by Suz deMello
I was about to come, when he leaned forward, spearing me deeply, and gripped my hands. My legs spread wide, my ass burning, I had never felt so taken, so possessed, in my life.
My groan burst from deep inside me…to my surprise, he untied my hands.
“Yes or no?” he whispered in my ear. His cock left me, leaving me still needy and wanting.
“Yes!”
The hot, rounded tip pushed against the sensitive membrane between vagina and back hole, sliding forward until it rested atop the tight rosette. I drew a deep breath and willed myself to relax as he pressed inside, opening me anew.
He was wet with our combined juices, and slipped in with surprising ease, but I couldn’t repress a yelp. He stopped immediately but didn’t withdraw, allowing me time to relax and accept him into my body.
I sighed, and that release loosened me. He slid in a little deeper.
I drew a shocked breath; he was big, and it hurt.
“Too much?” he asked, his voice tender.
“Ye-yeah.”
He pulled out without any hesitation, then rolled over, taking me with him so we lay facing each other. “I’d kill myself before hurting ye, kylyrra. Do you understand that?”
My bottom burned and sizzled, inside and out. “Yeah…let’s finish this another time.” Strangely enough, I wanted more, but that would have to wait. I knew it was best to listen to my body.
“I want to bring you off.” Kissing me, he reached between my legs and gently caressed my clit between thumb and forefinger.
I put my arms around him and asked, “What about you?”
He found the spot that had worked the night before, and rubbed it. “Don’t worry about me. I want this for you.”
“Oh, Garrett.” More of this bliss and I’d fall in love. I let go, moaned and came, shivering with ecstasy.
We were awakened by screams splitting the early morning, followed by pounding on the gatehouse door.
“Mr. Garrett! It’s happened again!”
Garrett rolled over, smiled at me and said, “See?”
I blinked, trying to understand. “What?”
“Get up, sweetheart, the fun is just beginning.” He was already out of bed, pulling on jeans and a moss-green sweater that looked especially good with his eyes.
I followed suit, adding a denim jacket against the misty morning. “Do you know what’s going on?”
He grinned. “It’s the vampire. He’s struck again. My guess is that your stepbrother’s dead.”
“Dead?”
Outside, we trotted up the hill to the castle, where the big wooden doors were wide open and a small crowd of staff had gathered. When Garrett approached, a uniformed maid flung her arms around him, sobbing.
He gently stroked her graying hair and asked, “What happened, Robina?”
Robina sucked in a breath, visibly controlling her sobs even though tears streaked her cheeks. “It’s him, Garrett. It’s the vampire. He killed the gentleman in the tower. I went in there to tidy up the room and there he was, white as a cloud, completely limp.”
“Dead?” Garrett asked.
“Dead.”
“Has anyone called the police?”
The assembled staff shifted and muttered. “They won’t do anything,” one sturdy man said. He wore mud-caked Wellingtons, and I guessed he was a gardener.
“Nevertheless, that is what we must do,” Garrett said briskly.
When the local police came, I was surprised that they didn’t arrest me as a suspect. After all, I was the only connection to Stanton, and now he was dead. They told me only that there would be an inquest in a few days, and to please stay locally until that formality was over. After that, I could make arrangements for Stanton’s body to be returned to Los Angeles.
Later, when Garrett and I were drinking tea in the gatehouse’s cozy kitchen, I asked him about the police’s unexpected behavior. He pointed out, “Neither you nor I are suspects because we were together all night. Plus, they believe in the vampire.”
“Right now I do too. What else could have killed Stanton?”
Garrett rubbed his stubble. “Nothing else, kylyrra.”
I regarded him. “You knew, didn’t you?”
He evaded my gaze, instead standing to fetch the teapot. “Knew what?”
“You knew that the vampire would kill Stanton.”
“I didn’t know. I guessed.” He refilled my mug.
Horror suffused me. “But you’ve let me stay, alone, in that castle.”
He set down the teapot, sat down and faced me. A thin smile crossed his face. “He likes women.”
