Vampire Vacation ~ Chapter Six

Today's post was going to be a continuation of Johnny Living Dangerously, which aired on our opening day of the blog. But, I've not been myself health-wise and haven't polished the piece yet. Never fear! ;-) It will come out the next time I'm scheduled to post.

BREIF RECAP: Dria (aka Vivian), our sultry undead innkeeper, and Rafe, her unaging human husband, run a secluded resort for vampires in Alaska -- during the dark winter months. A murder has taken place, they hide the body and start investigating, all with the hopes of discovering the culprit without alerting their high maintenance guests.

Dria has questioned a maid and met some new guests. She's dallied with one of their imaginations and had wild, sweaty sex with her husband. We left off last time with Dria feeding from her sexy werewolf human servant and now she's jazzed up from his powerful blood. *The use of italics represents the couple's telepathic speech.

Chapter Six

I close the office door behind me to join Rafe’s warm laughter in the kitchen. He’s finished prepping all the vegetables for his meal and looks ready to start cooking. The need to do something, anything, pushes at me so strongly, I rush to our closet to dress. Sturdy, ugly clothes are the kind you need when you go outside here. I grab thick jeans, silk long johns, an undershirt, turtleneck, bulky sweater, and to top off my lovely outfit, a down jacket. Big boots replace the high-heeled pumps, and I’m good to go.

Vampire or not, I need protection when out and about for any notable length of time in the winter here. We can withstand the cold longer than humans, but prolonged exposure with no covering would slow us down and make us more vulnerable to attack, not to mention the effects on my skin are just criminal.

“Going to go take a look around to see if I can find a trace of the scent Jonathan mentioned.” My voice sounds hollow in my own ears as I march to the backdoor.

Rafe straightens his stance and looks up from his post at the stove.

You okay?

Yeah. Need to burn some of this off. I’ll be right back.

Grabbing a set of master keys hanging on a nearby hook, I step out into the frozen tundra that freezes the hair in my nostrils. Not a land for the faint of heart, it’s a good thing I don’t need to breathe very often. Blocking out the bite, I take a deep breath in while thanking my lucky stars my clientele doesn’t mind the weather. This extreme cold lowers our core temp a lot, which means we do need to warm back up to room temperature before any hanky panky. It brings the old phrase “cold hands, warm heart” to an entirely new level.

Walking down the path leading me away from our kitchen, I pass gorgeous fluffy pines, small and large, planted up near the base of the inn and farther out too. Twinkling holiday lights wrap the trees, lending a glow to the illuminated pathway under my boots. A quaint, winter wonderland that’s quite pretty in the ever-present darkness.

The paved paths here meander throughout the hot tub grotto, lending a private feel to each setting they come to. Pergolas enclose individual tubs with hardy bushes planted up next to them, increasing the feel of solitude. I take a route which brings me close to the foundation of the building and start to examine the snow under the windows. Spying footprints beneath room six, I head over to them. They look much bigger then my own size seven. Could mean a very tall woman or a smallish man.

I’m annoyed at myself and the feeling’s exacerbated by Jon’s Were blood coursing through me. How in the hell did I not think of the window before? The scent of blood in room six clouded my thoughts, but I had no idea it impaired my thinking so damn much. Jon was right to question me in the kitchen; I’m not at my best tonight. Damned if I’ll admit it to that hunk of fur anytime soon, though.

The clean smell of the snow, the sharp scent of pine trees and chemical traces of bromine from the four nearby hot tubs greets the frozen-stiff hairs of my nostrils. No lingering hints of an unknown vamp to detect, but I've come along hours later and there's a mild wind to contend with. Let’s face it: I’m no werewolf. What I can do later is check inside the suite near the window. I feel pretty stupid for not thinking of it sooner; live and learn, and try not to be snarky when Jon reams me for it.

Could a human have committed this crime? Or could the killer be one of the few vampires who can fly? Maybe they climbed up the side of the building? I guess a human could climb up too, but he or she would need some equipment and there’s no evidence of a tool bag dropped to the ground or lots of footprints which would indicate whoever stood here walked around looking up to gauge the climb before ascending.

Completing a circuit of the hotel, pristine white snow greets me at every turn. Snowdrifts up against the building are quite high, especially in the corners where the wings meet the center structure. There’s no other footprints in the snow outside any windows, which tells me the killer had no need to go back inside afterward unless, of course, he went in through a door. Which would just be freakin’ great.

