by BJ Wane
The vivid image of her sprawled naked, her fingers moving in and out of her pink, wet sheath, would be forever imprinted on his brain, a constant reminder that she was a woman, his mate. Unfortunately, that image would forever be paired with the image of another young, vibrant woman; only this woman didn’t look nearly as beautiful as Abby after she climaxed under him and then died in his arms. Aside from Isabelle and Marie, she was the one and only woman he had taken blood from and in order to stick to that resolve, he had to deny himself the one thing he wanted above all others – his mate. He knew from listening to and watching his brethren with their mates that along with the urge to fuck came an equally strong urge to taste the sweet elixir of their chosen one’s blood, an act that enhances the pleasure and bond. Maybe combining the two, sex and taking her blood, was different with one’s mate, his friends said it was so, but they had never been driven to the depths of madness Isabelle had driven him, and didn’t have the consequences of those actions haunting them as he did.
“I know you’re not a child anymore. As an adult, you should realize, and accept you can’t have everything you want. Go home, Abby,” he said tiredly despite the fact he had only been up an hour.
He was shutting himself off from her, his back rigid, his shoulders held stiffly, as he waited for her to obey. But she wasn’t giving up yet. She had seen enough of him last night to see how much he wanted her, how much he desired her. She refused to admit defeat now without one last-ditch effort to get him to change his mind. Unbuttoning her white blouse, she shoved it open, unhooked the front clasp of her bra and let it hang open, revealing her breasts before saying, “Turn around and tell me to my face that you don’t want me, that you want me to leave.”
Taking a deep breath to fortify himself one more time, he turned to face her, cursing a blue streak when he saw her cupping her full, naked breasts, her fingers toying with her pretty pink nipples. “God damn it, you don’t know what you’re doing. Get dressed,” he bit out as he used herculean effort to keep from shoving her hands aside and replacing them with his own.
Laughing softly, she taunted, “I’ve been touching myself for several years now. I assure you, I know what I’m doing.” Her gaze shifted down to his crotch where his erection was blatant proof he wanted her. “See, you do want me.”
Damien realized he was going to have to take harsh measures to deter her, measures that she won’t like, but he sure as hell would. He knew he was angry that she had driven him to this and that anger made his eyes glow reddish/brown, but it was time she knew exactly who or what, she was dealing with. Lifting his lips just enough to have the pointed tips of his incisors visible, he stalked to her with slow menace. “You should know better than to bait a monster. You’ve claimed you know what I am, but you’ve never actually seen proof, have you?”
Abrielle’s first instinct was to flee, to run out of fear of the unknown, but something kept her rooted in place, some sixth sense that told her he would never harm her. His eyes had an eerie reddish tint and the glimpse of sharp white fangs sent a tremor through her, but surprisingly, it wasn’t one of fear. Her pussy, already damp from playing with her nipples, from having those glowing eyes on her nakedness, elicited a gush of moisture as she imagined those sharp teeth piercing her skin as she bucked under his hard body, pinned by his cock impaling her.
“You don’t scare me, Damien,” she said quietly when he stopped right in front of her, forcing her to look up, way up, into his handsome, tortured face. “You might be vampire, but you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Ah, but there are all kinds of pain, aren’t there my little one?” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her over to the small settee facing the black marble fireplace. Without giving her a chance to back out, he sat down and hauled her unceremoniously over his thighs, flipping up her long skirt and shoving down her thong panties so quickly she only had time to stutter in shock.
The first slap landed with a loud smack on her right buttock, the pain hot and sharp, surprise and humiliation making her squirm. “Ow! Damn it, that hurt. Let me up,” she demanded breathlessly as she struggled to rise.
