Night Flight

by Margaret Carter

  "Speaking as a zoologist?" she whispered.

  He grinned. "Right. Got to make careful observations." He traced the outline of the inverted triangle of fine hair that covered her torso from the underside of her breasts down, with its apex at her navel. "Like silk." The painless burning of his hand on her bare flesh made her squirm. Every nerve sizzled, and her nipples hardened.

  Paul freed his hand from hers and skimmed over both peaks. Ordinarily, that caress would have made her salivate and the roots of her teeth ache. It did, but instead of the whole-body arousal that normally accompanied blood-thirst, she felt fiery darts shooting straight from her nipples to her loins. Crossing her legs and squeezing them didn't help. "Take off your shirt," she whispered.

  After he pulled the shirt off, she raked her nails lightly over his chest, careful not to scratch him. When she played with the tight curls of hair and flicked one of his nipples, as taut as her own, he gasped.

  "You're sexually aroused," she said.

  "How'd you figure that out?" he said with a wry smile. "Oh, yeah, you sense emotions."

  "Not only that. I see into the infrared, so I know your skin temperature is rising. And your scent has changed, too."

  He flushed a deeper red and bent to take off his shoes and socks. "Good grief, I can't have any secrets around you, can I?" But embarrassment didn't stop him from bending to kiss her, while one hand returned to fondling her breasts. Even though she avidly drank in his taste and aroma, she writhed with impatience.

  He paused to catch his breath and ran his hand down the front of her body, this time not stopping at the navel. She arched her hips to meet the hand cupping the soft triangle of pubic hair. "Do you have an erection?" she said.

  "Are you kidding?"

  "No, I'm asking. My knowledge of human male sexual physiology is only theoretical. I can see a concentration of heat at your groin, but that just tells me blood is rising to the surface there."

  "It sure is." His breathing came heavy and ragged.

  "Show me."

  With shaking hands, he unfastened his shorts and dropped them to the floor, along with the briefs underneath. His erection jutted out at a ninety-degree angle.

  Bracing himself with both hands on either side of her, he licked first one nipple, then another. Heat pooled between her legs. She dug her nails into his shoulders, only the scent of blood reminding her to exercise restraint. "What are you waiting for? You're obviously ready to copulate."

  Paul gazed into her eyes. "I don't want to start before you're ready, maybe hurt you."

  "You can't hurt me. I'm not human, remember? No hymen. Besides, I can suppress pain."

  "Still, most women like to take it slowly, get warmed up, so to speak." His fingers toyed with the silken hair at the apex of her thighs.

  "I don't need warming up. I'm hot." She meant the term literally; her normally cool skin felt scorched. "And my vagina is lubricated. I'm ready for intromission."

  One of his fingers dipped into her wet heat, then stroked slowly up and down between the folds. "Unbelievable, you've got me incredibly turned on by talking like a textbook." He circled the firm bud at the top of her labia.

  She couldn't suppress a moan. "That tickles."

  "How's this?" His fingertip flicked back and forth over the sensitive spot. "Or this?" He swept down the insides of both thighs, then back up to her burning center.

  "Tickles," she whimpered.

  "Then I'd better stop." She heard the humor in his tone.

  Her hips involuntarily rocked against his hand. "No! Stopping makes it worse." She wiggled, her attention torn between the slowly building pressure in that location and the hot flood deeper inside.

  She gripped his shaft, fascinated by the texture, hard, yet satin-smooth on the surface. He groaned and thrust into her clasp.

  "You're ready to penetrate, aren't you?"

  "You bet," he said through gritted teeth.

  "Then do it. Now!"

  He knelt between her spread legs and probed at the welcoming portal. She arched up to draw him in. For a second she felt tightness, almost pain, but as she'd expected, it disappeared when he began to move. She caught her breath in astonishment. The sensation was so focused, so unlike the whole-body climax of feeding on aroused prey. Fire consumed her. She undulated with the rhythm of the contractions that convulsed her inner flesh.

  The convulsion happened twice more before Paul plunged in to the full depth and groaned aloud while his whole body shook. She felt the hot eruption of his release inside her.

