Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  The cloaked figure of the Queen of Storms stood less than three feet away from him, her pale skin seeming to glow in the shadow, her piercing blue eyes blazing at him through the darkness. She was taller than he remembered, but then, he had been suspended in a web of branches and thorns the last time they had met. Now they stood face to face, her long, dark hair hanging over her naked shoulders, accentuating their paleness. Gerry stared at her, entranced by the beauty of her eyes, the redness of her lips, the over-powering charisma of her smile; and he swallowed hard, feeling the tightness of desire in his throat.

  “You are looking a lot better than when we last talked,” she said sardonically, her eyes scanning his naked body. “And you seem to be healing very well, which makes me very happy, Gerry.”

  “Does it?” he asked, non-plussed by her statement. “Why would that make you happy? Why would you even care?”

  “Oh, but I do, Gerry. I care about all of the people who care about me. You do care about me, Gerry, I can tell by the way your pulse quickens, your skin warms up, and your bod hardens.”

  “My what?” he asked. In response, she stepped closer to him, then slowly dragged a long, red fingernail along the hardening length of his cock, sending shards of electrical energy radiating into his core. “I’m sor-rry...” he stammered in sudden embarrassment.

  “Oh, please, Gerry, don’t be. It would be more of an insult if you were not so aroused. After all, I am supposed to have some control over these things, especially since our last rendezvous was so – meaningful.” She smiled sweetly at him, and he felt his chest tighten with passion and need. “I’m also happy to see that you have, well – mm – dressed appropriately for our meeting this evening, Gerry. That’s so thoughtful of you.” She smiled coyly at him, while he tried, somewhat superficially, to cover himself up.

  “I have some questions, if you don’t mind,” he said, looking away from her face to break her spell.

  “I would be surprised if you did not,” she responded. “There is much that could be explained.

  “So,” he said, feeling suddenly emboldened, “no thunderstorm tonight? Why the silent entry?” She laughed merrily at his question.

  “Ah, Gerry! Aren’t there times when you like to make a quiet entrance? Sometimes, that’s more fun than flying in on a bolt of lightning, don’t you think?” She continued to smile at him, while he continued to stare at her, absorbing every detail of her appearance.

  “OK, I guess,” he replied. “What, and, more importantly, who are you?”

  “Hmm,” she said. “That, I suspect, you know already. I am, of course, aware that you possess the Tarot of the Acolyte, otherwise you would not have been able to summon me.”

  “Me summon you?” he asked incredulously. “How could I have summoned you? I only saw you when you were running through the storm!”

  “Well, that is not strictly true, now, is it, sir? You knew me when you looked at the card; you felt our kinship, our mutual desire. It was that that brought me here, to your realm, from the depths of mine. As for who I am, I know you know that, too.”

  “You are S...” Before he could say her name, she put a finger to his lips.

  “Be careful what you say,” she warned. “There are consequences involved when you speak a person’s name. If you do not understand them, do not say the words.” The warmth from her finger radiated into his lips, and, as her hand moved to cup the side of his face, he instinctively kissed her palm, feeling the wanton lust exploding within him. In response, she pulled his head toward her, and their mouths met in a fury he had not been expecting, their lips melding, their tongues grappling as they explored each other’s heat. He brought his hand up to caress her neck, feeling the soft, dewy warmth of her skin for the first time, the ends of his fingers slipping into the coolness of her raven dark hair. On and on they kissed, his lips swelling with the force of her passion against his, their breaths mingling as his mind reeled in uncontrollable desire.

  Then she pushed him away, her eyes glowing with an eldritch pale blue fire, as he staggered at the sudden loss of her warmth, the hardness of his manhood almost screaming out to be touched, to be kissed, hell, even to be bitten, by her! His hand felt impoverished at the loss of her skin, and he stepped back towards her, intending to regain his hold, but she lifted up her arm, and he stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move, even if he’d wanted to.

