Eventually he can get up and move around again. The light on his answering machine flashes at him persistently, reminding him that he has people out there in the real world who are worried for him, but none of it matters. He hasn’t talked to anyone for days, nor answered the door. The mirror only serves as a reminder of what a mess he looks, dark circles under his eyes give him the appearance of having gone several rounds in the ring with someone way out of his league. His skin, always naturally pale, has taken on a bluish tinge. He looks like death and there’s no denying it. His reflection makes him shudder, so what would other people think?
No, not other people…her… In his mind she had become a part of him; her essence has invaded his being and refuses to leave. It scares him, but he can’t let it go. The rational voice that still exists somewhere inside him, telling him this is unhealthy and that he needs help, is smothered by more insistent feelings. The voices of desire, passion and longing, are louder, stamping down on any reasonable argument that his mind can come up with. Her presence is all around him, her face everywhere, in patterns, in the images of others, mirrored in his own reflection. Haunting him and slowly driving him over the edge of whatever sanity he is managing to cling onto.
He has to see her…
Although his temperature eases, he finds the nights unbearably hot; sweat slicks his back and sides, causing him to throw the bed sheets back. Finally, unable to sleep, he pulls himself out of bed and over to the window, thinking that letting the cold night air in will help him get comfortable, perhaps even sleep; but sleep is not always welcome, his dreams still troubled. Pushing on the glass, he leans on the ledge for a moment, allowing the wind to run chill fingers over his tender skin and tries to put his thoughts into some kind of order. Tiredness seeps through his bones, making his limbs feel heavy and leaden. Stumbling slightly, he makes his way back to the bed, sitting down heavily as fatigue over comes him. It’s pointless trying to fight as his eyelids start to close and darkness conquers him at last.
****
Warm, spicy scent surrounds him. In his dreams he is wrapped in soft red fur. It brushes against his naked flesh, warm and inviting, making him want to bury his face into it. Someone or something moves above him, and he is aware of hot breath on his shoulder. His eyes snap open, heart racing… Nothing, his bed is empty apart from him. Cursing inwardly, he sits up, rubbing his face with his hands and trying to shake the dream sensations from his mind, so real that he is sure he can still smell perfume in the air.
It takes his mind a few moments for this message to sink in then he realizes that it is real, the scent. It caresses his senses so deeply he can breathe it in. His body trembles, scared to turn around and not daring to hope.
The bed moves softly. A presence felt at his back, he starts to turn round, but long slim fingers rest on his shoulders, causing him to be still.
Pressed against him, he knows without turning that it is her and that she is naked. Arms snake around his chest and hard nipples graze his back as she pulls herself closer still. Like in so many dreams, her hair is loose and falls about her shoulders, cascading down upon his own. Once again he is struck by the feeling of being wrapped in soft fur and he rubs his cheek against it, enjoying the feel of it, the scent. Strange, soft words are whispered in his ear, echoing round his head, the language he does not know, but it does not matter. Honey drips from those words, soothing him, making him relax and close his eyes.
He feels as though he is floating, weightless. His body losing all substance and all that remains is sensation. Nimble figures dart down his hairless chest, stroking skin and causing the hair on his arms to stand on end and chills to run up the length of his spine. Endlessly, she teases, fingers dancing downwards in feathery strokes. His body responds eagerly to her touch, growing hard, wanting more than this, yet he trembles against her, unsure of what he should do. This is her game; he feels her power and yields to it utterly. To make a move could displease her, make her leave him again and he could not bear that thought. All that mattered was that somehow, some way, she was here in his room and he was hers to do with as she pleased.
Every touch sends a thrill through him, each caress like silk. Her breath on his neck warms him as she lowers her mouth onto his flesh, biting and chewing on him gently. Shifting, she wraps her legs around him, muscles tightening about his waist. If she wants to she could crush him with her arms and legs. This python embrace hypnotic; he is lulled as she rocks him back and forth softly, her mouth working on his shoulders and neck.
With fluid grace she slides around him, one movement finds her pinning his legs as she pushes him slowly back onto the bed. Through half-shut eyes, he watches her, face hidden by the glorious mane of hair that seems to shine like a fiery halo, burning against the darkness.
Whether this image is caused by his diminishing fever there is no doubt about the way his body burns as she kisses his chest, her tongue making wet little trails. Every moment and touch is languorous, almost torturous. Her kisses set him on fire and he is screaming out in his head for more than this teasing. He wants to kiss her properly, to feel her mouth bruising his again, be part of her. Stretching out a trembling hand he touches her hair, aiming to brush it away from her face.
As he reaches for her, she jumps back violently as though he moves to hit her, her reaction leaving him feel as though he is the one who has been struck. Shooting backwards, she comes to rest on her haunches almost hissing at him through clenched teeth.
Confused and hurt, he mumbles ‘why?’ The signals he is getting now muddled and frightening. The air between them fraught with the possibility of unspoken violence. Her legs and arms are taut as though ready to spring, causing him to freeze, afraid to make a sudden move. None of this makes any sense; it was she who came to him, he had not asked her to be here, naked and savage.
