The Vampire Shrink(30)
Author: Lynda Hilburn

"None of that matters. Nothing that happened before me matters. I simply wish to make love to you right now in your own bed on fresh sheets. Yes?"

He removed his black leather duster and threw it in the rocking chair in the corner.

Enjoying the view of the physique that'd been under the coat, I moved over to him, lightly kissed his lips and smiled. "Definitely, yes."

I opened a brand new set of silk sheets I'd had for a long time, but never used, while Devereux stripped off the old bedding.

Quite an efficient team, we smoothed on the new sheets, watching each other with hungry eyes.

"Do you have candles?" he asked.

Uh, did I? I thought for a moment and remembered which box in the closet I'd stashed them in. I wouldn't tell him that I'd only bought them in case the electricity went out and I needed emergency light. I was trying to learn to keep my unromantic explanations to myself. At least under cer­tain conditions.

While I was in the closet I stepped out of the Miss Piggy shoes and put them back in their special place, next to my Glenda Good Witch sandals.

Okay. So I let my inner child out sometimes.

He took the candles and the holders I'd also retrieved, placed them on the night stands on either side of the bed and stood back, appreciating his handiwork. He smiled, pointed a finger at each of the candles, and the wicks burst into flame.

He laughed and said out loud what I was thinking. "More parlor tricks."

I turned off the light switch on the wall and basked in the lovely glow of the candles. The soft illumination was the perfect setting for Devereux. His eyes sparkled, his hair was a shining radiance, and his skin assumed the hues of the firelight.

He glided over to the window and closed the mini-blinds, then circled back around to the door and silently sealed it. Ambling over to me, he gently released my hair from the ponytail and eased the long curls down over my br**sts.

"Your hair is beautiful.'' He nestled his face in my hair and breathed in the fragrance, then ran his fingers through it and smiled. "You are beautiful. I had given up hope of ever finding you. And now you are here. Now you are mine."

"I'm yours? What does that mean?"

"It means we belong to each other. We always have."

I started to question his assumptions, and he silenced me with a kiss.

He reluctantly pulled away, and leaned against the wall to balance himself while he removed his boots. He pulled his shirt off over his head in one slow, elegant motion.

Vampire Chippendales.

Even though I'd seen him without his shirt before, the effect in the candlelight was almost overwhelming. The muscles of his shoulders, arms, and abdomen were perfectly chiseled. A magnificent work of art in flesh and bone. I started to think about what the odds were of a human being so exquisitely built, then remembered he wasn't human. Not even close.

But that didn't matter. In a very short, intense time pe­riod, I'd gone from thinking Devereux was mentally ill—an unfortunate having psychotic delusions about being a vam­pire—to waiting breathlessly for that very same vampire to fill me with what was already making its presence known in­side his tight leather pants.

I splayed my hands on his chest, relishing the firm warmth of him, and moved close enough to take one of his ni**les into my mouth. He moaned and relaxed his head back, embrac­ing me with his strong arms.

I started to unbutton the waistband of his pants and he covered my hand with his.

"Wait. We must remove your shirt first."

Vampire rules?

I didn't ask why. He lifted my hair back behind my shoul­ders and unbuttoned my pyjama top. Letting the slippery silk fall away, he used his fingers to guide the fabric from my shoulders and down my arms. He bent and slid his face over my br**sts, taking one nipple at a time into his mouth with a gentle sucking motion. He cupped both br**sts in his hands and laid tiny kisses all over them, before using his tongue to harden my ni**les to painful, throbbing points.

He straightened, lifted the pentagram necklace, and brought it to his lips. He kissed the center of the circular de­sign, then replaced it, all the time gazing into my eyes.

I already ached for him and couldn't imagine being able to hold out much longer. My knees were barely functional.

He stepped away and studied me, the expression on his face a clear indication of the maelstrom of feelings and de­sires he couldn't hide.

He caressed my br**sts again and said, "You are very lush and ripe for such a slender woman. In all my eight hun­dred years, yours are the most magnificent br**sts I have ever seen. I shall never tire of touching them, of sucking them."

