de Sang: Embrace Your Blood Lust

by Hussey, C. D.

He eased her to the side and pulled her hand away. Propping up on his elbow, he said, "Kate, baby. What's the matter?"

  "God, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, unable to hold it back. "First, I call you a meathead, and then I freak out on you twice and now I'm a blubbering idiot. You must think I'm crazy."

  He smiled. "A little, but you're my crazy now. So it's okay. What's the matter?"

  Choking back another sob, she wiped at her eyes. "It's so stupid." She couldn't believe how irrational she was being. From the moment she met him, she'd been a raging idiot and now she was bawling during the best sex of her life.

  "Nothing can be stupid if it's affecting you like this. Please, tell me what's wrong."

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She'd thought she was over this bullshit. She'd thought she'd matured enough to not let childhood traumas bother her. She was wrong. Slade's lavish praise brought her teenage insecurities back with a rush.

  "My father is a very successful plastic surgeon," she told him like it explained everything.

  Slade still looked confused and she realized the simple explanation wasn't enough, even though she knew it was where many of her fucked up insecurities came from.

  As she studied his concerned face, suddenly everything became perfectly clear. If anyone would understand, Slade, who'd been sick and skinny and judged unfairly for it, would.

  "For my eighteenth birthday," she continued with a sad smile, "he offered to fix my breasts."

  "What?" There was a cool anger to his tone that was such a contrast to his normal light-hearted jesting, it startled her.

  "I guess I need an augmentation."

  Slade's breath came in with a hiss. He was silent for a long time and when he spoke, his voice was eerily quiet. "I'm sorry Kate, but that's fucked up."

  "It's fine..."

  "No, it isn't." He pushed away the chunk of hair obscuring her face. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met," he told her. "That your own father can't see it is not okay."

  She laughed and then shudder-sobbed. "I'm used to it. In my family, I'm the redheaded stepchild."

  Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her tight. She nestled against a huge, rounded pec, the warmth of his skin mingled with his scent both soothing and arousing. His whole body was a mixture of curves and ridges she hadn't begun to explore. It was an expedition she was looking forward to.

  "You and me both, baby," he said. "Well, I might not be the redheaded stepchild, but I'm the blood drinking stepchild."

  She shook her head, wiping, she hoped, at the last of her tears. "A man like you is supposed to go for someone like my sister, not me."

  "Your sister? I can't stand the bitch."

  She laughed and he loosened his grasp. Raising her head, she leveled her gaze on him. "I really am sorry. I know I'm a little fucked in the head. I don't mean to be so crazy."

  Gently lifting the hair from her neck, he nuzzled the joining of her neck and shoulder, pressing his lips softly against her skin. "I love crazy." He kissed her. "I think crazy's fucking hot."

  She bent her head and caught his lips with hers. "Thank you."

  "If I have to tell you everyday for fifty years how unbelievably perfect you are for you to believe it, I will. I'll start now; you're perfect." He nipped at her lower lip. "You're perfect." He kissed one side of her neck. "You're perfect." He kissed the other side. "Oh, and by the way, you're perfect."

  She laughed, playfully pushing him away. "Okay, I get it."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Are you sure you realize you are absolutely, positively, perfect?"

  "Ahhhhh, now I do."

  He rolled his eyes. "About freaking time!"

  "You know," she said, her fingers trailing down his chest, "you've been so good to me." They slid over his cock and wrapped around the heavy girth. "I want to reciprocate all the ways you've been good to me." After smoothly removing the condom from him and tossing it aside, she slid her hand up and down his length while moving her body seductively against him. His cock bucked in her palm.

  "Mmm," he moaned, closing his eyes and rocking his hips against her hand.

  She started to kiss her way down his chest when he suddenly stopped her. "What's wrong?" she wondered. She had this fleeting fear he was going to reject her and it'd be high school all over again. The expression on his boyish face assured her that fear was misplaced.

  "Let's pick this up tomorrow night?" he suggested, gently peeling her fingers off his cock.

  "Why?"

