“Man, oh, man.” Moaning into the pillows, my throbbing feet settle, sinking in the mattress.
Sleep takes control of my brain...
I think.
The temperature in the room climbs.
Or at least, I think it does. What is up with that?
I shake it off, having concluded I may be a wee bit more tipsy than I’d originally thought. Oh, well. I strip off Gavin’s shirt, as it seems the unexpected trickling heat gets to be weighing. Not sure how the temperature system runs in the house, I deduce it to nothing and flip on my stomach and try to return sleep’s call....
A steady beat pounds. Low. Deep. Intimate. Enticing me to follow. My heart paces faster. My blood slows, my muscles go lax.
Ah, here’s sleep...
Though my eyes remain open facing the headboard, I begin to feel like I’m having an out of body experience. Clearly, I haven’t fallen into a deep sleep or mellowed in a dream. Everything still feels real.
The heavy beat still plays.
My mind in control, it is my limbs that are delayed.
Are being touched by soft hands.
They start at my ankles, taking sweet, sinful moments to reach the backs of each knee, thighs, cupping my ass... traveling across the hills to stroke up the planes of my back, shivering my spine.
Then nothing, the caress I’d become addicted to disappears—briefly. Only to reappear on either side near my face. Pale digits, attached to thick wrists, and muscular forearms.
They’re covered in tattoos.
Contrasting with the hot air, a cool body lays gently on top me. So smooth, a contoured body—he too, in the buff and thank the moaning gods for that. He feels so good—too good, to be real. To be here with me, finally in way we’d both previously eluded.
My eyes flutter shut.
“Don’t want to be alone, tonight,” he whispers.
“Don’t have to be...” I reply just as quietly then softly cry out as he grounds into me, pressing a hard cock near sensitive, throbbing areas. Breasts ache, eager to be kneaded by those delicious hands. I raise my ass to meet his groin. He groans, low and drawn.
I was gripped at the neck. Reducing mobility, left cheek on the pillow, I couldn’t see him completely. He was partially doused in darkness. Only half of his striking face was visible.
Though both blood red eyes cut the black, staring intensely at me.
“You want me here?”
Whether he meant being here right this moment was quickly knocked aside as I felt the head of his cock nudge in between my butt cheeks.
Oh.
A gust of heated wind lapped my senses, disturbing the pillows and blanket. In a blink, I was up, being held, straddling astride him while he was on his knees.
My wet pussy kissed his pulsing length.
A gasp caught in my throat.
“Don’t you want to know what it could be like?” He slowly smiled, rearing up, rubbing himself across my slick entrance.
My mind in control.
My mouth... not so much. I’d become mute.
I was watching through a lens. On a movie screen of sorts. Being a living simulation, except my thoughts were my own and not a player’s although my actions were not. I’d zipped into a non-functioning body suit—only his tantalizing touches sparked nerves alive.
Fangs descended to his bottom lip.
“Don’t you want to know what it feels like?” he asks, earnestly. A flash of pain shudders his face. I open my mouth, pushing the muscles within, trying to force out a word, something to get him to explain. To maybe supply a joke to help deter the territory we were entering.
This wasn’t about sex.
This was foreign land yet to be discovered: the somewhat panicky assumption, he wants to bite me—wait, no. Can’t be anything threatening. Only for pleasure. Something that hasn’t been done. Just barely, my eyes widened—I shouted through them—what do you want?
He seemed pleased and hugged my noodle body. I held my breath as he buried in the crevice of my neck.
He won’t... he’d never.
“Don’t be shy. I’ll make you feel so high.” Carefully he separates us, laying me on my back. Southern regions protested, while inside, I wait to see what he’ll do next.
He kisses me.
Hunched over prone, little ol’ me, he makes slow love to my mouth. That has happened before. He knows how to send me flying with every stroke of the tongue.
Right then, I feel at ease.
Still confused by all this, yes, but I can wrap my head around kissing and maybe a pleasure nip.
