by Renee Rose
“Thank you, Master.” I gasp in relief.
“You’ve earned your pleasure.” He gently holds my head and eases me off his cock. He kisses me deeply, then arranges me on all fours again, so he can fuck me from behind. “I like taking you this way. I can go so deep.” He slaps my ass and then pushes his cock at the entrance to my pussy. “God, you’re wet.”
“You get me this way.” I’m delirious with anticipation. “Please, fuck me now. Hard, Locke. And bite my neck.” I never stopped liking the neck bites, even after I was turned. In fact, I like them even more now—and Locke is always eager to oblige.
He laughs and grabs my hair. And then he’s pumping into me, grabbing my hips, my breasts, my ass. His hands are all over me. I push back at him, into him. We’re together, we’re one. He bites. And when we come at the same time, it’s a thousand times better than any human orgasm. It’s literally a sonic explosion, universes colliding, pure sensation that goes on and on.
We lie together, limbs entwined, just breathing. My fingers are curled into his hand, my head against his chest. As a human, I never felt this enmeshed with another being, and it’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever experienced. I love being a vampire, and being with Locke.
“So, what’s on your agenda tonight?” He kisses my neck.
“Mmm.” I close my eyes and stretch against his body. “Fucking you again, probably, at least four or five times.”
“That sounds perfect to me.” He tugs a strand of my hair. “You good?”
I nod. There’s no pain left at all from the spanking, just the euphoria of good sex. Vampires can heal instantly from any minor wound, bruise, or mark. Of course, I let my marks linger until we’re finished fucking, because what’s the fun in BDSM if there’s not a little S and M? We both like it that way.
And Locke, for all his dominant persona, would never hurt me for real. He’s ridiculously protective of me at all times, in all ways.
“I’m good. Actually, I do have some real work. I’m going to get some art ready for the new gallery showing.”
“At the Artemis.” He pulls me closer.
I’ve opened my own gallery, where my art sells extremely well. I’ve had pretty much zero direct exposure to clients yet, and Locke has helped me with all of the organization - but it’s amazing to sell my work to people who love it.
With my creativity unleashed, I’m unlocking layer after layer of new skill and talent. Knowing I have all the time I want to keep doing this is a gift I could never have imagined. Gone are the days of the warehouse job, the bubble-wrap for my laptop, and my shitty boss. I control my own business now—and I love it. And knowing I can help Abuela live comfortable for the rest of her life? That gives me incredible joy, too.
“Yes. And I need to go through the submissions from the new artists.”
“For your new show?”
“Yeah.” I run my hand up his arm. “There are so many underrepresented minorities who are excellent at art but just don’t get the chance to showcase it. I’m so eager to display their masterpieces. I know I can help change the art scene here in Tucson to become more diverse. And then the whole country.”
“I believe you will.” His voice is serious. “You can do anything you want.”
“And you, Professor?” I poke his arm. “Are you going to work on your lesson plans for Photoshop 101?”
He laughs. “I think I’ll teach another few semesters.”
“As long as you don’t hook up with any of your students.” I giggle. “That would be sooo inappropriate.”
I had to drop out of his class, obviously, when I turned into a vampire and had to go through the transition. And since then? He teaches me at home. In many different topics. I also signed up for classes online in digital design. Who needs an Ivy League degree when you have an eternity to learn everything you desire?
“That reminds me.” His face gets animated. “How about one night, you come audit the class, just for old time’s sake? You’ll wear a tiny little skirt and no panties. Sit in the first row. Act really naughty and slutty. I’ll ask you to stay after class, hmmm?” He runs his hand up my ass. “Punish you for being so forward.”
He’s already hard again.
“Of course, Professor.” I run my hand along his rock-hard cock. “As long as you bite me one more time.”
And he does.
The End
Want more vampire love bites by Alexis Alvarez? Read Her Vampire Temptation.
