Page 87 of John’s Yearning

“My God, you’re wet,” he groaned and plunged into her without preamble. As if nailing her to the wall.

A shudder charged through her body, and her interior muscles spasmed around him.

“Just like that, darlin’, that’s exactly what I need.” He drew back his hips and thrust back into her. His eyes were fully golden now, and his lips had parted, showing the tips of his fangs.

She reached for his face, and he didn’t draw back. With her index finger, she touched one fang and caressed it. His cock spasmed inside her, thrusting wildly.

“Fuck!” he cursed.

Breathing heavily, he severed the contact to her finger and dipped his head to the crook of her neck. Savannah obliged him and tilted her head to the side to give him better access, to offer herself to him.

“Take me, John, I’m yours.”

She felt his tongue lick over her skin and shivered. Her entire body began to tingle pleasantly. Then she felt them, the sharp tips of his fangs touching her skin, exerting pressure, and then, suddenly, a sharp pain that lasted only a millisecond. Finally, she felt his fangs drive deeper, lodge in her neck, settle there, and draw blood from her vein.

Even though John had prepared her for this feeling, had told her how pleasurable it was, she wasn’t prepared. Everything around her began to disappear. Her vision swam, nothing seemed to be in focus, because all she could see and feel and hear and smell was John. He was all around her, inside her, with her. With every draw on her vein, every drop of blood he took from her, he gave her something else: utter bliss. Not just physical pleasure, but emotional satisfaction too. Her body hummed with energy, with hope and love.

While John drank from her, his hips worked frantically and his strong arms held her suspended against the wall. He was pounding into her now, his cock stiffer and thicker than she’d ever felt before. As if her blood was filling his cock so he could take her even harder. His pelvic bone slammed against her clit with every thrust, igniting her over and over again. Waves of pleasure traveled through her, and there seemed to be no end in sight.

She felt dizzy with pleasure now, while orgasm after orgasm claimed her body. Yet she didn’t want him to stop. “More, oh John, take more.”

She heard him moan and thought she could hear his heart beat like a drum against her every time their bodies slammed together. She clung to him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders to urge him on, her ankles crossed behind his back to drive his cock deeper into her. She was wild now, wilder than she’d ever been before. If only she’d known that something like this was possible, that a man like John existed. No, not a man. A vampire. Her vampire.

Suddenly, she felt him spasm inside her. Warmth filled her channel, and cool air wafted against her neck. John had withdrawn his fangs. Now he licked over the incisions, then kissed the spot gently.

When he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes were as red as a traffic light. But within seconds, they turned back to their golden color. His erection was still inside her, still moving, though much slower now.

He moved his head from side to side as if shaking it, as if he was unable to understand what had happened between them.

“This is more than I ever expected. It’s a miracle to find love once, but to find it a second time is more than that.”

She caressed his cheek lovingly. “It’s fate.”

And if fate allowed it, they would have a future. Together.

36

Savannah had used the hacker’s email to send a message to Sergei Viktorov.

I’ll offer myself in exchange for Buffy’s release. Choose the time and place. Bring Buffy. I will surrender when I see her. Savannah Rice, she’d written. After discussing with John and several others at Scanguards that Viktorov would wonder whether the police and her private investigator were on his tail, she’d added a postscript. Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out that you used a second-rate hacker to get access to my daughter’s photos? Unfortunately, he was too stupid to figure out how to find you. I wish you’d worked with somebody smarter. I guess you won.

The message was meant to reassure Viktorov that Savannah had no idea who he really was and how to find him. It had its desired effect. Within two hours, Viktorov replied. He’d specified a meeting place and threatened that he would kill Buffy if he so much as got a whiff of Savannah’s private investigator or the police, or if she was even a minute late. The little time he allowed for Savannah to get to the meeting place ensured that Scanguards had no time to prepare a counter-offensive.

The exchange was on.

“Do everything he says,” John instructed her now, his hands framing her face, his voice soft. “Trust me. You might not see me, you might not hear me, but I will be there. Wherever you go, I’ll be close-by. Don’t look for me. Don’t try to communicate with me. I don’t want him to become suspicious.”

Savannah nodded. “I trust you.”

John pressed a kiss to her lips, then leaned his forehead to hers. “This ends tonight. I promise you. Now go.”

He released her, and she turned on her heel and left Scanguards’ headquarters through the front door. She shivered, both from fear and the cool night air, but she didn’t look back. John had kept all his promises until now, and she knew he would keep this one too.

At a brisk pace, she walked several blocks, then turned west on 18th Street and continued walking as fast as she could. She checked her watch to make sure she would make it and increased her speed. Her heart beat faster, not just because of the increased cardio activity, but also because she was afraid. Afraid that something would go wrong, afraid that Viktorov wouldn’t be bringing Buffy and was leading her into a trap. But she had to accept that risk.

At Guerrero Street, a major thoroughfare, the pedestrian light turned red just as she reached the intersection. She looked at her wristwatch again, then at the traffic. It was coming up on midnight, and the normally busy traffic in the area was easing up. Without waiting for the light to turn green, she dashed across the lanes. A car driving way too fast honked at her, but she continued running and reached the other side in time. She didn’t break her stride and continued running to the end of the next block. Across the other side of Dolores Street, she saw the popular park that stretched up the hill. The pedestrian light to cross to the park was green, and she hurried along, racing alongside the park until she reached the next corner: Church Street. This was the spot Viktorov had chosen for the exchange.

She stopped at the corner, her chest heaving, her heart pounding. Her eyes darted around the area. A homeless man hung around the entrance of an apartment building on the opposite side of the street, and two youngsters were smoking and drinking nearby. From farther up on Church Street, she heard a streetcar approaching.