She jumped into the hot tub and beckoned to him. Her perky little breasts bounced up and down joyfully, as if to say, Come on in, the water’s warm. No denying her. Were he a captain at sea, his ship would surely smash upon the rocks answering her siren’s call.
Demarco removed his clothes down to his boxer shorts and managed to pull his eyes away from her long enough to fix himself a tequila sunrise, a double shot. On his way to the hot tub he grabbed a bath towel with a syringe of heroin in solution he’d prepared earlier in the evening just for this moment.
A point three gram blast of high purity china white was triple what most junkies considered a decent dose. She’d be toasted hard, his to control from this point forward. He had four more doses of the same to maintain her through the night. His experience with two girls he’d done this to previously, taught him she’d be begging for more by this time tomorrow.
He sat on the edge of the hot tub laying the towel close at hand, legs dangling in the water. “Come here girl. Let me show you some magic.”
He twirled his fingers and waved her over. She accommodated him, shimmying her ass between his legs, the small of her back rubbing up against his hard cock.
As he rubbed her shoulders, listening to her purr with contentment in her exotic French lilt, he began to think maybe this was a mistake. She was so awesome. A wonderful little piece of ass like her shouldn’t be abused. She had some indescribable quality. He was so damn hard it hurt––just from rubbing her back and teasing her luscious blond hair as his fingers worked up the lower part of her scalp.
They shouldn’t be doing this. It was a mistake. He realized the truth too late. He’d already committed to this course of action. Business was business. Sometimes unpleasant things must be done for the sake of business. He needed to keep Kramer happy. He couldn’t afford to jeopardize his relationship with his partner over a twinge of conscience.
But it felt so wrong. As he reached for the needle in the towel, it felt like he was about to drug a race horse, an unnecessary act carrying far more potential for damage than benefit.
Instead of listening to instinct, which had served him quite well till now, he committed the biggest mistake of his life. He stuck Michelle straight in the jugular vein and depressed the plunger. She twitched from the initial poke of the needle, but didn’t react until a couple seconds later.
* * * *
The cylinder emptied into her veins sending a massive rush screaming through her system. She roared into the night and leaped twelve feet in the air, spinning and flipping around like an Olympic gymnast to land on the far side of the hot tub in a splash.
“What the fuck?”
He stood up and walked around to her side of the hot tub. She was there in the water, pale white skin and blond hair, floating face down. “Holy shit! Please don’t let her be dead!”
He reached down to grab her. She came up out of the water growling in an attack crouch, claws splayed out to the side, jaw unhinged and wide open with full size fangs on display.
Her true predatory nature had been unmasked. Eyes wild and crazed, her wicked claws flexed, itching to be buried in something meaty. She hissed at him menacingly. The sound held promise of violence.
His knees weakened, heart pounded. His world turned gray as the tunnel vision of terror narrowed everything down to her. If he hadn’t used the bathroom recently, he would’ve shit as his sphincters flexed and piss ran down his leg.
She launched at him. He tried to back pedal. Every instinct in his body screamed RUN, but she moved like lightning. No sooner had he taken a step, and then she was on him, a blur of blond hair, claws, and fangs, hissing and snarling like a feral beast.
She slammed him up into the air and down onto his back on the tiled patio. He learned of her inhuman strength the hard way, as she held him down like a child. She bit his neck and chest, digging her claws into his shoulders for purchase as she pinned him. She bit him over and over and over again. He flailed and bucked and tried to get her off. Useless struggles. She was far stronger than any person he knew.
Fire raced through his veins, raping him with orgasm after orgasm. His brain exploded in a euphoric rush as organ after organ reacted to the liquid magic injected into his bloodstream. He became one raw nerve stroked into crescendos of sexual climax. He succumbed to the euphoria of her bite, unable to fight anymore, rocked with the intense high and repeated orgasms.
All the carefully constructed rules of behavior and etiquette she’d adhered to for decades were gone in an instant. She was raw passion, ferocity, and hunger. All inhibitions and caution abandoned. She tore off Demarco’s boxer shorts and mounted his erection, pounding him furiously, biting over and over.
