He fell heavily to the floor. “That’s not fair,” he complained as she slipped her pants and underwear off and disappeared into the shower, shutting the glass door behind her.
Moments later, he was in the shower with her. She turned and handed him a washcloth and a bar of soap. “Like I said, loser in the shower race has to wash the winner’s back,” she proclaimed, turning her back to him.
He soaped the cloth and began to rub it against her naked back in slow circles. She stretched her neck and moved under his touch. “Oh, that feels so good,” she murmured, writhing sensuously as he rubbed her back.
Unable to stand it any longer, Matt moved up against her, pressing his erection against her buttocks and wrapping his arms around her, using the soap and washcloth on her breasts.
“Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me, big boy?” Sam asked in a fair imitation of Mae West’s voice.
“Uh, I don’t have any pockets,” Matt answered, pressing harder against her and cupping her breasts and rubbing her nipples with his fingers.
The nipples hardened and rose to meet his fingers and Sam moaned, turning in his arms. “My turn,” she whispered, taking the cloth and soap from his hands.
She leaned her face into his and kissed him deeply while her hands were busy between his legs.
Matt’s voice grew husky as his hands roamed over her hips and around to her belly. “I’ve had about all of this I can stand,” he growled. “Let’s get in bed.”
Sam said, “Just a minute,” and knelt before him. She took him in her mouth and dug her nails into his hips, pulling him against her as she worked on him.
Just before he exploded, Matt grabbed her and stood her up. “Now!” he urged, turning off the water and moving toward the bed, still dripping wet.
“Here,” Sam said, laughing and throwing him a towel. “We don’t want to sleep in a wet bed all night, dear.”
Matt hurriedly dried off, threw her the towel, then took two steps and leapt onto the bed, staring at Sam with hungry eyes while she toweled off in a leisurely manner.
“If you don’t hurry,” Matt said in a husky voice, “I’m gonna start without you.”
Sam smiled seductively, dropped the towel to the floor, and sauntered slowly toward the bed. “Oh, don’t do that, sweetheart, it’s much more fun with two.”
She slid into bed next to Matt and they embraced, kissing deeply, each moaning deep in their throats. Suddenly, Matt rolled over on top of her and straddled her. He cupped her breasts in his hands and moved his body down until he was lying between her thighs, his head even with her pubic region.
Sam spread her legs and he buried his face in her sex, reveling in the musky scent of her as he kissed her most inner being.
Sam arched her back and threw her head back, groaning and then grunting with pleasure as he brought her to her first climax.
He moved up next to her and they kissed. She tasted herself on his lips as their tongues danced together and their hands roamed over each other’s bodies.
After a moment, Matt leaned back and looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve been thinking, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep with desire.
“Oh, is that what you’ve been doing?” Sam asked, giving his penis a squeeze, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Matt didn’t smile back but kept his expression serious. “No, listen,” he said. “Remember in New Orleans, when we were first threatened by Morpheus and his friends?”
Sam nodded, the smile fading from her face as she listened to him.
“Well, I think this is the same situation. I believe you should stop the treatments against the vampyre bug and let your body grow strong again, like you did then. There’s no telling when Morpheus will strike, and when he does, I want you to be ready for him. Your only chance against him will be if you can transform into a being as strong and dangerous as he is.”
Sam’s eyes clouded. “So, you think the threat is that serious?”
“Yes, I do, and so does Shooter.”
“But earlier you said you were worried that the treatments weren’t strong enough.”
“That was before Morpheus entered the picture,” Matt said. “We can always try to make the treatments more effective after Morpheus has been dealt with, but for now, I want you at your full strength.”
She reached up and caressed his face with her hand. “But, you know what it means if I stop the treatments, don’t you? The Hunger will return and I’ll need to feed.”
Matt smiled grimly. “I’m well aware of that, darling.”
He lay back and pulled her on top of him, raising his chin and offering his neck to her.
Sam’s eyes flashed as she felt the familiar stirring of the Hunger deep in her body. Though the treatments enabled her to resist the urges when they came, she still occasionally felt the desire for human blood. At the thought of giving in to the Hunger, she felt her teeth begin to grow and her mouth watered. With a sigh of contentment tinged with no small amount of shame, she raised her head to his neck.
A tiny nip brought the sweet, salty taste of her lover’s blood to her lips, along with the deep sexual desire that always accompanied feeding for the vampyres.
Her lust was transmitted through her saliva to Matt and he grabbed her hips and impaled her on him, pumping and grinding against her as she suckled on his neck and growled deep in her throat.
She matched him, thrust for thrust, rubbing her breasts against his chest as if she wanted to meld their bodies together into one.
Moments later she had to clamp her bloody lips shut to keep from howling in glorious orgasm as they exploded and came together.
* * *
In the next room, Shooter and TJ lay naked, their bodies pressed close, as TJ gently fingered the small puncture wounds on Shooter’s neck.
Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry about this, Shooter,” she said. “I thought it was all a dream. I never realized I was actually feeding on you.”
