoiding her neck, he kissed first the line of her jaw, and then darted straight to the curve of her breast, his cool tongue flicking out and tasting her skin. The short, scurrying licks flickered around her nipple, but didn’t settle on it. Round and round he went, skirting the sensitive areola but not closing on it.

  You teasing devil. Teresa slithered against the quilt, unable to keep her hips still. Every part of her wanted him. She groaned out loud, gripping his strong shoulders, her nails digging into his astonishingly hard muscles.

  And then he sucked, hard, on the tip of her breast, his lips pulling, his tongue circling like a rude little serpent.

  ‘Oh God!’ she gasped, her molten core rippling as his mouth moved instinctively. She pushed her hips against him, her sex blindly seeking his. Her hands roved over his magnificent back, his flanks and his bottom.

  Her body seemed to shout with hunger as his lips parted and she felt the prickle of his fang-tips against the crown of her breast.

  Bite me. Please bite me, her mind screamed.

  It was madness, sex and yet not sex. Grabbing at him, Teresa’s mind grabbed at something indefinable, other, far greater than the fleeing confluence of their bodies. A sense of yearning flooded through her, the longing for a communion that was immense and monumental, beyond time itself.

  Zack jerked back.

  ‘No!’ he gasped. ‘I can’t … I shouldn’t …’ He shook his head, his dark curls tossing. ‘I don’t care if I live a thousand years and never have a woman!’

  The concept she’d been reaching for, dissolved like mist, and despite her desire, Teresa reached up to touch Zack’s dear face, frowning as she processed his words.

  ‘Zack, love, what do you mean? What do you mean “never have a woman”?’

  How could that be? He was beautiful, exotic, and virile – with hypnotic powers into the bargain – how could he not have had scores of lovers in an unnaturally long life? She’d relished her ‘virgin male’ fantasies. But surely that was all they were – fantasies.

  Sitting up, he turned away from her, his white back a wall of tension.

  ‘It means just what you think it means.’ He lifted his hands, smoothed them over his hair, gripping the thick, shiny curls at the back of his neck. Letting his hands fall again, he turned back towards her. ‘I’ve never been with a woman. I’ve never dared.’

  Teresa sat up too, reaching for him. Despite the high sharp thrill of his admission, it was sympathy she felt most strongly. What kind of torment must his long life as a vampire be? He had a soul. He was a good man. And his principles had prevented him from ever putting a woman at risk. Even if the woman wanted that risk.

  I love you. The thought popped into her head.

  So impossible, but she felt it, and knew that the emotion had been with her a long time – probably as long as she’d known him. And all the time her heart had secretly recognised his sacrifice.

  But she was still curious.

  ‘What about before? Wasn’t there anybody then?’ But when was before? ‘How long have you been a vampire?’

  Zack seemed to relax. He flashed her a wry, boyish smile.

  ‘I was turned back in the 1930s, so that would mean that I’ve been what I’ve been for seventy years, although I’ve tried not to keep count.’

  ‘But they had girls in the 1930s, didn’t they?’ Teresa smiled back at him, ‘I mean … well, you look about twenty-five. Surely at that age you had girlfriends? What the hell happened to you?’

  The thought of Zack with other women gave her a bit of a stab, even though they were most likely dead by now.

  ‘I was a novice in a Benedictine monastery, Teresa. Pure as the driven snow, you might say.’ He laughed, a shrug lifting his finely formed shoulders.

  ‘Crikey!’

  ‘Crikey indeed,’ he intoned, still smiling, ‘although after I became a vampire my religious faith took quite a knock.’

  Teresa made a decision. It was perilous and foolhardy, but there was no way she was going to let this glorious man deny himself any longer.

  And she wanted him more than ever. A thousandfold.

  ‘You’ve got to trust yourself, Zack. You’re a good man, despite the fangs.’ She inclined herself towards him and kissed the corner of his mouth. His fangs had retracted a little but she could still feel their points as she pressed her lips against his. ‘And I believe you can control yourself.’ She kissed the other corner of his mouth, flicking her tongue between his lips, seeking out the sharp badge of his condition. ‘I’ll help …’

  His arms came around her, cool-skinned, yet warm in intent. He was shaking, and she imagined tears like jewels trickling down his beautiful face. A moment later she felt the moisture against her cheek.

  They kissed again. Slowly at first, yet growing wilder and wilder with every second. Teresa felt free and confident and full of desire, stirred to elation by this miracle of a man, who was her dearest fantasy, and yet so very, very, very much more.

  And Zack relaxed at last. She could feel him smiling as he kissed her, his lips curving against her skin, even as his fangs slid against it.

  ‘If I start to bite, don’t forget that knee in the groin.’ He was laughing as she slid her sex up and down the muscular length of his thigh, loving the friction as she curled her fingers around his chilly but magnificent cock.

  ‘I’ve thought of that.’

  And she had. It was perfect. Rising up over him, she pushed him down onto his back against the covers. He looked like some kind of crooked angel with his dark curls against the crisp white cotton pillowcase.