About the Author
Alexis Alvarez writes kinky romance, kinky sci-fi, and contemporary romance. With a background in chemical engineering and photography, she brings her enthusiasm for knowledge and beauty to her heroines – as well as the perfect amount of BDSM. Alexis lives in the Phoenix desert with her husband, daughter, and a ton of backyard scorpions. She loves to cook and to travel, especially if she can bring her camera. Her current interests include reading poetry in Spanish and German, hiking around Arizona, raiding with her Australian friends in Pokémon Go, and saying “That’s what she said” at inappropriate times.
Also by Alexis Alvarez
One Night with a Vampire
Vivian Murdoch
Chapter 1
Anticipation slithers up my spine, its icy fingers strumming along every nerve. The night is balmy, especially considering how close it is to Halloween, but I can’t stop the shiver that keeps going through my body. Clutching the bag tighter in my left hand, I peer up at John, trying to see if he’s just as affected as I am.
His face is like marble, no emotions flit through him. It’s like he’s wearing a mask. Sensing my stare, he looks down and smiles, though it never seems to reach his eyes. Maybe he’s taking this way more seriously than I am. Or maybe he’s plotting my demise. He is a stranger, after all. If I learned anything from my parents, it’s ‘stranger danger.’ A dark chuckle fills my mind at my runaway imagination as I tighten my right arm around John’s, needing his body as my anchor.
My heart slows at that contact, and I find that I can breathe just a touch easier. But it does nothing for the anxious flip flopping of my stomach. The churning sensation gives me pause. Should I turn and run? I look back up at John, the moonlight highlighting the sharp planes and angles of his face. The stone facade seems to have melted away and his normal expression is back in place. Perhaps I just imagined it. Gaia knows, from the moment I said yes, my mind and heart have been going into overdrive.
Smiling, I slide the tip of my tongue over my new set of fangs. Every year or so, I spring for a new set. I always get the good ones—well, as good as the mall sells. But it’s worth it. Everything is worth it for this one moment!
The full moon illuminates our path and casts odd shadows across the rows of tombstones. I’m not a highly religious or superstitious person, but I still get twitches of fear as we pass each one. I’ve been watching way too many horror movies. I’ll just have to tell Amy that I need a break when I get back to her house. Still, something feels off. I don’t know if it’s something in the air, or the fact that I’m about to cast my first spell, but something electric pulses around me, through me.
It takes a few more moments, but we finally arrive. Normally, I’d be talking up a storm the whole way, but John has been silent, somber. Since he’s done way more of these than I have, I take his cue and make the journey in reverent silence. Other noises fill that silence, though, and my ears feel like they’re twitching with every new sound.
Bugs, birds, nighttime vermin, all of them scurry, scamper, fly, cry out—each noise making my heart beat just a touch faster and sending zips of panic through my body. Even the groan of the crypt door sounds extraordinarily loud as John eases it back before striking a match on the worn stone.
The small light in his hand becomes much bigger as he lights an old-style candelabra that’s hidden just inside the door. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. It’s just like an old gothic novel, only this time, instead of staying in my fantasies, it’s starting to come true. C
ool air swirls around my ankles and slides down my neck. Anticipation fills every pore, every nerve.
With a grand sweep of his arm, he motions for me to head down the stairs in front of him, but still, he stays silent. It’s taking every bit of me not to break the silence with something—a joke, a story, anything to drown out the thunderous pulse roaring in my ears. With my free hand, I keep my fingers against the wall, something to ground me to my location and help ease my way down.
John’s feet echo behind me, drowning out all other sounds. Can feet sound sinister? Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts. I definitely need to lay off the horror movies. The stairs bottom out into the bottom of the crypt. To the right, there’s a large coffin, fairly new by the looks of it. Either that, or very well maintained. Another shiver races through me.
