His body had far less control now, and it pounded with the blood coursing through every inch of him. Most of it gushed to his cock, which had pushed its way out of his trousers and was bobbing in stimulation.
Reverently, he placed his palms over her belly, enjoying the sensation of his rougher hands over her smooth skin. He slid upward, over her belly ring, over the curve of her waist, her ribs, all in lingering madness.
When he got to her breasts, full and ripe, he held their weight, painting her nipples by circling his thumbs there.
Kimberly leaned back her head, exposing her neck. But there was no blood hunger at the sight; no, he wanted the more they had been talking of. Wanted something he had never devoured before because it hadn’t fully emerged yet.
“Maybe the colors around you are not as impressive as they were earlier,” he whispered in her ear, “but you have not changed in my eyes, Kimberly. You’re just as enchanting.”
He moved to kiss her, to sip and to taste. Slipping his hands to the small of her back, he pressed her against him. Her bare breasts smashed against his chest, her nipples beaded and slick against a sheen of perspiration that had begun to coat him.
These new, less refined, but just as potent sensations sent a blast of heat all over him, and his cock nudged her belly. As they sucked at each other’s lips, drawing out the kiss in long, sensual strokes, he used one hand to work at her fly. When he had it undone, he eased his fingers inside her underwear, parting her legs, then her curls to get at the humid folds of her.
Slow, thorough. He took his time, listening to her wince against his mouth, feeling her hips shift with his every motion. She pushed down her jeans, giving him more access, allowing him to work her clitoris, then coax his fingers up into her.
She lightly bit his bottom lip, then as she sucked it, tightened her muscles around his fingers in playful insinuation.
Clenching, loosening. Each time she relaxed, he thrust harder. Soon, his fingers were sopping, busy with bringing her to moaning weakness.
“There could be a bigger part of you inside,” she said with effort, reaching down to grasp his penis.
It throbbed, and a tiny spurt wet his tip. He knew that, now, everything was different. He was alive—every part of him.
Everything.
They stripped, and he hauled her against him, mindful of the concrete floor and her comfort. While he took his position on the ground, reveling in the burn scratching at his legs and ass, she climbed on his lap, wrapping her legs around him.
She teased him more, skimming her sex over his cock, drenching his head with her juices. His sensitive tip slicked through her folds, pressing against the bud until she groaned.
Then, as if executing her own revenge, she drew back and impaled herself on his thudding erection.
She gave a thrilled cry and rolled her hips, enclosing him in silken wetness, in a tunnel with a pinpoint of light beckoning at the end.
“My Stephen,” she said, churning as he held her hips.
He worked her around and around while his vision collapsed before him.
He was speeding through that tunnel, the light becoming nearer, brighter, as the walls sucked in on him. His skin felt pressurized, and he buried his face in her neck, her hair fragrant, her skin earthy with sex and sweat.
Pounding, pounding—he beat toward the tunnel’s end, the light burning, heating, flaring until he couldn’t look at it anymore.
She stiffened, crying out, but he kept going, losing himself against her, in her.
A fleeting eternity whirled by, and his body convulsed, then seemed to explode. The light consumed him, throwing him backward, forward, everywhere.
Gasping, he tasted her skin as he came to, his mouth on her neck as he heaved in oxygen, which seemed to have been depleted from the atmosphere only moments earlier.
As they held each other, the sky paled, introducing sunlight on its rise as it peeked through the shack’s canvas.
It warmed all the years he would have with the woman who whispered “My Stephen” in his ear before she buried her face in his neck and bit it lightly.
Epilogue
A YEAR HAD PASSED with astounding speed, but only because happiness had a tendency to fly faster than days full of fear.
It was nighttime, and Kim rested on the porch of the cabin she and Stephen had bought in Big Bear, near Los Angeles. It was cozy and isolated. Nestled amongst the late-summer trees, they didn’t have much cause to realize that civilization was just a short drive away.
No, here every turning leaf told its own story, every flash off the lake’s water hinted at the gorgeous details that life had to offer every single day.
She heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel, and lazily turned her head toward their expected visitor as garage lights flooded the drive.
Edward. He had contacted Stephen earlier this week and would be staying in their guestroom downstairs. What he didn’t know was that Stephen had invited Edward over to seriously talk. In his continued quest to find humanity, Edward risked falling into deeper hatred.