Shooter smiled at her and ran his hand lightly over her breast as he kissed her lips. “That’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “I never knew it was happening either, but what’s a little blood between friends anyway?” he asked, making light of the whole thing.
“But, I was really hoping the treatments were working.”
“They are, sweetie,” Shooter said gently. “This is just a little setback, nothing to get upset about. I’m sure Dr. Wingate and Matt will figure something out.”
TJ felt the first twinges of the Hunger, as her nipples grew hard under Shooter’s gentle touch.
“Then, you don’t mind?” she asked shyly, her eyes bright and her mouth watering as the Hunger and her lust began to build.
Shooter, seeing the changes in her, felt himself grow even harder as her hand moved down his belly to his erection.
“No,” he answered, his voice thick with desire. “In fact, I kinda like it.”
TJ swung her leg over him and fitted herself to him as she straddled him in the bed.
As she felt him enter her and his hands came up to fondle her breasts, she lost all semblance of control. She leaned forward and buried her face in his neck as he began to move inside her.
Shooter felt a small sting and then a burst of ever increasing passion as TJ’s lust was transmitted from her mind to his.
He felt himself grow larger as he pumped against her and could feel her nipples grow hard as rocks against his hands.
She groaned and growled and he answered her with his own grunts as she moved her head from his neck and clamped her lips on his while they came together in joyful abandon, the taste of his own blood on her lips strangely exciting to him.
Twelve
Morpheus sat in Sam and TJ’s living room and went down his list of Vampyre Council members, calling each on their cell phones. Some he reached and others he left voice mails, but in each case he told the members of the danger this group of people posed to the vampyre community and their way of life if they were allowed
to continue to work on a “cure” for vampyrism.
He considered this as he made his calls. He really didn’t know if Sam and her friends were still working with the vampyre he knew as Albert Nachtman or not, and at this point he really didn’t care. His thirst for revenge far outweighed his interest in vampyre politics, though he still had a score to settle with that bastard Nachtman for killing his friends and trying to kill him. If they were in fact still cooperating with Nachtman in the creation of the vaccine, he’d get them all at one time—if not, he’d get the women and their friends first and settle up with Nachtman later.
Most of the other vampyres he talked to were sympathetic to his new cause of ridding the world of these interlopers and offered to do what they could to help locate them, but a couple were less than enthusiastic and Morpheus suspected they were hoping to make use of any cure so devised. He made a mental note to take care of them later if they failed to aid him in his quest for vengeance.
After he finished his calls, he put the cell phone away and sat there in the apartment, taking deep breaths and inhaling the odor of his absent mate, Sam. Even though she’d abandoned and betrayed him, she would always be his mate in his mind, and soon, if luck were with him, she would be so in fact, as well.
The smell of Sam caused his mind to cast back to the few days she’d been under his control, when he’d opened a vein on his neck and let her suckle there, running his hands over her naked body. As his lust and Hunger built at the memories, he could stand it no longer. He bounded out of his chair and left the apartment, on the Hunt for fresh blood once again. If he couldn’t have Sam, then he’d damn well have someone else to ease the aching in his loins and the Hunger in his gut.
* * *
Marie Marshal’s face snapped to the side when George Arnold’s open palm slapped her. She was standing on the corner of Main Street in downtown Houston, just a few blocks from several hotels, and Arnold, her pimp, was furious at the small amount of money she’d made since she went on the street at dusk.
“Listen to me, puta,” he snarled, his face inches from hers. “I’m comin’ back here at midnight, an’ you’d better have that little purse full of Benjamins by then or I’m gonna whip your ass, you hear?”
Marie took a step back, her eyes on his right hand in case he tried to hit her again. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whined. “It’s just that there ain’t been nobody out on the streets tonight, an’ when I tried to get closer to the hotels the doormen ran me off.”
Arnold’s right hand moved and Marie flinched, but he was just making a point. “I don’t want to hear no excuses, bitch,” he growled. “Just get out there and flash them tits I bought you and get us some money.”
Marie nodded and moved off down the sidewalk, swishing her hips and opening her blouse another button to highlight her breasts by showing more cleavage.
If I open it any more, she thought, my tits are gonna fall out.
She was dressed in shorts so abbreviated they barely covered her ass, and her shirt was made of a gauzy material that left little to the imagination. Since the breast augmentation surgery that Arnold had paid for, she had no need of a bra and so the dark circles of her nipples were clearly visible beneath her blouse.
As she walked, glancing nervously over her shoulder to make sure Arnold wasn’t following her, she worried about her three-year-old son, left at home in the care of her sister. If it weren’t for him needing his asthma medicine, she’d quit this business and get a job flipping burgers or something. At least that’s what she told herself. But, the truth was she liked the extra money she made by hooking for Arnold, and it was far more than she could make working at a regular nine-to-five. And, since she’d quit school when she was fifteen and pregnant, she had few skills to offer any other employer.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car engine slowing as it approached her. She put a little more wiggle in her hips and pasted a wide, fake smile on her lips and turned to see who was checking her out.
A black Explorer slowed and moved to the curb, the window on the passenger side easing down. Mary moved over to lean her arms on the window and let her breasts hang down. Might as well give the John a free glimpse and maybe it’d encourage him to part with some money to get more.