I set off at a sprint down a wide-curving path that leads to the ten outer cabins. Lighted bushes, glowing statuary, and trail markers stream past my vision like traffic headlights in a slow-motion shutter release. Jonathan sniffed around the cottages on the outside, but I want to use my keys and check inside too. Letting myself in to the farthest one out, number ten, I work my way back toward the main building, examining all the empty ones first. There’s no trace of an unknown vamp scent, so I stop outside Drew’s cabin, looking to discreetly check out the occupied units next.

My body shakes, and not from the cold. I itch as though my skin could crawl right off me if given the chance. Taking a moment to center myself before going those last steps to Drew’s porch would be a good move, not to mention a smart one. The energy leaking out of me needs to be contained before I face another vampire, or the illusion of the luscious-but-average-powered innkeeper would not be complete.

I begin a mountain pose from my yoga training. It’s the best one to center me when I’m not dressed for a more complex move. Placing my feet hip-distance apart, I hold my hands loose at my sides. I raise my toes in the big boots before planting them down firmly in anchor. My spine straightens, tailbone roots down, chest lifts and shoulders pull back. The connection to the earth feels strong when the alignment is right, enabling me to pull the aura of my energy back inside to lock down tight.

The yoga teacher I had years ago, Olga, would be proud. She taught me for over fifteen years. Right up until the fact I didn’t age drove me from the town in Germany where we’d met. I miss her and her wisdom. She’s always guiding me in my mind, a calm I can seek in any storm. I hear her voice with its smooth cadence like an echo: You must root to rise.

Feeling more in control, I step up to the cabin porch. A short rap at the door prompts Drew to open it before I lower my hand. He’s dressed in jeans and a snug Henley-style sweater, and both emphasize his lean muscular build. Brown eyes sit on a pleasant but unremarkable face, and his medium brown eyebrows lift in surprise while he looks me over from head to toe.

“Vivian, the lovely innkeeper, what a pleasant surprise.” He ushers me inside quickly, closing the door behind me, to reduce the cabin’s heat loss. “I would not have thought it was you out there. Interesting. What brings you out to my cabin?”

Shit. I should have done my yoga pose a few cabins back. Having no idea what he sensed before my approach, I’m going to go with the “ignore it and it will go away” tactic.

“I’m looking for an unregistered guest who might be on the premises. You haven’t included anyone in your party without letting the front desk know, have you?”

Drew smiles while spreading his hands wide. “No, but you’re welcome to check.”

His expression appears knowing and coldly assessing. I plan to play dumb and get through this as fast as I can. Perhaps talking to people right now isn’t a great idea.

I wave him off with a flick of my wrist. “Don’t be silly, I would’ve sensed anyone the second I came in, you know that. I’m here to find out if you’ve seen anyone new.”

“I haven’t noticed anyone new around my cabin, if that’s what you’re asking, but it’s not like I’ve been checking either. Should I be?”

He gestures to the table and chairs toward the rear of the long room. The cabins each have a small bedroom with a king-size bed, a well-appointed bath and a large living area containing a kitchenette. Accepting his offer to sit, I head to the table and take a seat.

“No, we don’t expect our guests to be checking.”

He’s trying to catch my eye, staring intently at my face with a pensive look. Could he have sensed my true age for a moment while I was outside? Or did I appear older with the recent infuse of power? What age am I to those who can read power signatures well? If he did sense something, I may have invited more trouble on my little fact-finding mission then I need right now.

Hiding my true age keeps the guests calm. It leaves them unthreatened, allowing them to unwind, while protecting all we hold dear here. Most vamps would go on high alert when they encounter another undead older than themselves, which would not be conducive to a relaxing trouble-free vacation now, would it?

Drew pulls me out of my depressing thoughts with a question.

“I like the look of the main building. What made you choose the southern plantation style with the big columns and such?”

Wow, where the hell did that come from? I’m used to the guests asking questions about the place, but the timing feels weird to me right now.

“Rafe and I have traveled extensively and we’ve always thought the mansions down south had a relaxed air about them. Dignified and refined, yet somehow welcoming at the same time.”

“The sunny yellow siding with black shutters does have a nice glow against all the snow. I think you both chose well.”

Does this seem surreal to me because I’m hyped up on Jon’s blood or is he pumping me for information?

He continues, oblivious of my discomfort. “The grounds here are extensive. I imagine one could come back again and again over the years and still find more to discover.”

“Which was our hope. We wanted the guests to always find something new on their tour of the property.”

