Fangs in Frosting

Fangs in Frosting Cynthia Sax All rights reserved. Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax ISBN: 978-1-60521-659-1 Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, EPub MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1046 Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor: Maryam Salim Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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Fangs in Frosting Cynthia Sax Hi! My name is Charlotte, and I own the cupcake shop on the corner -- the sole dessert place open late in our neighborhood. My shop has quite a few regular customers but none are as devoted as Viktor -- Mr. Tall, Dark, and Serious. I give him the special treatment, including extra sprinkles on the cupcakes he buys yet never eats, and offering him private tours of my walk-in pantry. Viktor is a very kinky guy. I never see him before sundown, and he’s a biter. Yep, I did him, in the pantry, amongst the boxes of cupcake wrappers and the bags of chocolate chips. During that encounter, he took a little nip out of luscious Lottie, that would be me, and tonight, he’s back for more. He says he has plans for me. I hope they don’t include clothes.

01 Charlotte’s Journal Sweet buttercream filling. The man came back. Through my eyelash supershield, I watch Mr. Tall, Dark, and Serious huddle over a white ceramic mug filled with steaming hot coffee, and a dainty china plate sporting two red velvet cupcakes, the white cream cheese frosting topped with extra chocolate sprinkles. He didn’t ask for the extra sprinkles. That’s a bonus for banging the owner -- that would be me. Yep, I did him, or he did me. I don’t know which, our hasty encounter being an out of control fuck-for-all in the walk-in pantry. After that multiple orgasmic quickie, I figured Viktor had his fill of big, bold, bosomy me, and when he disappeared into the night, he’d never be seen again. That tends to happen with my lovers. But I was wrong. He’s returned for another helping of luscious Lottie. I smile as the last customer wanders out the door, chocolate smeared on his half-baked face. Our midnight crowd consists mainly of toke smokers, but I don’t mind because they’ll eat even the day old pastries, and then rave about them to their buddies. Mr. Fucktastic gets my best stuff, and tonight, I’ll rock his rather grim world. I smooth down my happy yellow blouse so the cotton pulls tightly across my generous chest, and I sashay to the door, turning the exterior lights off with a dramatic flick of my fingers. Like clockwork, Peter, my assistant, wanders out of the kitchen. Flour dusts his hair as though he has been baking, and not avoiding the customers he was hired to serve. I can’t fire his rather useless patootie because he’s the landlady’s deadhead son, and I’ve been paying that dear, kind woman in banana creams for the past two months. Plus he’s adorable. “All cleaned up, Miss Lottie,” he announces with a sheepish smile. Since I cleaned the kitchen an hour ago, I don’t find its immaculate condition surprising.

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“Guess I’ll be heading out. Are you okay with…?” He inclines his spearmint green Mohawk head toward my favorite customer. “I’m fine. Go.” My response is unnecessary as Rebel Help has already let himself out, and I make sure the door is locked properly after him. I could be surrounded by axe-wielding fiends, and the kid would still leave on time. “You need protection.” Viktor’s deep voice rolls over me like vanilla frosting on a warm lemon sponge cake. “I’m hoping you brought some, sunshine.” I give my gloomy lover a saucy fuckme smile. “I need your help in the kitchen.” This is my attempt at subtle seduction. “I’m not an employee,” he grouses, following me into my home away from home. If the city allowed me to, I’d sleep in my kitchen. That’s how much I love it here. “Too bad because there are some great employee perks.” I drift my fingertips over the stainless steel table. This bad boy is all mine. Okay, it mostly belongs to the bank, but my name is on the receipt, and that gives me a giddy sense of ownership. “That had better be exclusive employee perks.” Viktor picks me up, literally and figuratively, and places my butt on the cool flat surface. This is no easy feat because I’m my number one cupcake customer, yet he doesn’t even break a sweat, his lean body deceivingly strong. “Are we exclusive now, sweet stuff?” I gaze up into his eyes. They’re the color of the richest Devil food’s cake, piped with a circle of red, and are set in a pale, angular face. His dark hair waves back from his face and is tied in a ribbon at his nape. I could so design a cupcake around his striking countenance, and call it the Viktor. “We’re exclusive for all eternity.” With that ominous declaration, his mouth covers mine, and all thinking of cupcakes stops, because the man tastes of coffee and chocolate and he kisses like a dream. He is the virtuoso of liplockers, the steamiest of seducers, and I melt against him like butter on a hot plate, grasping his jacket lapels. He’s dressed in his biker gang accountant outfit again -- pairing a black leather suit with a gray shirt. The lack of color has to be contributing to his dour mood, so, as a public service to women everywhere, I push his jacket off his broad shoulders.

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Proving that all good turns are rewarded, Viktor kisses me thoroughly, stroking into my mouth, his tongue sliding along mine. We neck like two college kids, sucking on each other’s faces, lips pressed against lips. He holds me still as he ravages my mouth, my face sandwiched between his two big hands like he thinks I want to get away from him. I don’t. I link my fingers behind his neck, and I pull him closer, spreading my legs in welcome, my staid grass green skirt hiking up to my waist. Viktor wedges his hips between my bare thighs, his leather pants sliding along my skin. Clementine cupcakes, this feels good, and then the experience gets even better because he commences to grind the ridge in his leather pants against my soaking wet bright yellow panties. Yep, my panties match my blouse. If I was a tall, blonde, size zero, I might be able to get by with clashing underwear. A girl my size, however, doesn’t casually shag and bag a mantastic lover like Viktor. We have to work for our perks. Viktor is not lazing around either. As he rubs my pussy into a frenzy, he is loving up my neck, licking and dragging his surprisingly sharp teeth along my jugular. I tilt my head to the side, giving him complete access to me. He skillfully unbuttons my blouse with one hand, as though he has unbuttoned a zillion blouses before, and he probably has, but I don’t care because he’s sucking on the sweet spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My pussy pulses in time with the tug and pull of his mouth, and I clutch his arms, bucking into his grinding cock. “My passionate Charlotte,” he murmurs. “You’re so vibrant, so very alive.” As if to prove his point, he slips one soft hand between bra and skin to cup my right breast, and I abruptly arch, my spine bowing back. “Oh, yes, baby cakes.” I push my flesh into his hand. “Work that tittie.” He caresses and squeezes, while I moan, twisting under his touch. I need him. I need his cock. “I’m going to work you too.” I reach down to unzip him. This is challenging as his hard cock presses against the metal teeth of his zipper, stretching his leather pants. “Move on over, big guy.” I gently nudge his huge slab of manmeat to the side, and I