  He pulled her into the crook of his arm. Pushing the hair from her face, he said, very seriously, "A lot of shit's gone down tonight. I don't want you to think all I want from you is sex. Let's just cuddle. And then tomorrow, I'll fuck you until you can no longer walk."

  What a proposition! Her core simultaneously clenched and moistened at the thought. But he did have a point…

  Still, cuddling? The word sounded like gibberish coming from Slade's ultra masculine mouth.

  Playfully, she tapped her chin. "Hmm."

  "You can be little spoon," he sang.

  She gave him a look. "Little spoon? If I try to be little spoon with that hard-on you're raging, I'll never sleep. I mean, your dick will be poking my ass all night long." She swung a leg over his thighs and perched on his chest. "Why don't I finish you off with my mouth, and then I can comfortably be little spoon without that thing," she gestured toward his crotch, "bothering me all night."

  He choked on his laugh. "I knew there was a reason I liked you!"

  "Do I have your permission?"

  "Have at it!"

  With a grin, she moved downward until she knelt between his knees. She started with his smooth, hair-free balls, her hand stroking his length while she sucked, licked and caressed the full sacks. By the time she closed her mouth around him, his cock was so swollen, it stretched her lips tight. His hand firmly on the back of her head, he undulated under her, meeting the stroke of her mouth with the thrust of his hips. It only took a few passes of her tongue down his shaft and he spasmed, moaning her name and filling her mouth with his sweet orgasm. She waited for the pumping of his cock to subside before slowly easing him from her mouth.

  She'd barely wiped the corners of her lips when he grabbed her and pulled her into a firm embrace. "Holy shit, I'm keeping you!"

  She kissed his neck. "Now that sounds perfect."

  Chapter Eleven

  Melanie's head was swimming in a liquid fog by the time she was pouring herself into the back of Lohr's silver Mercedes sometime after four a.m. It was more than just the alcohol, although it was certainly the predominate driving force. Both Lohr and Satin had fed from her at regular intervals all night and the blood loss, coupled with the dozen or so shots of Jack she'd consumed, had left her head fuzzy and her body woozy.

  If Satin hadn't slipped her some X a few hours earlier, she probably would have already passed out.

  As it was, she was rolling hard. The leather felt like cool silk as her bare thighs slid over it. She caressed the piping, running her fingers along the rolled edges and marveling at the way the nerves on the pads of her fingers were able to pick up all the subtle nuances in the texture.

  Laughing, Satin fell in beside her. "Oh, fuck," she said as she attempted to pull her skirt over her ass. At the moment it was a belt.

  Melanie made an attempt to help, but ended up losing her balance and falling onto Satin's shoulder. She joined Satin in laughter, and clumsily tried to heave herself off the other's woman's body but ended up collapsing onto her instead. The car was moving and the motion was making any attempt at controlling her muscles impossible.

  Giggling fits consumed them as the car weaved its way through the streets, finally emerging at a metal warehouse next to the Mississippi.

  Arms entwined, the girls stumbled after Lohr as he led them through a long hallway. The light reflecting off the polished concrete floors was like a hundred solar flares sparkling against a black night sky. It made Melanie feel even more d
isoriented and she clutched at Satin to stay upright.

  The warehouse was like a maze, twisting and turning through endless hallways. Even if Melanie had been sober, she didn't think she'd be able to find her way out, or in, and was thankful for Lohr's lean form leading the way and Satin's precarious support.

  The hall eventually poured into what appeared to be living quarters. The walls, exposed air ducts and pipes were all painted black. Combined with the glossy night floors, Melanie felt like she was being swallowed by a black hole.

  Satin released her and Melanie fell onto a sofa, lowering her head onto the arm. When Satin joined Lohr as he lit candles, she seemed surprisingly sober. Melanie watched them carefully, their images blurring and sharpening under her swaying focus. When the room was filled with candles, Satin came to her. Melanie didn't understand why the woman no longer staggered.

  Satin pulled her from the sofa and moved her to the center of the room. Keeping a hand on Melanie's shoulder to stabilize her, Satin began to remove Melanie's clothing. When she stood naked before her, Satin said, "Now the fun begins."

