late."
"I want you," I said, pulling him back to face me. It seemed to do the trick. For a moment he teased at the slick opening that awaited him and then he was inside of me.
Every thrust, every stroke, every sigh made me want more. I grabbed at his hair and he grabbed at mine. I barely felt the pain in my healing scalp and bruised ribs as we moved together.
I felt that I was close to climax and I clawed at him desperately, felt him gripping my arm with his bandaged hands, the gloves were off and the rough gauze scraped at me. I felt something tear through my shoulder, just enough to draw blood, but I didn't care. My throat vibrated between his teeth and I couldn't tell who was causing it. Was he moaning or was I? It didn't matter.
I squeezed my eyes shut and when I opened them it was like the whole world had fallen away. It was like the night we'd met, on top of the world and floating in space. A sudden violent shudder brought me back to earth. He nuzzled up against my neck and rolled over, pulling me on top of him. I started to move, but he held me still.
"…shouldn't have… should go now…" he panted between deep breaths.
"Shut up," I breathed, letting myself down onto the bed. I kissed his neck, which made him groan with pleasure and I tucked myself in between his arm and his body. The light smell of fresh sweat made me want him all over again, but I was too tired. I sighed and closed my eyes.
I woke up to tapping on the window. Sandra had trees that reached the second story, they brushed the windows sometimes. That was how she knew when it was time to cut them back. I was no longer tucked into Simon's arm but I could feel him close by. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Tap, tap, tap.
Something about it wasn't right. I fought for consciousness through wine and exhaustion. Simon was snoring somewhere to my left.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was too familiar. I looked at the curtains covering the window. It could only mean one thing.
It was Harold.
I threw a nightgown on and opened the window. Harold turned his head and raised a hand to his nose like I'd just blown smoke in his face.
"That smell is horrific," he said. "Oh god, don't tell me it's still here."
"How did you find me?" I asked, emboldened by both the sick feeling from too much wine and the comforting presence of Simon nearby. "What do you want?"
"I am perfectly willing to have a conversation with you," Harold said, waving a hand in front of his face. "But that odor is completely offensive."
"What do you want?" I repeated.
"The same thing that I wanted before. I want you."
Looking into his eyes, I felt woozy. Like I was falling and the world was moving around me while I stood still. I felt like I wanted him too. I blinked and shook my head, trying to clear it.
"Drink the blood I gave you," he said.
I nodded, prepared to do it. It would be okay. He would protect me if I did it.
A deep growl broke the spell.
"Invite me in," Harold said. "I'll get rid of that nasty little dog for you."
"No," I said. "I don't want you here."
"Fine. To hell with manners," Harold replied, with a bored little shrug. He shot through the window like a bullet. Glass sparkled in the light of the full moon and I watched Simon fall back from the force of the vampire. Simon shimmered and rippled like a mirage and snarled like a beast as his chest expanded suddenly. I backed over a chair and broke it when we both tumbled to the ground. Glass shards embedded into my palms. I gripped the broken leg like it was a spear.
Or a wooden stake.
My jaw clenched, fighting against a scream as Simon's face turned black and stretched into a muzzle. His ears shifted and his feet elongated. While they fought, pushing each other round and round, he was changing. He looked like a Hollywood werewolf when the change was complete, all at once terrifying and ridiculous and majestic and awful. He spread his arms and snarled.
Harold stood a few paces away, looking elegantly bored.
"I want you," I said, pulling him back to face me. It seemed to do the trick. For a moment he teased at the slick opening that awaited him and then he was inside of me.
Every thrust, every stroke, every sigh made me want more. I grabbed at his hair and he grabbed at mine. I barely felt the pain in my healing scalp and bruised ribs as we moved together.
I felt that I was close to climax and I clawed at him desperately, felt him gripping my arm with his bandaged hands, the gloves were off and the rough gauze scraped at me. I felt something tear through my shoulder, just enough to draw blood, but I didn't care. My throat vibrated between his teeth and I couldn't tell who was causing it. Was he moaning or was I? It didn't matter.
I squeezed my eyes shut and when I opened them it was like the whole world had fallen away. It was like the night we'd met, on top of the world and floating in space. A sudden violent shudder brought me back to earth. He nuzzled up against my neck and rolled over, pulling me on top of him. I started to move, but he held me still.
"…shouldn't have… should go now…" he panted between deep breaths.
"Shut up," I breathed, letting myself down onto the bed. I kissed his neck, which made him groan with pleasure and I tucked myself in between his arm and his body. The light smell of fresh sweat made me want him all over again, but I was too tired. I sighed and closed my eyes.
I woke up to tapping on the window. Sandra had trees that reached the second story, they brushed the windows sometimes. That was how she knew when it was time to cut them back. I was no longer tucked into Simon's arm but I could feel him close by. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Tap, tap, tap.
Something about it wasn't right. I fought for consciousness through wine and exhaustion. Simon was snoring somewhere to my left.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was too familiar. I looked at the curtains covering the window. It could only mean one thing.
It was Harold.
I threw a nightgown on and opened the window. Harold turned his head and raised a hand to his nose like I'd just blown smoke in his face.
"That smell is horrific," he said. "Oh god, don't tell me it's still here."
"How did you find me?" I asked, emboldened by both the sick feeling from too much wine and the comforting presence of Simon nearby. "What do you want?"
"I am perfectly willing to have a conversation with you," Harold said, waving a hand in front of his face. "But that odor is completely offensive."
"What do you want?" I repeated.
"The same thing that I wanted before. I want you."
Looking into his eyes, I felt woozy. Like I was falling and the world was moving around me while I stood still. I felt like I wanted him too. I blinked and shook my head, trying to clear it.
"Drink the blood I gave you," he said.
I nodded, prepared to do it. It would be okay. He would protect me if I did it.
A deep growl broke the spell.
"Invite me in," Harold said. "I'll get rid of that nasty little dog for you."
"No," I said. "I don't want you here."
"Fine. To hell with manners," Harold replied, with a bored little shrug. He shot through the window like a bullet. Glass sparkled in the light of the full moon and I watched Simon fall back from the force of the vampire. Simon shimmered and rippled like a mirage and snarled like a beast as his chest expanded suddenly. I backed over a chair and broke it when we both tumbled to the ground. Glass shards embedded into my palms. I gripped the broken leg like it was a spear.
Or a wooden stake.
My jaw clenched, fighting against a scream as Simon's face turned black and stretched into a muzzle. His ears shifted and his feet elongated. While they fought, pushing each other round and round, he was changing. He looked like a Hollywood werewolf when the change was complete, all at once terrifying and ridiculous and majestic and awful. He spread his arms and snarled.
Harold stood a few paces away, looking elegantly bored.
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