“No,” he answered implacably, pinning her thrashing legs with his left leg and holding her shoulders down with his right hand while he delivered another solid blow on her left cheek. “More than you need to learn to obey me; you need to learn there can be dire consequences if you don’t.” Damien swatted her twice more, the sight of her bouncing, lily white ass turning pink with each one, making him wonder if it was going to be him who had to deal with these consequences more than her. His cock was already hard as nails and pressing insistently, painfully against his zipper, his palm throbbing so erotically hard it ached, and he wanted nothing more than to sink between those now damp folds. Cursing at her unexpected response, he slapped her ass several more times, each one a little harder.
Abby cried out as he peppered her buttocks with fast, hard smacks, her inclination to shift away from his descending hand unconsciously switching to lifting her hips to meet each strike. As the shock from her predicament waned, she was surprised at how the heat encompassing her buttocks had spread down to her pussy, how the tingling, throbbing pain made her ache for more. Grinding her pelvis against his hard thigh, she whimpered as that slight friction had her pussy throbbing in tune with her ass and the mark on her breast.
“Damien,” she moaned lowly, not understanding how this humiliating experience could turn her on, confused by her response to the pain and vulnerability, only knowing she didn’t want it to stop.
Damien couldn’t see her face through the mink curtain of her long hair, but he couldn’t resist the plea in her tone, the telltale sheen coating her labia or the way she lifted up for his next smack then ground down on his leg after it was delivered. “You weren’t supposed to like this, Abby,” he muttered with a self-deprecating laugh. “You always were wild and unpredictable.”
Abby turned her head up, shoving her long tangled hair out of her face to look at him. She had already thrown away most of her pride over this man; she may as well go all the way. “Please don’t leave me hanging, not this time.”
Damien soothed her burning cheeks by running his hand over them, the feel of their soft, malleable warmth enough to have him creaming his jeans. Giving in to the inevitable, he ran a single finger slowly up her slit, coating it with her juices before gliding up her crack to caress ever so softly over her anus, his eyes on hers the whole time. “Come for me,” he demanded harshly, following that dictate with another smack then another slow, teasing stroke of his finger.
His eyes were now more red than dark brown, his body taut with suppressed strength and power as he gave her what she wanted. Closing her eyes, she took her right hand off the floor where she had braced herself with both hands, and pinched her right nipple the same moment he slapped her already tortured ass again. Crying out from the stinging pleasure, she pushed against his hand, breathed a sigh of relief when he took his leg off of hers, allowing her to spread her thighs wider, giving him easier access.
Another slap followed by another way too shallow dip of his finger, followed by a way too light touch over her sensitive anus, and then a repeat until she was a writhing mass of frustration, her nerves taut with unfulfilled lust. With the next touch on her pussy, she lifted into his hand, slid down in an effort to get him to penetrate her. “Damien, you’re being cruel,” she moaned pathetically when he thwarted her efforts with a chuckle and smacked her again.
“There are lots of ways to punish naughty wards who don’t do what their guardian tells them.” The problem was, this punishment was just as hard on him as on her, and because he was nearing the point of giving in to her, he had to end this now. Instead of spanking her again after another tantalizing caress, he lightly started kneading her hot ass with his right hand and thrust into her warm, slick sheath with two fingers from his left, unerringly rooting out her clit and milking that small, swollen red nub until she was screaming loud enough to be heard throughout his spacio
us home.
His hard hand fondling her buttocks had her moaning in pleasure, but the first touch of her clit had her screaming out in ecstasy. The orgasm burst upon her with unrelenting, body enveloping pleasure that swept through her senses unchecked for several long seconds until she was left lying like a limp noodle over his lap in sated repletion.
Damien lifted her off his lap, stood her before him as he pulled up her panties, hooked her bra and did up her blouse, all while avoiding her accusing, drenched blue gaze. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” she asked even though she knew the answer.
“No.” Rising, he tipped her chin up with one finger. “I’m sorry, Abrielle. It’s for the best, even though you don’t think so. Go home.”
One second he was a solid form in front of her and the next he was gone. She didn’t know if he moved so fast she didn’t see him leave, or he simply shimmered and was gone. Either way, he had rejected her for the last time. She was through pining for a man who wanted nothing from her except friendship. Thankfully, she didn’t see anyone else as she let herself out and got into her car, determined now to do whatever she had to to move on with her life.
