by Fiona Zedde
“Shh,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.”
It was a lie, but she was a big believer that intentions lessened the sting of a misdeed. She didn’t want to hurt the woman; she only wanted to feed and give the human a little joy to erase any memory of pain.
“I just want a little something from you. Okay?” The woman’s eyes were dilated and terrified. She nodded, her head moving jerkily under the prison of Kylie’s palm.
Her fear was delicious. It lent a lovely complexity to the garlic and grape flavor already caught in her skin. Kylie held the woman down, buried her nose in her throat, and inhaled. She shivered.
Pinning the woman’s body with her own, a hand still caught over her mouth, she grabbed the woman’s arm and lifted it, baring her artery. Her entire body pulsed with fear. A lush and seductive perfume.
“Shh,” Kylie whispered again, the thudding drum of the woman’s pulse pulling her mouth closer. The woman whimpered under her hand at the press of teeth, a delicate touch that Kylie had perfected over the years, canines denting the hot flesh but not piercing it. Not yet, not until that moment. The perfect moment.
“Oh.” The woman grew still under Kylie, her body slack, thighs falling open in luscious invitation. An even sweeter fragrance began to seep from between her thighs, a hot and sticky nectar that made Kylie’s mouth water.
It was because of Kylie’s own natural perfume. She’d never smelled herself before, but others had remarked on it. Other vampires. The humans that had fallen beneath its spell. As delicious as the smell of fear was, acrid and complex, it was the scent of surrender that she enjoyed the most. She sank her teeth into the woman’s willing flesh and nearly wept from the joy of it.
Chapter Thirteen
Kylie never planned on being a twenty-five-year-old virgin. It was simply something that happened.
As a child, as a human really, she constantly battled against being the odd one. The one on the outside of things. Back in Friendship, Jamaica, where she was born and spent most of her life, she had been the only one with a missing mother. If it had been an absent father, things would have been different; she would have been normal. But the missing mother abomination left her always on the outside of things, watching others, knowing their secrets but never being part of them.
She walked down Bleecker Street, hands in the pockets of her jacket, the flavor of the woman’s blood still bubbling like champagne on her tongue. Rufus was long gone, tired of the hectic lights of the city. He pled exhaustion and went back to the penthouse, but Kylie was too keyed up for rest. It was night. They were night beasts. It didn’t make sense not to be out in the savage beauty of the evening.
Kylie ambled down the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder with what felt like thousands of humans. She had long ago perfected the New York way of walking through a crush without slamming into anyone coming or going, a graceful dance she had been in awe of when she’d first seen it in action.
New York in the fall smelled like the sewers and dead leaves, a thousand perfumes, and the aroma of millions of deliciously blood-rich humans. It was a crisp and heady bouquet she enjoyed holding in her nose for as long as possible before releasing it in a slow and blissful exhale.
Lights were on in every building she passed. Yellow cabs rumbled past. Beautiful people paraded by her with their particular city strut. The city was alive and blazing with sound, a lovely cacophony that was uniquely New York. Beautiful. Though sometimes, she longed for something quieter. A thought of Olivia floated into her mind. Her smile faded.
She dipped into a quiet side street that had red brick buildings hung with black metal fire escapes. The street had fewer people, a cleaner smell. High up on an eighth-floor escape, a woman sat smoking a cigarette, her legs bared in shorts although she wore a jacket and a thin, blue-patterned scarf.
“I can’t believe you took me to that party.”
She looked away from the smoking woman at the sound of the low, feminine voice near her on the street. The tone was teasing and intimate, not meant for her ears.
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” The person who answered was a surprise. Another female voice. This one lighter, higher, as if she were singing. But singing only for the woman who had spoken first. “I saw the way you were staring at Izolda’s chicken Kiev.”
“Marie, I’m trying to stay on my diet,” the first woman whined prettily while the second laughed.
“You don’t need to be on any kind of diet. You should eat everything I put in front of you. To hell with counting calories.”
“The only thing you put in front of me that I should eat is pussy.”