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manage to free the monster, peeling his pants away from his body, pushing the tight garment off his hips. “Gotcha.” I catch him, trying to act cool like it is every day I hold a massive cock in my hands. This nonchalance is all for show, as I’m shaking with unabashed horniness. Our last fast and furious fuckathon had left no time for groping, and having that cock rammed into my pussy and seeing it laid across my palm in all its naked splendor are two entirely different things. “Great Ganache. You’re enormous,” slips from my lips, and the corners of Viktor’s mouth curl upward around the nipple he’s feasting on. I’m amazed I had taken it all, numerous times, in all different positions, though I shouldn’t because I’m a shameless pain whore, and I remember being in a dazed man candy stupor at the time. There’s only so much gorgeous a woman can stand before her brain shuts down. I stroke and pet him, running my fingers up and down his shaft, and Viktor mumbles something in Latin or German or hell, I don’t know. Languages aren’t my strong suit. I translate his words into “stroke me harder” so I do. He retaliates by sucking my now naked breast into his hot, wet mouth, laving my nipple with his tongue, and I squirm with the exquisiteness of his touch. “Oh, that feels so good, sweet cheeks.” Determined to drive him as bonkers as he’s driving me, I glaze his purple cockhead with the precum I’ve drawn from his body, making his skin shiny and delicious. “Frosted to perfection.” I admire my handiwork. I want to suck his cock, to taste him, but if I do, he’ll come, and I desperately need his hard cock in my pussy. As though reading my lusty thoughts, Viktor snaps the ribbon legs of my panties, removing the scrap of yellow cotton, revealing my cleanly shaven mons. He destroyed my panties during our last fuck-for-all also. At this rate, I’ll be going commando by the end of the month.

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This might not be a bad thing. I sigh with satisfaction as he parts my pussy lips to probe my wet hole with the tip of his massive cock. Fuck foreplay. My serious guy is making a run at the grand prize. I don’t block him. Hell no. I’m not insane. Properly aligned, he slams home, ramming into me, filling my slick channel with too much shaft, and I scream, the pain deliciously raw and intense, with a residual burn warming all of me. “Fuck.” Viktor expresses my thoughts with that one word. He leans his forehead against mine, and he waits until his breathing steadies and he regains his icy cool demeanor. I feel all of him inside me, the bloom of his cockhead, the veins on his shaft, and the prickly hairs curling around his base. I also feel a hum of connection like I know him, truly know him, inside and out, and he’s a part of me. It may be because of the close fit, but I suspect it’s not, and that scares the shit out of me, because I’ve tried this relationship recipe before with men I cared squat about, and it ended in burned crust disaster. With Viktor, it’ll result in a five-alarm fire in my heart. We’re talking total burn out. I can’t think about impending heartache now. My body is begging for movement, my craving for the glide of cock in pussy unbearable. “Fuck me, Viktor.” I grab a handful of pale, firm man ass, and squeeze. This propels him into motion. He pulls out, and slams back into me, pulls out, slams in, again and again and again. The man is a fucking machine, driving his cock into my pussy to a punishing pulsing tempo, angling his entry to rub all the parts of me needing rubbing. “Ride me harder.” I hold onto his tight ass, digging my fingernails into his skin, marking him, and I tilt my hips into his thrusts, taking him so deep, he’s breaking new ground. “Woo wee.” He’s rocking my body. Viktor grunts as he fucks me, and the primitive sound excites me because Viktor is a suave, sophisticated dude, and he’ll never knowingly make a harsh noise like this. Not to be outdone, I pant and moan and call his name, my ass sliding on the metal tabletop, the legs of the work surface squeaking across ceramic tile.

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“Charlotte, my Charlotte,” he murmurs over and over, reassuring me that he knows whose pussy he’s ramming his big cock into. “My dear, sweet Charlotte.” His voice deepens with each thrust until it is a low rumble, shaking me like the after tremors of a California earthquake. I don’t need any more stimulation, as my body pulses, and my pussy tightens so much around his shaft, I hurt. “Viktor?” If I don’t come soon, I’ll lose my fucking mind, and then we’ll see some sick ass stuff, believe me. “Come for me, beloved.” He follows this tender endearment with a circular swoop of his hips, grinding his cock against my pussy walls, and I shatter, screaming, reaching for him blindly because I’m coming so hard, all I see is blackness. He bends his head, sucking on my neck, withdrawing completely, but before I can curse him out properly, he thrusts forward. A sharp prick on my skin punctuates his release, cum shooting out of his cock, bathing my quivering womb. The pain prompts a second round of pussy-flooding rapture. I shiver and shake, secured in Viktor’s strong arms. He gives my neck a couple of comforting licks, easing this lingering hurt. He’s a biter. I suspected this during the previous zippy fuck, but I have confirmation now, and this kink of his curls my toes because I’d like to nibble on him also. Who am I kidding? I’d like to gobble him up, from the toes of the mass murderer shoes he wears to the last wave in his dark brown hair. “You are mine, Charlotte.” Viktor hugs me close. He declares this, like I have a lineup of tall, handsome, well-endowed men waiting to bang me senseless. “Sure thing, sunshine.” I try for flippant, but I achieve hyper and high-pitched. “Call me Viktor in public,” my serious man instructs. I don’t do rules, so I ignore this advice, focusing on the “in public” part. He plans for our relationship to move beyond secret midnight fucks in health department inappropriate places. I bury my face in his shirt-covered chest, and smile.

02 Viktor’s Journal I gaze fondly down at the plus-sized beauty in my arms. Yes, you heard that right, fondly. Fondness is a unique emotion for me, as I’ve spent the past two centuries being bitter and cynical and utterly bored with the entire world, including the eternal lives of my fellow vampires and the more fleeting dramas of my food… errr… the humans. As I hold Charlotte, a warmth spreads from my non-beating heart like a virus, inflicting a silly sort of contentment on my hapless brain. I had been warned by my maker of this potential challenge to my willpower, a weakness that tests even the oldest and most powerful of vampires, but after centuries of mastering my emotions, I had grown complacent. And that’s when she struck, my Charlotte, my beloved, the one I am to spend all of forever with. Clad in bright colors, and sporting an even brighter smile, she was so alive, so very human, unearthing yearnings in me I thought long dead. I stalked her like a stripling with his first meal, waiting outside her shop, following her home, watching her sleep, naked, unaware of my presence, her lush form tangled in hot pink sheets. I ate baked goods my body had no need for, simply to have an excuse to draw closer, to smell her, to feel the brush of her hand against mine as she gave me my change. I made small talk, a tactic I haven’t employed… ever, finding any reason to touch her, and when my need for Charlotte overwhelmed my control, I fucked her amidst the bags of chocolate chips and icing sugar. That still wasn’t enough, so tonight, I returned for one last fuck, or so I told myself. Then while I was inflicted by the Charlotte sickness, with my willpower strained by a brutally fulfilling sexual climax, I tasted her. I run my tongue along my