  Breathing hard, he eased down on top of her. After a couple of minutes he said, "Oh, Lord, that was incredible. Too bad it was over so fast."

  "We can take a slower pace next time, if that's what you want."

  He raised his head to stare at her. She felt his surprise. "You're expecting a next time?"

  "I'm in estrus, remember? Normally this continues for a full night."

  "Yeah, that would be the usual pattern for animals like cats and such. You, too?"

  "So I've been told." Did he think of her as an exotic specimen to study? Why did that idea disturb her? She wanted an uncomplicated mating, didn't she?

  "Well, as long as I've waited to have you like this, one time couldn't wear me out." He planted a light kiss on her parted lips. "Just give me a little while to recover."

  She already felt the insistent need coiling in the pit of her abdomen. Trailing her fingers down the front of his body, she curled over him to circle each of his nipples with her tongue. The salty flavor reminded her of blood, but the urgency that drove her felt different from bloodlust. Her fingertips brushed his genitals, and she felt a twitch of response. He caught his breath.

  "I'm getting wet again," she murmured, nibbling her way down his chest, grazing the skin without scratching it.

  "I don't think I'm ready—" He gasped as her nails found a sensitive ridge in the perineal area. "Or I could be wrong about that."

  Alert to the changing nuances of his emotions and sensations, she followed the shifting pattern of his arousal until he hardened, and she sensed his passion building toward explosion. By now she was writhing with impatience. "Come on," she growled, rolling onto her back.

  This time she enjoyed six orgasms before he reached his.

  Struggling for breath, his head on her breast, Paul said, "Oh, God, how do you do that? Know exactly how to touch?"

  "Empathic perception, remember? That includes physical sensations as well as emotions."

  "I can see where it has advantages."

  She felt the rhythm of his heartbeat and respiration decelerate as his emotional high faded toward sleep. She dozed awhile, too, although she couldn't really sleep after dark. Within less than half an hour, the craving seized her anew, as fierce as thirst.

  She pushed Paul onto his back and lay on top of him. "Wake up."

  "What—?" His eyelids barely opened.

  "I need you again." She licked and nuzzled him, meanwhile rubbing her insistent heat against his dormant penis.

  "Gillian, I'm not sure I can."

  "You have to." She raised up to straddle his hips, stroking down his body in ever-lengthening spirals. As she'd expected, his nerves and blood vessels responded to the power of her touch. Finding the trigger points, she worked on them until he sprang erect under her.

  "I don't believe this—how—" He was already thrusting even before she impaled herself on him. "You promised you wouldn't hypnotize me."

  "This isn't hypnotism, just encouragement. I influenced your body, not your mind."

  "Well, it's…definitely—encouraging!"

  This time she lost count of her climaxes. Since even vampiric seduction couldn't completely overrule human male physiology, Paul lasted over fifteen minutes before he spent.

  The aftershocks of their shared ecstasy left him trembling. "That's absolutely incredible!" he said when he could speak again. She purred with delight at his reaction.

  Several minutes later, he stumbled to t
he bathroom and back, then collapsed into sleep. She watched him for a few minutes, smoothing his damp hair, before she, too, dozed off.

  Again, though, she didn't stay zoned out for long. Her body demanded relief. When she woke Paul this time, he sighed. "You know I want to, but there are limits. I'm only human."

  "Don't worry, I'll…encourage—you." Her nails raked over his chest. He shuddered. Blood beaded along one scratch where she'd miscalculated and broken the skin. Her tongue flicked at the tantalizing drops. Further aroused by the taste, she intensified her caresses. Inevitably his body responded to her urgency. She climbed on top while he lay with his eyes shut, his body slick with sweat. The prolonged coupling that followed gifted her with a continuous stream of orgasms, each peak almost overlapping the one before it.

  After nearly half an hour, he pulled out and demanded in a passion-roughened growl, "Roll over."

  "What?" Her head reeled, a crimson fog clouding her vision.

  "My turn." He prodded her until she lay face down. Grasping her inner thighs, he shoved her legs apart.