Kylie drew in a breath of surprise as the other woman laughed again. She could see them now. They were walking toward her, fingers linked, their heads tilted together as they exchanged the quiet intimacy of their words. The first one who had spoken had a soft, rounded body. There was nothing anorexic about her and she looked lovely. Long, red hair in curls draped over her shoulders and breasts. She wore a green sweater and tight black jeans. Pretty little flats. She was as luscious as a cherry tart with her red hair and scarlet lips.
Her companion was taller and thin and had something of the hungry wolf about her. She had narrow features, a sleek, shoulder length bob, and skin like an oak in winter. She wore a sheer, long-sleeved blouse, tight jeans, and boots.
They were both attractive. Not young, maybe already in their forties, and the way they held and teased each other spoke of an experience with love, lovemaking, and life that made them even more delightful. The couple smelled like food. Fattening and rich food that Kylie would have found delicious in her human life. Buttery rice. Meats simmering in hot spices and olive oil. Melted cheeses.
“You eat my pussy so well I want to see you eat other things,” the wolf said.
Another laugh. The wolf’s fingers sank into the lush hip of her lover. They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to exchange lingering kisses. The wet sound of their mouths meeting, their tongues sliding together, disturbed Kylie, made her uncomfortable in a way she liked. She kept walking past the couple who reluctantly pulled apart and continued on their way down the street. Half a block away, she turned around and followed them.
They weren’t going very far. Only to a building near the end of the street. Kylie quickly examined the building, the locks, deciding finally to let them carry on with their evening. Still, she stood on the street under the barely there moon, looking at the door they’d disappeared through. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring, but it must have been too long, long enough for the women to make their way upstairs and to a fourth floor apartment. She heard them inside amid the noise and chatter of the other people at home, their love talk, their laughter.
Why was it that women together always drew her? Did she want to touch them? No, that was something her mother and others in the pack did. But the gentleness in them called her, even when it was a thin layer to mask the savagery lying in wait. Yes, Kylie enjoyed the illusion of sweetness that women had. It had nothing to do with what she wanted to do sexually.
She blinked up at the window, saw the dim light there from the women being in another room. Her body made the decision for her. She climbed, digging her fingers into the rough brick of the building to quickly scale the four floors, wrench the bars off the narrow window, push the window open, and slip inside. There was no one else in the apartment except for the two lovers.
A living room. The evening’s darkness surrounded the clutter of couch, chairs, knickknacks on the tables, and IKEA prints hanging on the walls. She quietly navigated the room and slipped through it to a narrow hallway, following the sounds of kissing, of whispers, of clothes falling away. They were too caught up in each other to notice her shadowy figure in the hallway. She stood just beyond the open bedroom door to watch the wolf devour her cherry tart.
They made love with the lights on.
The wolf, still fully clothed, dragged her lover across the bed and into her lap, then finished undressing her w
ith tender skill. She whispered soft words in her tart’s ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how delicious she smelled, how she couldn’t wait to taste her hot pussy. In the hall, Kylie bit her lip, feeling a rush of arousal that came out of nowhere. She was familiar with the sensation but caught off guard by it every time.
Naked now, the redhead lay back against the sheets while her lover pressed a jean-clad thigh against her pussy. The cherry tart made soft, needful noises, hands gripping her lover’s ass. Her red hair slid across her bare shoulders, the white sheets.
“You’re teasing me,” she gasped. “Stop teasing.”
The wolf only laughed and continued what she was doing, kissing her lover’s throat, squeezing the plump breast, her thigh pressing and teasing. Her laughter was a low rumble in the room. The tart’s eyes were closed and she looked undone by what her lover was doing to her. The wolf kissed her mouth one last time and pulled back to rest on her knees, watching her squirming lover on the bed, paying close attention to the pussy that was bare and open to her, a pussy that Kylie imagined leaked its ambrosia on the sheets as she lay there spread out for her lover to take and taste.
