Hunting Karoly (6 page)

“You bastard,” I said into his intense green eyes. It came out as a low whisper. “You complete bastard.”

He knew what I meant. His eyes gleamed. Those wicked, corrupt lips curved upward. “Come now, that’s no way to talk to someone you’ve just kissed so passionately.”

But I wasn’t having that. “I didn’t kiss anyone! You did!” It sounded petty and childish, even to me, making me even madder.

He laughed softly. “Oh believe me, I was there. There were two of us in that kiss and your part was more than enough for this…” Deliberately, he drew me into his body, letting me feel his hardness, the entire length of his fully erect cock jutting against me.

Only a drunk, I thought wildly, could ever have mistaken that for a sporran. But I was too furious to concentrate on such trivia, too consumed now with anger and humiliation and, somewhere, shattering loss because I understood at once that his kiss had spoiled me for all others.

Mockingly, he said, “Little vampire hunter, you kiss like a demon…”

That did it. Taking him by surprise, I thrust my numb hand inside my pocket and drew out the sharpened stick, forcing it between us before he even noticed my action. When he did, it didn’t wipe the smile off his face, though it did hold it there unmoving for several heartbeats. His eyes stared back into mine, reading, I suppose, everything that I didn’t bother to hide. My breathing was fast and loud in my ears. I had never been so angry, even with Nigel.

I said, “Get away from me.”

“It was a compliment,” he said mildly. He still held my face between his smooth, cool hands.

I swallowed, because he still hadn’t moved and because I wasn’t sure what I could do about it. And because I could still feel his huge erection pressing against my abdomen, twisting my anger to lust, tempting me—how far, I prayed he’d never know—to reach under his kilt, take his cock in my hand and impale myself upon it. I yearned, with terrifying force, to feel it inside me, filling me, pushing, fucking… I knew it would be good enough to die for.

But I couldn’t die here and I wouldn’t give in.

Reaching desperately for the thread of the conversation, I rasped, “I don’t accept it as such.”

I pushed the stick against his chest and stepped away from him. The loss of his cock’s pressure against me was a sharp, clamoring pain.

His hands fell back to his sides, leaving my face cold too. I backed farther away, toward the steps, while he watched unblinking, unmoving. I knew he could stop me if he wanted to. I knew he could move so fast that I wouldn’t even see him, let alone have the time to hurt him, kill him…

So at the steps, I simply turned and bolted, running up them, shoving at the trapdoor and tumbling out into the wet grass and daylight. I had got to my knees and was reaching for the trapdoor to close it before I remembered.

“Dog!” I whispered in dismay.

Pushing myself backward several paces in self-loathing, I covered my face with my hands, wildly wondering what to do. I couldn’t leave him there alone to be harmed, perhaps killed or worse. Were there such things as vampire dogs?

A muffled yowl had me starting to my feet, determined to go back for him before the vampire could hurt him further. But before I got near the trapdoor, Dog came flying out of it with another howl and the trapdoor slammed shut in a cloud of dust that looked like smoke.

I fell upon him in relief. “Are you hurt? Are you hurt?” I asked him stupidly. Dog just licked my face and wagged his tail ’til I finally noticed that the fur below it seemed to be slightly singed.

Frowning, I got slowly back to my feet to begin the long, depressing walk home through the rain.

Chapter Four

My mother drove me nuts. Of course, she had been driving me nuts for thirty years, but that night she reached new heights. Being no fool, she understood that I was not entirely happy with my new job in the south and assumed—mistakenly, as it happened—that my jumpiness was down to having to go back to it. She harped on about that and how I should either try harder or move on but for God’s sake stop moping around and fix my own life for so long that I wanted to strangle her.

I compromised by storming out of the room and going to bed. Only I couldn’t actually go to bed, so I sat cross legged upon it in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Wound tight as a coiled spring, with my sharpened stick clutched in both hands, I tried to wait through the night.