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fangs, savoring the lingering flavor of my beloved, her blood the most decadent ambrosia I’ve ever sampled. Feeding on her had pushed me past all hope. I hunger for her again or still or forever, longing to sink my fangs into her neck as I bury my cock in her hot, tight pussy. This claiming won’t happen now. I’m not prepared for her, and we’re not alone. I turn my head, hearing the scuffing of rubber soles against pavement. “There’s someone at the door.” “Holy hazelnut.” Charlotte scampers off the metallic table, and she scrambles to button up her fluorescent yellow blouse. I tug down her clashing green skirt. I must be far gone because I find her brave clothing choices a refreshing change from the bleak black leather my kind favors. “That’ll be my assistant. I wonder what he’s forgotten this time.” She runs her fingers through her crazy curls. “Do I look presentable?” “No,” I answer honestly. She looks thoroughly fucked, her clothes wrinkled, one button on her blouse missing, and her blazing red hair defying gravity, the tendrils sticking straight up. “Oh, well.” She laughs, the sound like bubbles popping in the air. “He wouldn’t notice if I was naked.” The thought of another male, even Charlotte’s freak of the week assistant, seeing my beloved naked makes my blood boil. “You stay here,” she tells me, patting my chest with one small hand, her fingers intriguingly rough. “I’ll be right back.” I consider following her, but I’m trying to cool it with the stalking. She’ll be in the next room, I tell myself. I can’t follow her around like a puppy. I’ll be able to hear her heart beating; she’ll be so close. I wait in the shiny, clean, professional-grade kitchen, as Charlotte hurries through the shop to talk to the green-haired wonder. God, I want to be with her. I pivot on my heels, taking in the new pans and baking sheets. Everything is top of the line except for the rusted, dented mess of a muffin pan displayed over the icing station. That was her mother’s, and she was the woman Charlotte inherited her love of

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baking from. Although I had never met her, I know she would have been as proud of Charlotte as I am. It takes a strong woman to start a business on her own. “I’m sorry. We’re closed.” Her words drift back to me. Charlotte is more patient than I am. I would have told the latecomer to fuck off. “I’m so sorry but --” There’s a deafening bang, and a shattering of glass. I’m at her side in seconds, traveling at my top vamp speed, but even this is too slow. “Viktor, I think I’ve been shot.” Charlotte’s expression is stunned disbelief, her hands covering the bullet hole in her chest, blood gushing through her fingers. “My love.” I catch her as she falls, and I roar with rage. Someone dared to hurt my beloved! My fangs drop, and my nails extend into deadly claws. “Red, everything is red, your eyes, my hands.” Her voice is weak. Forcing myself to calm down, a damn difficult task as I hunger for blood and vengeance, I sit on the tiled floor with her, pulling her plush body into my lap. My Charlotte is dying, and I know what I have to do. I’ve known this since the first night our paths crossed. I have to strip my wonderful, warm, loving woman of her life, her world, and her humanity. I questioned over the past two months if I could do it, if I was that selfish. I toyed with giving her a choice, but fate has taken the choice away from Charlotte, and the decision out of my hands. I will save her by killing her, making my sunshine love a creature of the night, like I am. I brush her hair back with a tenderness I didn’t realize I have, and I sink my teeth into her neck. She doesn’t fight me as I drink from her, her blood as sweet and intoxicating as the woman I love. While lying trustingly against me on the cold floor, she reaches up, and caresses my face with warm, sticky fingers. “Yes, bite me, baby. You’re so very kinky and I love it.” I love her. I feed from Charlotte, taking her blood into me, until her hand drops and her heart slows.

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As her life slips from her, I bite my wrist, and hold my vein to her lips, my blood pumping into her mouth. “Drink, Charlotte,” I coax when she resists, red staining her flesh. Her green-eyed gaze meets mine, and I nod, trying my best to look reassuring, which is not an expression I’ve ever been known for. She releases a heartfelt sigh, and fastens her lips to my skin. Fuck. My head lolls back, as I’m overcome by the intimate exchange of fluids, the joining of our souls, the strengthening of the bond between us. With my free hand, I stroke her neck, encouraging her to swallow. My blood drips down her round chin, scenting the air. I’m an ancient and the magic flowing through my veins is powerful. The bullet hole in her chest heals, pushing out the bullet fragments. Call me a sentimental mushpot but I save the largest pieces, catching them as they fall, and I place the metal in my shirt pocket. As Charlotte feeds from me, I hold her, thinking of all the damn things I had planned to do before turning her. Hell, I haven’t even painted my dark, dismal bedroom, the place she’ll spend at least a good week sequestered in, while adjusting to vampire life, and she’ll hate it. I know she will. I stiffen as I hear beings approach. We have to leave, it isn’t safe, but, wishing to transfer to Charlotte as much of my blood as possible, I wait until the small yappy dog sniffs around the entrance of the shop. He wears a leash, and before the human the beast is attached to sees us, I break my beloved’s grip on my wrist, scoop her into my arms, and dart through the kitchen, exiting into the dark alley. A scream rents the night air, as the crime is discovered. It is a crime without a victim. Keeping to the shadows, I carry Charlotte toward my downtown mansion. She’ll never be seen again, disappearing into the night to become one of those unsolved missing persons cases that will plague police officers for years.

03 Charlotte’s Journal I dream of blood and sex and Viktor. Feelings of excruciating pain, insatiable lust, and love, poignant and true, flood my unconsciousness. “Viktor,” I croak. I sound like I’ve been on one of those alcohol-induced benders I specialized in during my college years. I twist in the luxuriously soft sheets, blindly reaching for my lover, my eyes closed. “I’m here, beloved.” Warmth covers my shivering body, calming me, and I smell earth and blood. Liquid pumps into my mouth, and with it, memories of places I’ve never been and people I’ve never met. I suck thirstily, and Viktor groans, his hard cock pressing between my thighs. I open to him, and he rocks into me, riding my tortured body slowly, gently, moving as though in slow motion, while I drink. He’s naked, his bare flesh moving against mine. I’ve never seen him naked, and I want to open my eyes, but my eyelids are too heavy. Instead, I run my palms up and down his lean chest. There isn’t an ounce of flab on him. He is muscle and strength and he’s mine, I know this as surely as I know the recipe for my mother’s strawberry cupcakes. “Enough.” Viktor tears his wrist away from my mouth, and I pout like I’m five years old. Hey, I never claimed to be mature, and I’m so very thirsty. “You’re a big meanie,” I tell him in my froggy voice, and I grab his arm, trying to locate the cut, but I can’t. His wrist is already healed, which is impossible, so I must be dreaming. It is a kick-ass dream, as Viktor starts to fuck me hard and fast and viciously, driving my ass and shoulders into the mattress, his pelvis bumping mine, his balls smacking against my skin.