In a spirit of rebirth, both she and Stephen were working on forgiving the ex-gang member for threatening Kim, which wasn’t easy. Still, they both thought forgiveness was essential to starting over with a clean slate, so here Edward was, the vampire seeking absolution who constantly phoned their home to apologize for what he’d done.
As Kim watched her husband and Edward greet each other and then head for the porch, she sighed. Stephen was just as hot as he had been as a vamp. Sure, he didn’t move as gracefully, but he still glided like a sleek animal. And he didn’t have that “sheen,” but he was even more masculine without it. Truthfully, he hadn’t changed all that much except for the obvious happiness that outlined his body like an aura only she could see.
Physically, she had changed, too, though her added weight gain was a few pounds for the way, way better. She’d realized that the confidence she’d gained from his bites was permanent, but that was only because he loved her and she loved him, so carrying herself with ease wasn’t a challenge.
She got to her feet, her rocker moaning against the floorboards, and set aside the postcard she’d gotten from Powder and Darlene while they traveled the Swiss Alps. After Darlene had gotten over Edward’s treatment of her—something made possible when he’d apologized to her, as well, earlier this year—she’d taken up with Powder. Of course, Edward’s spell had dissipated when he’d gone human for a short time, so Darlene was free of him, just as vampires at large were free of the Van Helsing League.
The group had broken apart after the near tragic confrontation. Troy had said that Stephen made him realize something—that exposing the breed meant hurting the decent vamps who were genuinely trying to police themselves, ones such as Stephen.
“Hey, Edward,” she said, embracing him.
He was just as wiry as usual, and that translated into a lethal agility he needed to hunt down the vampire, Gisele, who had ruined his dreams of mortality. In spite of his efforts to make everything up to those he’d hurt during his search for Fegan, Edward was smack in the middle of a second vendetta. The rest of the ex-gang—Roger, Henry and Rupert—were living well and prospering, and they’d all met with Edward one time or another in an effort to see if there was another solution to finding happiness for their old comrade.
But there wasn’t. Edward still had his mission, no matter how bitter it was. He was intent on catching his new creator, Gisele, plus Little Sam, who’d convinced her to return him to a vampiric state, too. Making her pay with death was the only way Edward could become human again, though he seemed to be missing the bigger picture. He could act human, even if he was a vampire.
Stephen had known this, yet even he admitted that being mortal and loving Kim on more normal terms was a great gift.
“Good to see you, Kimberly,” Edward said, backing away from her and stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets.
And then he smiled—a bright, sweet, sad smile—and
she knew he saw the piece of furniture behind her.
As he went over to the cradle, Stephen’s gaze caught Kim’s. It was as if the floor moved under her feet, shifting until her body felt dismantled from the force.
“I love you,” her husband mouthed.
Then everything pieced itself back together within her, a beautiful stained-glass window that glowed.
“I love you, too,” she whispered right back.
Edward was shaking his head as he looked at Stephen and Kim’s child swathed in his cradle. “He’s beautiful.”
“Sorry Nate’s sleeping right now,” she said. “But he’ll be up and about pretty early, probably just before you settle into some slumber, yourself.”
Edward reached out, then pulled his hand back, as if afraid to touch the infant at all. Kim had known that feeling—a lost sense of fear that could freeze you into the wrong life.
But Stephen had shown her how to embrace what she wanted, even while knowing that it all could disappear at any time. The key was in appreciating it while you could. There wasn’t any more she could do than that, so every second was precious.
She went to her husband and latched on to him. He held just as tightly to her as they watched Edward inspect Nate. Stephen didn’t need to be a vampire to glow, because he was doing a good job of it now—their son was the ultimate proof of life as he’d longed for it.
At that moment, Nate woke up and shined a smile at Edward, who looked stunned to be so affected by a little baby.
Pressing her face into Stephen’s chest and feeling his arms around her, Kim saw forever in her son, in those trees surrounding them, in the moon-glittered lake.
In the embrace of her husband.
And maybe, someday, they could help Edward find the rest of forever, too.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0260-7
THE ULTIMATE BITE
Copyright © 2007 by Chris Marie Green.
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