“What?”
“The vampire never kills women. He has haunted the castle for centuries, and has never killed a woman.”
I rubbed my neck.
“But there are stories…” He glanced at me, speculation in his eyes.
“Stories of what?”
“Visitations in the night, ghostly caresses and so on. I’ve never put much stock in them.”
Memories flooded my mind, heated my body. I recalled the strangely cool touch of my nocturnal visitor, so unlike Garrett. I’d never seen his face, but had assumed…
“You’ve never come to me at night, when I slept in the castle?”
“Of course not.” He stared at me. “Are ye saying…”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” I rubbed my arms. “Did you pimp me out to the castle vampire?”
“Kylyrra, no, I would never do that!” He reached across the table for me, but I pulled away and didn’t let him touch me. “I said, I never believed that. And when I looked at your neck that night in the pub, it seemed untouched. And ye denied anything had happened.”
“I thought it was a dream.” A rueful chuckle escaped me. “A very sexy dream.”
“Did he hurt ye?”
“Well, no.” I was more hurt by Garrett’s attitude. What did he know? How come he hadn’t told me? How had he allowed the vampire to make love to me? “Does he know we’ve been together?” Angry, I made a point of using past tense.
“I dunno. Probably. He’s abroad at night, sometimes during the day, especially in the winter.”
“Does he know what we’re talking about…now?”
“No, he’s not a ghost. He’s a vampire.”
“Can we get him?” I was pretty pissed off. But who was the target of my temper? Garrett or the vampire?
“No. we’ve been looking for him for centuries, we Kilburns.”
“Kilburn,” I said thoughtfully. “The way you kill a vampire is to burn it.”
“Aye. That’s the family mission, to root out the vampires here.”
“Why?”
“Guilt.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “He’s one of us.”
I gasped.
“Let me show you something.” He went to the sitting room and opened an ornately carved wooden box. He withdrew a leather-bound journal from it.
The diary’s cover was worn around the edges, crumbling with age. I opened it to see spidery, faded writing on yellowed pages. It seemed to be very old, its leather binding cracked, pages yellowed and crumbling, ink faded and difficult to read. Nevertheless, I was able to decipher some entries. The first dates were in the 1600s, but I am not sure when the following was written.
Of Vampyres
Of our kind, many misconceptions abound. Some say we can fly or can transform into all manner of beast. Myths, all. We have no superior powers of any sort. What power we have derives from the blood, for it is in the blood alone our life resides. We can attain great age, perhaps immortality, if the blood is present in sufficient quantities. We need not sleep.
Our bite is not always fatal, but if a victim is drained he or she will die.
We cannot fly. We cannot turn into other animals. We are not faster or stronger than humans. We have no unusual ability to heal; in fact, we are a frail breed, slow to heal. We scar easily. It is hard to recover from injury without quite large quantities of human blood
, its animating and recuperative powers are essential to our survival.
With sufficient human blood, however, a vampire can do anything a human can, including eat, drink and reproduce. We need not avoid the light, though due to the weakness of our eyes, we prefer darkness. Our skin is sensitive to light, and should you encounter a vampire on a sunny day, it is likely that he or she will wear an unusual amount of clothing. For that reason, vampires prefer northern latitudes, especially near seacoasts.
We are not unusually attractive to the opposite sex, unless we were beautiful in life…
I dropped the diary from hands rendered boneless. Though it shed some light on the mystery, it didn’t restore my trust in Garrett.
How had he known about the journal? Okay, maybe it was an old family heirloom as he claimed, but maybe he’d written it himself. Or was he in cahoots with the Kilburn vampire? In this fantastic place, nothing seemed impossible.
A vampire inhabited Kilburn Castle. And why not?
My breath stuck in my throat. What of Garrett Kilburn? Was he my midnight lover?
We need not sleep… Had Garrett been telling me the truth?
Though we’d been to bed many times, I had never actually seen Garrett sleeping. Had he lied to me? Had he slipped into my room and made love to me? Did his kiss contain some mysterious elixir that rendered me only semiconscious, able to feel, taste, touch and hear, but not to see my lover?