“Those greenhouses with the UV lighting are a smart investment as well. You can grow fresh essentials for the employees and the guests who require it. You really have thought this out, haven’t you?”

Well, crap, he has been doing a lot of exploring. Normally, it would be fine, but I don’t appreciate the twenty questions. My hopped-up brain is having a hard time sensing nuances in his speech, which means I can’t tell if he has a hidden agenda. It’s best to bail now or try to get this conversation firmly back on track.

Before I have a chance to think up an intelligent topic, Drew fires out yet another question and observation.

“You are more than you appear to be aren’t you, Vivian? That makes me even more intrigued than I was before.”

It’s time to put a stop to his curiosity for now. I can’t mess around anymore. Projecting an air of innocence about myself, and some slight confusion at his question, I slip into his mind and push him to doubt what he sensed earlier, while blurring the information in his mind he thinks he can assume about me.

When answering his question, I refer back to the word “appear” he’d used in his question to make it seem like I think he’s being literal.

“I realize the sturdy jeans and bulky sweater combined with the heavy down jacket isn’t a look that works on me. But in a pinch, it’ll do to protect my skin.” I smile a vapid grin. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

Drew’s eyes mirror his thoughts perfectly. My flippant comment combined with the push has done its job. He’s lost some of the assuredness I saw when I first met his eyes. Now would be good time to beat a hasty retreat before I lose the fragile moment. My earlier curiosity over his choice to visit here alone will have to be addressed another time. Rising from my seat, I head toward the exit.

“I trust your stay here so far has been a good one?”

He looks a bit dizzy; maybe I pushed too much. Damn. Subtlety is hard when amped up on Were blood.

“Uh, yes. The resort has been great, exactly what I needed. Your employees have been a delight.”

Meaning he’s fed from them and liked it. Good.

“How do they all carry your scent?” Ah, he noticed. That’s the point.

“Once a month, I fortify the water supply with a cup of my blood.” Drew’s eyes light up at this admission. Maybe I shared too much, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out if anyone really put their mind to it. He’s weighing his next words carefully, yet I can tell he’s still working out all the implications of my statement.

Giving the employees my blood may be a big step, but not an unheard of one when employing large numbers of humans. By sharing my blood, I protect them from other vampires, which also means I can’t feed from them either. When there’s a mutual blood exchange between human and an undead, it links them as vampire master and servant. The vampire can “call” them any time through the blood link they share, and the human must respond. I like to think of it as nature’s way of providing the vampire with a reliable food supply, but still, it’s not a power I wish to have over the employees.

“You are quite the clever girl, Vivian. But doesn’t it limit who you feed from?” Drew has managed to put together what a lot of my guests overlook. Clearly, he’s not as fuzzy-headed as I’d thought.

But he’s right. Having consumed my blood already, they would ALL be my servants if I fed from them. For my employees, the tiny bit of my blood they ingest, scents them to other vampires as “mine” and thus they carry my protection as my wards or extended family.

“Yes, it does limit who I feed from.”

Damn, he’s sure chatty tonight. I’d intended to question him and instead I’m bumbling through this whole encounter. I need to get the hell out of here.

“I haven’t seen you at the bar much. We’re welcoming some new guests tonight. Care to join us?’’

I decide to push him into coming, my eyes lock onto his while I slip into his mind again. Not wanting to go too deep and risk notice, I stay at the surface of his thoughts. I compel him to desire a change from these four walls and agree to come to the bar.

Drew is an unknown. I need to learn more about him now that he may have sensed my true age. I could wipe the memory of my visit from him, but don’t want to risk the exposure.

In reality, I hate subterfuge; it’s not in me. Learning to carefully use my gift has been a challenge my whole undead life. I’d rather rip the knowledge out of Drew and make everyone do as I say, but that would put the tribunal’s enforcers on me for sure.

The fact I’m seriously considering such strong-arm tactics means something’s way off with me. The added infusion from Jon has me ready to believe in my earlier wish to control my little corner of the world.

The darkness crouching inside my being flexes and grows, pushing to the edge of my senses while reaching out to sink its claws into Drew’s pliant mind. It whispers to me: Take what you want. Make him do it.

With smooth precision, I pull myself back out of his head while locking the tempting power away. Easing from his surface thoughts, I state my earlier question again to bring his focus back to the present.

“Drew, would you care to join us tonight in the bar?”

I need to tell Rafe about my loss of control. If I’m not myself, he can help bring me back from the edge. Scary, how I was ready to practically mind-rape Drew a moment ago.

