Finally, he gave up on the questioning and shut up, breathing heavily from sheer rage. He stewed in ominous silence until I started getting nervous. What was going through that thick, handsome head of his? I licked lips that were beginning to crack in the furnace heat of the sunlight.
And knew that if I didn't do something fast, he wouldn't have to do anything to me. The sun would do it for him.
Desperately, I forced myself to calm, and...well, REACHED.
That's the best way I can explain psi in human terms. You REACH, straining outward without moving, until you sense something, a thin membrane like a balloon, and then you push, push until you're in.
In another mind.
It was hard linking with Decker. The connection was weak and mostly one-way, partly because of the sun, partly because it's easier when you do it during the bite. But I managed; I was that damn scared.
Linking with somebody is always strange -- a mind is never what you expect based on the surface the person projects -- but it was particularly weird in Decker's case. I'd expected a grim, single-minded man, self-righteous and supremely sure of himself. What I found was something else again.
Guilt.
The same upbringing that had sent him on a religious crusade against vampires was giving him a hard time about abusing a woman. Never mind that the woman was a vampire, and at night, ten times stronger than he was. Decker knew the sunlight was burning me, and he had a nagging impulse to close the heavy black curtains he'd opened to the sun.
So far, though, he'd managed to hold out against his conscience by reminding himself I was an "undead killer." Which, of course, I'm not.
What I am is a ruthless opportunist. I needed the physical and emotional contact of a bite to influence his thinking directly, but I could, by God, intensify whatever emotions he was already feeling.
So I bought Jim Decker tickets for a guilt trip and sent him on his way. He was bloody well goin to close those curtains before I got through with him.
Luckily, he'd been well on the road to doing it anyway, having rationalized that I was too stubborn to tell him anything. It took me only about five minutes to get him to the window. As I watched through slitted lids, he pulled the shade down and closed the thick curtains, shutting off the blinding assault.
My body is tough; the headache and nausea began to fade almost instantly as the room fell into shadow, and my stinging skin began to cool as it started to heal in seconds.
"Thank you," I said. A little manners might make him think about what he was doing.
"I just didn't want you bursting into flames until I'm done with you," he said gruffly.
Unfortunately, I was still weak as a wine cooler, so I knew I wouldn't be breaking my handcuffs anytime soon. So, for lack of anything better to do, I went back to probing him as he hovered by the window. And almost wished I hadn't.
Decker was regretting the impulse to close the curtains and wondering what the hell he was going to do with me now, especially considering how late it was.
Worse, he was thinking about a videotape of Dracula he'd rented recently. Specifically, the scene where Dr. Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker gave Lucy the vampire a two-by-four surprise. Ugh.
Now, why it was okay to drive a stake through my heart but not torture me with sunlight, I don't know. In any case, he was also harboring another emotion I found almost as chilling. He wanted to screw me.
Not make love to me, or even have sex with me, but screw me.
When I'd gone to bed this morning, I'd peeled off everything but my camisole and a pair of lacy bikini panties, and Decker definitely approved of the view. Usually when I link with somebody, I'm dominant; it was disconcerting to feel the predatory cast to his thought when I was so helpless.
My breasts, Decker was thinking, had the kind of full shape that had always turned him on, and he could see the little peaks of my nipples tenting the silk of the camisole. My legs looked impossibly long and white to him, and he liked the curving muscle that came from all the running I'd done. He remembered standing over me earlier when he'd cuffed me, remembered seeing my dark delta through the panties. The sight had made his mouth go dry.
Decker liked my hair too -- he'd always loved women who wore it long, and mine was a thick mane in a shade of black he thought exotic. And though the vulnerable, worried look in my brown eyes made him feel guilty, it also aroused him. He'd never had a woman in his power like this --his other sexual relationships had been with girls he'd cared about -- and he was a little shocked at how much it excited him.
As that last part came through, I relaxed a little, realizing that Decker wasn't going to rape me after all. He might think about it, but, like an al-American Boy Scout in an unattended candy store, he'd never do it.
Now, whether he'd shoot me was a different story.
Looking deeper, I could see he felt a little queasy at the idea of killing a woman - but he was trying to convince himself that since I was an undead creature of the night, it didn't count. God knew how many men I'd killed...
Of course, that number was exactly zero, but I knew Decker would hardly believe me if I told him so. If I wanted to avoid that spike, I'd better come up with something more convincing.
