What can really truly lead someone so far down a path of no return that they not only pass that loathsome point, but also refuse to even consider the possibility of not doing so? For Drake it would be this way. For now and forever more. Drake looked at the form next to him. He lay next to him and touched those grey lips again. So stiff and unmoving. They had the texture of thick mushrooms on a cold day.
Drake stared at the eyes, open and lidless in la mort. He thought deeply about the darkness in them. The absolute blackness of the pupils. He fancied this as an eternal shadow. A reminder to anyone who looked in a mirror that this was all that they would one day see. Absolute and total dark.
There was a comfort for Drake in this thought. An easing quality like a muscle relaxant for the soul. The thought of eternal darkness presented no feeling of horror for Drake. It was something he longed for.
Not that he would ever cross that threshold mind you. Drake would never even consider self-slaughter. He was far too curious for that. He wanted to taste all of life’s pleasures and pains first. To end it himself was far too simple and far too cowardly. He would face it all no matter how terrible. He wanted to find out for himself how life would choose to shut itself off.
Suicide was not an alternative no matter how curious about the eternal darkness he was. If he wanted death too much, he had only to fall asleep, for in that dream of death came no dream of life. Only the pure and utter black like a blanket of peace. He knew that he would one day claim this...so he watched and waited. Perhaps it would be someone like him. How fun would that be? How wonderfully ironic and just. He touched the lips again. Cold, hard and un-giving...like mushrooms. He smiled.
“Welcome to my dream,” he said.
Cup Cake Cat
by Dagmar Travner
Swirling, she whooshed over his body; her untamed kiss left a creamy trace on his lips. A tempting taste of cupcake. In a blink she stood behind him, whispering sweet watery words to his ear. Her breath was sharp and ferocious, he could feel her rough tongue brushing the lobe, nosing his hair, tickling his ass, wet playing between his legs. Tantalised, he turned round, tried to catch her, fondling into delightful cup-cake breasts, kissing breath-taking stuff, sinking deeply into delicious regions. Instinctively, without wondering, he opened his mouth to take a quick bite.
That moment she retreated with an angry snarl, flipped backwards, and next thing he realised was a large cat crouching right at his feet - ready to jump. Surrounded by scary hissings and furry touches coming quickly from all sides, he ended up standing there, erect and naked, clothes in shreds, body covered in deep scratches. His fingers sensed a huge gaping wound on his stomach, the blood dripping down along his legs. Aghast he shrunk back even if the feline woman still mesmerised him. Without doubt this thing was deadly dangerous - though a gaze into those fiercely staring eyes thrilled and excited him again.
Strongly aroused he stepped forward, offering himself as easy prey. He didn‘t mind the lips licking tongue and the sharp teeth grinning at him. The table was set, the dish served. He was looking forward to enjoying all the pleasures of mating such an incredible creature and ready to pay for it.
Beneath the moon
by Carmilla Voiez
Heels click against stone as Lilith strides along the city street. She has no coat, but does not feel chilled by the autumn air. Long legs carry her swiftly past vacated office buildings and busy eateries. The smells of burnt cooking oil and chicken invade her nostrils. A few of the customers turn to stare as she rushes past the windows. Let them look, she doesn’t blame them. Her voluptuous pout is drawn in scarlet and the trace of a sneer tugs the corners of her lips downwards. Her pillar-box red hair and beautiful face lend her the look of a comic book super hero, while her near nudity suggests high-class prostitute.
Cars crawl past her as she heads out of town. Glazed eyes stare through half open windows. She keeps walking, head held high, returning no more than the briefest glance. Each car keeps moving, matching her pace for a while then accelerating away.
The busy city is behind her now. Darkened factories and warehouses line the street: remnants of Victorian wealth. The only light comes from the full moon above that stares down in silence. She is almost there.
At first she doesn’t register the heavy footsteps keeping time with her own. She is lost in dreams of adventure and freedom. Then, as she turns a corner she sees a dark shape dart into shadow. Listening now, she hears the slap of leather on tarmac as the stranger speeds up. She varies speed, but her pursuer keeps pace. She turns again and heads along a narrow alleyway, shoes crushing glass as they fall. The stranger is closer now. She can smell him. His odour of fresh and stale sweat mixes with the scent of his sex. He is excited. The closeness of him fills her head. Her pulse quickens, and her saliva tastes metallic. It is hard to formulate a plan while picking her way between broken concrete blocks and steel girders. Her heels slip over the uneven ground. The pain of her ankle twisting makes her swear. She looks behind, into the darkness.
The footsteps have stopped trying to keep pace with her and are beginning to gain ground then he is so close she can feel his breath in her hair.
He whispers insults as though they are terms of endearment. “You’re so beautiful, bitch. Fucking whore, worthless slut, we’re gonna have some fun.”
Her legs and arms feel heavy, as though they belong to someone else. She pushes forward in spite of her aching limb.
His menace taints the air. “I know you want me. I can smell your filthy cunt from here, my love. I’ll make you scream for more then I’ll gut you like a fish.”
