A Vampire's Promise

by Carla Susan Smith

  “Do you normally go commando?” I asked him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

  “I think I will from now on.”

  I wasn’t about to complain, thinking perhaps it was a good job I hadn’t had a zipper to deal with after all. I could have done some serious damage in my eagerness to get his pants off. I tugged playfully at the waistband of his jeans. I really needed them off.

  “Give me a minute.”

  His eyes had a semi-glazed look as he placed the sole of one foot against the heel of the other and kicked off his boots. Licking his lips, he lifted his hips for me, and his jeans sailed unceremoniously across the porch. When I nudged the side of his leg with my knee, Gabriel obediently opened for me. I grabbed a cushion and dropped it on the deck before kneeling between his legs.

  Whatever his experience, and I knew for sure there had only been one virgin in my bed last night, his comprehension of what was about to happen suddenly hit home. He looked down at me with eyes that said he didn’t quite believe what I was going to do. I hesitated, not knowing whether his surprise was with me or the act itself. What if he didn’t like it? What if he’d had a bad experience?

  “Is this okay?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Oh . . . yeah . . .” The expression on his face said this was very much okay. “But you don’t have to—” I silenced him by pressing my fingers against his mouth, and whatever he saw on my face banished any doubts he might have had about my participation.

  He was hard and thick, impressive in both length and girth, and I swallowed, pretty amazed with myself that I had been able to take all of him the night before. There was no way I could repeat that with my mouth, but I knew I could do enough to achieve what we both wanted. Sliding my palms slowly up and down the length of him, I watched in fascination as he abandoned himself to the sensation.

  Throwing back his head, Gabriel stretched his arms along the top of the swing seat, his fingers gripping the frame hard enough to whiten his knuckles. With every stroke of my hands, his muscles clenched. Chest expanding, abdomen rippling, his body moved with the rhythm I created. Leaning forward, I flicked a nipple with my tongue before scraping the hard nub lightly with my teeth. A rumble of pleasure came from deep inside his chest.

  I ran the pad of my thumb lightly over the tip of his cock, feeling a tremor shudder through him. He wasn’t going to last much longer. It was time something other than my hands got busy.

  For a moment I thought he was having a full body spasm because when I wrapped my lips over the head of his cock, sliding him into my mouth, it felt as if every muscle in his body stretched itself to the absolute limit but forgot how to relax again. Gently I stroked a hand across his lower belly as the other continued to move up and down his shaft.

  He freed one of his own from the death grip it had on the swing seat and buried it in my hair, relaxing his body so he could enjoy what was happening. My mouth couldn’t get enough of him, my tongue stroking itself around his rigid flesh, lapping along the ridge of his foreskin, dipping inside the dimple at the tip. Increasing the pressure of my hand at the base of his shaft, I let my tongue take a back seat, allowing Gabriel to dictate the pace as he moved in and out of my mouth.

  I cupped his balls. Heavy and full, they overflowed my palm, but I massaged them gently and was rewarded by the sharp intake of breath that came from above my head. Gabriel’s chest heaved as he tried to draw in more air. His thighs trembled against my rib cage, his calves tightened as they jammed into place behind my legs, and then his hips began to pump in earnest. I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes. His eyes were hooded neon slits that stared down at me while he danced the tip of his tongue across his full bottom lip.

  He was close to coming. I could see it in the striated bicep of the arm that still gripped the swing. I could feel it. Maximizing the pressure of my lips around him, I stretched my fingers, encircling as much of his cock as I could while moving my hand faster. Unexpectedly, Gabriel threw back his head and yelled, startling our voyeuristic owl from his perch. Arching his back, he thrust forward with his hips, and I automatically relaxed my throat and swallowed, taking him down in a warm salty rush, while gently milking him with both hands. When I felt his body ease, his fingers releasing their grip on my hair, I gently slipped him out of my mouth, taking a last satisfied sweep over his tip with my tongue.