  ‘I just want you to lie back and think of Transylvania!’ She swirled the tip of her finger around the head of his penis, and watched him snarl silently, his upper lip curling to reveal the strange beauty of his fully extended fangs. They were awesome, but she wasn’t going to allow him to make a mistake with them.

  How long would a man who’d been waiting seventy years for sex be able to last, she wondered. Especially one who had vampire fire burning in his blood?

  Still touching his penis, she lowered her lips towards it. Forming an ‘O’ she guided him safely in.

  So cool. So hard. So sweet and clean, not at all like any man she’d ever sucked.

  ‘Oh, God, Teresa!’

  Zack’s voice was plaintive. Full of wonder. She imagined him masturbating, perhaps frequently, but if he’d never been with a woman this would be a revelation. She let her tongue dance, exploring his sumptuously flared shape, while out of the corner of her eye, she watched him writhe and tear at the bedclothes, his face contorted and his eyes crimson red.

  She tasted him slowly, carefully, her exploration circumspect. No harsh suction. No bobbing up and down. Just delicate strokes of her tongue, while her fingers gently played his shaft and balls.

&nbs
p; His enraptured cries became more feral. He growled. He snarled. He ripped the sheets, his hips bucking wildly as he thrust himself into her mouth, making a mockery of her carefully measured pleasuring.

  ‘I want you! I must have you!’ His voice was ferocious now. He was all primal magic and otherness. Teresa felt fear, the kind that exhilarates and hurls the spirits skywards. She was a mountain climber challenged by Everest, a hang-glider about to freebase off a sheer precipice. Wracked with savage terror, her blood surged with a wild anticipation and sheer joy in the embrace of no going back.

  Hauling herself upright, she looked down on Zack’s magnificent cock, pale and shining with his own juice and her saliva. Deep inside her, she felt her womb leap and cry to him. Could he make her pregnant? She doubted it. And as a virgin, he was free from disease, surely?

  It was his fangs that were the danger to her. But with them, she’d take her chances. She had no choice.

  Throwing a leg over Zack’s lean hips, she positioned herself over him, his tip at her entrance. Then as he bucked up again, she bore down, taking him in.

  7

  It was heaven. Paradise. Perfection. More than he’d ever imagined, and he’d had a long time to imagine it.

  First her sweet mouth, now her beautiful warm body. The sensation of being enclosed and caressed was exquisite and chaotic. As intense pleasure surged, the call for blood raged in his mind and his veins. He looked up at Teresa, drinking in every glorious facet of her gentle curves and her gleaming rosy skin, seeing her sweet face all haloed in shimmering red.

  I must resist, I must resist, Zack repeated to himself.

  The battle of his senses was titanic. The knowledge of what his fangs could do to her clashed again and again with raw ravening hunger. A lust for blood such as he’d never experienced before, even in his earliest and most untutored struggles.

  And yet the conflict prolonged the pleasure. The primal skirmish between man and vampire kept him from simply thrusting like a maniac, coming and ejaculating almost immediately. Fighting his own urges gave him an edge, just enough so that he could think of Teresa’s pleasure.

  Reaching out, he clasped her hips, holding her tight and rocking her on the fulcrum of his penis. He knew he was big and hard, and he filled her and caressed her with that hardness. Her eyes and her mouth were wild with sensation and her throat was flushed. As she moaned, and rocked in time to his movements, he felt her channel ripple and embrace him with its heat.

  ‘Oh, God! Oh, God!’ he roared, naming the deity he was no longer sure he believed in, ‘I can’t … I …’

  And yet still she pleasured him, flexing and clenching the very quick of her sumptuous body around him. His head was spinning, a red vortex of raving desire. Wanting her to share something, some human essence of this sublime sensation, he slid his fingers between her legs, finding the apex of her sex, almost where their bodies were melded. He knew his touch was clumsy and untutored, but her response was a sweet whimper of pleasure, and she pressed her hand over his as if to affirm his efforts.

  Then he felt it. Her body reaching the pinnacle. Fast, hard contractions around his flesh. Her fingers gouging into the back of his hand, and his thigh where she was supporting herself.

  ‘Zack! Oh, God, Zack!’ she shouted, her triumphant shout as unnaturally loud as his own blood cry.

  Beyond control, he reared up, grasping her to him as the red fire of bloodlust boiled in his loins and in his soul. At the last moment, he tried to turn away his head, but she wouldn’t let him. Still climaxing, she buried her hands in his curls and brought his face to the curve of her neck, pressing his mouth against the soft damp skin of her neck.

  ‘Do it, Zack!’ she commanded him, her voice ringing like a queen’s, compelling him to do her will, ‘Do it, Zack … take my blood. It’s what I want.’

  Unable to defy her, he bit down softly, and drank her sweetness.

  Her human blood was warm with life as his cock jerked inside her and his cold seed spilt and spilt and spilt.

  ‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’

  Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

  It was useless. Teresa could no sooner not look at Zack than she could stop breathing.

  I’m going crazy, she thought.