Breathing deeply, she sucks strength from dust-filled oxygen. The flat edge of a cold blade presses against her throat and she freezes. The hunter pushes himself against her back, and she feels the rough denim of his jeans scratch against her. His left hand fumbles between her thighs, pawing at the underwear beneath her skirt. The metal of his watch scratches between her legs. Her pulse hammers against the tooth of the knife. He growls in her ear and reverses his hold. The thumb and forefinger of his left hand now squeeze her throat as his knife tears at her panties. The lace tangles itself around the knife, falling away like broken cobwebs. He lifts the knife and holds it, almost tenderly, against her breast then plunges the fingers of his left hand inside her.
The shock of the sudden invasion makes her gasp. She can feel his rough fingers searching within her. Her eyes close and she imagines tearing his hand from his body. Metal pierces her skin as she struggles. A thread of crimson trickles down her chest, and she sees the cold blade flash inside her mind. She lifts her face towards the moon and smiles.
The fingers no longer squirm inside her. The man withdraws them, lifting them to his face. Snorting the scent of her, he trembles then sighs. With a slurp, he sucks his fingers like a hungry baby. His ragged breath in her ears, she raises her left arm and touches the fist in which his knife is clasped. He seems frightened by her icy fingers and pulls away. She spins around on her stiletto heels to face him - a small man, with greasy, greying hair, smoothed over his misshapen skull. His arms and legs are brittle twigs, his blue eyes weak and moist.
“You’re going to die. I’m going to fuck you in every hole I gouge out of you,” he stammers.
He sees her smile and shrinks away. Clutching his knife in his right hand and still holding the fingers of the other to his nose, he watches her. Taking a step towards him, she towers above his pock marked face. She lifts her arms and places a hand on either side of his jaw, lifting his feet from the ground. He lets his left hand fall back to his side and stares at her in terrified silence. Holding his clammy face between her palms, she thrusts her tongue into his mouth, squeezing his skull just enough to let him taste her strength without losing consciousness then she releases him and grabs the knife from his hand.
Watching him, she toys with the knife. It is a good knife, a heavy knife. Lunging, she slices the air between them. Realising how frightened he is, her smile broadens. She reaches
for the sweat-soaked cotton of his shirt and slashes through it, revealing his chest. She places her fingers over his stammering heart.
Watching tears flow freely down the man’s cheeks, she places the knife handle between her thighs and squeezes with her powerful muscles. Her steel phallus bobs eagerly.
“Suck my cock,” she orders.
He resists and Lilith has to force him down onto his knees amongst the rubble and glass. She wraps her fingers around his hair and pushes his face into position. He gurgles as blood coats the blade.
Falling backwards on to the floor, he pleads with her to show mercy. His broken tongue spits promises he will not keep. She ignores his words and roughly spreads his legs then plunges through the denim sheath around his crotch. Exquisite screams of agony echo through the alleyway, as she makes her virgin hole and fucks him until he stops twitching.
Taken from the novel “Starblood” by Carmilla Voiez.
Hungry Like the Wolf
by Zoe Adams
“Can I get you another?” the perky barmaid asked.
Jason shook his head. “I’m good thanks.”
“Are you sure? I can get you anything you want. Beer? Shots? Maybe a little of something else, if you’re that way inclined?”
There were two things that “something else” could be, and Jason wanted neither.
Drugs didn’t work in his system. Well, they did, but they didn’t last for long, so it was pointless to use them. If he was human, he’d feel the effects better. Not even medicinal drugs did much good. It was why packs always had their own physician on stand-by...they knew what worked and what didn’t. Nobody wanted to risk entering a human hospital and have their secret plundered by over curious doctors and nurses.
As for the other...he had seen men and women disappearing together, their eyes glassy yet focused on the task in hand. There was nothing more degrading than selling yourself for money. It wasn’t just in this pub. The world was rife with this kind of behaviour...where was humility and modesty? At least the females of other packs could control their sexual urges. At least until the light of the moon fell upon them.
Jason didn’t know why he had come in here. It wasn’t like he could get wrecked out of his skull...his metabolism was too damn good for that. He couldn’t even get a high. It was like drinking water...the only thing it led to was a desire to pee. And a lot at that.
It was hard to hide who and what he was. Whilst on the silver screen his kind were legendary, fearsome beasts, they were laughable in reality. Nobody believed in them. They didn’t believe in witches, vampires and ghosts either. Oh occasionally, some crackpot would appear in a newspaper claiming he had seen one, or that he had indisputable proof, but nobody believed him. The story would run for a few days and then it would tail off into nothingness.
Jason’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the screen: DAD CALLING.
“Shit,” Jason mumbled as he hit answer. “Hello?”
“Son, where are you?” No polite greetings, just straight down to business. His father had always been like it, even before he had been crowned Alpha pack leader a few years ago.
“Out. Why?”
“Out? Where?”
“Town. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal? Your brothers mating ceremony is less than two hours away and you are nowhere to be found! Get your hairy hide back here straight away or you will suffer the consequences.”
“Whatever.” Jason cut his father off and slid his phone back into his pocket. He zipped up the leather jacket he always wore, no matter the weather.
The barmaid leaned towards him, a cloth in her hand. Her ample chest heaved. “Trouble with the missus?”