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“Yes, baby,” I call encouragement. “Fuck me harder, sweet cheeks.” I raise my hips into his thrusts, and the entire bed shakes with our enthusiasm. Sweet buttercream frosting with rainbow sprinkles, I’m parched, and horny. I open my mouth to scream, and fangs prick my lips, distracting me from my approaching orgasm. What the hell? I have fangs? “Come for me, Charlotte,” Viktor pleads, varying his angle of entry to cause more torment, and I forget about my razor-sharp chompers. “Tighten that hot pussy around my cock.” Well… since he asks so nicely. My inner muscles clench down on his shaft, and I bite him. Yep, I bite him on his neck, using my newly obtained fangs. He bellows like an angry customer, jerking against me, his heat filling my pussy. I throb and pulse and suck his blood. This blows my mind. I’m sucking his blood, and I like it too, no, I love it, and he’s letting me, my big kinky hunk, tilting his head to give me better access. I remove my fangs, and he tells me to lick him so I do because in my dreams, I follow his instructions, while in real life, I’d tell him to stick his head in my brand new deluxe oven. I’m exhausted from the fucking, and the kindergarten cannibalism. Viktor pulls me to his chest, bearing me no hard feelings for substituting as my midnight snack, and I place my cheek over where his heart should be, except it isn’t there, because I don’t hear a heartbeat. Freakin’ fondant. This is the craziest trip I’ve ever been on, even more nuts than the time I snorted a half bag of icing sugar on a dare. Nothing makes sense, especially the blood sucking. “Sleep,” Viktor commands. He rubs the worry lines between my closed eyes. I should open them. I really should. “I’m not tired,” I protest, finally finding my backbone. No man likes a jellyfish. I yawn, and Viktor chuckles, and this confirms the dream status because my grim lover

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would never, ever, ever chuckle. My world is dark, and warm, and Viktor protects me, so I slowly lose my siege against slumber.

*** “Did I lock the door?” I sit up. Not locking the shop’s doors, leaving my brandnew equipment and fixtures open and accessible to crooks, is a recurring nightmare of mine. The first full week of ownership, I didn’t sleep a wink. But at least I spent those nights in my princess pink bedroom. I blink at the dark brown walls and the heavy velvet curtains surrounding me. Holy macaroon! How did I end up in this pimp daddy cave? “Charlotte.” A very naked Viktor eyes me cautiously, as though the bloodsucking dream wasn’t really a dream, and I might turn on him like some ravenous beast. I tilt my chin up. It was a dream. It had to be. I don’t drink blood. I gaze at the vein in his neck. Though that does look tasty. All of him looks tasty. “Wow, wow, wow.” I look him up and down, widening my eyes in an attempt to see more of his naked splendor. The man needs some sun, his skin is whiter than bleached flour, but other than that, he’s perfection, his shoulders broad, his chest defined, and his stomach flat. My gaze lowers. His cock is hard, and huge, pointing to the mud-colored ceiling, like an ivory homage to manhood. Dark hair curls around his base and balls. I lick my lips, the blue veins covering his shaft triggering my hunger. His legs are long and lean. Like I said, he’s pale perfection. Even his toenails are immaculately groomed. “You should feed,” Viktor informs me. His eyes glow crimson, and he strokes his cock with one large hand. There’s a signet ring on his finger with a dark red, almost black stone set in the finely engraved gold. I’m not the sharpest blade in the drawer, especially in the morning, but even I get the hint. The man wants his cock sucked, and I’m more than willing to give him a treat. Being a baker, I’m an oral gal, and I’ll stick anything I can into my mouth. I especially love sucking cock, tasting the inner essence of my lovers.

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I roll over, ignoring the aches and pains in my well-used body. I feel like I’ve been run over by a delivery truck. “Oh, I’ll feed all right, sunshine.” I smile at him. “I’m going to suck this bad boy dry.” I wrap my fingers around his shaft, and stick out my tongue, licking the precum off his tip. He’s salty with a hint of copper and rust, like he’s been cooked in an ancient pan. The flavor appeals to me, and, after telling him this, I lick Viktor’s cock some more, with quick, light flicks of my tongue as I’d lick the coconut cream cheese icing off a vanilla cupcake. Viktor groans and wiggles his ass, flesh swishing against fabric, so I tease him, exploring his slit, searching his skin for more cum. I’m a little foggy as to what happened last night, but I do know what will happen now. I’m about to give my dour and dismal man a cock-sucking he won’t ever forget.

04 Viktor’s Journal I’ve created a monster. Charlotte’s red curls bounce around her face while her dainty pink tongue swirls around and around my cock. She moans and sighs and coos about how big I am, and how good I taste, swelling both my already secure ego and my equally engorged shaft. I inhale sharply as she lowers her lips over my cock, taking my tip into her mouth up to my rim. She sucks gently, the pull felt down to the soul I thought I no longer had. “Charlotte, beloved.” I thread shaking fingers through the silk of her hair. After tormenting me with one, two, three circles of her tongue around my fleshy ridge, she sinks down on me, taking my cock completely into her mouth, her cute button nose buried in my pubic hair, her chin rubbing between my aching balls. My cock bobs, and she smiles, her lips curled around my shaft. Over the past couple of days, she’s gone through the hellish transformation from human to vampire, yet during those long hours, I’ve frequently been treated to that joyous smile of hers. I vow to safeguard her bubbly personality as I will protect her lush body. She is mine to cherish. I cup her indented cheeks, her mouth sucking and releasing, sucking and releasing, tugging on my sensitive skin. Charlotte palms my balls, squeezing them gently to the rhythm of her bobbing. She is mine, but I am hers. She holds me in her hands, her mouth, and her heart. I haven’t felt this close of a connection to anyone other than my maker, and perhaps not even to that long dead vampire. He was a sadistic bastard, and Charlotte is as sweet as those cupcakes she bakes.

