- The nipple rose higher. I closed my teeth around it, gently. With the slightest of pressure
the skin broke, a single drop of blood searing my tongue.
Labouring against the desires of my own nature, I moved upward. The flesh of her throat was flushed
and damp. I tasted the sweat pooling beneath her chin. Heavy and salty, the musky flavour enflamed
me. I could feel her arteries pulsing as  I
round her neck and licked at her ear. I sucked the lobe into my mouth, holding it for the softest
of love bites. I savoured another taste of her blood. My lips closed on hers, a moment later.
I wondered if she could taste herself, as our tongues tangled. Taste her own blood. It was ecstasy
and misery as I tore my lips away from hers. My tongue wandered languidly down her body. I felt
her fingers fluttering light as feathers against the back of my head as I tasted the skin inside
her thighs. I closed my eyes as the maddening mingling of softness and warmth and wetness. Her
fingers suddenly curled, tangled into my hair. Guiding my mouth. My tongue drifted across wiry
hair, matting it down with saliva. The texture and taste sent my thoughts spinning out of control.
I forced my legs back, off the bed. I knelt at the bedside, reaching out for her. My hands closed
around her waist, drawing her closer until her hips rested at the edge. I cupped her buttocks
in my hands as I lowered my face again. I realised that her fingers had never left my hair. I
wondered why she needed any more than this.
Then there was nothing but heat and wetness and silken skin. I licked harder, deeper, and found
more warmth, more softness. I felt myself shivering, my pulse thundering in my ears, my nerves
skittering. My hands slid upward, grasping the tender skin behind her knees, opening her further.
Somewhere deep inside the burning, velvety skin I found a tiny hardened bud of flesh. My tongue
caressed it. I became lost, disembodied, in her scents and tastes. I groaned with pleasure at
the whisper-tang of old, life-rich blood.
An eternity later I heard her quick intake of breath. She moaned, almost as if in pain. Her fingers
tightened against my head, the nails scraping. Her entire body seemed to tighten, and I felt
tiny ripples arcing through her. Her touch softened, her fingers falling. Breathless, I tore
my lips away.
Moonlight gleamed along the liquid curves of her body as she rose silently from the bed. Crossing
the room, she disappeared into shadow. I heard a door opening in the darkness, then the wispy
rustle of heavy fabric. As she stepped back into a jagged patch of light, I saw her spread a
flowing white gown across the bed. Next to it was a wig of tangled blond curls. I drew in a sudden
breath.
"Why all of this?" I whispered......
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the Book.
(c) Steve Eller. All Rights Reserved, shown with permission from Cecilia Tan, Editor of Erotica
Vampirica
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