  Sitting back on my heels, I let my hands fall in the space between his legs while I waited for him to come back to earth. The scent of sex was thick and heavy in the air, and for a while all I could hear was the sound of his breath rushing in, rushing out, keeping pace with the pounding beat of his heart.

  “Come here.” His voice, throaty and raw, took me by surprise.

  Placing my hand in his outstretched palm, he pulled me up off my knees. His forehead leaned against my midriff as he encircled me with his arms, pulling me closer, so his tongue could make a slow lazy sweep across my stomach. Gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the night air rose on my belly.

  “Cold?” he queried, pulling his head back from my dimpled skin.

  I shook my head. What he was doing was getting me hot, not cold.

  Hooking his fingers in the waistband of my sweats, he pulled them down over my hips and legs, making sure he took my panties at the same time. I steadied myself, a hand on his shoulder, and kicked them off. Gabriel brushed his fingers lightly up the back of my calves and thighs on the return journey. I saw his nostrils flare as he caught the scent of my arousal. I couldn’t help it. I was already wet from going down on him, and now anticipation kept me primed.

  He buried his face in the juncture at the top of my thighs, and I felt his tongue, hot and demanding, slide between my swollen flesh as he tasted me. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I tried my best not to grind myself against his mouth, because what he was doing was the most incredible thing I’d ever felt.

  “Open for me,” he murmured in a voice so ripe with desire, I thought it quite possible I could orgasm if he simply told me to.

  Looking up at me, I saw his lips were glossy with my slickness, and he deliberately ran his tongue over his mouth, sucking me inside. I almost came right then, but he wasn’t about to let that happen. Pulling my face down so he could kiss me, Gabriel made certain I tasted myself on his lips. With his tongue now otherwise occupied, his fingers took over between my thighs, slipping in and out of me, making me even wetter. My legs felt weak and my knees unexpectedly buckled.

  He moved so quickly I didn’t realize we had switched places until I felt the hard planking of the swing seat under my butt. Taking his turn to kneel on the deck, he pulled me forward until my ass was just resting on the edge of the seat.

  “Stay right there,” he said as my fingers curled around the front curve of the seat in an effort to scoot back. Ducking down, he raised himself back up with my legs over his shoulders, his hands on my hips. I watched his tongue sweep up the inside of each thigh before flattening out and lapping up the center of me.

  I must have wet my finger and stuck it in a light socket. My knees locked and my toes pointed, and Gabriel had to put a hand on my belly to stop me from bucking off the swing. And all the while his tongue continued to lap at me, until he took that cluster of nerve endings between his lips and sucked hard, sending me completely over the edge.

  I think I passed out. If I didn’t, I came pretty damn close to it.

  The next night we didn’t even make it up the stairs. I will never be able to look at my kitchen table again without seeing my hands gripping the edge as Gabriel bent me over it. Oh. My. God. It seemed a very natural progression, going from sex on the kitchen table to sex in the hall to sex in the living room. I’m ashamed to say it wasn’t until we were done giving the couch springs a thorough workout that the question of responsibility reared its head.

  Filled with post-sex euphoria, I was tracing circles on Gabriel’s smooth chest with my forefinger when the irresponsibility of our actions sledge-hammered me in the back of the head. I was emb
arrassed about having to raise the topic, but one of us had to be the adult. We were having unprotected sex, lots of unprotected sex.

  “Gabriel?”

  “Hmmmm?” His eyes were closed and his voice lazy-sleepy with contentment.

  “Can I talk to you about something?”

  “Anything at all . . .”

  “Okay . . . I think we ought to talk about protection.”

  The hand that had been languidly stroking my back stopped, and he opened his eyes, staring at me in mild alarm. The dark blue color was startlingly bright.

  “From whom do you need me to protect you?” he asked. “Has something happened?”

  “No, of course not.” I gave him a shaky laugh.

  His question made me stumble a little because he assumed I was referring to an outside threat. It was a reminder of all the things about him I still didn’t know. I stopped tracing circles and put my hands on his chest, resting my chin on them.