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She licks along the veins of my shaft. I don’t have to enter her mind to read her thoughts. I see them written on her face. She’s hungry for my blood, and she doesn’t know why, and this scares her. “Suck me off, Charlotte, and then you can feed.” I can better explain what I’ve done to her after I ease the agony in my balls. “Viktor?” Her fangs drop, slicing her bottom lip, and her tantalizing blood scents the air, escalating my need for her to unmanageable levels. “Suck me,” I command, pushing her head downward. Her emerald green eyes glitter with rebellion, but she does as she’s told, inhaling my cock up to my base. I sigh with satisfaction, and then moan with desire, as she works my cock with a punishing intensity, her sucking harsh, and her movements fast, with her fangs grazing my skin. I hold out for mere minutes, my control wearing thinner and thinner with each brutal suck. I’m an elder, and only she can do this to me, pushing me to the edge of all reason. “Charlotte, beloved,” I warn her. Her fangs prick my base, and I roar, testing the limits of our soundproof bedroom. I thrust my hips upward, my cockhead pounding against the back of her throat, and Charlotte sputters as my cum fills her mouth, but my beloved gulps it down, not wasting a drop of my white vampire spunk. While she swallows, she sucks shallowly, mixing blood and cum in an erotic combination I’ve heard past lovers describe, but have never experienced myself. My cock is drained, and I quiet, lying still, my limp cock in her mouth, allowing her to feed off me. “You’re like me now, Charlotte.” I wind one of her curls around my finger. I wanted to prepare her more for this change, but my wants are no longer possible. “We are vampire.” She breaks from me unaided, and licks me, speeding my healing process. Pride fills my chest. My strong woman has already learned self-control.

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“It wasn’t a nightmare, was it? The shooting? The pain? The blood?” she asks and I nod. “The window!” Charlotte sits up. “The guy shot it out. I have to get back to the shop, or they’ll steal me blind.” She scrambles off me. I catch her wrist, stopping her. She twists her arm, but I don’t release her. I tell my beloved she’s a vampire, and her first concern is her business. She loves her cupcake shop, and I’ve taken that dream away from her. No, the gunman took it away. “You were dying, Charlotte. I couldn’t allow that.” She means too much to me. “I had to turn you.” “Yes, yes.” She waves her free hand. “I was dying, and you saved me and now I’m a vampire, a blood-sucking goth girl. I get that. About my shop --” “Charlotte.” I try to smile, in an attempt to comfort her, but after centuries of frowning, it feels unnatural and from her widening eyes, I know I haven’t successfully captured the expression. “The cupcake shop is your old life. You can’t return to it.” “Why not? Is it because of the sunlight thing?” She frowns for a second, and I quickly gather my thoughts, wishing to say the right things to make it easier on her, but when she smiles, her face glowing with excitement, I realize I’m too slow. “It’s not like I have to open during the day. It can be part of our marketing angle. We can do only night events, and --” “And when you don’t age?” I break into her flow of words. “Or get sick? Or go out during the day? The humans will ask questions, and questions will make other vampires nervous. Dangerously nervous.” The Council members are tight asses about secrecy. I should know. I’m one of the tight asses. “You can’t go back, not now, not ever.” “Oh.” Charlotte stares at me, and her body stills. I brace for her reaction. “Can I at least get my mother’s muffin pan?” Her voice is small, and her pain gouges into me. “It is important to sever all ties to your previous existence.” I repeat the advice my maker gave me. “So no, we can’t retrieve it.”

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“No one would know,” she pleads, covering my hand with hers. “I’ll slip in and out, and no one will see me, and no one will miss it because it’s not worth anything to anyone other than me.” “No.” God. This is hard. “Please, Viktor.” Her eyes glaze with the sheen of unshed tears. “It is the only thing I have left of my mother. I promise I’ll do anything else you ask of me. Let me get it.” “No.” I feel like the most evil creature on the face of the planet, because I am. I’m a heartless vampire, a cold-blooded predator. “It’s for your safety, Charlotte. The humans will be watching for you. They’ll have the place under surveillance. If they find out who, or what, you are, they’ll hunt you down and kill you, and if they aren’t successful, another vampire will be. You’ll die permanently this time.” And I will die with her because I can’t go back to a life alone, without my Charlotte. The joy vanishes from her face, and my world darkens as though she has flicked the lights off. Her shoulders slump, and her head lowers, her expressive eyes hidden from me. Does she hate me? Fear me? I can’t stand not knowing so I slip into her mind. Her thoughts are like a flock of frightened blackbirds, all dark and without color and flying in different directions. I sense hatred directed at the circumstances, not at me, and I feel the warm burst of love. She loves me, the vampire, the killer. “Oh, well.” Charlotte’s spine straightens, and she meets my gaze, determination and entrepreneurial zeal illuminating her freckled skin. “There are other pans, and I can start over again.” She crawls back into our bed, snuggling up to my side. I put my arm around her, a tinge of wariness tempering my happiness. She is taking this transformation surprisingly well. “I have some questions.” She props her chin up on my chest. A swell of panic rises within me, and I harshly bat it down. Questions are normal for the newly turned, I tell myself. They must learn the vampire rules, what to eat, and

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when to sleep, and how to survive amongst the humans. “Ask.” I review Vampire 101 in my mind, preparing to teach my beloved all that I know. “Do vampires have a banking system, and do they require credit checks?” She frowns. “Because I owe a human-run bank quite a bit of money, and my repayments have been, well” -- she worries her bottom lip with her fangs --”variable, I guess you could say. I don’t have any down payment either, and that’ll take some time to save up for. Maybe until then, I can use your kitchen.” She smiles. “Do vampires have a health code?” Her questions, all business or baking-related, spill out of her mouth in a continual stream. As I listen, I curse for the hundredth time my lack of preparedness. I have to visit my friend, Helena, before Charlotte notices she hasn’t a hunger for anything other than blood, as baking brings my beloved happiness, and I don’t know what will happen if she thinks she’ll never bake again. “Charlotte.” I hold her face between my hands. She’s so beautiful, and I want to fuck her again, but first I should relay some of my knowledge. “Do you have any questions about you becoming a vampire?” “Oh, yes.” She tilts her head, her forehead scrunched up in thought. “How do I turn into a bat?” I don’t want to know why she has a need to turn into a flying rodent. “You don’t. That’s a myth.” “Says who?” Her finely arched eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “I thought vampires were myths too, and clearly that’s wrong.” “I know,” I tell her with complete confidence in my answer. I’ve been around for over a thousand years, and I’ve never heard of any vampire turning into a bat. “How could you know that, smartie pants?” Her green eyes sparkle with humor. “Have you tried? I mean, really tried, not a casual maybe-I’ll-become-a-bat-today halfassed attempt, but made a concentrated effort at full, glorious batdom?” I smile, and this time I must have successfully captured the expression because she laughs, patting my bare chest. Her love tap awakens my napping cock, and I flip

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her onto her back, stopping any additional silly questions with a deep, long, thorough kiss.

