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I lean down and sink my teeth into her juiciness.
I let out a growling sound as I pump my hand quicker up and down my shaft, the fantasy so vivid I can taste the sweetness of her blood, the way it would swim around my mouth, infusing me with her energy. I’d be able to taste her womb, her desire to give me an impossible child, everything. I’d be able to sense how close she was to creaming for me as I sucked greedily on her beautiful ass.
I throw my head back and roar when I feel the pressure building in my balls.
So close, so close.
And then – somehow – I let go.
“No,” I growl, opening my eyes and staring at the shimmering walls.
I force myself to breathe slowly.
I won’t waste a single drop of my seed, vampiric or not, on this shower wall. Every drop I have deserves to be inside of her, where it fucking belongs, shot deep into her body so that it can take root in her womb.
Children.
I never had children, someone to continue my legacy, and I just know that Tammy would make the perfect mother.
But that only works if she agrees to the ceremony to turn me into a mortal man.
If she even believes that any of this is true.
I slow my breathing down until my body has stopped its pulsating, and then I wash and get dressed slowly, taking my time as I slide into my silver suit.
Part of living this long is knowing never to rush.
Like with Tammy – I just can’t stop thinking about her – I won’t rush for a moment.
I’ll take my time as I lay her on her back and open my mouth wide, sucking on her entire pussy, her clit, and her lips and her greedy fucking hole. I’ll suck it all until she can’t help but writhe and cream in my mouth.
And then I’ll gulp every drop and—
Stop. It.
My mind has never been this captivated by a woman, but with her, it’s impossible to resist, as though she’s a sorcerer who’s cast a spell on me.
As I walk through my mansion outside the city and to the garage, I can’t help but let my mind roam over an image of Tammy standing in the kitchen, her back to me, and her luxurious oaken hair falling in waves down to her shoulders. Her voice filling the air softly and heavenly, and all our children gathered around her, desperate for a sneaky taste of whatever dish she’s making.
It’s so easy to imagine walking up behind her and kissing the top of her head, enveloping her in my arms, hugging her tightly to me, and telling her I always knew she was the fucking one.
I climb into my window-tinted sedan and let out a growling sigh, a sigh that has no air behind it, but sighing is a habit that’s surprisingly difficult to shake even for a vampire as old as me.
All of this rests on the question of if Tammy is even going to want to see me again.
I can’t stop thinking about the way her features warped when she found out what I truly am, the disbelief that flittered across her face, the resentment, as though I was the world’s biggest monster for putting her in the position to have to storm out on me.
I drive through the city, taking my time, the light of street lamps bouncing off the rain-slick roads. Star and moonlight find its way through the clouds and several buildings are strewn with Halloween decorations, more than one Dracula statue grinning toothily at me as I drive past.
I nod respectfully to him, offering a smirk.
Dracula, the biggest caricature my kind has ever experienced.
But that’s fine.
There’s only me now and I’ve never been the type to get offended when it comes to things like that. Let the mortals think what they want about us.
There’s only one mortal I’m interested in, anyway.
I drive across the city with my window cracked an inch, waiting for the familiar, intoxicating scent of Tammy to drift into the car and fill me with violent longing.
I find myself wishing that my heart was beating hard right now, that my palms were flooded with sweat, that my body was responding like a mortal man’s would. I never knew how I’d feel if I ever found the woman who could turn me into a mortal, but now that I have, the idea floods me with excitement.
To live again.
To eat.
To drink.
To feel the human closeness of her against me, and to cradle a child in my arms, our child.
I grind my teeth together, my fangs retracted.
And then I catch her scent in the air, wafting over to me, but there’s a worrying undertone to it.
Fear.
I’m driving across the bridge and, the closer I get, the more potent her fear becomes.