  At first Melanie assumed she meant sex, but Satin pulled out a scalpel and Lohr pulled out a camera, and Melanie was no longer sure she wanted to be there after all.

  * * * *

  Kate's scent pulled Slade out of a deep slumber sometime around ten a.m. She was nestled against his neck, her leg draped over his, her hair fanned out on the pillow like twisting, red vines. It wasn't just the sweet smell of her perfumed skin calling to him. Just below the surface of that supple pale shell, her blood churning through delicate veins stirred a lust deep in his gut.

  A million scenarios sped through his mind involving his cock and her blood: her tight core milking him while his mouth devoured her neck; her on her knees with his cock in her mouth while he took blood from the perfect union where her ass met her back; her hand, mouth, core all stroking his cock while...well, that one might be an impossible task, but it was a delightful fantasy nonetheless.

  The urge that started as a tingle deep in his stomach the day before had risen until his skin quivered. It was the second stage of his Craving. A little ahead of schedule perhaps, Slade should be good for another day or so, but with Kate's glorious blood so close and available, it was understandable his body would react the way it was. Just like the hard-on aching to slide into her.

  They hadn't officially discussed any of the blood sharing, but given the encounter in the blood room at Luxure, Slade was pretty sure she'd be receptive. He had the seduction all planned out. First, he'd wake her with a little cunnilingus and at least one delicious orgasm. God, thinking about the taste of her pussy was making his mouth water. Then after he licked her off again — because once wasn't going to be nearly enough to satisfy his tongue — he'd pull her onto his lap so she could ride him while he took blood from her neck, or possibly the top of her breast if she didn't want another visible mark.

  Just thinking about it had released a little pre-cum and Slade's dick was ready to explode. The minute he sucked her clit into his mouth, he'd probably lose it. Coming multiple times wouldn't be a problem, especially not with Kate involved. He was pretty sure his cock could be rubbed raw and it'd still be hard and ready to penetrate her.

  He was about to ease out from under her and get started on his journey when the singsong beeping of Kate's phone alarm cut through the sexual fog.

  "Oh shit!" Shoving the covers from her body, she scrambled to climb out of bed.

  "What's wrong?" Slade clicked on the lamp.

  She glanced up from frantically looking for her clothes. "I'm supposed to be at the gallery in thirty minutes. My schedule's so weird, I use the alarm on my phone to remind me it's time to leave." She slipped her dress over her head. "If I'm late, I'll probably get fired. Lauren's been pissed at me since the Lohr weirdness the other night." She stared at the floor. "Oh my God, where are my panties?"

  Slade remembered tossing them over his shoulder, and found them dangling on the corner of his dresser. She smiled her thanks when he handed them to her and quickly shoved them over her hips. By the time she'd zipped up her boots, Slade had thrown on a T-shirt and jeans. She looked at him in question.

  "I'm giving you a ride."

  Her sigh of relief was loud. "Perfect, thank you," she said. "Can you please take me home first? I need to change."

  "Of course."

  When they stepped into the courtyard minutes later and Slade pulled the cover off his bike, Kate gasped. "A motorcycle!"

  "I'm afraid I don't own a car. I hope you like bikes."

  Her grin was huge. "I love bikes."

  The alleyway created by the side of his house and the fence separating him from his neighbors was barely wide enough for the Victory's handlebars. To actually get the bike out of the gate and onto the sidewalk required tricky manipulation.

  He'd barely slid his leg over the saddle before Kate eagerly climbed in behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She let out a "Woot!" when the motor kicked on and he pulled out onto the street.

  He loved the feel of her body pressed behind him, the way her legs curled up naturally under his, the glee in her voice as she gave him directions to her place.

  It was only minutes before they were parking in front of her blue and white Creole Cottage. She slid quickly from the back of the bike, pausing long enough to press her body seductively against his, nip his lower lip, and whisper, "You're going to fuck me on this bike later," before dashing up the stairs and into the duplex.

