His name, her creator, she learned was Daray St. Johns and he was over one hundred years old. He was also the lover of a first generation vampire, the club owner, Anise Dubois she had gleaned from her donor.
"I don't think it's by choice either. Sometimes you'll see Daray look at her with hate in his eyes." The young man volunteered haphazardly while his finger sluiced up and down within her.
"If he... uh... hates... oh, go deeper, baby... yes... there, that's it..." She panted as he fingered her even deeper.
"If he hates her, why doesn't... oh... fuck... why doesn't he leave? Deeper!" Carla gasped as he shoved up hard to give her that climax she sought.
"I don't actually think he can." Came the surprising answer while he sat back leisurely, letting her hump his hand, a smug grin on his face that he could bring her to that point, as his cock obviously had not done it for her.
They had 69 after that and since he was now busy tongue fucking her, badly in this as well, their conversation was little except grunts and groans and deep breaths. She had sucked him off good, but now her hunger increased.
His face buried in her pussy, Carla wrapped her legs around his head and shoulders, pinning him to her. Her arms closed around his legs, pulling them wide as he began to struggle. Her lips found the femoral artery throbbing at his inner thigh, her fangs dropped. Her pussy swallowed his scream as she bit down straight into the artery, her mouth filling with his blood.
His arms flailed at trying to dislodge his face, his mouth working to bite her and she tightened her legs to hold him, surprised to feel another orgasm mounting. Unfortunately, she drank too quickly and his struggles slowed and then stilled altogether before she could get that gratification.
Carla released him, his head dropped heavily, and as she leaned over to kiss his soft cock in gratitude, his last breath rattled from his lungs. He had told her that her dark lover usually trolled Rice Park for his meals unless he found someone to his liking at the clubs.
She grinned wide as she stood from her now lifeless host, the fact that Daray St. Johns had found her to his liking firmly affixed in her mind. With her lust as yet satisfied sufficiently Carla left the abandoned building not bothering to attempt to hide the body and set out for the park he had mentioned. There was only one man that could appease her ache and she was going to find him. She was going after Daray.
A twig snapped over to her left and Carla spun around wildly, her eyes searching the shadows but only seeing small creatures scurrying through the leave strewn grounds. An almost bone-chilling breeze hit her in the back after that and she froze. He was there, standing just behind her now. She could sense him with every fiber of her being.
"What are you doing here?" That delicious deep voice demanded and Carla turned slowly to face him, her breath leaving her lungs at his stunning handsomeness.
"Look... looking for you." She answered once she found her voice, those dark eyes flashing back at her. The security light in the distance only illuminated his face and black hair, his lower half still hidden in the shadows, yet instinctively she knew he would be wearing black.
"Why?" He demanded next although he already knew the answer, the scent of her lust was strong.
"I need you, Daray." She answered honestly and heard him chuckle softly.
"You know my name, do you?" He queried, turning to walk away as he spoke and Carla took up to follow.
"Yes, you are Daray St. Johns... damn! Everything about you oozes in sensuality, even your name, Daray St. Johns..." She whispered, keeping up with him as he moved deeper into the thick trees.
"Although I would not agree with your assessment, Carla, I thank you for the compliment." He told her and she gave a tiny gasp of delight that he knew or remembered her name, as she could not recall giving it to him that night.
"I... I was told that you hate Anise Dubois even though you're her lover. Why don't you leave?" She blurted what she had learned and he stopped, turning slowly to face her again, the heavy shadows kept his expression hidden.
"And do tell me, Little One, what else you might know about me." He stated, his voice low, angry as he spoke and using the name he had called her the night of her turning.
"That you were turned over one hundred years ago." She responded.
"And?" Followed the next question.
"And that it's possible that you can't leave Anise Dubois." She added and heard him sigh.
"Do not become attached, Carla, it could mean your death." He warned her ominously, but it was already too late although right now he did not know it.
"Daray, make love to me, please..." She whispered.
"I can't, Carla." He told her softly, sadly it sounded to her.
"Because she would know, is that why? You can only have sex in order to take blood?" She questioned him quickly.
"Yes." Came the whispered, yet stunning response.
"Then take some from me, but please... please, I need you!" She cried in near desperation.
"Don't you understand, I... damn woman!" He hissed as she shot forward, her hand lifting quickly to cup him and give a gentle squeeze.
"I need this, Daray, I hurt so bad. Take some of my blood so she does not know, please!" She begged and in the next moment her back slammed hard against the bark of a tree.
