John's Yearning

by Tina Folsom

Savannah still sat at the same spot where he’d left her, but was now holding the picture of Buffy in her hand. John stared at it, his heart breaking for the scared little girl in it. He felt like he knew her, though he’d never met her in person. But when he looked at her, all he wanted was to protect her. Protect her like his own.

  John sat down next to Savannah and reached for the picture, while handing her the glass of wine. “Here, that will make you feel a little better.” It would, at least physically. Vampire blood had healing properties that humans responded to very quickly. It didn’t take much to take care of a few bruised ribs. “Drink,” he encouraged her softly, took the photo from her hand and placed it back on the coffee table.

  Savannah took several sips, then a few more, as if she realized that the alcohol was helping calm her nerves. In truth, it was her body’s primal instinct to crave the healing vampire blood, without actually knowing it. It was nature, the perfect symbioses between the two species. Another yin to a yang. Because just like his vampire blood could heal her, her human blood could heal him.

  A moment later she set the empty glass on the table and looked at him. “What now? What am I gonna do now? I gave them the money. Why didn’t they return Buffy to me? I don’t understand it. I followed the instructions.”

  “I don’t understand it either.” He motioned to the kidnapper’s note. “This shouldn’t have happened. The ransom note. None of the other parents received one.”

  “Then maybe Buffy’s disappearance isn’t connected to that of the other children. Maybe it’s personal. It must be Alexi. It has to be him.” She looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to agree with her assumption, as if that would make everything alright.

  He took her hands in his and squeezed them. “We don’t know that it’s him. But I agree that something isn’t right. They weren’t after the money. They were after you tonight. Why only ask for two-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars when they could have asked for a million, knowing you had that kind of money in the bank?”

  She drew back a little, stunned. “How do you know that?”

  “I ran a background check on you. It’s standard. We do it with all our clients,” he explained, though he still felt as if he needed to apologize. “That’s how I learned that you took out a quarter of a million dollars today. Had I not seen that, I don’t think I would have realized something was wrong.”

  She seemed to contemplate his words, then slowly nodded. “I understand.” She sniffled. “You think the money was just a pretense to get me to meet them?”

  “Yes. They wanted to make sure you were alone. They knew you wouldn’t risk Buffy’s safety.”

  “But why? If Alexi wanted to kidnap me, there are easier ways. He knows where I live, he knows my routine.”

  “We have to consider that it’s not Alexi, though, believe me, I’m not discounting him entirely. But there’s something else going on. And I’m going to figure out what it is. Buffy’s disappearance is connected to the other children. I can sense it.” And his instincts were rarely wrong.

  Savannah pressed one hand to her mouth, choking back a sob. “I don’t want to believe that. I just don’t.” New tears welled up in her eyes. “Because believing that she’s been taken by a child trafficking ring means the chances of ever seeing her again, of ever holding her again…” A sob choked off her words. But he still knew what she was thinking. That she would never see Buffy again.

  It hurt him to see her like this, to see her lose hope. He gripped her shoulders. “Please, Savannah, trust me. I will bring Buffy back to you. I know I will.” He had leads. Alexi was one of them. The strange smell on the ransom note was something else he could follow up on. And maybe the license plate of the van would lead to something after all.

  “I want to believe you. I do. But I miss her. I miss her so much.” Her hands clung to his jacket now as if she needed to hold onto something to keep herself from collapsing. “I’m scared for her. I’m so scared. She’s everything I have.”

  He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. “I know what she means to you. That’s why I’ll get her back for you. I’ll work tirelessly until she’s back in your arms. Until she’s safe again.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Savannah’s head.

  It felt good to have Savannah in his arms, to know she was safe now. “When I saw that man drag you into the van, my heart stopped.” He rubbed one hand over her back, while the other found its way to her nape, without him directing it. As if the need to feel her skin, her warmth was just too strong to resist.

  Savannah suddenly lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes still wet with tears. But there was something else in them, too. Awareness. Awareness of him, of him touching her, holding her. He should have released her in that instant, should have risen and moved away from her as far as he could, but he didn’t.

  “You saved me,” she murmured. Her lips were red and wet with her tears.

  He could smell the salt, wanted to taste it too. He knew he shouldn’t. Nevertheless, he dipped his head toward her face. “You have to stop me.”

  She didn’t honor his plea, didn’t pull back. Did she want this? Maybe even need this? To feel close to another being so she would know that she wasn’t alone? He tried to justify what he was about to do by answering yes to those questions, when he knew, or at least suspected, why she wasn’t putting up any resistance. It was the vampire blood in her. Even though the quantity was small, to a human unaccustomed to it, it was potent. It couldn’t really make her do anything she absolutely didn’t want to do, but together with the alcohol she’d downed so quickly, it was the perfect mixture to loosen anybody’s inhibitions. If those inhibitions had even previously existed. From Savannah’s response to his kiss the previous night, he knew that she didn’t carry around a lot of inhibitions with regard to physical love.

  As for his own restraints, he had none left, not after what had nearly happened tonight. He could have lost her. And that thought was the straw that broke the vampire’s back.