The tart squirmed against the sheets, touched her breasts, squeezing her nipples, tugging them to get some of the satisfaction that her lover denied her. The wolf laughed again and slid her leather belt from her jeans. With quick efficiency, she lashed her lover’s hands together behind her back, tightening the leather around plump wrists until the tart cried out. But her cry seemed like play, an exaggerated noise of lust that made Kylie squirm in her jeans. She moved in the hallway to see more. She bit her lip again.
The woman was pressed into the sheets, spread open and gorgeous in her lust. She bit her lip and pleaded for her lover’s touch. But the wolf knelt between her spread legs, watching her pussy drip, waiting.
“Touch me,” she begged. “Touch me, please.”
The wolf didn’t take pity on her. Instead, she drew back to unbutton her blouse and pull it from her shoulders, revealing surprisingly lush breasts pushed up in a black lace bra, a gold crucifix dangling between the plump and mouth-watering flesh. Kylie’s teeth ached at the sight of the woman’s breasts, the press of her hard nipples through the cloth. The wolf stood up to pull off her jeans. Everything matched. Lace black thong panties. A beautifully rounded ass to complement breasts that Kylie imagined another vampire, Ivy, biting into, sucking the blood that would well up, as the engorged nipple poked into her cheek, begging her to pull it into her mouth.
She gasped softly as the image overwhelmed her; Ivy stepping in to rip the wolf from her lover, pressing into her on the hardwoods, sliding her thigh between those strong legs to make the wolf cry out. Kylie tightened her jaw to stifle any noise that might alert the women to her presence. But she realized that not even a bomb going off next to their bed would stop the women from finishing what they’d started.
The cherry tart watched her lover undress, grinding back into the bed to find relief from her desire. The scent of her sweat mixed with the leather of the belt keeping her captive.
Kylie felt caught up in the drama taking place in front of her. In the naked longing of the woman on the bed, in the seductive control the wolf had over her lover. The slender woman strode around the bed, taking the time to admire her handiwork, the lust she stirred in her partner.
Kylie pressed her thighs together, wanting something, but she wasn’t sure what it was. Did she want to touch herself? Did she want to join the two women in their bed? Did she just want to drain them both dry and taste on her tongue the rich life that they enjoyed and the love they shared for each other?
But it didn’t matter what she wanted. Or that she wanted. The wolf, standing on the side of the bed, grabbed the belt that imprisoned her lover and used it to drag her down to the middle of the bed then slung her across the width of the mattress until her head hung down the other side. Her thick, red hair tumbled down to the floor, and she gasped. Her legs pressed wide open, each thigh touching the mattress as she made herself completely open for her lover.
It was as if they knew Kylie was watching and wanted to give her the best view. With a growling smile, the wolf reached out and touched her lover’s pussy. The tart panted with relief when her lover touched her, stroked her heated wetness with a lush and sensual sound that nearly brought Kylie to her knees.
Fuck her.
Kylie’s hand fisted at her side. She didn’t know what it felt like to experience the act herself, but she wanted to see it up close as she had done so many times before. And though she longed to see it, she was also afraid of it. That kind of lust, that kind of strength of feeling, stripped away everything. Every control, every humanity.
She’d seen it with Belle and Silvija. How they sometimes knew nothing but each other in certain instances, so far gone in lust that all they could do was mumble incoherent words to whoever was listening before rushing off to fuck behind locked doors. But the wolf and her tart weren’t behind locked doors. Kylie could watch them. She could observe that stripping away that happened with lust and love and still remain apart from it. But even she had to admit that it touched her deeply to watch these women please each other.
The wolf pulled her hand back, licked her fingers one by one.
“You’re so wet, I bet I could use the big girl on you.” Her voice was low and deep.
The tart’s eyelashes fluttered. Her breath sped up.
“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you with the big dick? You want me to make you scream?”
The tart squirmed even more on the bed. “Yes,” she panted with big, bright eyes. “Yes. That’s what I want!”
The wolf’s eyes gleamed. “Maybe another time.”