He’d seemed so confident that Stanton would not survive the night. Was it because he’d slipped out of our room and killed my stepbrother?
I dismissed the notion as too far-fetched, again recalling the difference between the vampire’s touch and Garrett’s. Also, though the vampire had made love to me, he had used only his hands and mouth to pleasure me into mindless rapture before taking blood. My experiences with Garrett told me that he liked to fuck, liked his cock in me, to ride me until I screamed with joy.
But with enough human blood, a vampire could reproduce. The thought of bearing the vampire’s baby froze my blood.
I lifted my head from the pages of the book and stared at Garrett, who sprawled in a sofa across from me in the sitting room. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, the coziness of the scene contrasting with the icy bands gripping my heart.
“Who wrote this book?” I asked.
“One of my ancestors.” His face and voice were moody. “Lord Gareth Kilburn.”
The similarity of the names didn’t escape me. But how could I know?
Did I need or want to know? After all, wasn’t I going back to Los Angeles? Didn’t I have obligations, obligations to the company and to my family?
“I have to make some phone calls, arrange for the transport of Stanton’s body to Los Angeles.” I paused at the door and looked back at Garrett. The expression on his face as he stared at me was of naked longing.
He dipped his head in acceptance. “Do what ye must.” His gaze shifted to the fire, and something changed inside me. I sensed that he’d spent many nights in this room, staring into the flames, alone.
I had to know. I didn’t want to give Garrett up. Why should I? I’d been happy here and knew I could be again. But I had to find out the truth. Was he or wasn’t he? The only way to know for sure was to see them together, the vamp and Garrett. Otherwise, how could I be sure that there wasn’t some unnatural bond between the two of them?
I gulped and said, “If we ever want to live in the castle, we have to get him. We have to lure him out and catch him in the act, right?”
He raised his head, and a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. Or was it deception? “Aye. We’ve never been able to locate his lair. We canna trap him tonight. He’s sated, and we dinna know where he hides. We suspect somewhere in the tower.”
“This is why you put Stanton in the tower.”
“Yes, after making sure ye truly wanted to get rid of him.” His voice regained excitement and energy. “The vamp is used to going without human blood for days, even weeks at a time. We suspect that when no one stays in the castle, he drinks from animals. This is why we keep sheep and dogs. They distract him from the villagers.”
I glanced at the terrier, curled up asleep on the rug in front of the fire.
Garrett smiled at me. “I suspect you’re irresistible to him, and if ye really want to capture the vamp, it’s possible. But you have to go back to L.A. to take care of business.”
“True, but not until after the inquest. The board of directors and the staff take care of Auntie Jacqueline’s company, and I can use the internet in the pub to communicate with them if necessary.”
He stood and walked over to me where I leaned against the doorpost. He didn’t touch me, but said, “So there’s no need for you to leave.”
“Not right now. Do you want me to stay?”
“Sure, for right now.” His voice was casual. He toyed with my hair.
Clearly, Garrett wasn’t ready to commit in any way, nor was I. Not until the lingering questions about him remained, and not after the multiple shocks of the day, to say nothing of the last week or two. Plus, we’d just met. And was “vampire hunter” an adequate job description for a potential mate?
But Garrett was definitely Mr. Right Now. Or was he? I wouldn’t know until we’d trapped the vampire. If Garrett protected the vampire in any way…
Chapter Three
I followed him into the kitchen, and we began to prepare food.
Garrett took out lettuce and vegetables from the old but functional refrigerator, and set them on the sideboard. He handed me a knife, and said, “I know you’re angry with me and ye dinna trust me. But will ye share me bed for two more nights? Then we’ll stay a few nights in the castle and perhaps trap the old vamp.”
“And it will all be over.” I found a bowl in a cupboard above me.
“Not all, I hope. Kylyrra, I promise ye, I’d never knowingly give ye to him.” He took a pot down from a high shelf.
