by Cameo Brown
He moaned and spread his legs wider, winding his fingers in her hair. She nipped his left nut, then drew it in, sucking it hard. Her fingers played beneath her skirt, finding her hot, wet cunt. Soon Sam’s cock would fill her, and she’d ride him until she found her satisfaction. Until then, her finger would have to do.
“Yes, Gracie, suck it hard,” Sam urged, lifting his hips.
She glanced up and caught him watching, mesmerized. Positioning herself higher, Gracie went down on his cock, sucking hard. He thrust his hips forward, swelling and filling her mouth, his salty pre-cum tickling her throat.
Sam moaned, and Gracie broke their connection. Smirking, she crawled awkwardly into his lap -- it was a bench, after all -- and ripped her top open, exposing her breasts and her hard nipples. He caught one in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth, nipping it. She gasped, the sweet pain coalescing with the ache between her legs in a most pleasing way.
Recomposing, she shoved him back, lifted her skirt, and without ceremony, impaled her dripping pussy on his cock. Her cry echoed as loudly as his, a most satisfying confirmation of his avid participation in their coupling. He throbbed inside her, shifting as she adjusted to his girth, his gaze never leaving hers. It unnerved her how he seemed lost in his passion, yet fixated on her, as if she were the passion that consumed him. If he only knew her secret…
Shaking off the melancholy, she regained control and tilted her hips, forcing him deeper inside her. She’d do this her way. Her cunt closed around him, reducing her world to a flurry of sensations. Gracie pulled back and tilted forward again, then again, then again.
Sam gripped her thighs as she took control and rode him. He sat there, letting her take her pleasure, watching her as if he stared straight into her soul, as if he knew everything. But no one, absolutely no one, knew everything about Gracie Usher.
Showing Sam who was boss would be much easier if she didn’t enjoy fucking him so much, and if she hadn’t banged her hip on the bench’s inflexible iron armrest climbing into his lap. The pain only heightened her awareness of every other sensation and thought assaulting her overloaded system, and she thrashed against him, fighting the emotions flowing through her.
Sam reached up and touched her face with both hands, his fingertips trailing down her neck to her breasts and sending a wave of chills through her heated blood. He cupped her breasts and flicked each nipple in turn, his gaze focused and his expression unreadable. Her pussy clamped down on his hard length and she bit his shoulder, eliciting a strangled cry.
Sam’s eyes closed and his head dropped back, another of his sexy moans escaping his lips. His fingers danced wildly against her hot skin. Finally, she’d taken full control. Her orgasm loomed, and if his uncontrolled bucking was any indication, so did his.
In the next instant, her world exploded. Sam suddenly bent forward, sinking his fangs into her right breast, and the most incredible release rocked her to her core. He sucked and growled as she screamed his name, clutching him, swaying with him through the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. He spurted inside her, his cum bathing her insides with warmth -- and another orgasm started. “Oh, Sam, oh, Sam. Ooooooh Sam,” she intoned, continuing to thrust as he retracted his fangs.
He licked the spot where he’d bitten her, then leaned his forehead against the wound. “You’re mine now, if you want to be,” he offered, holding her close.
She nuzzled his neck, shivering and cooing as the last remnants of her release flickered away and she melted into his embrace. “Wow.” Gracie sighed, kissing his full lips. “If that orgasm doesn’t take care of whatever need is keeping me in this crazy dream, nothing will.”
Sam stilled, his body tensing. “What?”
“This dream. It’s great, but I need to wake up now and go find Ginny. I wonder if I can come back to it later. I like fucking you, Mr. Mayor,” she said absently, running her fingers all over his face and touching his eyes, lips, nose, and razor stubble. She shifted, trying to remove the pressure on her hip, which had begun to ache. She’d probably find a nice purple bruise there tomorrow.
“This isn’t a dream, Gracie,” Sam stated, his tone flat and a hint of alarm in his expression.
“Yes, it is. It has to be,” she argued, still intent on touching him as much as possible before the dream faded.
“No, it’s not. I’m a demon, Gracie, descended from the ancients. Ones you know as Greek and Roman gods.”