“Hello, honey,” Marie purred. “Are you looking for a date?”
The man in the driver’s seat was tall and thin, with dark hair and a not unpleasant face. Far better than Marie was used to.
“What do you charge?” the man asked, his voice deep and husky.
Marie could tell he was horny, and as she looked around at the expensive car, she decided to try for a little more than her usual rates.
“Fifteen for a hand job, twenty-five for a blow job, and fifty for anything else you want,” she said, holding her breath and hoping she wasn’t risking losing the John with those prices. She wasn’t looking forward to another beating by Arnold.
“How much for all night?” the man asked.
Marie was surprised. No one had ever asked her that before. She did a quick mental calculation of just how much Arnold expected her to earn. “Uh, how about five hundred?” she asked meekly, thinking no one would pay that for her.
The man smiled, showing teeth that seemed to glow in the dark, and he leaned over and opened the door. “Get in,” he ordered.
Marie hesitated. There was something about this John that set her mental radar on edge. She’d always trusted her instincts before, but the thought of making a quick five hundred convinced her to ignore her misgivings. What the hell, she thought. Nobody’s teeth glowed in the dark. It must have been a trick of the light.
She jumped in the front seat and pointed around the corner. “We can use the Miller Hotel,” she said. “I have a room there.”
“Uh-uh,” the man said, pulling out into the street without looking at her. “For five hundred bucks, we go to my place.”
Now Marie was beginning to get really frightened. It was the cardinal rule of hookers, Arnold had taught her, never go anyplace else with a John other than your own hotel—not if you wanted to stay alive and healthy.
“Listen Mister, I’d rather not,” Marie said, a frightened whine in her voice. “I’d better just get out here,” she said, her hand on the door handle.
A voice in her mind startled Marie. She seemed to hear the words, “Be calm. You are safe, and you are getting sleepy. Everything is okay.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but a feeling of calm settled over her. She felt as if she’d just smoked a joint and her body felt loose and disjointed. Her vision blurred and her eyes grew heavy. It’d be okay if she just closed them for a minute or two. She was so sleepy.
Morpheus glanced at the hooker out of the corner of his eyes as he drove. She wasn’t bad looking, he thought, and she did have a nice set of tits on her.
* * *
Marie came awake some time later. She was being carried into a house. It was dark and there were no lights, but she caught a dim glimpse of a man’s face close to hers as he carried her like a baby through the darkened rooms and up a staircase.
“What . . . what happened?” she asked, her voice slurred and groggy as she tried to look around.
The man laid her on a bed and then he turned on a light. She saw she was in a bedroom. It looked sterile, like a motel room or someplace where no one actually lived. There were no paintings on the walls and there were no personal items on the bedside table or the dresser against a far wall. She began to get spooked as her mind cleared and she sat up in the bed, scooting backward until her back was against the headboard.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice quavering in fear.
The man who’d picked her up earlier was standing across the room from her, staring at her through bloodshot eyes, a slight smirk on his face.
“What is your name, dear?” he asked, not unkindly.
Marie relaxed slightly. He didn’t sound mean or act crazy. Maybe everything would be all right after all. “My name
is Marie Marshal,” Marie answered, though she rarely gave a John her real name. She didn’t quite know why she did this time, except the man didn’t seem dangerous, just slightly weird.
The man began to move slowly toward her across the room, taking off his jacket as he moved. “Well, Marie, I must explain,” he said, still with that strange smile on his face. “I haven’t had sex for a long time, and so instead of doing you in the car as I usually do, I thought I’d bring you here to my home and take my time with you and not have to hurry.”
This Marie could understand, though she still felt a prickle of fear at the back of her mind. Maybe if she gave the man what he wanted, everything would be all right. She kicked her high-heeled shoes off, letting them fall next to the bed and began to unbutton her blouse, giving the man her best sultry smile. “Well, honey. As long as you’re willin’ to pay me the five hundred, you’ll get all the sex you can handle. What’s your name, sweetie pie?”
He grinned as he slipped out of his shirt, exposing a well-muscled body with the exception of his left arm, which looked as if he’d had polio or something.
“My name is Michael Morpheus,” he said, his voice growing husky at the sight of Marie’s more than ample breasts when they popped into view.
Marie lifted her hips off the bed and slipped out of her shorts. She was wearing no underwear. “Well, Mike,” she purred, pitching the shorts onto the floor next to her blouse and shoes. “Let’s get started.”
Morpheus kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants and stood there naked before her. Marie’s eyes widened at the sight of his penis. He was hung like a horse, she thought. As his penis began to swell and throb and become erect, she smiled. Hell, maybe I oughta be paying him, she thought.
“You got a condom?” she asked as he slipped into bed next to her.
“Never wear them,” he answered, his face beginning to nuzzle her neck as his hand cupped her breast and squeezed, pinching the nipple with his fingers.
“No condom, no goodies,” she started to say when she felt a prick on her neck. “Hey, no biting!” she said, trying to push him away. It was like trying to move concrete.
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