“You could have warned me.”
“Of what? When ye came, I did tell ye ye’d be alone in the castle and that the staff leave after sundown. Should I have said, ‘Oh, by the way, Ms. Desmond, Castle Kilburn is haunted by a vampire who’s rumored to enjoy pretty ladies?’” He set the pot on the stove and lit a burner beneath it.
I hesitated. Put that way, Garrett’s actions seemed reasonable. “Why do you take lodgers at all?”
“It’s a business, and a good one, when I‘m booked. It’s the off-season now and it’s quiet. Come midsummer, we’re full, and the vamp doesna come out. He doesna like the light, long days. I’m not sure what he does.” He turned and smiled at me.
Though I was still suspicious of Garrett, that night, with the vampire asleep in his lair, we enjoyed a cozy evening in the gatehouse. We ate stew and crusty bread, along with a salad, and washed everything down with a nice red wine from Spain. After dinner, we cuddled naked under a quilt before the fire and watched Braveheart on the DVD player—my choice. Garrett thought the film rather quaint and laughed at me when I picked it.
During one of the lengthy battle scenes, my attention flagged and I found my hands and mouth wandering to Garrett’s lovely cock. He’d seen the movie a few too many times, he said, so I ended up on top of him, sucking his male meat while he was busy with my pussy.
I took him in as far as I could until his mushroom-shaped head pushed at the back of my mouth. Relishing his flavor, I wrapped my fingers around his rod’s base and squeezed. I wanted to make every millimeter of his tasty shaft feel great, and focused most of my energy on his head’s rim, running my tongue repeatedly along it. Experience told me that this was the most sensitive spot on a man’s body, and Garrett’s appreciative moans told me that I was right.
He was no less attentive to my pussy, licking and kissing my clit while fingering my back door. I sensed he wanted to give anal sex another try, and I did, also.
The sensual spanking he’d given me told me that he could take me higher than any other man, and I was eager to explore this undisco
vered side of my sexuality. With him; no one but Garrett would do.
But he took his time, treating my clit to long, firm swipes of his tongue. Each caress suffused my being with delight, my nerve endings alight, with the pleasure centering in my well-loved cunt. And I matched him stroke for stroke, pumping up and down over his cock while shaping my lips into a ring of taut flesh. Every once in a while I’d vary the pace and the pressure, sucking harder, bringing him to the brink before backing off.
I loved to taunt and tease him, and he did the same for me. When I was on the verge of coming, he pulled away and blew cool air onto my aroused pussy.
“You’re fair steaming, kylyrra.”
“You make me sooo hot…”
He chuckled. “Try this.” He slid a finger into my channel and pumped a few times. I moaned. It was good, but I needed something longer and thicker. When his finger was wet, he put it up my rear. I was far more open than before, and the entry was easy. He rotated his finger while licking my clit, and the sensation shot me into the stars. My head whirled, filled with a thousand glittering colors. I writhed, pushing my hips toward his mouth, wanting more, more, more, while the intense pressure from his probing finger made me sweat and pant.
I tore my mouth away from his rod and shouted out my orgasm.
My body wrenched and I rolled off him, half off the sofa, and he followed, draping me facedown in a kneeling position over the sofa’s seat. Behind me, he thrust forward while spreading my buttocks for his entry. One quick push and he was in. I squealed and squirmed, but he held on to my hips and surged in deeper.
I let out a cry. He stopped and reached around me to caress my pussy, my swollen, excited clit. I moaned and panted, scrabbling with frantic fingers for purchase on the sofa’s back, desperate to anchor myself amidst the maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Pleasure. Pain. Pressure. Caress…and a searing rapture that radiated from my pierced backside to engulf all of me.
He continued to stroke my clit, and when I groaned, resumed thrusting, taking, possessing the tightest core of me. Two more thrusts and he was there. Amidst the fiery bliss I felt his cock burn all the way up my back channel, and I felt his balls stroke my buttocks, rendered oh-so-sensitive by his thorough spanking.