“Trouble with the family.”
“Oh...” The barmaid smiled a little. “Maybe we’ll see you around?”
Jason deigned not to answer. Instead, he turned and swept from the bar, ignoring the stares from the locals.
****
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Jason’s brother, Declan, curled his hand around the back of his bride's head and brought her lips to his in a kiss that was almost pornographic. That was the way with wolves.
His family and hers threw their heads back and howled, almost mimicking the cry of their inner beasts. As the kiss finished and the happy couple drew apart, people began to clap and cheer.
“Congratulations!” was shouted so often that Jason almost went deaf, and that was just from his father.
“You’ll be next, son,” his father said, a smile spreading across his face. “We’ll set you up with a nice young thing. Someone who’ll bring you happiness and spread the family legacy.”
“It’s a shame most of the females in these parts are whores,” Jason replied.
“When the moon calls to them, they must dance. They must fornicate. It is in their blood. If you want to find a virgin bride, then you’ll be searching all over the world. You might get married, but you’ll be old and grey by then. What woman would want you then?”
Jason curled his hand into a fist, blood pumping through his veins. The wolf in him wanted to snarl and snap, to break his father’s neck, to cover the joyous guests with bits of broken bones and bits of organs. He willed the beast to calm, but it bubbled beneath the surface of his pale skin.
Spinning on his heel, Jason stormed from the wedding.
****
Jason stalked the streets, footsteps heavy. Why did his father have to act like that? Just, why? He had always known in his head that he was different than other wolves, but was it really so hard for them to be accepting? His grandparents had taught him the true ways of being a wolf and what that meant to society, yet it seemed his father had other ideas.
He kicked out at a crushed fizzy drink can and his stomach growled. He should really have stuck around for the ceremony...meat and mead in plentiful supplies, but he just couldn’t stick it out any longer. It was a miracle he had sat through it, especially in his stiff shirt and trousers. At least he'd had the good fortune to change back into his t-shirt and jeans before heading out.
He ducked into the nearest takeaway. It was fairly empty and smelt good. He could see delivery drivers chatting out back, smoking cigarettes, whilst the chefs moved their dishes and meats around. He watched as one began to carve chunks from a great spit and layer it on top of some crispy chips. Jason’s mouth almost watered. Yeah, this would do.
From out of the back came a young woman that made his heart beat faster, his wolf howl and prowl, and his cock grow as hard as a rock.
She had soft brown hair that hung in a long ponytail. Hazel eyes were outlined with a small amount of eyeliner that was smudged in the corners. Thick glasses slid down her nose and she pushed them back up with her middle finger. Her skin was pale and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. There were two sets of hooped earrings in both her lobes, and a Biro pen behind her left ear. She wasn’t a skinny thing like most men preferred. She was short and curvy, with a small chest.
He felt a growl rumble up through his throat.
“Did you say something?” she asked. Oh sweet Jesus, she had a voice like honey.
“I...Erm...Hi,” he finally managed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Hi,” she smiled back, “what can I get you?”
You, he thought, but he couldn’t imagine that going over well.
He surveyed the menu boards. “Can I...get the...the, erm, cheeseburger meal please?”
She jotted the order on a notepad on the counter, once again pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Any salad or sauce?”
“No thanks.” As she scribbled again, he couldn’t help but notice that she wore no jewellery. Not even a necklace. Could this mean that there was no boyfriend or girlfriend, on the scene? A wolf could only dream...
“Any toppings on your chips?”
“Cheese, please.” He heard the sizzling of meat, the clatter of ovens in the back. His stomach twist
ed again. “Busy night?”
“No busier than normal for a weekday. What drink can I get you?”
“I drink anything. Surprise me,” he said cheekily.
A blush rose on her cheeks and she reached into the tall fridge, going on tiptoes, and took a Coke down from the shelf.
She poked her head through the kitchen doorway, ripping the top sheet off the notepad. She laughed and chatted amongst the others in the kitchen, before returning. “It shouldn’t be too long. That’ll be £3.”
Jason rummaged in the back pocket of his jeans and handed the coins over. Their skin brushed and his wolf howled even more than usual. It bared its teeth, blood dripping from the long fangs. Jason’s crotch tightened and the young girl jerked her hand back unexpectedly.
“Sorry,” Jason muttered, even though he wasn’t. There was something about this girl, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger (or his claw) on. What was it about this human girl that set his senses on edge and made him a primal beast?
He sank down onto a hard seat and watched as she went about her work, answering telephones, writing orders and passing them through to the kitchens. She was confident, and he liked that. A lot. Confidence was sexy in his eyes.
As she passed by the counter, he appraised her body, dressed in white t-shirt, black cotton pinafore dress and plain black pump shoes. His cock strained against his jeans, begging to be free and deep inside of her.
As she swung back through the doors, he could smell something. And it was not his cheeseburger meal. Something underlying, like a perfume, only more fragrant. Sweeter. It was something that could knock ten bells of shit from him and still leave him reeling. And that never happened.
Gratefully he took the polystyrene container from her, and once again, their skin brushed. Sparks flicked between them and their eyes met.
Bloody Sexy Anthology Page 11