He convulsed, shuddered, and screamed. “Oh God help me! Oso! Help!” Overwhelmed with pain, ecstasy, shock, and euphoria mixed into an indistinguishable blend.
She rode him through a series of excruciating pelvic grinding orgasms, growling and grunting like a beast. He cried from the deluge of sensations, tears streaming down his face for the first time since he was a teenager.
Demarco knew he had unleashed a demonic entity bent on bleeding and fucking him to death. If she couldn’t kill him with her razor talons, she’d surely crush his pelvis with her soaking wet thighs grinding him relentlessly.
* * * *
Writhing, impaled on his cock, slamming down onto his hips with insane fury, his pathetic whimpers penetrated her drug-hazed mind. She realized he had been begging for long minutes as she pounded him into the hard tile. . She exercised what small measure of control she could muster. She extracted herself from his bruised thighs and stood up, licking his blood off her lips. Standing spread eagle over him she assessed his condition. He lay there dazed and wheezing, mewling for help from his friend, unable to move.
“What did you do to me?” She swayed on her feet, barely able to maintain her balance. Tracers slid past her vision. Ribbons of colored light floated and twirled through the air in front of her as she spoke. Her own voice sounded foreign.
“I shot you …” He groaned. “I shot you up …”
She staggered, trying to step away from him as she stared in shock at his condition. His bloody shoulders bore evidence of her long talons. Scores of deep scratches ran from his elbows to his collarbone. His clothing hung in rags where it remained on his body at all. He stared at her with fear and loathing.
“Mon dieu! What have I done?”
She turned her head sideways, trying to focus to see his aura. His aura pulsed crimson, the color of agonized pain then throbbed purple streaked with black, intense fear.
She pushed her toe at his ribs, trying to rouse him from his stupor. He grunted and attempted to stand up, but lost balance. She caught him at the last second, jerking him to his feet with one arm. “Did I hurt you?”
“You’re a demon from hell, that’s what you are! I can barely walk you crazy bitch! You tried to kill me!”
Fury, instant blinding fury. She snatched up his sorely abused balls, pinching in tight with the tips of her claws. She reached up with her other hand scratching a trail of bloody welts down his blood-splattered chest.
“Aaahhh Fuck!” He tried to back away, but she held him in place, anchored by his most sensitive flesh.
“Listen to me fils de salope!––son of bitch.” She swayed again, his face swimming in and out of focus. Her own voice sounded strange, slurred, like someone else speaking. It was a credit to her extraordinary will power that she could function at all.
“You did this. What did you do to me?” The strange lilt to her slurred question sounded like a completely different Michelle.
He pointed at the empty syringe lying on the tile at the edge of the hot tub. “Heroin.”
* * * *
Oso and Camacho sat in Demarco’s den watching a martial arts action film. Camacho had the sound cranked up loud enough for the coffee table to vibrate with the base reverberating through the surround sound subwoofers.
Camacho yelled
over the noise, “This is better than the theater. A little coca, unas cervezas. Can’t do that shit in the theater man.” Oso snickered as he finished snorting a line off the coffee table’s glass surface.
“This shit’s all fake. Nobody can fly through the air like that, its nothin but wires.” Oso complained. He snatched up the remote and turned down the volume to a more tolerable level.
“Fine! Ima go check on the boss.”
“It’s your ass Essay.” Oso smirked, “You know he don’t wanna be messed with when he’s gettin busy. Just wait a little while. You’ll get your turn with the guerra.”
He laughed at Camacho again. He had been bragging about the blond ever since they arrived. Like a kid on Christmas morning, Camacho couldn’t wait to get his hands on the new toy under the tree.
“Why don’t you go see how she’s doin. Make sure she’s okay.” Oso tried his best to keep a straight face.