After I got over my knee-jerk panic at the threat of rape, I started thinking about Decker's yen for me. It sounded like something I could use to get out of this mess.
A glance over at the clock beside my bed told me it was 3:45. p.m. Nightfall was two hours away. If I could get him into bed, distract him, I could make him forget how close sunset was. Until it was too late.
I looked through the darkness at him and met those steel blue eyes. And began to send him images.
Me. Helpless and lovely and naked. Squirming under him while he spread me and slid into my heat. Breathless struggles and moaning little pleas for mercy. My bare breasts and hard nipples peaking as he licked and sucked and bit. Tight, creamy heat when he mounted me and drove in deep. How it would feel to make me love it. Make me want him despite my fear of what he could do to handcuffed and defenseless little me.
Oh, he liked that idea. And the fact that he saw me as a vampire femme fatale made him like it even more. After all, didn't I deserve whatever he wanted to do to me?
That attitude made my teeth grind, but I encouraged it anyway. I expected him to jump me in ten minutes, tops, particularly considering how fast I'd gotten him to close those curtains.
Thing was, I'd underestimated him. It was easy to get Decker to quit torturing me because he thought it was wrong, but he knew raping me was equally wrong. He might find the idea darkly tempting, but he had no intention of doing it. And his will was incredibly strong.
So though I sent him images that soon had him so hard his balls were aching, he did nothing. He just started pacing the floor, faster and faster, with his cock straining the chaffing fabric of his jeans. I kept working on him, but no matter how mercilessly I stoked his lust, he continued to resist.
"If you know what's good for you," he spat at last, wheeling to stand at the foot of the bed, "you'll damn well tell me where Beau Gabriel is."
I knew he was afraid he was going to lose it. Since that was exactly what I wanted him to do, I smiled at him, taunting. "No."
He bunched his big fists and fairly quivered with frustrated rage and lust, his eyes tracking down my bound body. "You're not in any position to tell me no, vampire."
"Aren't I?" I smirked, and sent him an image of making me beg. He cursed me viciously and began to pace again.
Then my ploy began to backfire. I started getting aroused myself as I experienced the feedback of the desire I was working to build. I watched that big, powerful body pace as he fought his lust, and a heated trickling began low in my sex.
He'd taken off his jacket, exposing a black T-shirt that hugged broad shoulders and his flat, muscled belly. I could see his erection plainly, bulging against the fabric of his jeans as a thick, long shape, and I couldn't help imagining how it would feel shuttling in a
nd out of me.
Without really intending to, I spread my legs.
He saw that tempting motion just as he was pivoting to pace toward me. And that was the straw that broke him.
Decker crossed to me in one long pace and snatched me up off the bed, making the cuffs ring on the brass headboard. "Where is he?" he bellowed.
"Go to hell," I hissed into his enraged, handsome face, excited because I knew what he'd do.
"That's it!" he exploded. Flinging me back down, he fell on me like an eagle on a mouse, his hot weight driving me down into the mattress as he mantled me in ravenous masculinity.
I gasped in arousal. Instead of fighting, instead of screaming as he'd expected, I flung my legs around his waist and ground up against his erection. For a moment, we stared at each other, panting and hot-eyed with rage and passion.
"What now, big man?" I sneered.
"Whatever the fuck I want." Growling, Decker started to kiss me, thought better of it, and lowered his head to my breasts, simultaneously wrapping a big hand in my hair in case I got the idea to bite him. His wet mouth sealed over my sensitive flesh, sucking so hard I could feel it even through the silk camisole. His tongue flicked as his teeth nibbled until I couldn't help but squirm. He rumbled a threatening sound and wrapped his muscled legs around mine to hold me still.
With his free hand, he dragged my panties down and drove a finger into me. We both gasped this time, me at the lush sensation of that long finger, him at the thick cream and tight grip of my sex.
Decker went a little nuts then, roughly jerking up the hem of the camisole to bare my breasts. He pulled back to stare at them, nostrils flaring. I could only watch breathlessly, waiting for his pleasure.
He glanced up and met my gaze. And smiled slowly, tauntingly. "Nice," he purred. "Very nice. I'm going to enjoy this."
Then he attacked, sucking, biting, devouring my nipples, hands greedy as he explored me like conquered territory, his powerful thighs holding me clamped and ruthlessly still.
It was incredibly arousing - and incredibly frustrating, not being able to get my own hands on that big, virile body. Suddenly I couldn't wait for sunset. And not just so I could turn the tables on him.