She climbed into the bed then, full of mischief and purpose. “I am going to fuck you, baby. But not like you want.” She smiled. “And you’ll love every minute of it.”
The wolf’s teeth flashed in the light, and Kylie felt her body tighten in response to the commanding tone, the low and growling voice. The woman climbed back into the bed and pounced on her lover. She bit her bare nipples, licking the dark peaks until a low moan began in the tart’s throat. Then gasps from what Kylie assumed were the wolf’s teeth, sinking into delicate flesh, turning the softness into hard as the woman undulated even more on the bed, her pussy dripping so much that it seemed like she had come. But the wolf was just getting started.
She had her ass in the air as she licked and kissed her woman’s breasts, treating Kylie to the sight of her rounded ass, the lips of her wet pussy open around the lace thong panties, dampening the fabric. She was as aroused as the tart, but she didn’t touch herself. All her satisfaction came from making her woman moan and cry out. Kylie imagined another woman walking up behind the wolf. Pulling aside the wet string of the thongs and pressing her mouth to that needy flesh.
Would she cry out in alarm, or merely look over her shoulder in surprise before sinking back into the warm flesh of her lover, pleased by the attention she was getting but not at all distracted from her task? Kylie could imagine many women she’d watched do that. Violet. Julia. Even the woman she’d just taken blood from in the park. But she couldn’t imagine herself doing it. Her imagination wasn’t that strong.
Slowly, the wolf kissed her way down her lover’s body, kissing her belly, her hipbones. Then she dropped between the tart’s thighs, crouching lower and giving Kylie an even better view of her luscious rear and pussy, the steady trickle of arousal down her thighs and around the string of the thongs. Her mouth touched the tart’s pussy. They both moaned, a joyous sound that made Kylie feel like she was a part of something miraculous and beautiful. A pleasure she could not only see but hear, even feel in the delicate wakening between her own thighs, the pressing of her nipples against her shirt and jacket. She swallowed.
They were beyond beautiful. The wolf crouching between her partner’s thighs, fingers slipping neatly into her pussy as her mouth continued to lick and suck at her clit. The tart moaned
and panted as the fingers moved in her wetness. Three fingers and she gasped. Four and she moaned softly, her lashes fanning open and closed, chest heaving.
“Phoebe!”
The wolf lifted her head, still fucking her steadily with her fingers. “Yes, baby?”
“Don’t stop!”
She dropped her head and went back to pulling the thick clit into her mouth. The tart’s thighs pressed wider into the mattress as Phoebe tucked her thumb in with the other fingers sliding into the soaking pussy. She sighed. Moaned. Whispered. Prayed.
“I can feel you!” she gasped. “I can feel you.”
Phoebe slipped wrist-deep into her lover. Kylie stared. She’d never seen anything like that before. Hadn’t even known it was possible. The tart gasped, her chest heaving, sweat pouring off her in lust-scented waves. Phoebe slowly started to fuck her with her hand. A delicate buildup. A wet tightness.
The three of them were caught in a triangle of lust, experiencing what should have been impossible, the dripping pussy swallowing the wolf to the wrist while she used the thumb of her other hand to agitate her lover’s clit in time to the strokes of her fist. Smooth and firm. Slow and tender. Sweat covered the wolf’s muscled body, her teeth skinned back in concentrated intensity. The muscles in her arm jumped as she fucked her woman.
“Fuck me, baby!” The tart moaned. “Fuck me! Don’t stop.” The sound of her pleasure stretched out like hot caramel. “I need you.”
Kylie watched the wolf’s face, saw a trace of discomfort there, her hand cramping. But she didn’t slow her movements. She didn’t stop what she was doing, only pushed into her lover’s welcoming body, both of them gasping and crying out, the tart’s moans rising higher and higher in the room.
“Come for me, baby,” the wolf whispered. “Come.”
The tart screamed, waves of sound rolling in the room as her pussy pulsed around her lover’s wrist, dripping its cum. The wolf pressed a hand between her own legs. It only took seconds before she was gasping from her release.