05 Charlotte’s Journal Viktor has some big vampire meeting to attend, and he’ll be gone all night, he said. He assumes, no, he told me I’ll be staying home. And I do… for a while, but I’m not really good at doing what I’m told, and I’m used to spending nights at the shop, and I’m not about to let my mom’s pan be tossed into the garbage which I suspect will be its grisly future if I don’t interfere. I pull on one of Viktor’s huge black dress shirts as my yellow blouse is covered with bloodstains and smells like ricotta cheese six months past the best before date. Viktor’s designer shirt stretches tightly across my big breasts, and gathers around my even larger hips. His skinny ass pants don’t fit so I pair it with my green skirt, and I’m good to go. I won’t win any fashion awards, but as I don’t plan to be seen, that’s okay. I exit the sprawling mansion, which must have cost a zillion dollars ’cause it is smack dab in the middle of downtown. I don’t have any keys so I leave the door unlocked. I’m not too worried about this, as a criminal would have to be really stupid to mess with the two blood-sucking vampires now living there. If a thief does break in, I hope it is the same asswipe who shot me. I’m not normally a violent person, but I would drink that idiot’s blood happily. He totally wrecked my cupcake world domination plans, and he left me to die, not knowing Viktor would save me. That wasn’t very nice. As I hurry toward my shop, I stick to the gloom of the shadows. I don’t need light to see because my eyesight is now off the charts exceptional. I can see the intricate ironwork on the local tavern’s back door as clearly as if it were broad daylight. Bats maneuver well in the dark also, so I suspect Viktor is wrong about the bat thing. Rumors tend to be based in some sort of fact. I am so going to attempt the transformation, as bat shifting would be a cool superpower to have.

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I see the boards nailed over the broken window, the closed sign, and the sidewalk filled with flowers and teddy bears, and I stumble, kicking a loose piece of pavement across the street, the sound shockingly loud. There are posters offering a reward for more information, and it touches me that someone cares so much about me. I also feel guilty, because I’m not truly missing. I know where I am. I’ve spent the last few days banging the living… ummm… the undead daylights out of a hunky vampire. This someone is worrying for nothing. I duck under the happy yellow police tape, lift the door handle up and to the right, releasing the defective lock I bought at a steep discount, and slip into my shop. The alarm beeps, the red light flashing. I tap in the code, but the beeping continues. The landlady must have changed the code. To what? I don’t know. I hustle to the kitchen. Having forgotten my code on previous occasions, I know I have mere minutes before the police arrive. I have to quickly retrieve my mother’s pan and leave. The wall is empty, the paint a shade cleaner where the muffin pan hung. It’s gone. I’m too late. I double up with grief and loss, holding my tummy, the mental blow on top of everything else I’ve experienced excruciating. My mother’s pan is gone. Some bastard stole it. I’ll suck his damn blood too. I look around the shop I’ve put my heart and soul into, memorizing every shelving-filled corner, and painstakingly planned inch. I can’t leave. I won’t leave. Then sirens wail, announcing the arrival of the police, and I realize this is a lie, because I love Viktor and life more than I love my shop. I run through the back door, barreling down the alley at a speed my built-for-TV-watching form has never before traveled at. I turn the corner, the heels of my practical pumps bending under the strain, and I face the blinding lights of a police cruiser. I meet the officer’s startled gaze as he slams on the brakes. This is exactly the situation Viktor warned me about, and I freeze, paralyzed by fear. Will the cop shoot me? Arrest me? Stake me? I’m plucked out of the alley, and a hand covers my mouth, stifling my screams. “Silence, child,” a deep voice murmurs in my ear.

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I don’t recognize the voice, but I don’t struggle because the officer has left his vehicle to investigate. I’m held against a hard, leather-clad body, while the young man searches the alley, a gun in his hand. He passes so close to us, I can hear the pounding of his heart, and the blood, the rich, gorgeous-smelling blood, rushing through his veins, but we remain undetected, and eventually the officer gives up, returning to his car to drive away. I relax. I’m safe. Sort of. The stranger’s hand drops to my shoulder, his arm remaining across my neck, restraining me. “Who is your maker, child?” His breath blows warm on my cheek. I don’t hear his heart beating, so I suspect he’s a vampire like me, except he has a few more skills. Okay, he has a lot more skills, but give me a break. I’ve only been a vampire for a couple of days. The skills will come, and then I’ll be a bad ass, especially when I master the bat shifting. “Child?” the vampire repeats. I stay silent because I don’t know this guy, and I can’t trust him not to tattle on me. Plus I don’t do what Viktor, the vampire I love, tells me to do, so I’m certainly not obeying a complete stranger’s commands. His chest pushes against my back as he sighs. “He must be powerful as I can’t read your thoughts.” Wait a minute! I frown. Can Viktor, that stinker, read my thoughts? If so, I’m in deep frosting as he’ll know exactly where I am. “I do know where you are.” The vampire himself steps out of the gloom. “Nico. Thank you for taking care of her for me.” Viktor looks extremely pissed off, his face even grimmer and paler than usual. His lips are drawn back, revealing razor sharp fangs, and claws are extended from his fingers. The vampire behind me stiffens, all his muscles tensing. “I never thought I’d live long enough to meet a child of yours, Viktor.” “Continue to touch her, and you won’t live to tell about it,” Viktor threatens, his gaze fixed pointedly on Nico’s arm. I shiver at the darkness in his tone.

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I’m released, and Viktor pulls me behind him, placing his big body protectively between me and the other vampire. He’s ready for a fight. Nico’s chuckle holds no levity. “Not a child then, a beloved, and you should thank me.” I peek around Viktor’s body. The vampire, Nico, is tall and lean, with hair as white as his skin. A deep scar slices his otherwise perfect face in two. He’s a nasty piece of work, yet this tough man is wary of Viktor. I gaze at my lover with new respect. “Your beloved was seconds away from disaster, putting us all at risk, and your precious blueblood council won’t like hearing that.” Nico’s eyes are shrewd and cold. “And what do you want from me to keep this quiet?” Viktor cuts through the posturing, and I inhale sharply, realizing now what I’ve done to him. Because of my carelessness, the love of my life is in this heartless vamp’s debt. “I want your help when I need it, and I will need it. That’s a certainty,” Nico states his terms with a cool indifference. The two male vampires stare at each other, the animosity between them palpable. This isn’t slightly ticked off. This is a hatred that takes years and years to build up. Viktor is so going to resent turning me. “You will have my help.” Viktor nods, his face tight, and his jaw jutting. “Come,” he barks at me. He doesn’t use my name or call me his beloved or touch me, and his eyes glow red with rage. After issuing his command, he strides away, not looking back, discarding me like a used cupcake wrapper. I follow him, my head bowed, all rebellion temporarily snuffed out of me. I stay subdued for a full three blocks, which is a personal record. “Viktor?” “Not now,” he growls. I didn’t know vampires growled. I thought growling was the exclusive domain of werewolves. If vampires exist, does that mean werewolves exist also? They could provide insight into the bat shifting. I wait for another three blocks, channeling my inner-bat as I trail him. “Now?”