A small fire lights up the left side. It’s obvious John came down to prepare the area before picking me up. It was really sweet of him. Instead of being cold and dank as I was expecting, the whole place is rather warm and cozy. As my eyes adjust to being underground, I pick up other pieces of furniture. A plush comfy chair sits in an otherwise unoccupied corner, and the free walls are filled with books. Many look to be quite old, but I wouldn’t know without closer inspection.
I knew there was a homeless problem, but I guess I didn’t expect one to make a house out in the cemetery. And why the books? Unless this is all set up for show, and no one actually inhabits this place. That makes much better sense to my stomach and brain.
Walking into the center of the space, I set down my bag and start pulling out items. Salt, flower petals, and chalk all go down onto the floor. Looking over my shoulder, I watch John as he busies himself on the other side of the room.
“I’ve got everything here. You brought the blood, right?”
He turns his head and looks over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling in the light of the fire. “Don’t worry about the blood. It will be taken care of.”
Shrugging, I start to draw my outer circle in chalk. I pause for a moment before pulling my phone out to double check the pattern, wanting to make sure it’s absolutely perfect. But before I can place my thumb on the unlock spot, John’s hands grip mine for a moment before yanking my phone away. His cold hands startle me.
“Remember what we talked about,” he croons, locking eyes with me. “No electronics. They interfere with the spirits.”
My head feels fuzzy, like a cloud or fogbank is settling in my mind. Did we talk about this? We must have. Reaching back through my memories, I try to pull it up. Was it at our last meeting at The Inner Light? I shake my head, trying to dispel the feeling of cotton swamping my mind. It has to have been. My hands feel weak, completely out of my control as they ease their grip on my phone.
John takes it and pockets it before helping me up off the floor. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, but then again, it’s not like I’ve been gorging and eating my fill. Still, something about how he handles me doesn’t sit well with me. But I can’t shake him off. The more I try to clear my brain, the more I feel stuck in molasses.
The only thing I can focus on is his mesmerizing eyes. They pull me in, holding me captive in his gaze. In the flickering light, they look almost black, but that must be because it’s so dim. Pliant, I let him draw me in to him, and rest my head on his shoulder. The chill of his body seeps into mine. Is he always this cold? Thoughts flit through my brain, always flying but never landing.
After a moment, the cobwebs clear, but then, were they ever there in the first place? Confusion furrows my brow for a moment, but it’s soon forgotten when John flashes me his killer smile. Pulling away, he strides back over to the area he was occupying earlier and turns around with two glasses of wine in his hand.
I’m not sure what my face is doing, but he obviously doesn’t like it. The smile disappears for a moment, and just for a glimpse, I get the feeling that I’m seeing the real John. But it’s only a moment. It’s gone by so fast, I have to tell myself that I really saw it. Within a blink of an eye, his face is back in that cool, detached mask.
Tsking softly, he hands me a glass before taking a sip of his own wine.
“You don’t have to frown at me so. I know you’re not twenty-one yet, but I figured you’re close enough to celebrate with a drink. It is tomorrow, right? Just consider it a precursor of things to come.”
Laughing, I bring the glass up to my lips and wink at him. “What makes you think I haven’t had a drink before?”
Just to pick at him, I down the wine in a few gulps, trying my hardest not to grimace as the bitter liquid flows down my throat. Who even drinks wine? There’s no hint of a ‘bouquet,’ just a faint taste of soured grapes and some unidentifiable greenery. But it’s worth it. His face pinches into a scowl, and I know I jabbed him.
Unable to help myself, I let the laughter I’ve been trying to contain bubble up out of me. Once I’ve started, I can’t stop. It doesn’t help that he keeps scowling even deeper with each peal that comes out of me.
In a swift move, he yanks the glass out of my hand like I’m a petulant child, grumbling under his breath. The only words I can catch are ingrate and classless. Smirking, I go back to my circle, trying to finish drawing it from memory.
A few strokes here, and a slide or two there. Perfect. At least, as perfect as I can manage from memory. In the same fashion, I scatter the flower petals and pour the salt. All that’s left now is the blood. Glancing up, I watch John as he circles me and my summoning circle. Goosebumps pebble my skin as he stares down at me with a ferocious intensity.
