Page 47 of Blood Lovers

She is a confident woman, but my full attention makes her squirm a little. “Now what?”

“Now…” I walk over to her and in one swift movement, I pick her up, walk over to the bed, and set her down on her back. Keeping hold of her legs and positioning myself between them.

Her mouth is open in surprise, her eyes wide, but she doesn’t say anything. She has no quick-witted comeback for this move.

“Now I’m gonna take your boots off.”

She nods a little. “OK.”

I push one leg back, unlace her boot—which isn’t a winter boot, but a work boot—and ease it off her foot, revealing a wool sock. I take that off too, revealing a pink foot. She watches me do this, biting her lip.

She’s probably ticklish. But I don’t tickle her. That is a bit of discovery I would like to save for later.

I repeat this with the other boot and sock, and then I pause.

“Now what?”

“I’m working out the particulars of how to keep your clothes on for this next part.”

“Have you come up with a solution?”

“I have.”

She’s breathing harder now. “I’m ready to hear it.”

I shoot her a sideways smile. It’s a new one—for her, anyway—and she’s not quite sure what it means. But as she’s thinking it over, my fingers have found the button on her jeans and it’s already been popped open. So she doesn’t catch up with me until I’m dragging the zipper down. “Stop here? Or keep going?”

“Please.” Her voice is huskier now. “If I wanted to stop you, Ryet, you would be stopped.”

I grin. “Are you a badass, Syrsee?” I already know the answer to this. And it is a definite yes. She’s probably some kind of martial arts expert. Or a knife-thrower. If I could die, I’m a hundred percent certain that she would be able to kill me.

“First dates are for fucking, Ryet. Conversation is for date number two.”

I laugh out loud. She laughs too. So she’s caught off guard when I pull her jeans and panties down her legs, hike her knees up in the air, and kneel down, sliding my head between them.

I am licking her before she even knows what’s happening. My tongue sweeping between her folds. My breath hot on her inner thighs.

She moans a little and arches her back when I slowly slip a finger inside her. Then her hands are on the side of my head, gripping my hair as I sweep my tongue over her sweetest spots.

As a man, I had sex with exactly one woman. My wife. And I don’t even remember it.

As a scion, I’ve had my share over the decades. But I can honestly say, Syrsee from the diner parking lot is the very first woman I’ve wanted to be with in the entire sixty-five years since Paul sentenced me to Hell.

And I’ve known her all of ten minutes.

I lift my head up and look at her. I can’t even see her tits, she’s still got her shirt on. But I know that everything about this girl is magnificent and no matter what happens next, I’m going to keep her. I’m going to know her.

This is what I’m thinking when I stand back up, pop the button on my jeans, drag my zipper down, and pull out my dick.

Her striking, mossy eyes are wide open, her breath ragged and fast as she watches my hands jerking on my dick. I step forward, grab her knees, pull her towards me, and slide inside her.

She bites her lip again, harder this time. Because she draws blood.

The world suddenly goes hazy and my mind… skips for a moment. I get dizzy watching that pinprick of blood on her lip.

And in this skip, something happens that has never happened before. Not even with Paul.

I feel hunger.