Finally, Decker jerked off me and began to strip, shucking the T-shirt from his beautifully muscled torso and tossing it across the room. His blue eyes glittered, hot as a laser with his excitement. I watched, dry-mouthed, taking in his wide chest and taut, rippling brawn, watching his biceps work as he jerked down his fly and shoved the jeans down his narrow hips.
His shaft sprang free, long, flushed, beautifully erect, bobbing as he dragged the clinging denim down his powerful legs.
And he was on me, in me in one driving thrust, and I screamed from the sheer erotic pleasure of it.
Ruthless, delirious with lust, we began pumped at one another, hips grinding together, neither giving the other any mercy.
I loved it, the thickness, the penetration, the maddening hunger of it. And adding to my excitement, I could feel in his mind how I felt to him, tight around him, but wet, so wet. The double stimulation made me come within just a few strokes, and without meaning to, I fed my pleasure to him so that he climaxed too, bellowing.
We rocked together through the last of it, shuddering and sweating. But as the final quivers of delight died and sanity crept back in, it occurred to me that I'd made a mistake. We'd been too quick. If I was going to hold him off until sunset, I had to get him going again.
Fortunately, he'd been so excited by the long buildup that his erection hadn't completely wilted. Decker was already eager for another round, and I was more than happy to accommodate him.
The handcuffs that secured me to the headboard were pretty close together, so he was able to flip me over without too much trouble. Then, as I watched hungrily over my shoulder, he slipped one of the pillows under my belly and mounted me from behind.
"Yes!" I cried out, feeling his hips slam into my butt as he drove home. The different angle put more pressure on my clit, and I twisted, whimpering, as he ground into me.
It was just as good the second time. His shaft felt even thicker because of the angle, and we pounded at each other, me shoving up, him shoving down. I could see in his mind that his eyes were fixed on my hands, twisted in the cuffs, and the sight of them excited him unbearably.
I looked at them myself, and, much to my astonishment, I began to share his delight in the situation, in my helplessness.
And soon, you handsome bastard, I thought, I'll have you just as helpless.
Even as excited as we were, it took us much longer to come, and when we did, it was long and glorious.
Luckily, he was tired after that. I, of course, fed his exhaustion as much as I could, until he shot a look at the bedside clock and decided he could afford to close his eyes for fifteen minutes; it was still more than an hour to sunset.
I guess I don't even need to tell you I made sure he overslept. When he woke up, there were bits of broken handcuff on the floor, and I was the one on top.
Decker's blue eyes, still a little vague with sleep, got very wide as he saw me straddling his hips, both his thick wrists held in my now-supernatural hands. His cock, erect again with a little telepathic encouragement, was buried deep.
"Nice," I purred. "Very nice. I'm going to enjoy this."
His eyes narrowed as he recognized his own mocking words. "Bitch."
I grinned. "Oh, yeah."
He thought about fighting, but before he could follow up on the impulse, I began riding him slowly, grinding against him as hard as he'd ground against me earlier.
And he lost interest in resistance.
Stroking up and down, loving the feeling of that wonderful thick shaft pulsing between my tight slick walls. Loving the fact that I was taking him now. Making sure with my psi that he shared my excitement, that he felt it and the pleasure he was giving me, felt them too strongly to be afraid.
Just as he reached the edge of orgasm, I let him see my fangs.
I was never a Boy Scout.
He snarled at me as I lowered my head. I laughed and licked his throat, savoring the intoxicating flavor of salt and male skin. Then I bit deep.
As his blood flooded my mouth, I came.
And so did he.
That was the end of the trouble with Decker. My psi had reached its full strength when the rest of my abilities kicked in, and as I took his blood I let him see my mind as clearly as I saw his. Sharing my mind, he realized we aren't the soulless damned after all.
But I have to admit, I did take a certain evil glee in his surprise when he discovered what fun it was to be a vampire's victim.
"It certainly puts a whole new spin on sex," he later told me between puffs on a cigarette, as we lay tangled in the sheets, enjoying the laziness of aftermath.
Decker got quite a few chances to enjoy my variation on sex in the months to come. Eventually, I shared my own blood with him, and he became one of us.
Of course, he and Beau still hate each other's guts, but I'm working on that. I've got this fantasy about a ménage a trois...
The End
Vampire Dreams 02 Night Bites Page 2