To mess up here and now could be disastrous to our safety.

Subtle steering of events? Yes.

Blatant, outright manipulation? No.

Throughout our history, undead with the ability to mind-control other vampires are tracked down and killed. The string of bodies left behind me to ensure my survival is long. I don’t care to be hunted again and I will not make the same choices as before.

When Drew answers my question about joining us at the bar, I’m pulled out of my fearful inner thoughts.

“Yes, it sounds like fun. I’ll be there.”

The twinkle in his eye makes me think he’s anticipating it. It was not my doing, so he must have something else on his mind. I finally say my goodbye and leave. The door closes behind me with a soft click followed by a snick of the lock.

I feel jittery and slightly scared. The encounter could have been really messy if I had gone deep into his mind as I’d wanted too. Is this how a heroin user feels? The next time I drink from Jonathan, I think I’ll stay in bed for the day with Rafe and burn this high off in a healthy way.

Extra power can be good but not when it’s risky. This murder has shaken me more than I’ve been willing to admit. I can think of no other reason why I’m handling this power flush so poorly. It sure as hell hasn’t done this to me any other time.

My meanderings and ruminations have brought me close to cabin two, where the Natsuhara party resides. I hear a muffled scream of pain, which causes my head to whip up. The key is in my hand before I have a chance to think things through. Racing up the steps to the door, I unlock it and slam the heavy wood back in a quick movement. The sight that greets me steals my very breath. Which of course doesn’t stop me from saying the first thing to pop into my head.

“Oh, shit.”

****************

Please return on October 2nd for chapter seven of Vampire Vacation. Ten chapters will be released in total. Also, if you have the time, please consider leaving us a review on Amazon. We'd be grateful for your support.

~~ C.J. Ellisson ~~
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Copyright © 2010 C.J. Ellisson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Payback

Content Advisor: m/f scene containing masturbation and oral sex


The first Tuesday in every month, from three until five, is always blocked out in Luke’s planner. The unbreakable appointment with his sex therapist. Well, that’s what he calls his sessions with Jessica. She has cost him a fortune over the years, but she's the best and he deserves the best.

The hotel door shuts behind him with a muffled click. His eyes flit around the room and he nods with approval. From the lush carpeting to the dark walls and sumptuous drapes, it's perfect. Opulent but understated. It's the first time they have been to this hotel, and, like all first times, it seems to sparkle with opportunity.

Luke smirks at the ironed white sheets, wondering just how long their pristine crispness will last. Just thinking of all the people who have fucked on this bed before him is enough to make his blood pump a little faster.

The bedside clock winks a bloodshot 3:11 at him. She's late. His forehead creases with disapproval. Perhaps he will punish her.  Blood infuses his cock, a heady rush as he contemplates what he might do to her.

He starts at a brisk tap at the door. Passing the mirror, he schools his face into an image of censure. He straightens to his full height while twisting the doorknob, opening the door to her wide-eyed gaze.

“You’re late.” He rakes her from head to toe. Her delectable curves are hidden, confined by a suit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” She throws him a dimpled smile by way of apology. “I promise.”

“You’d better. Time is money and all that.”

“I know, I know.” Her head dips to the side. “You gonna let me in or are you going to gripe at me some more?”

He steps aside and as she passes he catches a whiff of the Chanel No 5 dabbed behind her ears and between her breasts. Her magnificent, responsive, pink-tipped breasts. He absently shakes his head, trying to clear it before he gets too side tracked. She tows a large suitcase on wheels. He lifts an eyebrow at it.

“What’s in the bag?”

“A surprise for later.” She says without facing him.

“It’s a big bag.”

“It’s a big surprise.” Mischievously she flashes her dimples again and his residual irritation dissolves. She always pulls this effect from him. Scrambling his senses, heating his blood. It’s why, despite marriage and children, he can never give up this time with her; never give up this one last freedom.

She parks the case in the corner of the room and with a flick of her tousled hair and a wiggle of her lush ass, she heads into the bathroom. She disappears from view and her heels tap, tap, tap a tattoo over the tiles. He knows each orchestrated movement is for his benefit and the deepest most primitive part of him sings with delight. He hears the faucets turning, the rush of the water sounding angry as it echos within the confines of the small space.

He smiles, wondering what part the water will play in tonight's agenda. Past memories of exotic-scented bath water, bubbling jacuzzis and shower heads blasting hard and insistent against quivering flesh, run riot through his head in glorious technicolor.