‘Oh, but you did my love…’
Blinking in surprise, he looks at her. Her position has changed and she no longer appears to be ready to attack, instead her knees are now drawn up beneath her, arms wrapped tightly around them. Although he cannot see her face, he is sure that she does not speak to him with her mouth; her voice seems to be inside him.
A sigh emanates from her; shoulders moving up and down with resignation. As she breathes out a rush of air hits him. Sinking back onto the bed, he is struck once more by the sense of her as she fills his being.
Images fill his head, times and places he does not know. Faces dance past his eyes. Loss weighs her down like chains; love and pain one thing to her, there is no defining line. It speeds through his mind so quickly that he fears he may vomit. Too much information and too many feelings all hit him at once. Her life seems an endless search for something that she is unable to find. Desire, yes there is that too, desire for him, but fear as well, anger and an inner torment that seems to tear at her as she does things to survive that he cannot understand. With this there is also the shocking realization that there is something about her that is not entirely human.
No, not human…it bounces around his head, as images begin to slow and ebb away. Her presence is still there, but everything else fades to black. He cannot see her, but he is not afraid.
From out of the darkness a flame bursts into life, twisting and turning as it takes shape. From the fire she is born; her hair remains aflame even as her image solidifies.
For the first time she speaks from her mouth and not her mind with a voice exactly like he imagined, husky and deep, and coated with melted chocolate.
‘No, not human… And if I ever was, I do not remember it for this is all I have known, there is nothing else. My name, Curare, means Poison and this is what I am. I feed off people, people like you, my beautiful one. Your energies, lust, passion, desire, fear…they are all food for me.’ She shrugs, eyes and hair blazing. He knows it is truth; this is not another illusion or a dream. He feels it every time he sees her dance, the exhilaration and the exhaustion. Those cravings he feels, the come down after she leaves…the cold turkey f
ever that has taken hold of him these last days…they are all the signs of being a junkie, making her the drug. It is mirrored in the crowd, the frenzy it would work itself up into, was designed to heighten their feelings. It should scare him, repulse him even, yet it doesn’t.
‘Yes,’ she continues, ‘That pure rush of feeling, the high is unbelievable. You see it, don’t you, in the way you feel. Without control I would drain the room dry, sometimes I want to, this I cannot deny. Most people only come to the shows once or twice, they feel strange after, although they will not be able to put their fingers on why, and so they don’t return. For them contact with me is not dangerous, they may suffer flu-like symptoms afterwards, but it passes away…’ She pauses for a moment, hugging herself as though in pain. ‘Then there is you. You who could not seem to stay away. I prayed you would not come you know…don’t look so puzzled or hurt. It was because I wanted to see you that I felt this way. But you were there, all the time, your soul calling out to me. I know that you wake in the night calling my name; you think that silence is the only thing that answered. But it’s not so… I hear you, I wish it were not so, for your sake.’
Shaking his head, he tries to understand what she is saying, does she want him or not?
The puzzlement is evident to her also as she continues to speak and explain.
‘The point is I do want you. In fact I want you so badly it burns inside me brighter than any flame. To take you and consume you utterly into myself, the thought drives me mad with desire.’ Her voice becomes a low, throaty growl, eyes now predatory as she moves closer, almost stalking him.
‘Do you understand what it is to be mine? I can make you feel more than you’ve ever known, be assured of that, but the price is high…too high perhaps…so ask yourself this question…’ Licking lips, she pauses, face up close to his, the heat coming off her in waves, desire so strong he can feel it. ‘Would you die for love?’
‘I want you and be damned…’ He screams it with every fiber of his being and she takes his hand…
He moves to her, brushing the hair back from her face. Enchantment rests in her eyes and he is more than willing to fall into them. The first touch of his lips against her is like a spark that catches fire, engulfing his body and reaching into his heart and soul.
Hand in hand, they pull each other closer, fingers dancing across naked skin. Every touch sets off a chain reaction as they explore each curve and line, setting nerves ablaze. Her tongue is electrifying, her kisses demanding, exhausting, dancing wildly on his lips.
Flesh in flesh…her legs wrap around his waist, drowning him in waves of sweetness. Honey seems to pour forth from her mouth into his, smothering him in hot kisses. Their bodies melt together as he feels himself falling into her, the heat rising between them, violent and savage. Suddenly, he is dancing in flames, playing with fire. Despite knowing that these are burns that won’t ever heal, he does not care. He is with her, in her and that is heaven on Earth. His fiery angel of death rides above him, moving in what seems to be slow motion. Vision blurry, emotion and sensation take over…if this is to die then it’s also what it is to truly live. A euphoric feeling floods his being and as he is taken higher inside her. Twisting and turning him as his soul flies upwards, when the rush hits him, it’s like nothing he’s ever known. He cannot see for blinding light before blackness fills his mind…‘Love me to death softly.'