  “That’s not the type of protection I’m talking about.”

  “Oh.” Closing his eyes, I felt his hand resume its glide up my back. “What other kind is there?”

  Puh-leeze! Now he was being deliberately dense. He knew exactly what I was talking about; he just wanted to make me spell it out.

  “The type that requires using a condom,” I said in my best can we please be grown-up about this voice.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Are you sure you’d be able to wait long enough for me to put one on?” My cheeks burst into flame. It was true that since I’d found out what I’d been missing, I gave all the appearance of wanting to make up for lost time and was, well, sometimes a little over-eager. “But if you think it will make sex better, then of course I’ll wear one—although size may be something of a problem.” He gave a conceited snort, and I lifted my chin so I could slap him lightly on the arm. He flexed his bicep in response.

  “That’s not the only reason to wear one,” I remarked with an exasperated sigh. All joking aside, I wanted him to take me seriously. “Don’t you think it would be more responsible?”

  He shrugged. “Not really.”

  I pushed myself up, tucking my hair behind an ear, and looked down at him. “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t get you pregnant.”

  It never occurred to me that he might be sterile. Not someone as blatantly masculine as he was. I hadn’t consciously been thinking about having a baby, but now that I knew Gabriel couldn’t procreate, I felt a wave of melancholy wash through me. He would have fathered beautiful children. Curiosity reared its head, but it felt all wrong asking him to tell me the reason why.

  “But what about . . . other reasons?” It sounded like I was accusing him of something improper. “I mean, there was only one virgin in this relationship, right?” Great. That sounded even worse.

  He reached up and took my face in his hands, the blue of his eyes intensifying. “Of course, and you have every right to be concerned. Will you believe me if I tell you that I have no diseases, carry no infections or anything else that would harm you?”

  If any other girl told me her boyfriend had said this to her, I would have laughed at her gullibility and told her to dump his ass and go get herself tested. But I knew Gabriel was being truthful, so I nodded.

  “Yes, I believe you.”

  “Good.” He pulled my face down so he could sweep his tongue across my lips. “And as long as you welcome my attentions, you know I will take no other.”

  “Ah, but how do you know I’m being faithful to you?” I teased.

  “Because I would be able to smell another man on you.”

  This was a statement that I listened to from my very favorite place, Clueless Land, and as usual, I had no idea what he meant by it. Surely he wasn’t being literal? I mean, was such a thing even remotely possible? I wanted to ask him, but Gabriel decided the time for questions was over and focused my attention elsewhere.

  Taking my hand, he wrapped it around his thick cock, encouraging me to slide my palm up and down the length of him as his tongue mimicked a similar action inside my mouth. When he was fully erect, I straddled him, locking my knees against his sides and replacing my hand with my body.

  Guiding my hips, he moved me slowly up and down the length of him, coating himself with my slick heat, until he exploded inside me in a great roaring rush that triggered my own climax. I collapsed on his chest, panting wildly with my face buried in his neck.

  I could feel his pulse thrumming against my cheek, and for a moment I was certain I could smell his blood again. The crisp scent of pine and what I thought were undercurrents of juniper teased my olfactory senses. But I knew I hadn’t bitten him this time.

  I ran my fingers down the side of his neck, feeling the flow of blood as it raced through his veins. It almost begged to wash over my tongue and slide down my throat, and I wondered if Gabriel had ever wanted to taste my blood.

  CHAPTER 23

  Laycee called midweek, inviting me to dinner at her parents’ house Friday night so I could bring over the turkey platter and the deviled-egg dish that she never remembered. I was immediately wracked with guilt because I still hadn’t told her I was back with Gabriel.

  For the first time in my life I was unsure about my best friend. I usually had a pretty good idea what her reaction would be to any set of circumstances, and if I didn’t, it wasn’t something I lost any sleep over. But this time I wasn’t as confident I knew how Laycee would react once she learned I had welcomed, naked, on my back and panting, the same guy who’d put me through the emotional wringer only a few months before.