His pants begin to feel uncomfortably tight. Expectation for tonight heightens all of his senses. He shivers with a frisson of anticipation. She is his mistress of mystery, always surprising him. It's what makes him so hot for her. Before he can gather his wits, she appears in the doorway, beckoning to him.

“Strip off and come on in lover boy.” Her voice sounds inviting, sultry and oh, so sexy.

A feral grin cracks across his face. She doesn’t need to ask twice. His tailored clothes hit the floor in a mad dash to get to the bathroom.

“My, oh my. Someone looks happy to see me.” Her gaze levels at the erection which springs to rampant rigidity between his thighs. She's wearing only her underwear. Brief, black and lacy, just the way he likes it. The garments barely contain her bountiful curves. All of her dips and hollows emphasized by the sheer scraps of satin and lace.

Luke’s grin heats and he pumps his cock in a tight fist. Unashamed and unabashed. His intent blatant. The friction causes his eyes to dip in bliss.

“Hmmm, he never has been terribly subtle about his attraction to you, Jess.” He opens his eyes and winks at her.

“Settle down, mister,” her chastisement in good humor. “How about you put down the weapon and get into the tub or you’ll be out of ammo before we get a chance to play.”

“Howzabout you mosey on over here and come for a lil’ ride?” he drawls.

“All in good time pardner… now into the bath.” Her tone brooks no dispute.

He steps into the steaming water. It’s the perfect temperature – hot enough to cause his breath to stutter as the water washes up and over his groin and torso. He bends his knees and slides further down the tub, letting the water work wonders over his chest and shoulders.

She lights candles and places them around the small space. He senses hints of vanilla and lavender. Quite a steamy sensuality she's creating. Jessica has an extraordinary ability to make the ordinary and mundane fall away until there's nothing left but her. She's the sorbet which cleanses his palate of duty and expectation.

A small click and the room dims, bathed now in the aromatic flickering candle light. She looks even more inscrutable and enigmatic in the muted glow. The lovely woman drops to her knees beside the tub. Her manicured hands dip into the water and drift up and over his chest, stroking, massaging.

His eyes droop as he gives in to the sensation of hands roving everywhere at once. Neck, shoulders, arms, belly. Her fingertips stray lower and his pelvis jerks, trying to hurry her along, showing her what he wants. What he needs. A push of haughty air from her nose tells him cannot rush her. She continues her petting in a languid, indolent way.

“C’mon baby,” he wheedles, cracking an eye at her to judge her willingness. “I can’t take too much more. Get in with me.”

Her dimples dance and she tweaks one of his nipples in mock annoyance.

“Perhaps, but first I need you to do a little something for me.” Her hands continue stroking. Her fingers press and knead. The nimble caresses seem everywhere and nowhere. Insistent, persistent, unrelenting. Always avoiding his crotch.

He grinds his teeth, but keeps the sound in. He knows it's a game -- she loves to tease. To torment and harden his cock. To tantalize him beyond what he can take.

Those clever fingers sweep low into his pubic hair then splay out, around, and down on to his muscular thighs. His hips twitch again and this time, he emits a tortured grunt. The water slaps against the side of the tub, seeming to mirror his annoyance.

“Anything, I’ll give you anything.” He gasps. She could ask for the world and he would give it to her.

“I want to shave off your pubic hair.” She lets her fingertips glide over his throbbing erection and he bucks at the feather-light touch, his moans instinctive and primal.

“Why?” he grinds out through closed teeth, trying to keep his tortured libido under control.

“Why not?” she counters. "It makes it look bigger, the added feeling is fantastic…and I know that you’re a sucker for sensation.” She bats her eyelashes, pauses and adds, “And every hair-free place will receive an obscene amount of my love and affection.” She lifts an eyebrow and licks her lips, her eyes never breaking contact with his needy stare.

“So, will you let me?” Her voice purrs, soft and compelling. Not nearly as soft and compelling as her hand, which is now wrapped around his cock, working its way from the base to the already weeping tip.

“Oh God…” He thrusts into her hand, searching for relief. “Yes, yes, YES. Just do it quickly.” Luke's eyes plead with her piercing blue gaze.

She smiles in a reassuring way, “Come sit up here on the edge of the tub and lean back against the wall.”