Damien watched her tail lights from his bedroom window as she sped back down the drive much faster than when she had driven up to his home. He recalled many an evening when he had taken her out driving, teaching her safety and responsibility, knowing that, as a teenager, she would have to test both on her own. He suffered right along with her parents each time she got a ticket or a fender bender, praying that was all the worse she would ever have to suffer. He wished he could keep her safe from harm all the time, but he knew he couldn’t. But he could keep her safe from him.
“You ready to head out?” Jacob asked from his open doorway.
“More than ready.” The amount of power and strength he had gained from simply touching Abby was astonishing, twice what he had ever gotten from fucking another woman. But even that bonus wasn’t enough to shake him from his hardened resolve to keep her protected from him. “Hopefully, there’ll be plenty of miscreants we can kick ass.”
“Yeah, that’ll make you feel better,” Jacob returned dryly as they both shimmered.
Abrielle sat alone at a small table in front of the world famous Café Du Monde, drowning her disappointment with an overdose of sugar. A popular tourist destination, the café was known for its fresh beignets and café au lait coffee, both of which she was over-indulging in as she gazed across the street at Jackson Square. The towering steeple of St. Louis Cathedral drew her eye, as did the local artists who were painting and creating caricatures and displaying their work on the square’s iron fence, but the pleasure of viewing either historical sight wasn’t enough to take her mind off of Damien and his refusal to consider a relationship with her beyond friendship.
Last week she had returned to her apartment above her shop where she spent the rest of Saturday night. A few friends had called and wanted her to join them for some Mardi Gras fun, but her disappointment and frustration were so acute, she knew she wouldn’t be good company. Hours later, she had succumbed to the need to try one more time to get Damien to give them a chance, but he had closed his mind to her, something he had never done before. The loss of that connection had hurt her deeply, her despondency growing deeper as the week went by and he continued to keep her shut out. Now here she sat on a beautiful Sunday afternoon with a hundred pleasurable options to spend her day off and she was doing nothing but wallowing in self-pity.
Abby took a bite of her beignet, licking powdered sugar from her lips, wondering what it would be like to lose such simple pleasures as eating sweets and feeling the sun on your face. She knew nothing of Damien’s past, how he became a vampire, how long since he had been mortal. Over the years, she had come to gradually acknowledge and accept that the man who had saved her from a horrible fate as a child was really one of the undead that were whispered about but no one ever actually believed existed. Other than that first night, when he had appeared like a dark, avenging angel and whisked her away from her uncle, she hadn’t seen any physical signs of her suspicions until last week. Rather than scaring her, or at the very least, putting her off of wanting more from him than friendship, she had found herself craving the feel of those sharp teeth puncturing her skin, that mouth drawing her life’s essence to help sustain his.
She had long suspected that Damien had killed her uncle, and possibly the child abuser he had been intending to sell her to, but knowing he was capable of such ruthlessness didn’t make her want him any less. When she was a child, he had told her he and his friends were like cops, working to keep the streets of New Orleans safe at night. When she could no longer deny her suspicions about her beloved guardian being a vampire, she had come to know what kind of man he was and knew he would never harm an innocent.
“Abrielle Chirac, I thought it was you.”
Abby smiled widely, happy to see a familiar face. “Roger!” Rising, she threw her arms around her ex’s shoulders and hugged him tightly. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How’ve you been?”
“Despondent without you, love.”
Rolling her eyes, she smiled at his cheeky grin. “I find that hard to believe.” They had had a brief fling their senior year of college and parted friends, Roger no more upset about them going their separate ways than she had been. “Got time to visit with me?”
“I’m meeting up with a couple of friends later tonight down in the Quarter, but until then, I’m all yours.” Taking a seat at the small table, he looked her over with blatant male approval. “You look good, Abby. Seeing anyone?”