Gracie rolled her eyes, then snuggled into his neck and kissed it. “Sam, does a crazy person know he’s crazy? No. And would a dream creature know he’s a dream creature? No, it’s not logical. You don’t really exist, my dear Sam. I wish to hell you did.”
“I’d have to agree with Sam on this, Detective Usher,” a screechy, terrifyingly loud voice chimed in from nowhere.
Sam managed to get her off his lap and behind him in seconds. Gracie stood on tiptoe, wincing as the effort put weight on her hip, to peer over his shoulder at the intruder. She wished she hadn’t.
Chapter Six
Ghastly. It was at least seven feet tall and its black skin oozed a pus-like substance. It sported long, sharp horns and red eyes, along with a pointed tail and hooves. Its jagged teeth and long claws dripped red.
The scenery around them changed as well. Behind the hideous beast stood hundreds of ghoulish people in various stages of decay, some with glowing demon-like eyes, others like zombies. A dozen mutilated bodies littered the sidewalk in front of the drugstore.
“I hope you don’t mind,” it said, noticing Gracie observing the crowd. “But I ate a few of the citizens on the way over here. Long trip. I got hungry. Very tasty.”
Gracie’s stomach dropped, but she stood tall behind Sam’s solid form. A flicker, like a shadow, caught her eye and she recognized the little beast Sam had argued with in the jail. He must have gone and gotten the head creepy thing. Uh-oh.
“Gaston tells me you’ve gone a bit soft, Sam. You know there are consequences for insubordination, don’t you?”
Sam remained silent. Gracie’s temper flared. She wanted to rip this asshole’s tail right out by the roots. She got the distinct impression it wanted her to think the worst of Sam, but it didn’t fit. Gaston claimed her blood was pure and got angry because Sam refused Katherine as lunch, which meant Sam only fed on those who had done something terrible anyway. It was lame, but damn it, she really liked the guy. She really, really liked him. Or maybe it was something more.
Gracie gripped his shoulders, hoping he’d take it as a show of support. He flexed his muscles. He did.
* * *
Sam’s cock ached. He should be alarmed that Darol had traveled all the way from Aetna to check on the village, but it was too difficult with Gracie standing behind him, her hands and their gentle pressure on his shoulders making it clear she was on his side. Who wouldn’t be? Darol’s appearance was frightening, so common sense made him her best bet by default. Still, something inside him warmed -- until Darol spoke.
“Did Sam here tell you about the town?” Darol asked Gracie, maneuvering around Sam to get a better view.
Sam moved along Darol’s line of vision, keeping Gracie tucked safely behind him, out of his direct gaze. Gaston screeched, his wings fluttering. Had he been but an inch closer, Sam would have incinerated him, but now wasn’t the time.
Gracie didn’t answer, but Darol continued anyway. “Wayland is filled with damned souls, people who committed such atrocious sins they were sent to me for eternity. Being the kind-hearted deity I am, I give them a chance to stay out of hellfire, but they don’t take it.”
“No, never do they take it, Master Darol.” Gaston cackled, and Sam bristled.
“Every five years, the town appears from the fog and the citizens hunt down a sacrifice for Mayor Sam here, and then everyone goes back into the fog. Isn’t that right, Sammy?”
Her grip relaxed, and Sam imagined her plotting to run away. He didn’t blame her. Darol tried again to capture Gracie in his glare, but Sam
sensed his movements and adjusted his stance to stay between them, placing himself in the line of fire, literally.
“No sacrifice, eternal hellfire. But there’s a twist. All of them can return to the living world if just one of the denizens refuses to participate, decides to take the high road. Be moral. Do something good. Unfortunately, the high road isn’t on their map, if you know what I mean.”
Sam didn’t like the gleam in Darol’s eye. His smug blathering could only mean one thing -- someone had to make a choice.
“Love or redemption, Detective Usher?” Darol crooned like a game show announcer.
Before any sound escaped her throat, Gaston disappeared and reappeared holding something in his claws. “Surprise!” he squawked at Gracie and dropped a thrashing human male with a thud.