  “Well, now, sir,” she said, “that was a feisty move.” She licked her lips, slowly, sensually, teasing him. “Was that good for you?”

  “You know it was,” he replied. “So, why did you stop?”

  “Who knows?” she replied. “Maybe I wanted to see the fire in your eyes when I pushed you away, to see if you were prepared to fight for me.” She stepped closer to him again, filling the gap between them with the freshness of her scent. “Or maybe because I wanted to see if you were truly ready to surrender to me.” She looked into his eyes. “Do you understand what that would mean, Gerry O’Keith? Do you know the consequences of becoming my acolyte?”

  “Acolyte?” he said, confusion filling his mind. “Your acolyte?”

  “Indeed, sir,” she replied. “To become my acolyte; to be a part of my life, you must surrender yourself – heart and soul and body – to my will and command.”

  “And what do I get in return? What’s in it for me?” He looked at her defiantly, challenging her. In response, her left hand came up to the Celtic knot that tied the top of her bodice closed, drawing his attention to the cleavage of her breasts like a moth to the flame. Now he remembered where he had seen the knot-work that held the card wrapping secure – it was the same as that at her chest. Slowly, tantalisingly, she pulled at the cord, and Gerry watched, hypnotized, as the knot unravelled, loosening the tight linen encasing her breasts. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost unbearable, as was the blood pumping to the hardness in his groin, while she carefully pulled the laces out of their holes, revealing more and more of the pale, soft skin beneath. Entranced, he watched, helpless, as she pulled the bodice away from her left breast, and lifted out the firm, white mound for him to gaze upon, squeezing the deep redness of her hardened nipple between her fingers, pulling it towards him, while her mouth quivered at her own self-stimulation.

  She watched him watching her, seeing his mouth water at her self-ministrations. “Do you like that, Gerry?” she asked, her voice low and husky with arousal, and she smiled as he nodded his affirmation back to her. “How much would you like to do that to me, Gerry?”

  “How much?” he asked. “I don’t know if I could put a price on it.” He stepped slowly towards her, his eyes tracing the movements of her fingers. Suddenly she dropped her hand, leaving her nipple exposed to his gaze.

  “Would you like to try it, sir?’ she asked, smiling coyly at him. He answered by closing the gap between them, then bringing his right hand up to gently caress the curve of her breast, feeling again the warm, dewy smoothness of her skin under his fingers, before seizing the errant nipple between his thumb and index finger, and squeezing it. She laid her brow against his left shoulder, and moaned gently as he pulled and tweaked the nub of crinkled flesh, making it harden and grow, and he could feel her body trembling as he increased the stimulation. Then his lips met hers again, their mouths hungry for each other’s, and his hand kneaded the now hot, firm flesh of her breast.

  A few moments later, he dropped his mouth to cover the heat of her hardened nipple, sucking it and nipping it between his teeth, pushing her against the wall of the cottage. She writhed and bucked as he sucked her hard, tasting the intoxicating essence of her body as it oozed from her pores. As he worked, she grappled the rampant hardness of his cock, slowly stroking it with the tips of her finger nails, raking across the tight sack holding his balls, and up his shaft, then twirling the pads of her fingers around his head, stimulating him relentlessly, sending unbearably sensitive sensations deep into his body, making his thighs tremble as his tension quickly built. The heat from her finger
tips had the head of his manhood burning with need, and every stroke her muscular hand inflicted upon him brought him closer to orgasm.

  Again, she pushed him away, and he felt his testes harden like stones in deprived fury.

  “What the fuck!” he cried out, and was rewarded with a stinging slap across his face.

  “Such language in the presence of a lady, sir!” the Queen of Storms said angrily.

  “Please,” he gasped, the tension at the base of his prick almost too painful to bear.

  “Please, what?” she replied, looking into his eyes.

  “Please, finish me off! Take what you want, what you need. What I freely give.”