“I have a place we can go.” Shiny, just spilled blood irises darkened, taking on a wicked appeal. “Come on. You’ll love it.”
A surge of heat and black smoke without a tiny space of visibility cocooned itself around me. Not two seconds ticked, and as if it had not happened to my unaffected skin, I was no longer in the bedroom, lying naked before him.
Instead, I stood naked in the hallway.
I was warranted the sheer mortification of being caught but that diminished as I realized shadows of the tall structure that ran high inches away, cloaked me in shadows.
The Forbidden Staircase.
Gavin presses from behind. Caresses danced up my hips, waist, till they grasped my breast, pulling hard at perked nipples. My head dropped on to his shoulder. The stairs swirled above.
“I know you want to go up there. I saw the twinkle in your beautiful eyes... Little Wolf.” He was playing the right cards. Not just the tit holding part but also appealing to the dangerous side in me.
It’s gotten me acquainted with Tom Bergeron’s biggest, undead fan and come face to face... plus two more faces with a canine experiment.
“Go on.” He lightly nudges me forward. “It’s okay. I won’t mind.” I could voice the question of asking won’t Lucien mind? After all it is his private room.
Shit. My feet glide forward until one foot lifts on to the first step.
“That’s it. Now another?” Urging me to ascend more steps. However, as I got higher, nervous sweat prickled my scalp, hitching my breathing—control poured into my limbs. That heat revived the blood and muscle, as if I’d sunk into a Jacuzzi.
I roll my shoulders and turn around, halting us both.
He canted his lovely head, an innocent smile tugging soft lips. I bite mine to focus.
He tsked, chuckling softly. A look of disappointment cast upon me.
“Shame.” He roughly grabs my face. I was jerked down and teetered on a stair edge, it cut into my toes, painfully.
“Since you won’t go, you might as well....”
Anger roars on his features and in his voice.
“WAKE UP!”
Chapter Fifteen
I bolt upright and am temporarily blinded by the morning sun.
Jeez Louise. I shove away flyaway hair and wait till my brain stops spinning.
And for my damn heart to quit acting like it’s a marathon running ostrich on stimulants.
Sleeping alone in a man’s bed, plus without any vibrating pleasure sticks and with a subconscious loaded with curiosity is a cocktail mixture far deadlier than the crazy stuff Jefferies was whipping up last night.
Speaking of the butler, after a cold shower and dressing, I fixed him and I scrambled eggs and toast in the gourmet kitchen. I stuck to one small area, cautious to not make a mess on the stainless steel and marble beauty.
I add hot sauce on my fluffy yellow eggs.
Jefferies drizzles on chicken blood.
I have no comment for that.
Upon my asking, I got an update on Emmett. Turns out, he’s staying in a guest suite in the west wing, sleeping off the gorge fest he had. Tim was back in his room, expressing his happy mood from last night in the form of beheading more stuffed bears.
I wonder how Marina feels about him tearing through a plush version of her kind.
Mezzasalma was of course still here. Quietly retired in her AFV sanctuary.
&
nbsp; Jefferies soon departs to go run errands and I am left to contemplate what to do next as I travel back upstairs...
Hmm, if Mezzie comes out or if I chalk up the nerve to knock on her door, I’ll ask if she wanted to continue our Golden Girls marathon. Finish them up before tomorrow morning—when Gavin comes back.
Gavin...
His name clangs loud.
Right when I reach the floor to his room... yards away from the Forbidden Staircase, the air wavers near the base, slowly creeping towards me. Was this a figment of my curious imagination again? Lingerings of last night’s both erotic and spooky dream?
“Yeesh.” A cold shiver rocks my body. Last night was entirely too real.
Too... enticing.
Like a slab of juicy, seasoned steak that’s set right in front of a starving wolf.
I move an inch forward.
You should take a peek, says my inner demon.
No! a defiant angel cuts in. This isn’t a weird looking door you can crack open like before.