“You bitch!” the man yelled, scrambling to his feet.
Bloody scratches covered his face and arms, and Gracie’s sharp intake of breath told Sam Darol had hit a nerve. She stepped around him and out of his protection, as if in a daze.
Darol’s grin widened and his ratchety voice delighted in his next words. “Ah, you recognize your ex-husband, Detective? William, the man who left you after you killed your child?”
Sam froze, watching, powerless, as a variety of emotions played across Gracie’s face. The Urge awoke at the declaration of a sin, but it smelled William’s blood. It made no sense, but nothing Darol did when he wanted a soul made sense. It didn’t matter anyway. Hunger consumed Sam. Ichor coursed through his veins and the mutation began.
“You see, my dear, you are just too much of a distraction. I need to get the Urge fed and Sam on his way back to the fog. William here will make quite a suitable sacrifice, since you don’t technically qualify.” Darol sighed heavily as if the last part truly troubled him, then perked up. “Or do you?”
* * *
Gracie fumed. This bastard had some nerve, turning her dream to shit like this.
Sam staggered, his body transforming and his attention focused on William’s neck.
Hark materialized from thin air, his two heads beating up on the third as usual. Her chest tightened.
“William’s done nothing wrong. He’s made mistakes, all of us do, but he’s not evil enough to sacrifice.” Gracie couldn’t believe her own words, after all the horrible things William had told other people about her -- things so terrible she had to relocate.
Things so horrible that people from their small, close-knit community refused to even speak to her, even her family.
“You whore,” William ground out, glaring at her exposed breasts. Gracie tugged the edges of her dress closed and opened her mouth to speak. William interrupted her attempt. “You should have died in the hospital.”
Gracie flinched as if she’d been smacked. “What?”
Gaston swooped at her face and screeched so loudly it took her breath away. He laughed at her. “Tell her about the hospital, William,” he encouraged, but William clamped his mouth shut and frowned.
Sam roared, his fangs in place and his transformation complete. He stood beside her, ready to take her ex-husband as a sacrifice and disappear.
Darol kicked William, loosening his words. “Okay, okay! When you were in the hospital after the car accident, the doctors asked me who they should try to save -- you or the baby. I told them to save the baby. I knew by then it was God’s will. I knew when you asked me to consider the abortion, I needed a new wife. I even unplugged some machines. But you both lived, and you killed our little girl anyway!”
Gracie couldn’t breathe. A weight on her chest kept her lungs from expanding.
Her dream had turned into a nightmare. With tears pooling in her eyes, she said the words she’d needed to say for years. “I showed mercy, William. I wanted you to consider aborting because the tests showed Chloe would be so horribly deformed, but I went along with you. There was a chance you might have been right and the doctors might have been wrong. I believed with all my heart Chloe would be healthy. But they weren’t wrong, were they?”
“If you’d been truly faithful, God would have cured her,” William barked at her like a madman.
“I’d revived her so many times… so many times. The doctor said each time would be worse, and each time was. She was dying, William, right in front of us. The next time she wasn’t going to make it.” Gracie dropped to her knees, overwhelmed.
Sam roared again, but it sounded distant, far away.
“Lying, selfish bitch!” William retorted, his voice desperate with fear. “Take her!
She killed a baby. She went against God’s law!”
“How would you know? You were never there! You stayed away at church while I tried to keep our daughter alive. She suffered so much, but you never saw it. I just didn’t yell loud enough the final time,” Gracie continued, lost in the memory of that terrible day. “I kept up the compressions and the hope, but I just sang to her instead of yelling to bring her back. I should have yelled, but I let her go. I let my baby girl go where the angels could keep her safe.”
Gracie bawled so hard she struggled with the last few words. Hark materialized at her side, the two bickering heads snapping and yapping at William and the third licking the salty tears dripping onto her hand and whimpering softly.
Sam grabbed William by the throat and lifted him high into the air, preparing to dine. Darol, Gaston and the townspeople chanted, “Sam! Sam! Sam!” Hark’s two heads barked and bit at the air.