Fear snakes its way back into my stomach, souring the wine. Around and around he circles, his eyes never leaving my body. Suddenly, he stops and steps towards me.
“All that’s left is the blood, yes?”
Unable to speak, I simply nod, trying to shut up the warning bells in my brain. It’s just my imagination going overboard. He’s trying to add to the atmosphere, that’s all. Once we do this silly little spell and head home, we’ll both have a chuckle over this. Hell, I might even apologize for being something other than a refined lady.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I force myself to sit up straighter, meet his gaze head on. He can try to intimidate me, but I still have the upper hand. I’m not some weak, simpering princess. Eyes still locked onto mine, he opens his mouth in a wide grin. Are his fangs bigger than they were earlier? I give my own a self-conscious check with my own tongue. Got to be a trick of the light.
I’m not sure if it’s the evil grin slicing his face in two, or his look of pure hatred, but something snaps inside me. Inching my way back on my butt and palms, I slowly put a gap between us. Little good it does me. For every centimeter I put between us, he instantly eats it up with his long strides. Soon, the wall of the crypt is at my back. There’s nowhere to go. I try to pull myself into a tight ball on the floor. Anything to make me less threatening.
My mind whirls frantically as John kneels in front of me; intense feelings roll off him in waves. I can’t even begin to fathom what’s going on inside his head. His face inches closer to mine until his breath fans across my face, setting my stomach to roiling. I keep myself still, just like they tell you to do when confronted by a wild animal. Maybe he’ll lose interest if I play dead. The rapid drumbeat of my heart in my ears tells me how wrong I am.
You read about these situations all the time, but you never expect it to happen to you. What was I thinking? I barely know the guy. Leave it to me to find the one psycho,, and go off into a graveyard with him.
Frantically, I move my hands about the space, trying to find something, anything I can use to defend myself. The whole while, I keep staring at him, trying to keep him intent on me and not what my hands are doing. My fingers brush along various bits of broken junk, nothing that could really serve as a weapon.
Fear grips me, trying to freeze me up, but I keep searching. There has to be something! I scoot over a fraction, just to see if there’s more stuff to sift through. Just as his lips tilt up
in a victorious smile, my fingers happen upon a large, rough object. Wood, maybe? My fingers curl around the broken beam, the rough splinters digging into my palm. The discomfort sharpens my brain, primes me to action.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of the blood?” he whispers, sliding his fingers across my cheek, trailing them down my neck, before encircling them about my throat.
Revulsion fills me, but I try to keep my cool. I can’t fail now. As he leans in, I spring into action, shoving against him hard enough to send him sprawling backwards onto the floor.
“You stupid cunt,” he snarls, grabbing at my leg, trying to take me down with him.
Grunting, I tug my leg, but he’s holding fast. Using my free leg, I kick him hard in the ribs and whirl around, making for the stairs before he can get up. Unfortunately, I miscalculated just how fast he is. Before I can go one step, his hand curls around my waist.
A startled scream rips from my throat, but it’s quickly silenced by his hand enveloping my mouth. The wood drops from my hand with the sudden jerk of his arms. Adrenaline kicks through my body, sending me into motion. I squirm and writhe in his grasp, keeping my body moving as much as possible. If I go still, I’ll die.
In a brief moment of clarity, I remember Miss Congeniality. Singing can’t hurt right now. Gathering all my strength, I slam my elbow into what I hope is his solar plexus. His grip weakens, but he’s still holding on. Next, I bring my foot down on the top of his left arch. That move allows me to ease out from his arms. From there, I go straight for the groin. Not wasting any time, I grab the wood and whirl around with it.
Laughing, he puts his hands on his hips, staring me down. “You don’t think you’ll actually use that, do you? You don’t have the guts to attack me.” His head tilts back and he laughs even harder.