He knew Demarco would be goin at it with her for the rest of the night. Camacho would have to wait till tomorrow for a round of sloppy seconds.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna take a little peek. Make sure she’s still alive.” Camacho took off down the hallway from the rec room to the sliding glass door leading out to the tiled back patio.
* * * *
Camacho stood at the sliding glass door peering through the vertical blinds at Michelle’s backside as she humped Demarco, grinding and popping her hips like a porno played in fast forward. He had caught a semi, and wondered how the hell he’d be able to match such ferocity when she stood up, Demarco lying on the ground beneath her. He watched as she staggered to one side, losing her balance, swaying like a reed in the wind.
“Dis chick is already faded.” He snorted. I’m gonna make her take it in the ass. She won’t stop me.
Then she toed Demarco, and that’s when he noticed all the blood. It was everywhere, on the patio, on her hands, in her hair, all over Demarco’s chest. And Demarco hadn’t gotten up.
“Oso! Ven! Oso!” He ran back to Oso yelling at the top of his lungs.
“She’s gonna kill him! La puta está loca! Vamos!”
Oso and Camacho raced out onto the patio to a scene of insane carnage. She stood face to face with Demarco, holding him by the balls. She snapped her head to attention, snaring Oso and Camacho with her feral gaze. She looked at them like they were plump, juicy Thanksgiving turkeys for the feast.
She gave them a look of hunger, the look a starving cougar gives to a ripe young fawn. They stood there pegged by her intensity, deer in the headlights. She was completely nude. Her hands, face, and breasts dripped with Demarco’s blood. Blood ran down her belly to stop at her clean shaven rosy wet center.
Camacho didn’t think before he reacted. He hurled all five foot, five inches, 160 pounds, into a full bodied hook punch. His struck true. Her head snapped back sideways with a crack. She staggered back, letting go of Demarco. With a ferocious roar of fury, she blinked out of sight.
Staggering pain streaked through Camacho. He looked down at himself in shock. His shirt torn open wide, blood and viscera oozed from a deep gash starting at his navel and ending at his sternum. His knees grew weak and he slumped to the ground.
“Oh Dios mío.” He whimpered.
Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. Even the crickets silenced for this one moment.
“Oso help me! Oh God help me!” He cried out in a sickening whimper.
* * * *
“Qu'est-ce que j'ai fait?” She slurred.
They looked at her in terror as she looked back and forth between them and man on the ground. She whispered horrified, “What have I done?”
No one moved to help the man. She dropped down to his prone body. Her hands shook as she reached out to touch him. “S'il vous plaît Dieu me pardonne.” She asked God’s forgiveness.
He lay there at her knees crying and shaking. He looked into the face of death as she mesmerized him with her gaze.
“I don’t wanna die Oso, help me….” His pleas trailed off into a whisper as she gained control of him, leaning down an inch from his face. “El Ángel de la muerte.” He whispered.
“I cannot save you, but I can take your pain.” She cried, tears of blood running down her face with her offer. “It will be quick. I promise.” She whispered.
He nodded in silent acceptance and began whispering a prayer in Spanish. Her hands caressed his face gently. She looked up at Demarco, hating him, hating herself for what she’d done. For what she was about to do.
She struck, biting down deep into his jugular vein. He twitched and then stilled in her embrace as the wonders of her bite spread throughout his body, replacing shock and trauma with euphoria. She held him tightly sucking and sucking and sucking, her naked torso undulating as she gulped down his life.
Camacho died in utter ecstasy. His angel of death delivered him to heaven’s gates in his dying moment through the euphoric nirvana of her bite. Demarco and Oso didn’t make a move, not one twitch or sound. They watched silently as Camacho died in her embrace.
* * * *
Chapter 16
Demarco caught Oso’s gaze and nudged his head in the direction of the wet-bar. Oso glanced back down in horror at the naked woman sucking the life from Camacho. Demarco whispered in a hiss. “Get another one quick!”
Oso edged over to the wet-bar, his eyes glued to Michelle the whole time, sweat pouring down his face. He came away from the wet-bar with a shiny little syringe in hand.