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“No.” Viktor sounds more exasperated than cranky, and my spirits lift. He still loves me, and that’s a good thing because I love him to bits and pieces. He gives me one of his knowing looks. I remember he can hear my thoughts, and my face heats. It makes no sense to hold back now. I love you, you big grumpy grump of a hunkalicious vampire, you. Not now. Holy hazelnut. I can hear his thoughts. You can’t stop me from thinking, sunshine. When we get home, I’m going to cover you with icing, and lick you clean, starting with those big shovel-toes of yours. I flood my brain with sexy thoughts and silly endearments as I skip along the curb. Being a vampire is so much fun. We don’t go directly home. Viktor stops at a cute little bungalow located a block away from his big house. He knocks on the door, and I ring the doorbell, helping my technology-inept vampire lover out. A gorgeous woman answers. She doesn’t say anything, not one word of welcome, studying me with a dead expression on her face, her dark gaze sweeping over the smudges on my battered yellow shoes, pausing on the manly shirt I’m half wearing, the gaps between the buttons exposing my freckled flesh, before resting on my sure-tobe crazy hair. Did I mention I hadn’t expected to meet anyone tonight? I look like hell, and she looks perfect. Tall and thin and everything a vampire should be, she even dresses the part, wearing a skin-tight black leather catsuit I could use as a belt. The vampire chick and Viktor look like they’re made for each other, and I don’t buy that they’re not talking. I’m thinking they’re doing that mind reading thing, intentionally leaving me out of their conversation, and this hurts. No toe sucking for him, I decide, and I’m not waiting around while he mentally flirts with some undead babe. I walk away, putting an extra wiggle in my walk, shaking more booty than she’ll ever have. Maybe I’ll go find that Nico character, and we can be bitter and evil together. I’ll ask him about the bat shifting. He might know.

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Viktor catches up to me easily. He has a big black velvet bag slung over his shoulder, like an evil Santa Claus. “Helena is a friend.” Suddenly he is Mr. Chatty. “I don’t care.” I sniff, pointing my nose in the air. Then I ruin the effect by tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. Viktor catches me, preventing me from doing a facer into the cement, and I jerk away from his touch. I’m stressed and angsty, and I really need to bake something. That’ll make me feel better, especially since Viktor’s good “friend,” Helena, is a vampire and vampires don’t eat so they sure as hell can’t bake. I’ll whip up a batch of banana-walnut muffins, making the house smell divine, and I’ll spend hours icing them, losing myself in the joy of creation. When the cupcakes are absolutely perfect, resembling miniature works of art, I’ll feed them to the pigeons because the thought of eating anything other than blood makes my stomach heave. “You had better have bananas,” I threaten. His mouth flattens as he holds the front door open for me. “I wasn’t prepared for you.” If he tells me this one more time, I’ll scream. I get it. He hadn’t planned on turning me. He likely had his red-rimmed eyes on a woman like his friend Helena. Despite my grumbling, I take a deep whiff of his earthy aroma as I pass, because the man smells good. “That wasn’t what I meant.” He slams the door shut with a loud bang. I meet his gaze, surprised. Viktor is normally so controlled. “I can’t read your mind, Viktor. I haven’t mastered that skill yet.” He pulls me to him, our hips bumping together, his hard cock pressing against my stomach, and we turn as one, until my back is against the wall. He has me captured, his dark eyes pinning me into place as surely as any restraints. His desire hits me first, the emotion so forceful I’m thrown backward. Concern follows, and a heavy sense of failure tempered with regret. Underneath that vortex of feelings is love, a breathtaking fierce yet tender love, a love a woman would search eternity for.

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The room swirls around me, disappearing. In its place is a brightly-painted kitchen. I’m in the middle of the space, wearing a bright yellow apron, with a big mixing bowl in my hands. The mix is red, redder than any batter I’ve ever seen, and it smells of blood. Hanging on the wall, displayed proudly, is my mother’s muffin pan. The other me, plump with crazy out-of-control hair, is laughing. The vision disappears but the joy is left, the joy and the love, and then this vanishes also, as Viktor takes a ragged breath, sucking his feelings back into his soul, concealing them from me once more. “I thought we had more time.” He pulls my mother’s muffin pan out of his black velvet bag. On top of the rusted cups is a spiral notebook. “Oh, Viktor.” I blink and blink and blink but this doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. He has my mother’s pan. “I thought it was gone. I thought… I thought…” I slap him on the chest, the contact muted by his shirt. “You broke your own rules, you stinker.” “For you, Charlotte, my beloved.” Love and desire is reflected in his dark eyes. “I would break all the rules.” Sweet butter-cream. The man doesn’t speak much but when he does, he turns me into a mushy, half-baked cake. I push my mother’s pan away, and bury my face in his shoulder. I’m Viktor’s beloved, that was what the bad vampire Nico called me. I’m not up on all this vampire lore, having devoted most of my life to baking the yummiest cupcakes ever, but it sounds like a good title to have. “It is the best title to have.” Viktor places his finger under my chin, tilting my head upward. “It means you hold my heart for all eternity.” He swipes his thumb over my wet cheeks. I hold his… “Wait a minute!” I narrow my eyes at him, feigning irritation so I won’t break down and cry again. I can’t take all this emotion. “You’re giving me your non-beating, defective heart? That doesn’t sound like a great deal.” I think about the parts I’d rather have. “Hmmm…” I slide my hand down his chest, reaching the bulge in

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his pants. “Can I have another part of you instead?” I trace the outline of his broad cockhead and thick shaft. The corners of his mouth lift. “You can have all of me.”

06 Viktor’s Journal “I’m thinking a happy yellow.” Charlotte spins around our darkened bedroom, the notebook in her hands, as she ponders painting possibilities. I’ve given her free rein to redecorate because, although I’m now a vampire, I was a man first, and men don’t care what color curtains are. “Something bright and cheerful.” She’s my something bright and cheerful. I peel off my clothes, as she turns and talks. She’s bubbling over with excitement and happiness, despite my woeful lack of baking supplies. Charlotte wished to immediately try the very first recipe Helena had transcribed for her, but I, according to my beloved, squashed her plans with my depressingly bare pantry. That was news to me. I didn’t know I had a pantry. Charlotte tilts her head, a fine red eyebrow raised. I have no idea what she’s asked me. I should have been listening to her instead of watching her breasts bounce. “You look beautiful in yellow.” Her chattiness must be contagious as I’m not one for effusive compliments. Now completely naked, I strip her of my large shirt and that grubby green skirt. “That reminds me.” She sticks up one finger. I close my lips round it, sucking on her skin. “I need clothes.” Her voice softens. I reluctantly release her finger. “But not today.” I lift Charlotte onto our bed. “But not today.” She sets aside the notebook, her green eyes glowing. I hand the notebook back to her. “Read, Charlotte.” What I plan to do is best accomplished without the help of her busy little hands. I kiss down her body. “But I --” “Read.” I swirl my tongue around her belly button.