  "Damn straight," he murmured with a grin. He started to follow her inside, but by the time he reached the front door, she was bounding back through it, wearing blacks slacks, a black fitted T, and her hair twisted up into a bun.

  "I'm impressed."

  "God, I have like, five minutes."

  "Let's get to it, then!" Hopping over the porch railing, he grabbed her waist, lifted her over and set her on the bike. He mounted and keyed the engine into action in one smooth motion. The tires squealed as he hit the throttle, and Kate laughed as they popped off the curb and snaked onto the street.

  Slade ignored the barriers blocking traffic on Royal. Weaving his way through tourists and past musicians, jugglers, and magicians busking for a few bucks, he finally pulled up in front of La Prochaine. The bottoms of Slade's boots had barely made contact with the sidewalk before Kate was jumping from the bike.

  She gave him a fast kiss. "I'll call you later," she turned to head inside and stopped. "Shit! I don't have your number."

  Slade pulled out his phone. "What's yours and I'll text you."

  She rattled off the numbers, kissed him one last time and nearly pulled the door off the hinges yanking it open.

  * * * *

  Lauren's arms were crossed tightly across her chest when Kate entered the gallery. The look on the older woman's face filled Kate's stomach with concrete. She glanced at the clock. She was only ten minutes late, but with the late night gallery faux pas the other night, Kate knew it might be too much.

  "I'm so sorry, Lauren, I—"

  "There's no need to explain. I see very clearly why you are late." She pushed her chin to the window where Slade was just pulling away.

  God, the way it must look! Slade with his huge muscled body and black Victory, dropping her off at the front door like some pimp.

  No, she wasn't going to think of their night together like that. She didn't regret being with him; she just wished she'd organized herself better.

  "Come with me," Lauren said tersely.

  Kate flinched when the office door closed behind her. Lauren sat in the leather chair behind her wooden desk lined with neatly stacked papers, and Kate followed her lead, sitting tentatively in one of the armless chairs across from her boss.

  "Your behavior lately has been unacceptable, appalling even. First, I don't know what you have going on with Lohr Varius, but flirting unabashedly with an artist is unprofessional to say the least. Throwing yourself at one is even worse."

&n
bsp; Kate's instinct was to argue with the other woman. First, she didn't flirt with Lohr; it was very much the other way around. And second, she absolutely did not throw herself at him. If anything, she was trying to avoid his advances.

  Luckily, Kate's common sense won, and she didn't make a bad situation worse with her argumentative temperament.

  "But today really topped everything," Lauren went on. "Not only are you late, but you show up on the back of a motorcycle with a guy you met God knows where like some two-bit whore." Kate winced. "I'm sorry Kate, but La Prochaine is a well respected gallery. I can't risk that reputation with your behavior." Lauren paused, and then said in a very authoritative voice, "I'm going to have to let you go. Please turn in your key."

  The minute she walked into La Prochaine and spotted Lauren's expression, Kate knew this would probably be the outcome. Still, she couldn't help the devastation that washed over her. Closing her eyes to fight the threatening tears, she nodded tightly and rose from the chair. Retrieving her keys from the folds of her purse, she fumbled with the key ring, awkward as she slid the door key from the ring and set it on the desk.

  With a thick swallow, she cleared her throat and shoved her keys back into her purse. "I'm very sorry if I've caused you any trouble," she said, unable to keep the waver from her voice. "I've truly appreciated the opportunity to be a part of this gallery, and I thank you for letting me experience it." To emphasize her sincerity, she lifted her eyes long enough to catch Lauren's gaze before making a quick escape out of the office and an even quicker escape out of the gallery.

  It was all Kate could do to hold it together. In spite of her best efforts, tears slid down her cheeks in warm rivers. She wasn't normally such an emotional blubberer, but between her breakdown last night and getting fired, she was becoming a full-blown Emo.

  She wasn't sure where to go or what to do. She didn't have to work at the café today, so the hours stretched before her like an empty chasm. Wandering down the street, she wove between tourists huddled in slow moving masses. She kept her head down and feet moving, and tried her best to keep her tears subtle. The day was warm and cloudless and she felt overheated in her black T-shirt.