“Tírame la!” Demarco hissed.
Oso threw it to Demarco who snatched it out of the air. He slipped off the needle safety cover and stabbed it into the side of Michelle’s neck, depressing the plunger with his thumb.
She let go of Camacho and fell to the floor heaving and convulsing with grunts and growls. She flew up off the ground in a flash, tackling Demarco, tumbling across the patio in a scuffle. She came out on top, roaring in his face in victory. He tried to shove her off. She grabbed his arms, pinning him down with that inhuman immense strength he simply could not overcome. Seated atop his chest, she stared at him face-to-face, unhinging her jaw. Her naked breasts heaved as she breathed heavily, her glazed eyes rolled around wildly out of focus. She shook her head, as if she could shake off the effects of the drug.
* * * *
She cocked her head sideways trying to focus her vision on that special spectrum of light/energy she alone could see, auras. Were they trying to kill her? Demarco’s aura streaked through with fatigue and pain, but not too bad off. She looked up to see Oso staring at her wide-eyed, scared shitless. He wanting to bolt, but fear held him in place. They didn’t appear threatening.
She snapped her wide open jaw shut in Demarco’s face and looked back at Oso. “Why are you doing this to me?” She started to sit up, releasing her punishing grip on his arms.
Demarco squirmed beneath her, his naked hips sliding around between her legs in his struggle. It felt good.
“I like it.” She slurred into his face with a glazed smile.
He smelled so wonderful: fear, adrenaline, sex, blood. She liked it when the food got frisky. All those wonderful scents made her hungry for more than blood. Demarco struggled, bucking his hips to dislodge her, his cock sliding around her inner thighs. She wanted it.
“Get off me you crazy bitch!”
“I like it when you fight. Rendez-le plus dur. Je le veux plus dur. Make it harder!”
Giggling as he struggled, she bit him to make sure it would be nice and hard. As he wiggled around she latched onto him tightly and reached down between his legs to find what she wanted. It was already nice and hard.
He stilled when her fingers wrapped around his erection. In a split second she squirmed her hips in place and slid down onto all that wonderful hard flesh. Releasing her bite to sit up for better reach, she worked down onto him. Within a few seconds his hands stopped trying to push her away and moved to her hips, pulling. He thrust up into her as she rode him, grinding down on all that wonderful meaty goodness.
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She closed her eyes tightly in concentration. Slick, sliding, pushing and grinding. She rode hard, trying to find that force and rhythm Aaron could give her. She found her spot, the spot she liked. Aaron always knew how to hit it. This one didn’t know. She had to do it for herself, arching and grinding to get that thick cock right where she needed it.
She looked down at him through hazy blurred vision going in and out of focus. He didn’t smell right, all soft and meaty, none of the hard-sharp angles of Aaron’s body. This was not Aaron. This man could not perform like Aaron.
After a time he began to tire. She saw the exhaustion in his aura, and some pain. She had been hurting him. She ground down onto his hips one last time, finding that special spot she wanted to hit. With a shudder and a growl, she lay her head down on his chest, licking at his nipple. She stroked him softly with her fingertips, trying to sooth. “Did I hurt you?”
He breathed very hard, panting even. She must’ve been too rough.
“I don’t have words for what you did to me.”
She looked up, a glazed dilated smile. She kissed him, his own blood on her lips. He kissed her back hesitantly.
“Chingao madre, he’s still alive. I thought you fucked him to death.”
She noticed Oso standing a few feet away, looking concerned. His aura bled through with fear, but streaked with a heavy color band of lust. She looked down at his pants, at the bulge. In his hand was another one of those shiny little needles.
“What is that?”
“This is the good shit right here.”
She was up in a flash standing in front of Oso, her hands undoing his belt to reach down in his pants. In a second her deadly claw wrapped around his erection. She licked her lips. She caught a glimmer of moonlight reflecting off the needle as he held it up. Wicked fast and strong she grabbed his arm.
The Nightlife: Las Vegas (The Nightlife Series) Page 11