Abby laughed, delighted that he was still as straight forward as he had been when she last saw him over five years ago. Roger may not be as good looking as Damien, or as mouth-wateringly sexy, but he was here and, by the familiar look in his eyes, he was interested enough to soothe her bruised ego
“No. You?”
“Just ended a year-long relationship.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Abby felt as if she too had just ended a relationship even though she and Damien had never been a couple.
“Don’t be. We’re still friends even though she wanted more than I do at this time. I can’t believe you’re unattached. What’s wrong with the guys you’re hanging out with?” Grabbing her coffee, he took a sip with all the familiarity of an old friend then wrinkled his nose at the sweetness. “That hasn’t changed!”
Smiling, she took her cup back, broke off part of her beignet and handed it to him, thinking there was absolutely nothing wrong with the guy she’s been hanging out with. He was perfect for her. Problem was, Damien didn’t think so. “Same thing as you, apparently,” she answered him. “I want more than he does, which leaves us with nothing.”
“So,” Roger said as he once again eyed her with blatant male appreciation, “we’re both free. What a coincidence. I have a couple of hours with nothing to do, how about you? Care to indulge in some uncomplicated, rebound sex?”
His eyes held a teasing glint, one she remembered well. He may have made his suggestion in a light hearted, teasing manner, but he wouldn’t mind in the least if she took it seriously. There had been few men in her life, Roger being only one of three, and none in the past three years. Another coincidence, she thought wryly. Since the sudden appearance of the mark on her breast on her twenty-fifth birthday that matched Damien’s on his palm that he had born since she’s known him, she hadn’t been interested in sex with anyone but him. While her body wasn’t reacting to Roger’s nearness the way it did to Damien’s, his friendly flirtations reminded her of how much fun they used to have together, both in and out of bed. Right now, she needed a little fun to take her mind off of one stubborn vampire.
“You know, Roger, I just might take you up on that.”
Marie jumped at another unexpected sound, this one coming from the alley behind her apartment. Going to the window, she pushed the curtains aside and peered down into the darkened back street unable to see anything. After checkin
g the window lock for the third time, she headed downstairs to double check her front door again. She had been edgy ever since she had closed up her shop at seven and night had fallen. She had never been clairvoyant, but could always sense when something wasn’t right. Her neighborhood was quiet, far enough away from the Quarter not to be disturbed by the ongoing revelry, which made the noises she had been hearing for the past thirty minutes all the more suspiciously unnerving.
After reassuring herself the front door was still securely bolted, she peeked out the front window and saw nothing untoward on the deserted street. Still uneasy, she ran back upstairs to her bedroom and grabbed the small pistol Damien had given her years ago from her nightstand drawer. She had called him a few hours ago, as soon as she had felt the first stirrings of uneasiness, but he hadn’t got back to her yet. Even though she hadn’t heard from him all week, he always got back to her when she called. Returning to her parlor, she turned the television on low and picked up her phone, intending to try him again when the sound of breaking glass followed by eerie, malevolent laughter had her spinning around in fear. The two men bursting through the French doors from her small balcony didn’t seem to care about how much noise they were making or worry about her alarm that was peeling loudly throughout the house.
One look at their glowing red eyes, fangs gleaming from pulled back lips, filled her with cold terror and she knew neither the police nor Damien would get there in time to save her. Backing away from their shuffling advance, her heart lodged in her throat, she used her thumb to quickly press Damien’s number while shakily raising the gun and emptying it into both creatures.
Abrielle bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain as Roger’s seed threatened to burn the sensitive flesh of her vagina. Closing her eyes tightly, she held on to his perspiration slick shoulders as he pumped into her over and over, his orgasm filling her with anything but pleasure. It wasn’t his fault, she thought as the burn intensified. After making their way to the French Quarter and spending an hour in one of the more popular burlesque clubs, they had both been more than ready to go to his place and renew their physical relationship. But Abby knew as soon as they were skin to skin that this, he, wasn’t who she wanted or needed.