My senses straining for the faintest trace of him, my ears alert for the remotest sound, I listened only to the familiar, unmistakable noises of my mother going to bed, of the usual shouting and laughter in the street at chucking-out time on a Saturday night. Somebody threw up on the corner of our street, much to the amusement of his mates and the ire of his extremely loud girlfriend. In the distance, I heard a police siren. It was Saturday night, but I couldn’t help relating every sign of distress to
him
.

Tomorrow, Hilda and Frank would be here. I could tell them exactly where to find their vampire—providing he didn’t move in the interim, which I was fairly sure he wouldn’t. And even if he did, I understood with a new confidence that startled even me that I could find him again. In the meantime, since I had failed to kill him, or do anything with him at all except give him another laugh, I could only sit here in constant vigil to protect my mother’s life. And my own.

Weirdly, I trusted him to keep his word. He wouldn’t kill me today. But today ended at midnight and he’d said nothing about my mother.

I was knackered. After two heavy nights’ drinking in a row, I needed a long, peaceful sleep, so it wasn’t surprising that it grew increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. Twice I caught myself nodding off, coming to again with a jump to grasp my stake more firmly.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes with a feeling of excitement I was too sleepy at first to place. Then I realized it came from the firm but light pressure on my pubic bone. I pushed my hip upward into it and something pushed back. I turned my head and saw him sitting beside me on the bed.

My heart turned over. I was lying down, still in my pajama trousers and t-shirt, and he just sat there, his hand resting on my crotch to wake me.

Wildly, I struggled to sit up, but his hand pressed harder to keep me still. “Sh-sh,” he said. “Don’t panic. I’ve only come for another taste…” His smile was wicked, his eyes gleamed and I thought,
he’s stronger than me, there’s no point in even trying to resist him.

I knew I wanted another of those blinding, heart-stopping kisses. I thought that if he just kept his hand where it was while he kissed me I would come, tasting the sweetest, wildest, most intense orgasm ever…

I couldn’t tell him that, of course, and I knew it was wrong of me, more wrong than anything I had ever done, but in that moment I wanted it so badly that when he bent for my mouth I never even thought of refusing him, let alone fighting him.

My lips fell open, my eyes closed in anticipation. Moisture pooled in my pussy before he even touched me. As before, I sensed his breathless mouth above mine, hovering as he said softly, “There are many ways to taste a vampire hunter…”

I bit back a moan, waiting feverishly for the wave of sensual pleasure to wash over me with his kiss. I felt the weight of his hand shift, sliding down between my thighs, making me gasp. My eyes flew open to see that he wasn’t watching my face but his own hand, spreading across my pussy. The fabric of my pajamas felt wet, was no doubt stained dark with my moisture. He smiled. Sliding the side of his hand along the length of my pussy, he turned his head, bringing his eyes back to mine, watching my reaction.

“Bastard,” I whispered. “Bastard.”

“Tell me to stop,” he challenged softly, turning his hand, probing around the wet entrance to my pussy, pushing the cotton inside me with one finger. I swallowed. The best I could manage was to pretend I couldn’t hear him. My clitoris throbbed with such need that I couldn’t have stopped him if my life depended on it. Which it probably did.

His fingers left me. I gasped out with unstoppable frustration and he smiled, both hands on my waistband. Abruptly, they swept upward, pushing my t-shirt up over my breasts and his palms brushed my tight nipples, hardening them unbearably. My head moved helplessly from side to side. He took one of my hands, lifted it to his mouth and there, smiling at me with his decadent, sensual lips, he sucked one finger inside, moving his lips up and down it in deliberate simulation of oral sex. Then he released my finger, placing it on one of my nipples and circling it around and around.

His eyes glowed almost completely gold as he sucked his own finger, watching me all the time. Pulling it free with a satisfying slurp, he yanked down the waistband of my pajamas with his free hand and plunged his wet finger straight inside me.