  "Paul, what are you doing?" She flexed her fingers and dug her claws into the sheet, fighting the panic incited by this moment of helplessness.

  Silently except for the rasp of his breath, he hammered into her. With her legs splayed, she arched her hips like a cat in heat to match his pounding rhythm. He rammed more deeply, stretched her more fully, than she had ever imagined possible.

  Wide open to him, body and mind, she found herself swept into the whirlwind of his passion, as if they were bonded. She drowned in his emotions.

  He shuddered with the thrill of her wet heat rippling around his rigid shaft. The climax building in his loins felt like a flood of molten lava ready to erupt. He panted in time with his thrusts, and on every exhaled breath he groaned aloud. Gillian moaned in chorus with him. Her cries made his heart race even faster, and he pounded harder to match the speed of their synchronized pulsebeat. He exulted in the frantic pumping of her hips. He'd unleashed this wildness in her—she wanted him and only him.

  "Mine," he breathed. "You're mine. Come with me," he urged, clamping her wrists to the mattress. "That's it, let go, come now—" Seized by a savage impulse, he sank his teeth into the nape of her neck. With a keening moan, she convulsed beneath him. He roared in primal satisfaction.

  After a few more strokes he spasmed in release. She howled like a she-wolf as his explosion ignited yet another one in her. Spent, she sank back into her own body.

  When they parted and she stretched out beside him, he summoned the strength to put an arm around her. "Gillian, honey, that's the most mind-blowing thing I've ever experienced, but it's not exactly fun anymore. I may never move again."

  "Rest, then," she whispered. "Sleep." A few seconds of stroking his forehead eased him into oblivion.

  After that encounter, she hoped her need had exhausted itself. She got up to take a shower and drink three glasses of water. Though she didn't feel hungry now that the sexual drive had slacked off, the exercise had made her dehydrated. For a few minutes she stood on the deck, without bothering to dress, and watched the shimmering heat traces of insects and small animals in the dark woods. The cool air whispered over her bare skin and made the hair on her arms and torso vibrate along with the cilia in her palms.

  She wandered back into the bedroom and looked down at Paul. His musky aroma stirred an echo of blood-thirst in the pit of her stomach. She knelt on the mattress and licked perspiration from his chest, savoring the salty tang. He shifted position but didn't wake. Gillian nuzzled his groin and lapped at the tip of his organ. The droplets that clung there tasted intriguingly similar to blood. Some other time, she looked forward to drinking from that fountain.

  She felt her arousal reawakening. Sitting astride his legs, hoping the friction would provide some relief, she continued licking and kissing him until he struggled up to consciousness.

  "Gillian, I can't," he groaned. "I'm sorry, but it's just impossible."

  "But I need…" She hated to hear herself whimpering in frustration, but she couldn't help it, any more than she could help rocking against his legs to ease the burning that tormented her. Maybe it was true, after all, that a human mate could never satisfy her. If she'd been human herself, the thought would have made her cry.

  "Gillian, come up here and let me try…please " Gathering her into his arms, he kissed her open mouth, then each of breasts in turn, while stroking her in long, languid caresses. She shuddered under his petting. Though his body heat felt wonderful on her hypersensitized skin, the fire between her thighs negated the pleasure.

  To her surprise, he plunged two fingers inside her. She arched to meet his probe. Within seconds, she fell into a vigorous copulatory rhythm. It didn't seem to matter that his hand, not his erection, provided the stimulus. She had his warm flesh pressed against her and thrusting inside her, she had the comfort of his scent and taste, his thumb meanwhile teased the swollen bud that contributed more to her delight than she would have expected, and she was spiraling higher, higher…

  "I know," he murmured, "like cats." She felt his fingernails scrape the inner wall of her canal. She screamed aloud in release.

  He kept up the steady rhythm until her convulsions played themselves out. Finally she relaxed with her head on his shoulder.

  "It worked," he said, his breath ruffling her hair. "We've found a solution."

  "What did you mean about cats?"

  "The tomcat has barbs on his penis. The stimulation seems to be vital to the copulation process. So I tried to imitate that, thinking it might be similar with your species."