So? There could be a door up there, smirks the demon. All you gotta do is take each step and find out...
And what then? End up looking like a fool again—no, even worse—you’ll upset someone for trespassing on Lucien’s private room. The angel makes a good point. I repeat, Lucien’s priiiivate roooooom.
But Dream Gavin and his mammoth dick was okay with going upstairs.
In fact, overzealous. Clearly, thoughts I’d pushed aside about the staircase grew into a soon to be dangerous execution of action.
Don’t! the angel cried. What’s so interesting about upstairs? Nothing! It’s. Just. A. Room. Get over it!
Then the inner demon drop kicked the angel’s ass off my shoulder.
Proceed on... without caution. It grinned, madly.
Because it’s just an empty room. Yet, as I close the gap in quickening steps without faltering, I push on unlike my dream self—something in my brain buzzes that a measly ol’ room shouldn’t be giving off this much temptation.
***
There’s no door hiding what’s up here.
On the colorfully-brightened landing, illuminated by multiple stain glass windows, I chuckle at my discovery.
It’s a freakin’ open floor plan. Spacious, wide—the perfect area for all the rows and rows of painted canvases propped on to easels. They’re enclosed by black walls, and a black floor, crusted over by hard paint splatters.
Not a bedroom. Or even a modest foyer leading to a bedroom since this is all there is.
“Makes no sense,” I mutter, stepping carefully around more stacked paintings, large and small. Had Gavin not wanted me to see Lucien’s art studio?
I peer at a mountain landscape that’s of Sovereign Mountains in Grimstone on the nearest wooden stand. It’s a watercolor wash, done breathtakingly. Like a portal, I could practically feel the crisp breeze that surrounds the monstrous rock formations and jump right in the painting and land on a solid ledge.
On the bottom left corner is a signature.
Gavin V. Wrath
It doesn’t take a rocket building genius to find out after accessing most of the pictures standing and lying on the floor, Gavin is owner of each.
Of this room.
And that he lied.
There’s also isn’t a requirement of a high IQ to come up with the conclusion that he probably... most likely... assuredly lied to deter me.
Although... I’ve seen his artwork before. I slowly do a 360 turn. What’s so bad about me checking the area out? Gushing over the fact my Vamp Man is a badass welding a paintbrush?
Nothing. Does he assume I’d mess it up? Dip my paws in mud and trample on every masterpiece?
Okay, now I am upsetting myself. Surely, that wasn’t going through his head?
Whatever.
I venture deeper within the easel maze, finding a sink installed against one wall, loaded with brushes and stopping at each landscape, his specialty. Though his medium varied.
Paint. Pastels. Charcoal.
I go to the back end of the room, smiling at the last picture—a silhouetted view of town buildings—when I noticed a collection of blank canvases, descending in sizes blocking a door.
The brass doorknob not obscured.
“Oh.” I glance around. So not just an open room.
Closer, I carefully nudge aside the canvases. Underneath the door, golden light poured across the floor and on my toes that were in the partying flip flops.
The only thing that deters me from turning a key that sits idle in the lock and simply going in is an invisible force called dilemma.
Well, shit, can’t I be compared to Alice from Wonderland this instant again? I mean, she didn’t have that much of a sucky time there. Yeah, some fucking weird freaks screwed up a tea party, a pair of twins annoyed the hell out of her and a creepy ass cat wouldn’t quit stalking her.
However, eating and drinking treats that blatantly told her to, was memorable, and a great lifter to the whole overall shitshow in wonderland.
Yeah, let this door have a pretend sign that reads Open Me.
And that I did.
If you’re questioning my cognitive function at this point, then just turn back now. I’m too far gone, honeys.
At first, upon entering the much, much smaller room, lightened by one curtainless clear window, I thought it was decorated to be like the room of mirrors from the carnival, since I stepped in and faced dozens of images of... me.