  “Savannah, please,” he groaned in a last attempt to make her push him back and reject his advances, when he knew it was useless.

  He knew it was happening. And this time it wouldn’t end with just one kiss.

  17

  John’s lips came closer, and as much as Savannah knew that it was wrong to accept the comfort he was offering, she couldn’t resist it. She should be thinking of Buffy, of how to save her, but in this instant, she was selfish. She’d never been as scared in her life as in the moment when the thug had pushed her into the van and she’d realized that Buffy wasn’t inside. She was still shaking with fear and the knowledge of what could have, would have happened, had John not gotten there in time. Was it therefore so wrong that she now sought comfort in the arms of her rescuer? That she wanted something that would drown out the fear and the desperation, if only for a short moment?

  She moved her head only slightly, until her lips brushed against his. It was as if something ignited between them, because a second later, they were embracing so fiercely, with such urgency that not even an earthquake hitting San Francisco could have separated them.

  His lips were demanding, pressing firmly against hers, his tongue sliding between them with such certainty, such self-confidence, as if he’d never been denied. Just like she wouldn’t deny him—or herself—tonight. She allowed the invasion, welcomed it with eager anticipation, knowing he would whisk her away to a world where no fear, no pain, no evil existed.

  He tasted of virile man, of strength, of power. His hands were on her, touching, squeezing, exploring… undressing. He was already pushing her jacket off her shoulders, freeing her, temporarily preventing her from touching him. But when she was free of it, she brought her hands back to his chest, this time not just gripping the lapels of his jacket, but sliding underneath. Through his shirt, she felt heat emanating from him. If she wasn’t careful, she would burn herself. The taut muscles under his shirt flexed beneath her touch, but before she co
uld explore them further, she felt his hands on her naked skin, her naked breasts. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d unbuttoned her blouse, under which she wore nothing. She hated bras, always had, and whenever she could get away with it, she went without.

  John moaned into her mouth, while his hands played with her naked flesh, alternately squeezing her boobs, then tenderly stroking her, then pinching her nipples lightly. She let out a sigh in response and pressed her breasts into his hands, begging him silently to continue. She didn’t dare speak, couldn’t voice what she wanted, not because she was shy, but because she was afraid that speaking would destroy the magic that was unfolding between them and wake them both from this fantasy they were indulging in. And she didn’t want to return to the real world, didn’t want to face reality.

  John’s kiss turned molten. His lips didn’t tire, nor did his tongue as he rubbed it against hers, every stroke more insistent, every exploration more intimate. His hands freed her of her blouse now, tossing it somewhere. Cool air blew against her back, but her chest was on fire. John had a masterful touch. His large hands were rough at times, yet she liked feeling them caress her, feeling his skin slide against hers. She liked his fingers dancing on her breasts, liked his palms squeeze them to explore their firmness.

  She responded to each of his touches, pressing hard against him when he squeezed her boobs in his hands, and shivering when he teased her nipples and turned them hard as rocks. She’d always thought her nipples weren’t very sensitive, but John proved her wrong. His fingers teased reactions from her that she didn’t realize she was capable of feeling. And all the while, he continued kissing her.

  She wanted to explore him too, to feel his skin underneath her palms. Though it was difficult to concentrate with John turning her to putty, she managed to unbutton his shirt. Finally, she could slide her hands onto his chest. When she did, a visible jolt went through him, and at first she feared she’d done something wrong, but then his kiss turned even more passionate, and she knew he wanted her to touch him.

  Savannah rid him of his jacket, then did the same with his shirt. Underneath her fingers exploring his chest, she felt only a whisper of hair. Otherwise his chest was smooth, just how she liked it. She would have loved to plant kisses on his chest, but she couldn’t interrupt the kiss they were still sharing. She didn’t want to break this magical moment, so she contented herself with caressing his chest and exploring his hard muscles, just as he explored her much softer flesh.

  She wasn’t sure how long they’d been touching like this when she suddenly felt herself being lifted up, and realized that John was carrying her out of the living room, his lips still on hers. Her breasts felt cold all of a sudden, but the knowledge that he was carrying her to her bed where they would continue their explorations, forced her to be patient.

  She felt her soft duvet beneath her back. Only now did John let go of her lips and release her. She stared up at him, scared at first that this might be the end, that maybe he’d come to his senses, when her eyes fell on his pants. A definite bulge was stretching the fabric over his crotch. When she lifted her lids to look at his face, he was staring at her, his eyes not the chocolate color they were normally, but instead suffused with a golden hue. Before she could wonder about it, he reached for her and quickly peeled her out of her pants. She’d kicked off her high heels earlier in the living room.

  She wore only bikini panties now. Black, lacy panties. He stared at them and growled low and dark in his throat. The sound sent a shiver down her spine and made her entire body tingle pleasantly. Not taking his eyes off her, his hand went to his pants, and he unbuttoned them, then slid them down his hips. He had to bend down to undo his boots and kick them off, before freeing himself of his pants. When he stood up straight again, her eyes fell on the boxer briefs he wore. The gray fabric stretched tightly across his front. A drop of liquid had darkened the fabric at one spot. She involuntarily licked her lips. She’d done that to him. Everything female awoke inside her at that thought, the thought of arousing John.