  “Free, is it, Gerry?” she asked, regaining her hold on his throbbing cock. “Are you sure, sir? I only ask because, last time, it was the price you were willing to pay for my assistance. So, is it free, or does it come at some hidden cost.” She continued to pump his erection with long, smooth strokes as she spoke, each ministration bringing him closer and closer to release, the heat from her hand searing his sensitized skin.

  “No, no charge,” he mumbled as his legs started to shake with pre-orgasmic stress. As soon as he spoke, she stooped down to her knee, and he let out a huge moan as she sucked the swollen head of his rampant prick into the raging inferno that was her hot, wet mouth! His knees trembled and his buttocks clenched as her tongue rasped over the sensitive base of his glans. Instinctively, his hand dropped to the back of her head, attempting to control the depth and speed of his thrusts into her mouth, but her hand suddenly covered his scrotum, seizing hold of his balls, and the nails of her fingers dug into the thickened skin until he took his hand away.

  A few moments later, and he felt the sensation of super-sensitive release at the base of his cock that signalled orgasm was on its way and, almost simultaneously, the sharp pain of the fangs of the Queen of Storms piercing his flesh, reopening the two holes she had made on their previous encounter. For some reason, this time she seemed to bite him longer and harder – punishing him, maybe, for his audacity in holding her head. Whatever the reason, as soon as she withdrew her teeth from his cock, he felt the flow of hot blood gushing out into her mouth, and the heat, combined with the friction from her tongue, sent his balls into overdrive, and his semen rocketing into her throat. She “Mmm’d” as his fluids flowed into her, swallowing and sucking again and again, her hand continuing to pump along his hardness, filling her mouth over and over.

  Then, as quickly as she had started, she stopped, and withdrew his wet, tingling prick from her mouth. The night air felt cold on his abused glans, and he shivered reflexively as Sín slowly rose to her feet in front of him. This time there was no mistaking the flush that blossomed on the pale skin of her cheeks, and the deep, blood red of her lips, swollen from sucking his hardness. Her eyes burned with an unmitigated passion, and all Gerry wanted to do was grab hold of her and kiss those lips until she melted into him.

  “Well, Mr. O’Keith,” she said huskily, “I do have to tell you that you taste divine.” She smiled at him, and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. “But,” she continued, a frown appearing on her brow, “you really should wear more clothing, sir. We wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.” She smiled at him again, then, with a coy wave of her hand, she turned to walk away.

  “Wait!” Gerry called out, coming suddenly back to life. “You may be finished with me, but I am not finished with you.” She stopped and turned to look at him, anger marring the beauty of her face.

  “And what would you have me do, sir?” she asked.

  “I want something back, something else,” he said, realising that he had not really thought about what he did actually want from her. “I want more than just a blow job on the veranda,” he continued. “I want you, here with me, making love.”

  “Something more, is it, sir? Making love? Aren’t you forgetting something?” She opened the unlocked shutter of the bedroom door, and looked in at Cassie lying asleep on the bed. “Don’t you have other commitments you need to honour, Gerry?” She nodded in Cassie’s direction. “Besides,” she continued, “you have not the power to command me. I am beyond your comprehension, and beyond your control. So,” she paused, and stepped towards him, “was there something you wanted, sir?”

  “Yes, there was,” he said, stepping up to her and staring into her eyes. “Sin,” he said, “I command you to...”

  Before he could continue, he felt in incredible blow to the left side of his jaw, and he flew, sprawling, across the veranda, and crashed in a crumpled heap against the railing, howling in pain and shock.

  “Sin, is it?” Her face was distorted into a furious rage, and her eyes blazed with visceral power. “How dare you? HOW DARE YOU? How could you associate me with those weak-willed Papists, following like sheep in the wake of that miserable demon, Padraigh? You really have no idea, do you, sir?” The last word was delivered with scorn and derision. Slowly she stepped towards him as he lay prone on the deck, then kicked his leg to get his attention. Gerry scuttled to get himself partially sitting against the railing, the back of his hand rubbing the side of his face, as she knelt down in front of him and, with one long, sharp, pointed fingernail under his chin, lifted his head up until he was staring into her eyes.