I couldn’t help it. I cried out and he laughed softly. His finger caressed the inside of my pussy, pushing insistently into the throbbing depths, stroking places I hadn’t even been aware of possessing. Then, slowly, it spiraled its way out, spreading my juices all around the labia, rubbing tenderly across my clitoris until I moaned aloud. He smiled again, so that I could see his teeth, the long, pointed incisors of the vampire, and instead of being afraid, instead of wrenching myself free and grabbing for the lost stake, I felt a pang of lust so strong that a flood of moisture broke free and ran down between my bum cheeks. I wanted those teeth on my neck, nibbling, biting. I wanted to feel them stroke the lips of my pussy, I wanted…I wanted…

Jesus, I wanted this.

He shifted position to the foot of the bed, moving with fluid grace until he sat between my legs. Deliberately, his fingers spread me open, his eyes drank me in. My pussy pulsed so hard I thought it would come without any further help from him. Slowly, his head lowered, just as it had this afternoon, only this time his mouth captured my lower lips and my own ecstatic noises rumbled in my throat. I thought I would die of that pleasure.

I didn’t. His silky lips caressed me, his tongue probed among my labia, flickering across my clit. And God, yes, his teeth slid along the length of my slit, brushing my clitoris until I moaned aloud. Then his whole mouth closed on me, pulling, while his tongue swirled and pushed inside me with sexy little thrusts. His teeth nibbled and grazed on my labia, on my desperately swollen clitoris. I was sure I could even feel them at my entrance. He held my bottom to keep me still, his hands kneading my buttocks, his fingers occasionally delving into the wetness of my pussy and then exploring around my anus until it too seemed to open for him and he slid the tip of one finger in and wiggled it. This was a new pleasure for me, never even thought of, and the shock of it sent me over the edge.

The orgasm seemed to soar from my toes, spiraling upward, gathering strength and power on its way, filling my pussy, my womb and flushing my whole body with the hugest climax of my life, one that went on and on because as soon as it began to roll back, his mouth sucked me again, his fingers slid inside me, stirred and kept the waves of joy crashing over me.

My fingers clamped around my breast, pressing into my nipple as I came and came, and still he fucked me with his mouth, sucking more pleasure from my clitoris, pushing more joy into my pussy until I was no more than a heaving, writhing mess of sexual pleasure, pushing into his hand, his mouth, knowing nothing outside what he was doing to me and caring for nothing else.

Slowly, he began to release me, withdrawing his fingers and his mouth, wiping his sopping face on my leg. I felt a growl begin deep in my throat, one that managed to combine extreme sexual satisfaction with equally extreme sexual desire—I could not get enough of this evil…

Reaching down, I caught his beautiful, degenerate face between my hands.

“Fuck me,” I whispered. “Please, fuck me.”

He smiled. “Next time,” he whispered back. “Next time, a different taste…”

He stood up, actually turned away from me toward the closed window—how had he got in? A minor mystery. The greater matter was that he could not leave me yet.

“Come back here!” I said furiously, trying to sit up. “Come back!” And landed with a thump back on my pillow, my eyes open and staring with bewildered disorientation at the closed curtains, my heart thundering like a drum.

Apart from me, the room was empty, the house quiet save for my own ragged breathing, my own wildly beating heart. The after-tingle of massive orgasm filled my body and weighed down my limbs. Hot dampness slicked my thighs. My t-shirt had got scrunched up above my breasts, my trousers pooled around my knees, which splayed with abandon.

I had been dreaming. A sexual dream with the sort of power I had never felt before. And masturbating.

At least I hoped that was what happened.

Terrified, I tugged my trousers back up and pulled myself into a sitting position, dragging my knees up under my chin and hugging them convulsively.
Had
he been here? Or, more likely, had I been dreaming, living out in the safety—ha!—of my unconscious mind the sexual desire he had aroused in me with his kiss this afternoon?

In the next room, my mother snored. But I couldn’t rest until I tiptoed in to look at her, to make sure there were no puncture wounds in her neck. There weren’t. Softly, I closed her door and slid my back down it to sit there in her room and wait for the dawn.