He demonstrated, as I fisted my hands in his hair.

After a few delicious seconds he kissed his way back to my lips.

Sliding his hands into the elastic waistband of my pyjama bottoms, he eased the material down my hips, leaving my white cotton bikini panties in place. He stroked and mas­saged me, running his hands up my back and down to the mounds of my ass, pulling my lower body tight against his hard, thick erection.

I found my way back to the button on the waistband of his pants and successfully opened it. The zipper slid down easily and I quickly discovered that Devereux was an au natu­ral kinda guy.

That realization was outrageously arousing for me, and I enthusiastically shimmied his pants down his hips, releas­ing the unexpectedly large organ jutting out from a thatch of blond curls.

I had a momentary thought about the myth that a man's feet or hands are correlated with the size of his penis. In Devereux's case, his normal-sized artistic hands and average appearing feet gave no indication of what had been seques­tered away behind the zipper.

I sank to my knees, still pulling down the leather pants, and gently nudged him to sit on the edge of the bed. I raised my mouth to his, ran my tongue along his lips, then kissed him, while one hand stroked the warm, hard length of his throbbing penis. He moved rhythmically against my hand while he moaned softly. I slid my finger up to the drops of liq­uid oozing from the opening, then stroked his length again.

We used our tongues to taste and explore each other. I felt his fangs extend as I carefully avoided their needle-sharp tips. Running my tongue up and down the length of his fangs seemed to have the same effect as my hand on his erection.

I pulled away from his lips, kissing my way down his chest and his stomach until I reached his hard length and took it in my mouth. His skin was velvety soft over the taut muscle.

He gasped and held my head between his hands, moving gently to show me what he liked. I used my lips and tongue to taste every part of him, to whip him into a greater frenzy of desire. I was a quick study and he soon cried out and lifted my head from his groin.

"If you continue to do that I cannot hold back, and I wish for us to share our first orgasm together while I am in­side you."

The crotch of my panties was already soaked with creamy desire and he lifted me up onto the bed as I kicked off the last clothing barrier between us.

Both completely nude now, we knelt on the bed, facing each other, feasting our eyes.

His body was astoundingly magnificent. Long, lean, and muscular with smooth skin and perfect features. The light blond hair that trailed down his abdomen to his crotch was soft and slightly darker than his long platinum mane. And rising out of that thatch of silk was an erection that belonged on a statue of a Greek god. Or a Celtic god. I never was sure what part of Europe Devereux came from.

We reached for each other at the same time and I palmed the mounds of his ass, exploring the firm muscles there as I pulled him tightly against me. We embraced and kissed passionately, taking the joining of our lips deeper and deeper until it felt as if we were one being—merged.

He spoke that strange, musical language in my mind, a soft melody of words and spaces. Even though I didn't under­stand what he was saying, the sounds felt right. As if my body remembered them in some mysterious way.

He gently turned me and guided me down onto the bed, bringing his mouth to my ni**les again while his finger slid into the wet heat between my legs.

He whispered in my mind, "I love that you are so wet for me. You make me feel alive."

Using one fingertip in a feather-light movement, he ca­ressed my clitoris, making little circular motions which caused me to arch my body, spreading my legs wider, before he moved that clever finger up inside me.

He added a second finger, while still stroking me with his thumb.

A wave of something powerful built inside me and I made primal noises, instinctively moving my h*ps in time with the rhythm of his fingers.

I moaned and fisted my hands in his hair, lifting his head. "Devereux, please. I want you inside me."

He raised his mouth from my nipple, brought his lips near mine and whispered, "Inside your body and your heart."

Eagerly, I reached down and guided his thickness into my opening, wrapping my legs around his waist at the same time to take him deeper.

If I hadn't been so wet his size might have been uncom­fortable, but under the circumstances, it was as if we were made for each other. One lock with a perfect key.

I don't know which one of us groaned louder, but he swal­lowed the sounds with his mouth on mine.