Except, as I literally scratch my head, none of the other Kokoas do the same. I know, you all are voicing how dumb can this chick get? Obviously, she walked into a private, mostly hidden room that’s filled with a lot of damn portraits of herself.
My lovelies, I do think of that.
But if I focus on just that, then a full on freak out mode is gonna send my ass crashing through the window.
“Gods.” None of the pictures clutter the middle like in the open room. No, here is neat. Every canvas is set on glossier wooden stands around the bathroom sized room and on a matching table.
I pause in the center.
“Gavin... what?” I whisper and just can’t wrap my brain at what I’m seeing. My arms tighten around my stomach. So many, too many, detailed mes... all close ups, with different facial expressions.
A pouty me.
A laughing me.
Eyebrow cocked and arms crossed—that one is an annoyed me.
I wore different recognizable tops.
The backgrounds just an opaque splash of either black, gray or dark purple, simultaneously emphasizing the violet light he painted boldly in my eyes.
In all the army of eyes.
I’m speechless but... I love them. I wish I had his talents.
He even nailed, expectedly, the different hairstyles, nice and messy.
“Jeez, I regret that.” I laugh lightly at one picture of me smiling to the side and my hair streaked in neon orange. Not one of my favorite moments in Tacky Styles of Kokoa’s Past.
As I shake my head at it, I can’t drag my gaze away. There is something about this particular picture...
Cold squeezes my spine.
I squint at it more, nearly coming nose to nose with my portrait. Breathing turned horribly ragged.
I’d dyed my hair that color for four years, I remember on my nineteenth birthday. It was done spontaneously because I was celebrating.
Gavin couldn’t have possibly known I did, let alone seen I did, since we hadn’t officially met until three years after that.
I snap straight. My eyes dart to every growing terrifying face, seeking and tallying up the ones that I recognized myself to look like before the vampire introduced himself at the gas station that one night.
Sloppily cut jagged bangs—before Gavin.
The nose stud that lasted five days—before Gavin.
The phase of wearing puka shell necklaces—before Gavin.
I’m going to end this here as a stampede of spidery chills ran loose. And once again state t
he obvious, no smartypants is needed in the area.
Gavin VanWrath, Vamp Man, my closest friend, has been watching me for years.
Chapter Sixteen
Nope. Nada. Nopity-nope-nope-nope.
I am not staying here—screams my gut. My instincts.
Hell... to the motherfucking... NO!
I’m back in my temporary quarters, its time of use is over. I’m fucking done.
Whatever I saw, no matter how beautifully created—I’d never shit on Gavin’s talent—but I wasn’t expecting that. I want to be flattered. Really, but... I can’t. I’m reeling to the max. Brain in a washing machine.
This is what ya get for going into places you have no business being.
Again.
Hello, defiant angel.
But it’s right. You end up seeing other people’s private business, a business you don’t share, because you have your own business so now each other’s businesses are mixed up in one colossal cluster-fucky business deal gone horribly wrong.
Did you follow that?
Moving in quick spurts, I shove clothes into my suitcase, dart for the bathroom, carrying handfuls of toiletries and shove them into my tote bag.
Seeing his secret room—well, back up. Going up the forbidden staircase, an obvious prohibit, then seeing what was behind door number one explains his impassive behavior. I defied his wishes to not venture. Yet I did. And... for once after following my best friend, Curiosity, my stomach churned badly. I didn’t like this feeling I couldn’t shake off.
Guilt.
Regret.
Scared for the future of us...
Of course, I could stay and totally not confess. But Gavin sees everything in me. And I love that because I don’t like explaining about feelings and blah blah blah.
He can see what I conceal by one glance of the eye.
Yet, I thought I could do the same to him. You’re probably thinking—shut the fuck up. He painted pretty portraits of you, big whoop! Once he returns, you should ride him to fucking Pluto.
Popcorn, Vampires and Forbidden Shenanigans (Grimstone Island) Page 8