  “If you really wish to see me again, Gerry O’Keith; if you really wish to serve me well, the way a man should serve his woman, then you know what you have to do.” She nodded in the direction of the bedroom, and the sleeping Cassie. “One more thing, Gerry.” She paused to make sure he was listening. “You were lucky tonight, as you couldn’t even pronounce my name correctly. But, be warned, calling out my name is a very, very dangerous thing to do. My name brings with it the power of the storm – unpredictable, uncontrollable, and unforgiving.”

  With that, she stood up and turned her back on her willing victim. As she walked past the door to the bedroom, there was a brilliant flash of lightning and a deafening thunder clap. By the time Gerry could see again, the Queen of Storms was gone, and Cassie was running through the door, looking for him.

  5

  The next morning, Gerry stood in the small bathroom of his summer cottage, regarding his reflection in the bamboo-framed mirror above the basin. Although there was no visible mark to see, the left side of his jaw was swollen and sensitive to the touch, where the fist of the Queen of Storms had sent him sprawling on the ground. He’d made some feeble excuse to Cassie, about how he’d fallen over when the lightning bolt struck so closely while he was trying to open the shutters. She hadn’t noticed the drops of blood still seeping from the head of his cock, and he’d managed to clean himself up before a new bout of storms had sent Cassie shrieking into his arms again, where she’d spent most of that night.

  He shaved gingerly, and then took a long, hot shower, washing away the remnants of the night before. The head of his cock was still tender, too, and he washed it carefully, trying not to reopen the punctures left by Sín’s hungry fangs. He didn’t know how he was going to keep them hidden from Cassie for any length of time, especially if she gave him head any time soon, and had no idea of how he was going to explain them to her.

  Then his mind went back to what Sín had said that previous evening, and his thoughts darkened at her suggestion that, somehow, he had to get Cassie out of the picture if he was ever going to see the Queen of Storms again, let alone develop some kind of a relationship with her. And even if he did, what kind of relationship would that, could that, be? How could he possibly develop a relationship with some phantom from an ancient past that he couldn’t even explain, let alone believe in?

  “Just doesn’t make fucking sense!” he mumbled to himself. Anger, and not a little shame, seethed through him. How could he let her best him like that – all for the want of a blow job? Turning off the hot water, he rinsed himself in the icy cold flow, shivering and shaking as he did so, then he turned off the water and pulled the towel off the door and started drying himself vigorously, rubbing his skin hard as if
trying to slough off a stubborn, unclean feeling that persisted despite the shower. Eventually, he gave up trying, and stepped out of the shower onto the floor towel, wiped his feet, then walked into the bedroom. The smell of bacon frying wafted through from the great room, making his stomach rumble and his mouth water. Pulling on a pair of cargo shorts, he quickly made his way in the direction of the alluring smell, to find Cassie, wearing only a tiny pair of bright yellow bikini briefs and a big kitchen apron, standing in front of the stove, with bacon sizzling away in one frying pan, and four eggs-over-easy just about ready in another.

  “Mmm, look at that,” he said appreciatively, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, pushing his hands underneath the apron so he could touch her naked, velvety skin. “And the girl can cook, too! Yummy!” He squeezed her passionately, pulling her ass against his hardening cock.

  “Hey, you!” she said, laughing. “No hanky-panky before breakfast!” She waved the spatula at him in mock anger, fending him off.

  “Aw,” he laughed. “What do you mean, not before breakfast?” he said, pouting playfully.

  “I mean,” she said, “if you start messing about, we will never get anything done!” She kissed him and he playfully slapped her ass. Then he got the cutlery together, and some butter and jam from the gas fridge, and went about setting the table for breakfast. A few minutes later, Cassie brought over a large plate piled full of crispy fried bacon and put it in the centre of the table, then brought over two dinner plates with their eggs on them.