  Zack’s idea of formalwear was a gorgeous black Edwardian evening suit, complete with high collar and elaborately tied cravat. She knew now that he could never have worn such a suit when it was actually in fashion, but she loved his quirky fondness for vintage style.

  Everybody cheered and clapped as Lisa and Tom kissed enthusiastically, but like herself, Zack appeared vaguely distracted. When he met her eyes, his expression was complex. Part triumph, part confusion, part guilt, part lust – all mixed up with a sweet warmth and tenderness.

  She wished he would listen to her when she told him he had no reason to feel guilty.

  She’d been the one who’d pushed him into biting her.

  His eyes widened as if he’d read her thoughts, and unable to stop herself, Teresa flicked back to those breathtaking moments.

  It’d been like falling and flying both at once. There had been pleasure in her belly like a boiling, swirling whirlpool that she also felt in every cell and atom of her body.

  She’d never come like that in her life before, and she knew it was because Zack had been feeding at the same time.

  The little pinpricks itched suddenly, and Zack’s eyes narrowed as she adjusted the silk scarf she’d slung around her neck to hide the evidence. He’d taken barely a few mouthfuls, but it was the act, not the volume that was significant.

  The ceremony over, murmuring and jostling guests began to move away from the rows of seats set out in front of the little rose bower where Lisa and Peter had taken their vows. Next on the agenda was the reception, and the groaning tables of delicious buffet food and inordinate amounts of booze behind the open bar were calling.

  Dusk had fallen, and there was a tiny bit of descending sun on the horizon, but the weak rays didn’t seem to bother Zack too much.

  ‘It’d have to be full daytime sunlight for me to crisp,’ he’d told her as they’d made their way to the outdoor ceremony, ‘Other than that, I’m fine.’

  Teresa circulated through the noisy hectic reception in a dream. Everyone was having a fine old time, ribald jokes were being told, and people were drinking, eating, laughing and flirting. But to her it all seemed at a great distance. Her only reality was the tall elegant man at her side.

  From time to time, she caught other women eyeing him, their blatant envy of her written on their faces.

  Oh, yes, he is a stud, she silently taunted them. And he’s gorgeous. But you don’t know the half of it, and if I tried to tell you, you’d think I’ve lost my marbles.

  Sipping from a glass of wine, she wrinkled her nose because it had no flavour. She supposed that normal human pleasures lost their impact when you were in love with a supernatural being, and you’d just been to bed with him.

  Dancing began on the specially laid floor. Teresa watched people jigging and gyrating, and women doing various kinds of sexy wiggle in order to snare themselves a man for the night. At one time she would have enjoyed strutting her stuff too, regardless of whether she was hoping to find a nice man or not. But tonight she felt weary and detached from reality. It was if someone had photoshopped the wedding party into a blur.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Turning from the dancing throng to Zack felt like leaving the shadows behind to embrace the sweet light of the moon.

  ‘You look tired.’ His fine broad brow was puckered with concern, but all Teresa wanted to do was reach out and touch the single loose curl that dangled across it, having escaped from his scrupulously groomed coiffeur.

  Trying to think straight, and not get sidetracked by kiss curls and eyes that turned red, Teresa gave him an encouraging smile.

  ‘I’m fine, Zack, really.’

  Liar.

  ‘I’m per
fectly OK.’ She dropped her voice. ‘You haven’t harmed me. In fact, I feel wonderful.’ She touched his arm, thrilled all over again by the feel of hard muscle and unnatural strength beneath her fingers. ‘It’s just that I’d far rather be alone with you than amongst this crowd.’

  Zack frowned again.

  ‘Don’t do that.’ She reached up and smoothed her fingers across his brow as if to erase the frown. His skin was cool, but the contact prickled like electricity. ‘What we shared was wonderful. And I want to do it again. As soon as possible.’

  Biting his lip, Zack looked heavenwards, a picture of confusion. There was the slightest bit of extra pointing on his canines, and she could feel desire pouring off him like discreet magnetic waves.

  He took her by the shoulders, and looked deep into her eyes, his own already ringed with red.

  ‘And do you think I don’t want that too?’ His voice was raw. ‘I waited for three-quarters of a century for what happened between us, Teresa, and it exceeded even my wildest imaginings.’ His long fingers tightened around her shoulders, and the little pain of it was scary yet delicious. ‘And next time … next time I know will be even better.’ His crystal-blue eyes had a red halo. ‘But I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself.’

  ‘Right on, mate! I know what you mean! She’s a cracker!’ slurred a drunken wedding guest as he passed them, swaying and bleary-eyed.

  Zack’s eyes flared crimson and he glared at the man ferociously. The very air seemed to vibrate with a silent roar of fury.

  ‘Sorry. I’m really sorry,’ apologised the chastened guest in a tiny voice, before scuttling away, white as a sheet and terrified.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Zack’s eyes were normal again even though his voice was still softly fierce. ‘Around you, I can’t contain myself – I thought I could, but it’s a thousand times more difficult than I expected.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, thick black eyelashes like two silken fans sweeping down. ‘I … I love you, Teresa … and I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t bear the thought of what I might do.’