She should let William suffer, let him die for being so cruel to her and Chloe, but it wasn’t in her design, as flawed as she was, as flawed as William was. Besides, she’d lose everything. She’d lose Sam. “No!” she yelled, hopping up and inserting herself between Sam and William. “What are you doing?”
Sam shoved her out of the way and glared at her, the hunger in his eyes terrifying. His next words even more so. “Taking your pain away, my love.” In the next second, he ripped open William’s throat. The townspeople cheered and hollered.
To her horror, Sam sank his fangs into the opening he’d torn in William’s neck, and the expansion of his wings knocked her away. She fell over Hark, landing on her hip. She saw stars as the excruciating pain shot through her leg, and then she saw nothing but gray, dense fog as it descended around her. Everything else faded away.
Chapter Seven
A strong hand shaking her brought Gracie from the darkness.
“Fuck, Gracie, what the hell happened? You fall asleep on the steering wheel? I know I was gone longer than I should have been, but I found something.”
Gracie tried to focus on Patrick staring at her through the driver’s side window of the car. He blurred for a moment, then came into view more clearly, his concern evident. Gracie shook inside, realization dawning. None of it had been real. Of course not. She wiped her hand across her eyes and blinked back tears. “Power napping, Rick.
Just power napping,” she said, her throat aching from the effort.
From his expression she knew Rick didn’t buy her bullshit. He shook his head and walked around the front of the cruiser. “Hey, I know it’s tough being out this way, what with William living just up the road now. It’s okay, partner,” he soothed, settling into the seat beside her. Then his eyes lit up mischievously. “Look what I found, Gracie.”
From just beyond the passenger side door, a familiar, cheerful bark surprised her. To her surprise, Rick lifted a Chihuahua into the car and dropped it in her lap. “I think it’s been abused and needs a good home, a home with someone who loves dogs,”
Rick hinted, winking at her.
The little beast, with evidence of animal bites all over its skinny body, immediately placed its tiny scarred feet on her chest and licked her face with great enthusiasm. She stared deeply into its big brown eyes. “Hark?” she whispered cautiously and irrationally hopeful, and he answered with a joyful yap.
“Hark? Like, Hark, the Herald Angels Sing hark?” Rick questioned.
Gracie nodded. The movement caused a sharp
pain in her cheek, and she touched it gingerly as Hark settled into her lap. Her cheek hurt where she’d been slapped in her dream.
Pain. Her hip. Her hip hurt too. Suddenly, her brain cells fired up and something connected. “Rick, what did Ginny say in the videotape the kidnappers sent, something about her hip being hurt, right?”
Rick nodded, interested. “Yeah, but when they walked her out of range of the camera, she didn’t limp or anything. Captain passed it off as the kid being confused and scared.”
Gracie reached over the seat to grab the case file and tossed it to Rick. She fired up the engine. “She wasn’t confused. She was giving us a hint. Her hip hurt -- in muscle lingo another word for the gluteus medius and minimus is an abductor. I see it on every poster on the wall at the gym every time I work out. She meant one of her abductors was hurt. Checks the list of names of the sites known to have the soil we’re looking for.”
It didn’t take long to find. Excited, Rick tapped the list with his finger. “Here it is, Gracie. The Banks housing project. You know, the insurance company people? It was shut down when a worker hurt himself on the job and the city halted construction due to unsafe conditions. Gunther is on the board that shut them down. The building is supposed to be empty.”
“I bet it’s not,” Gracie said, grinning and tucking away the remnants of her dream for processing later. “Let’s go!”
Hark yapped in agreement.
* * *
Three months later, after Ginny Gunther had been safely returned to her parents, Gracie sat at her desk pondering her last three sexual encounters. None of them satisfied her, but it wasn’t their fault. None of them compared to her imaginary demon lover. Gracie sighed. She finally admitted it to herself. She’d fallen in love with a figment of her imagination, and one who liked to suck blood at that. Now she knew how Bella Swan must feel. It didn’t make sense, but there it was.