Morning…a movement, long limbs stretching in the early morning sun, the feeling of being alive. They turn to the side to look at their still companion, lying on the rumpled sheets unmoving, skin cold…
Long red hair frames her pale face…he tries to shake her…knowing inside that those jewel green eyes will not open. Pulling the limp form into his arms, he howls like a banshee, wanting to shake her, slap her, anything to make her wake up. Not understanding anything except somehow she has given up her life to protect him. He can still feel her inside him, the glow of power that burst forth from her still burns like embers in his heart and he knows that in those final moments she loved him…
What she didn’t understand was that life without her would only be a half-life for him. Her gift wasted…
Laying her gently down on the sheets he brushes hair from her forehead and places a kiss on the cold marble of her skin. The window is still open, leading out onto a balcony…it’s easy. Closing his eyes, he steps over the ledge, feeling the wind on his face as he falls forward.
Across the early morning sky, far above the horrified crowds that gather around the broken body, a shooting star streaks through the dawn light and is joined by another. Together they dance and burn brightly as the sun begins to shine, climbing higher and higher until they can be seen no more.
The Queen of Hearts
by Charlotte Ondac
Jerry's eyes trailed down the length of her taut neck, down to the swell of her bound breasts. His eyes fixated on the faint network of blue veins mapping out the curve of her rising bosom, only to move back up to her neck, focusing on the bulging veins as she panted.
The whole time after, Jerry's eyes never left Judith's neck.
Jerry and Judith met on an online dating site a month before. This was generally where he found his intended victims. Looking for what he called lonely hearts. Judith certainly filled that bill, calling herself the Queen of Hearts, searching for her missing heart. Jerry took the chance, seducing her with his wide vocabulary, his dark good looks and various other tools he had built for himself during his years of hunting.
Online, Judith was just as flirtatious, and rather forthright. To entice Jerry, Judith sent him a sexy photograph of herself. Clad in a tight white corset, that bulged her breasts together, lacy white briefs and stockings, she knelt on a luxurious white bed, arching her back with her hands in her dark hair, showing off the perfection of her body. She had her head tilted back, lengthening her neck, and that was more than enough for Jerry.
Of course, through the constant flirting and sexual innuendos, the two agreed to meet.
Jerry organized a romantic dinner at an expensive luxury hotel on the coast. He was clad in a fine suit, tailor-made to show off the strong physique he worked daily to develop. He arrived at the date first, an old fashioned room with gentle plants, candles and violins playing in the background. He took a seat at the white table, laden with the various knives, forks and spoons, and wine glasses set out ready. About five minutes after, she walked in and she was a magnificent sight.
Her hair was pinned up high, leaving her shoulders and neck bare. She wore a strapless red dress that was such a perfect fit that it did not take too much imagination to know her body. She wore very little makeup, despite carrying what was obviously a large red handbag, possibly with makeup in it, her red lips and dark green eyes enticed anyone who looked at her. Jerry certainly was enticed as he acted the gentleman and held her chair out for her, looking down at her perfectly molded body, particularly at the lush curve of her behind, as she sat down.
With the meal and drinks ordered, the two sat down for their meal. Once more showing her forthright intentions, Jerry was shocked and excited as he felt Judith's stockinged foot reaching up his inner leg and stopping at his crotch. It took all of his self control to remain relaxed as she started moving her foot, concentrating it around the shaft that was forming, making the pants feel much tighter on Jerry. His rising breath, and hardening organ, were clear indications that the meal was finished.
Asking for the bill, and holding his jacket in front of him, Jerry helped Judith to her feet, once more enjoying the view as she stood up, and took her to a room he had rented, just in case.
It was a good thing too. As soon as they entered, consumed with the rising and raging desire, they were in each other's arms, kissing and virtually devouring each other. They fed on each other's lips, tongues, breath and saliva. As they kissed, Jerry's hands reached down her back, finding that beautiful, curved, round object he was admiring each time he helped with her seat. As he squeezed, she moaned, only to retu
rn the favor as she grasped his crotch, her hand wrapping around the thickening mast.
Pushing him back for a moment, both of them pumped and fired up, Judith reached back, forcing her breasts to jut forth, and pulled down the zipper of her dress, letting it fall to the ground. As she did so, she revealed that she was wearing the same corset, panties and stockings she'd worn in her photo. Seeing his arousal heighten, Judith lay back onto the bed, parting her legs open in welcome.
Removing his own clothes, revealing the powerful physique of his torso and limbs, and the equally strong muscle below that held itself high, Jerry climbed over Judith, caressing her stockinged legs, up the silky confines of the corset on her belly and up to her half-exposed breasts, begging to be released from the corset.
In his torture, he moved from the breasts, up her neck and to her face, where she kissed and nibbled his fingers, whilst he nibbled and kissed her neck, enjoying the veins bulging against his lips. His arousal heightened, as did hers, both panting and writhing. He reached down, finding her damp and warm behind the lace of her panties, her body shuddering as he touched her, rubbing the whole length, before focusing on her hardening spot. Her fluids soaked through to his fingers.
In return. She reached down for his length, brushing the head against her laced crotch so that he nearly came, so that he nearly bit into her neck.
Before he could, a sudden burst of strength from Judith forced him onto his back, straddling him, his hard organ pinned underneath her as she gyrated above him. His hands clutched each buttock, reaching under the lace. As she raised her body, she pulled the damp lace to the side, against her leg, and guided him inside her.
Bloody Sexy Anthology Page 9