  "Interesting." She stretched and snuggled more comfortably against him. "Logical." She decided she was lucky, after all, to have picked a zoologist for a mate.

  * * * * *

  Over and over they fell into light sleep, then woke to repeat the operation as the peaks and valleys of her arousal demanded. The ability to please her seemed to satisfy him even though he could no longer share her climaxes. Waves of warmth emanated from him, enfolding her in a rosy cloud of sensual delight. Toward morning, the intervals lengthened. About five a.m., Paul had slept for almost two hours, and with the approach of dawn, Gillian felt the day-sleep beginning to overshadow her.

  She was surprised to feel another surge of need. She caressed Paul awake. When he started to pet her, she whispered, "Wait. This should be the last time—I think you can…"

  He lay back and let her vampire seduction work on him. For all her efforts and his willingness, though, his erection rose only to half-mast, while she moaned with impatience. "Let me try something," she said. "Trust me."

  Often enough, she'd heard her elders refer to blood-sharing as the ultimate thrill. She'd seen evidence of it in the auras of her father and his lover in the aftermath of encounters she was expected to pretend not to notice. Now she slashed her wrist with her teeth and pressed the trickle of blood to Paul's mouth. For an instant he resisted, but the caress of her free hand lulled him, and he clamped his lips to the wound.

  The flick of his tongue sent an electric shock through her. On top of it, she felt his emotions more keenly than ever, heard the chaotic riot of his thoughts—what's she doing, that feels incredible, tastes like champagne—and felt him stunned by the echo of her arousal in his own loins. Almost instantly his erection sprang upright. As she engulfed him and rocked through her climax, she felt her teeth tingling with thirst. She'd promised him, but—

  "Paul, please!" she moaned.

  His thoughts answered her, since his mouth was still occupied with sucking her blood. What's wrong?

  "Please…I need to bite."

  Then do it!

  When her teeth nipped his throat, and his blood gushed into her mouth, she climaxed again, and he came with her.

  For an unmeasured time afterward, they lay motionless, their thoughts so intertwined that Gillian couldn't tell his from her own. She hadn't realized how intimate the union would be. It frightened her, opening her
thoughts to an ephemeral, and yet the joy of the sharing was worth it.

  After a while Paul disengaged his body from hers and sat up. "Hey, what was that?"

  "Bonding," she said, gazing at him from under half-open eyelids. "Two-way blood-sharing makes us telepathically linked."

  "You didn't mention that." She sensed a wariness in him.

  "I wasn't thinking. I just needed to be close to you and let you feel what I felt."

  "And now you're in my head." He shakily stood up. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

  His withdrawal puzzled her. He had enjoyed what they shared as much as she had. Why didn't she feel the simple, pleasantly exhausted satisfaction she felt? "My cycle is finished now. We don't have to be inside each other's thoughts any more than we want to."

  "Finished, huh?" A whipcrack of anger accompanied the words. "Just like that. You've gotten what you want, so you don't need me anymore."

  "I don't understand…haven't you had more than enough of my demands? I thought you wanted it to be over—"

  His irritation faded as quickly as it had sparked. He picked up his shorts from the floor. "Look, I'm worn out, and you probably need to sleep."

  "Yes. Oh—when I'm asleep during the day, I look sort of, well, dead. Don't let it worry you."

  "Yeah, right." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "After last night, I won't give a second thought to a little thing like that." He walked gingerly toward the bedroom door. Her own muscles reflected the soreness in his, and she wished he would let her massage the pain out. Instead of responding to that tentative thought, he said, "I'll crash in the guest room so you won't be disturbed when I get up."

  Though she felt an emptiness when he'd left the room, her fatigue didn't let her brood for long. The daylight coma instantly overwhelmed her.

  Chapter Eleven

  The moment she woke, well into the evening, Gillian extended her mental antennae in search of Paul. When she brushed the fringe of his thoughts, he rebuffed her in a tone like a slap.

  Stay out of my skull.

  She curled up and hugged herself for a few minutes, until the sting of that command faded. She'd witnessed the profound union between Roger and Britt, seen the love flowing between them. Why did Paul react to the bond so differently?