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Her chest lifts and falls with her small sigh. “Well, if you insist, sunshine.” She opens the notebook, and I watch her expressive face, as I nibble and lick over her hips, exploring every indent and curve. “Viktor, did you see this?” I get smacked in the head with the book. “The blood tarts weren’t the only desserts they have. Some of these… ohhh…” I comb through her private curls, finding her heat, and she wiggles under me, her ass swishing against the sheets. “Some of these cake recipes… Oh, sweetheart…” She squirms as I dip my fingers into her wetness. “Some…” Her voice is breathy. “Some I can tweak…” I flick her clit, and she cries out. “…into cupcakes.” I finger her folds as she thumbs through the pages in the book. I’m looking for her luscious cream. I don’t know what she’s searching for. “Reduce the baking…” I extend my tongue, and lick the glistening moisture off her pink flesh, tasting the most intimate part of Charlotte. “…time. Oh, Viktor.” The notebook drops on the mattress, and she buries her fingers in my hair, as I bury my tongue in her tight hole, searching for more flavor, more of my beloved. I almost lost her today, that disaster averted only by dumb luck and the renegade vampire Nico’s presence, and I need to reassure myself that she is here, eternally undead and forever mine. I stroke into her with my tongue as I yearn to stroke into her with my cock, and she pants, pulling at my hair, the pain in my scalp proving this isn’t a dream. I am feasting on my beloved, my Charlotte, and I’m no longer alone. I’ll never be alone again. “Oh yes, Viktor, eat me. Eat me all up, you big sexy vamp.” She calls out nonsense, and it makes me smile, a true genuine smile heating the cold recesses of my unbeating heart. I pump into her with my tongue, caressing her pussy walls, until all of her is pulsing to the same tempo, her blood pounding through her veins. “Viktor, sunshine, my gorgeous man, my…” She dances underneath me, her breasts jiggling, her ass bouncing off the mattress.

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I remove my tongue and draw back my fangs. “Come for me, Charlotte.” Lowering onto her, I ever-so-gently scrape my fangs over her clit. She screams, levitating off the bed, flying like that bat she insists we can shift into, her body fluttering as frantically as wings. I slurp up the cream gushing from her pussy, drinking a juice more heady than the purest blood. “Viktor, I love you. I love you so much.” Her voice is soft from her orgasm. I move up her quieting form, rubbing my hard muscles against her soft curves, her nipples pebbling with the contact. “You are mine, Charlotte,” I tell her. She is more than mine. She is a part of me, the happy, joyous part, the light to my darkness. She beams at me, and I kiss her lips, mixing the lingering taste of her pussy with the sweetness of her mouth. She holds my face, caressing my cheekbones with her rough baker’s fingertips, as I tangle my tongue with hers, tumbling, twisting, playing. I’m playing. The great vampire Viktor is playing. I chuckle, amused by the ridiculous thought. Charlotte pulls away from me, her eyes widening in mock wonder. “What was that sound, Viktor?” I stay silent, giving her my coldest, most impervious stare, and she grins, which causes my lips to twitch. “You laughed!” She releases a wonderful, light, frothy laugh of her own. “Vampires don’t laugh.” She slaps my bare chest. “Don’t you know that?” “I’m an old and powerful vampire,” I declare in a commanding tone. “I do as I please.” I then smile back at her. Yes, I both laughed and smiled in the same century. It is a sign of an upcoming apocalypse. “I am a young and powerless vampire.” She mimics my voice. According to her, I sound like a stuck up prig. “And I ask you to please do me.” She pushes up with her hips, bumping against my hard-as-hell cock. “I will consider your request, child,” I tease, kissing her neck. Hell, I laughed and smiled today. I might as well indulge in the whole trifuckta and tease her also. “It could take some time.” I move over her, fucking her without entry, sliding my cock between her soft thighs.

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“Is there anything I can do, oh grim and gruesome one” -- she reaches between us, curling her fingers around my shaft -- “to speed up the process?” I groan into her neck as she runs her hand up and down my cock, working me to the rhythm of my dry humping. Her touch feels too good, and I won’t last long. “Charlotte,” I murmur, and she spreads her thighs in welcome. Harsh raw emotions roll over me as I push my cock inside her hot pussy, sliding, sliding, sliding until I’m buried in ecstasy up to my base. I pause, relishing the exquisite connection. We are one, our bodies joined as man and woman, our souls entwined as vampire and beloved. The feelings threaten to overwhelm me, and I search Charlotte’s expressive face, anchoring myself to her love. She hides nothing from me. Her eyes are red with desire, and her mouth is open, begging for a kiss. I cover her lips with mine, and I move, rocking into her, undulating on top of her curves, stroking and caressing her with all of my body. She grips my shoulders, her short blunt fingernails imprinting crescent moons into my skin. I will quickly heal, concealing her marks, but her branding of my body, and my heart, will remain. Charlotte, my beloved, pants in my ear, calling my name with ardor and delight, and I fuck her with increasing vigor, slamming into her, causing her breasts to bounce against my chest, further escalating my fervor. She feels so good, so warm and alive, and I thirst to taste her, to have her life’s blood coat my tongue. I drag my fangs over the curve of her cheek, along her jaw, down her neck. “Yes.” She grasps the nape of my neck, clutching me to her. “Bite me, Viktor.” Knowing that if I bite her, I’ll come, I resist her siren call, stroking her neck with my fangs, up and down, up and down, as I pound my cock into her pussy. I hold off until my balls ache and she shakes, her inner muscles winding tight around my shaft, hugging me with her intimate embrace. My orgasm grips me, and I arch back, baring my teeth. “Charlotte!” I sink my teeth into the sweet spot where her neck meets her shoulders, and I drive my hips forward.

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As my fangs hit vein, and her blood rushes into me, I come, pumping my cum into her pussy. She shatters, calling my name, raking my back with her extended claws. The pain is delectable, her blood is euphoric, and Charlotte is my beloved. There is no other word to describe our bond. “I love you,” I tell her, all my inhibitions blown to hell with the heady experience. I lick the puncture marks on her skin, and I roll, pulling her on top of me. “I love you,” I repeat, having received no response from my first confession. “I love you, Viktor.” She kisses my flat male nipple. “My beloved.” I smile, waves of genuine joy sweeping over me. The earth doesn’t burst into flames or crack open like an egg, so I continue to smile.

Cynthia Sax Cynthia Sax lives in a world where demons aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good, and magic happens every single day. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the same women forever. Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research. He receives a daily briefing on what every character is doing. You can also learn what Cynthia Sax’s characters are doing by visiting

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website

at

[email protected].

www.CynthiaSax.com

or

emailing

her

directly

at