  She had enough lectures in her arsenal without the addition of one that dealt with the hazards of returning to the arms of a potentially fickle boyfriend. But I knew what she’d say: If he’d left me cold once before, then he would do so again. It was going to take a whole lot of convincing to make Laycee believe Gabriel would not dump me a second time—convincing that I just didn’t have the energy to expend right now.

  “Looking forward to it!” I told her when she called, hoping she wouldn’t see through my false perkiness. It crossed my mind, for a total of about ten seconds, to make up some excuse and beg off her dinner invitation, but that would only send up warning flags.

  By the time Friday rolled around I was a wreck because I hadn’t heard from Gabriel. Apparently he and I have a different understanding of what you don’t have to call means. I could kick myself for being so blasé. It wasn’t that I had doubts or still needed reassurance (well, not much), but I would have thought he might want to just touch base with me, hear my voice or something. God knows I wanted to hear his.

  Now it was almost a week since I’d last seen him. I thought about calling but was afraid it might seem as if I was checking up on him. In my book that was a guaranteed first-place finish in the Insecure Female Stakes, which was never a good thing. I was just going to have to trust that I would hear from him soon.

  In the meantime . . . self-doubt was a total bitch.

  Before leaving for Laycee’s parents’ house, I wrote a note for Gabriel, telling him where I’d gone and that the spare key was under the mat. I had no idea if he was going to come by or not, but at least he’d know I was thinking of him. Dinner was a blast, and for a few hours I was able to occupy my mind with something other than my absent boyfriend. Laycee’s parents were warm and loving, and it had been too long since I’d last enjoyed their company. I was glad I hadn’t bailed.

  The first thing I noticed when I got home was that the note was missing from my front door. Not wanting to take any chances with an errant breeze, I had secured it firmly with enough duct tape that I knew its AWOL status was deliberate. Hesitantly I lifted the corner of the front doormat, only to be disappointed by the sight of my spare key glinting in the porch light. Apparently my offer to Gabriel to make himself at home had been turned down.

  I gave in to a brief moment of despondency as I retrieved the key and let myself in. Then I told myself to stop behaving like so
me lovesick teenager with ridiculous expectations. Gabriel had taken my note and read it, but having no idea how long I would be, he’d decided not to hang around waiting for my return. I hung up my coat and kicked off my shoes, feeling a little better. At least he’d come by to see me.

  As she had done every year since I could remember, Laycee’s mom had given me a list of items she needed me to bring to make certain Thanksgiving dinner went off without a hitch. This was in addition to the turkey platter and deviled egg dish. The list wasn’t always about food, although I could guarantee a request for my dad’s cranberry-apple relish. That was only because I refused to give up the recipe. This year she needed a few extra plates, a pitcher, and a couple of CDs. Hinder with Thanksgiving dinner wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I’m all for expanding anyone’s musical taste.

  I had a cupboard open, craning my neck to see how many matching dinner plates I actually possessed, when I heard the sound of a throat clearing behind me. Snapping my head around, I saw Gabriel leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Your door was unlocked,” he said with mock sternness. “Anyone could have come in.”

  I shrieked and flung myself at him, my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, kissing him anywhere my lips could reach. He tucked his hands beneath my butt and returned my affection with a great deal of enthusiasm. After pulling his T-shirt up and over his head, I had my own blouse unbuttoned and off by the time we got to the stairs.

  Now that I had a lot more confidence, sex was definitely better. Sometime around one in the morning it went beyond better. Gabriel woke me up and showed me some of the other things he could do with his tongue. My orgasm was close to cataclysmic.

  Unfortunately, there was an elephant in bed with us. Actually, that’s kind of misleading. He wasn’t in bed with us, but he was standing in the corner of my bedroom. Big ears, big tusks, wrinkled knees, and a long trunk. Gabriel wasn’t as anxious about the elephant as I was, but that wasn’t so surprising. It was his pachyderm, after all.