Still kissing, he thrust himself inside me. Long, slow, deep strokes. His controlled movements drove me mad with desire. I didn't know if all 800-year-old vampires had such skill in lovemaking, but this one certainly did. I'm not sure if I screamed or only wanted to.

Then he raised himself up, grabbed my hands and lifted them over my head, holding my wrists. His mesmerizing voice became lower-pitched and husky, sending waves of chills over my skin.

“Do you remember the moment in the club when you asked me to use my eyes to join with you? When we became one consciousness?"

I didn't want to talk. I wanted his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his h*ps thrusting against me. But his de­scription of the passion that fired in me that night brought me back to the delicious memory and I had a body rush, caus­ing me to gasp. The muscles of my va**na tightened around him involuntarily and he reacted with a deeper thrust and an intake of breath.

He smiled, obviously aware of my memory and the men­tal chatter. Or maybe it was just because what we were doing felt very, very good.

"I will take that as a yes."

I closed my eyes and mumbled something that could have been interpreted as an affirmative.

"Open your eyes, my love. Let me show you that every­thing before this moment was simply a small taste of what is possible."

I opened my eyes, connected with his and reality as I knew it faded away.

My world became the blue-green of his eyes.

A spinning, shining, universe of bodiless, yet extraor­dinarily physical, sensations. As if the pleasure volume on every nerve ending had been turned up while simultaneously having no awareness of being physical at all.

Floating in a stream of consciousness.

I hadn't done any experimentation with hallucinogenic drugs, so I didn't have actual experience to base anything on, but from what I'd read, I was in the middle of an altered state. The vampire version of an LSD trip.

Time had no meaning, so I didn't know how long we'd been there. His penis still moved inside me as we kissed wildly. It could have been hours. Or seconds.

Devereux and I communicated purely telepathically now, and as the orgasm built inside us, it was impossible to tell if the wave of pleasure had a specific starting place. Or, if we'd simply become the wave.

We'd fallen into each other's eyes and nothing else mat­tered.

Just as the peak of the orgasm began, Devereux pierced my neck with his fangs.

I gasped, but there was no pain. Only intense, reverberating pleasure.

Pleasure that was off the scale.

I screamed as wave after wave of bliss washed over me. Every muscle in my body—I think it was my body—con­tracted in ecstasy.

Somewhere in the midst of my own release, I felt Devereux spasm inside me, his mouth still at my neck, his silky hair flowing across my br**sts.

He brought his lips back to mine and kissed me with profound tenderness, our souls merged as completely as our bodies. I tasted the sweet, coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue and found myself savouring the experience. I sucked on his tongue and ran mine over his teeth, wanting to take in more of the salty essence.

It occurred to me briefly that enjoying the taste of blood probably wasn't a good thing, but I was still lost in the rap­ture of the moment.

A soft groan from Devereux brought me back to suffi­cient awareness to notice that I'd been sucking on his fang, which seemed to be as stimulating to him as my sucking on other things.

I felt his erection expand inside me, apparently ready to have another go, and I lifted my h*ps to take him deeper.

In another of his amazing, seamless movements, he raised himself to his knees, and held me by my ass, our bodies still attached at the crotch. We locked eyes as he pressed me back against the headboard, one of his hands still underneath me, and the other braced against the wall.

He pounded into me and I heard a voice repeating, "Yes, yes, yes," and discovered it was mine.

I tightened my legs and arms around him, and he held me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. He'd told me that vampires possessed unnatural strength, but I hadn't had much personal evidence until then. I think he could have held me there, giving me one orgasm after another, until I cried for mercy.

Which I finally did.

I clung to him like a wet tissue as he emptied himself into me yet again, only then letting the resilient organ slide out of my vagina. Still straddling his lap, I snuggled into his warm arms and let myself be gently rocked.

He whispered lovely words, in English, French and what might have been Gaelic, and stroked my hair.

At some point I'd fallen asleep, because he swept his fin­ger gently across my cheek and said softly, "I must go, my love. The dawn approaches."