His mouth angrily closed over her own, his tongue driving past her startled and parted lips and Carla nearly melted at the promised passion of that kiss. His lower body shifted slightly back, the faint sound of a snap and zipper drifted to her ears and she smiled against his lips.
His hands came to her hips, shoving up her short skirt and one large hand moved, his fingers tracing lightly over the lacy material of her panties, damp with need. With one hard jerk the scrap of cloth was torn away and Carla shifted her stance, opening herself up to his touch.
She groaned deeply into his mouth as his hand returned, the heel of his palm grinding up against her and Carla nearly dropped to her knees in pleasure. Daray must have sensed it as he wrapped one steel banded arm around her waist to hold her steady and drove one finger into her heat, her knees buckled, his arm tightened. His finger thrusts were powerful yet caused her no pain and as he pleasured her so expertly his tongue took up the same motion inside her mouth.
The young man she had destroyed was a good finger fucker, but was absolutely nothing compared to how Daray was quickly making her feel. He brought her closer and closer to an explosive climax, feeling her tighten around his slick hand. His arm slipped low, beneath her buttocks and with the ease of lifting a feather he hoisted her up, his had pulled free to guide his erection to her inflamed dampness.
Carla wrapped her legs around his hips as he let his hand drop from himself and thrust forward, burying his full length and expanse with one powerful drive. The pain was minimal compared to the explosion that went off within her as his bulbous head slammed into her back wall.
Blinding white lights filled her vision, her orgasm so violent that Daray had to wrap his other arm around her hips to keep her impaled around him. His mouth swallowed her cries of complete rapture, her body convulsing against him as wave after wave of painful bliss flooded through her system.
"Of fuck, Daray!" She gasped as he finally lifted from her lips, those dark eyes flashing down at her while he held himself immobile until her orgasm began to ebb.
And then he began to move, his strokes slow, deep, filling her unlike any other man possibly could.
"Hmmm... that feels so good... you're so... hmmm, big... so perfect... hmmm..." She moaned in pleasure, her head lulling from side to side and he seared her insides with his mass.
"Bite me when... oh sweet... bite me when you cum, Daray... take my... uh... uh... take my blood... oh shit!" She screamed as he lunged deep, his fangs bit down, taking the offered blood as they climaxed together.
Liquid heat filled her lower body, numbing cold her upper until they met somewhere in the middle, battling until only one could be the victor. Of course, the heat won the war, but the sensations ended all too quickly as he lifted his head from her throat. His arms released her and she slid off his luscious yet deflating cock.
"Are you all right?" He asked, his voice slightly husky in the darkness.
"Better than all right!" Carla gasped in delight, reaching out to grasp his slick cock and tugging him forward, knowing he was possibly thinking she wanted him again, yet laughed almost gently as she used the material of her skirt to clean him off.
"I have to go." He whispered, backing away to adjust himself beneath his slacks, the zipper grating closed, the snap final.
"Daray?" Her voice stopped him when he turned to leave.
"Don't, Carla. I may have already signed a death warrant for us both." He stated sadly.
"Come with me, Daray. Leave her." She begged of him despite his warning.
"I can't get away from her, damn it!" He shouted in anger at her then an almost animalistic growl sounded deep within his chest and then he was gone.
Daray had no more passed through the doorway of the club than he was ushered by Armand and Oliver toward the bar where Anise sat, her eyes hot as they looked him up and down.
"Join me for a drink, Daray." She stated and motioned to the bartender to prepare a drink for him.
"I'm tired, Anise. And I only want to go to sleep now so your punishment of me will need to wait." He shot back angrily.
"Didn't you find that extra meal I told you to take, lover?" She questioned silkily and his dark eyes glowered back at her, his chest swelled as he pulled in air.
"No, I thought perhaps you might kill me this time and get it over with!" He growled so that only she would hear him.
"Don't be absurd, Daray! I have no intention of destroying you, but I have thought long and hard of what sort of punishment I could give you for your attack upon me." She laughed softly, glancing down at the drink that was placed in front of him on the bar. It would not hurt him, but what she had planned for later most certainly would, not physically, but emotionally he would pay.
"Drink it." She commanded and his eyes narrowed, shifted to the glass and then back to her own.
"You drink it." He returned after a moment's pause and saw her anger ignite.
"Poisoning me is a suitable form of punishment?" He laughed, yet there was no humour in his eyes.
TBC