  With a groan, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, then pushed them down completely. His cock sprung to attention, the long thick shaft heavy and hard, its tip glistening with pre-cum. Pre-cum she wanted to taste, to lick.

  She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed so she could reach for him. He didn’t stop her when she placed her hand around his erection and brought her face close to it. Slowly she looked up and saw him watching her, his jaw clenched as if what she was about to do would hurt him.

  Without breaking eye contact, she licked over the tip of his cock, tasting the salty liquid and swallowing it. John threw his head back and groaned. At the same time his erection rocked forward and slid into her mouth.

  “Fuck!” he cursed.

  She locked her lips around the hard shaft and sucked him deeper. She loved his response, loved how he fisted his hands at his sides as if he needed to restrain himself not to grip her and thrust deep and hard into her mouth. And she loved his taste, loved how he was at her mercy, loved that she could make him come like this if she wanted to. She loved that power, it made her strong. And she needed to feel strong right now. So she sucked him harder, took him deeper. She cradled his balls in one hand and held his cock at the root, squeezing him in her palm, up and down, while she licked and sucked him until he finally gripped her shoulders with both hands. At first she thought he’d start fucking her mouth hard and fast, but then, on a groan, he jerked back and withdrew his erection from her mouth.

  Moments later, he pushed her back into the mattress, and gripped her panties. He pulled, and the lace ripped, tearing the garment into pieces. He didn’t seem to care, and neither did she, because he was already rolling over her, already pushing her legs apart to make space for himself. Before she could take another breath, he was thrusting into her pussy, plunging deep. His balls slapped against her flesh and his pelvic bone grazed her clit, when he seated himself to the hilt. She nearly came right there and then, but he instantly withdrew, before plunging back in.

  When he began to ride her, deep, hard, fast, his lips were back on hers, and he kissed her with the same wildness with which he plunged in and out of her. She’d never been with a man who loved like this, as if the world was going to end and this was the last time he would ever be with a woman. As if he had to make it count. It was new to her. New and addictive. Was this what she’d always craved, but never dared to ask for? A man who loved without restraints, without basic civility? A man who took what he wanted and gave her what she needed? Why had she never experienced this?

  She felt it now, felt the heat that was singeing her body, the excitement that shot through her veins, the air that rushed from her lungs in a race that she wanted never to end. She felt it in the way their bodies connected, dark skin sliding against light, perspiration making every movement even more erotic.

  John’s long hair caressed her torso as he continued kissing her. She slid her hand to his nape, caressing him there, making him shiver, while with her other hand she clasped his ass and urged him to take her harder, to thrust deeper. She moved with him, loving the sparks that ignited in her body each time John rammed her with his cock. And he was ramming her, hard and relentless. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t hurting, why she wasn’t getting sore from the rough treatment, but she was glad she wasn’t, because she needed this, needed to feel this man taking her with almost animalistic passion. He even sounded like an animal: his grunts and moans more like the roar of a lion than the voice of a man.

  Everything felt more intense than she’d ever experienced during sex. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, her body seemed hypersensitive, reacting to every touch by sending tiny shudders over her skin. Her chest was heaving, her heart pumping more oxygen into her blood. She could feel it already, feel her orgasm approaching. And as if John could feel it too, he shifted his angle slightly so with every thrust, he rubbed against her clit until she couldn’t hold back the waves any longer. />
  Like a massive explosion, she climaxed, while a cry of release ripped from her throat. She’d never been a screamer, never made sounds like that, but John had unearthed something in her that she didn’t think she could ever put back into a box again. Something entirely primal.

  18

  John felt Savannah’s muscles spasm around his cock as she came, and let himself go. He climaxed hard and long, shooting his semen deep into her welcoming sheath. As if marking her as his. As if by doing so he could prevent another man from laying claim to her.

  Seconds passed, before his body’s spasms subsided, and his brain started to function again. Slowly, he rolled off her and came to rest on his back next to her, his eyes aimed at the ceiling.

  What had he done?

  If he could flog himself, he would. Because he deserved a severe beating. He’d taken advantage of Savannah, of her vulnerability. And not only that, he’d fucked her like an animal, without finesse, without tenderness, without concern for her likes or dislikes. He hadn’t whispered tender words to her, goddamn it, not even dirty ones, when he’d made love to her. Made love to her? He shouldn’t be allowed to call it that. Because he hadn’t behaved like a lover, he’d behaved like a caveman, like a wild animal engaged in rutting. Shame flooded him. This wasn’t how he’d imagined things playing out.

  Sure, he could blame the fact that she’d almost been kidnapped tonight and that he’d needed to reassure himself that he hadn’t lost her. But it was more than that. It went deeper. Savannah had gotten under his skin, appealing to that part of him that he kept hidden. The part of him that was all vampire, all animal, all alpha. And had he not kissed her during the entire time, had he dared lay his lips onto her neck or any other part of her, he would have bitten her. And lost her. Because she would have pushed him away in horror. Because what could be more frightening than realizing that the man she was in bed with was a dangerous creature who lusted after her blood?