His flesh starts to goose pimple against the cold tiles. He scowls as doubts start to set in. The thought of sharp implements near his testicles seems very stupid. “Umm, actually I’m not too sure about this…”

“Shhhh… close your eyes,” she whispers, her hand cupping his cheek. “I’ll be gentle. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Luke forces his eyes closed. His pulse thumps both with desire and a panicky nervousness of the unknown. But he trusts her -- has always trusted her to teach him even when he thought he knew it all. He slows his breathing, grips the edge of the tub and spreads his thighs, ready for her ministrations.

“This will feel a little cold at first, but I promise it will be worth it when I finish.”

The chill of the foam around his pubes isn't nearly as unpleasant as he thought it would be. His cock wilts slightly from cold and anxiety, then eagerly swells as her fingers deftly move around his nether region. Swirling and stroking soapy foam all over him.

The temptress pulls the skin of his sac taut and the razor drags over him. He hears the scrape and the swish as she cleans the blade in the bath water. He mentally flinches, but relaxes as he realizes the only discomfort is in his mind.

“Just think about how much fun my tongue is going to have down here when I’ve finished.” Her voice soothes him, low and reassuring.

There is a rhythm as she works on him. Pull the skin tight, stroke with the blade, rinse. Pull, stroke, rinse. Pull, stroke, rinse. Each pass making him a little smoother, the skin a little softer.

“I’m done,” she says.

His eyes fly open.

“Rinse off and come on through.” She disappears into the bedroom. Luke plunges back into the bath and rinses the soap away from his denuded crotch. It feels amazing. He revels in the touch of his hand against his smooth balls and all around the base of his penis. He moans at the sheer decadent pleasure of it.

“Oh my God, it feels fan-fuckin’-tastic.”

“Told you,” she calls smugly. “Wait until you see what my tongue feels like.”

Luke stands, splashing water up over the edge of the tub, dousing one of the candles with a smoky hiss. He grabs a towel and dries himself in harsh brisk motions. He stares at his new reflection in the mirror and idly stokes his engorged cock, moving from side to side, taking in the novelty of his new look.

“Hurry up, Lover Boy. Let me inspect my handy work.”

He finds her kneeling in the bedroom, beckoning to him. He moves in front of her, placing his crotch at eye level.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do. Lots.” She strokes a finger up the underside of his shaft, pulling a shudder from him. “Do you like that?”

“Oh yeah.” He replies low, almost a whisper.

Like a cat, she rubs her cheek up against him, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal. “Like that?”

“Baby,” he says, “when you are on your knees in front of me, I LOVE whatever you do to me.”

“You're so easy.”

He chuckles. “So you keep telling me.”

She pushes him backwards until the bed hits his knees, forcing him to sit. His balls are hyper-sensitive and just sitting on the satiny comforter sends his synapses into overdrive.

Jess scoots forward on her knees and those enchanted fingers work their magic again. Dancing over his balls, sweeping around the base of his cock and stroking gently up to the swollen head, which oozes proof of his growing arousal.

“Please, let me feel your mouth.” He rasps, breathing already ragged.

He glances down at her through half-lidded eyes and she looks up while snaking out her tongue to twirl around his sac. He hisses at the warm, wet, exquisite feeling. Not breaking eye contact for a moment, she dips lower and draws the whole sac into the heat of her mouth, one hand stroking his thigh, the other gently pumping his cock. His hips undulate of their own accord, encouraging her every movement.

Holy hell. He hasn’t felt this desperate and out of control since high school. His cock throbs. He tries to hold back his motion -- tries not to thrust. On the edge of a precipice, his self control hangs by the barest of threads.

She continues to lock eyes with him and as he looks down into those big blue eyes, she drops one lid to wink at him. Then with his balls still within the scalding heat of her mouth, she starts to hum, the vibrations pulsing through the very core of him, sending his restraint spiraling into oblivion.

Her grip on his cock pumps hard and fast. The tidal wave starts at his toes, moving like quicksilver, storming through his veins, exploding from him in great milky spurts. He tips his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, and he roars his pleasure to the ceiling.

Luke collapses backwards, body spent. “Sorry, that was so brief,” he gasps when his heart slows. “I was a little…overwhelmed .” He smiles fondly at the woman between his splayed knees.

“You owe me,” Jess purrs. “I’ll collect later,” she pauses and waggles her eyebrows “with interest.”

“I look forward to paying the debt… just as soon as I can see straight and breathe again.”

He pulls her close and drops a kiss on top of her tousled head. After a minute, he focus on the case still parked in the corner of the room.

“Hey, you haven’t told me about the surprise.”

“What surprise?” She flutters her eyelashes, playing the innocent.

“The one you walked in with. The one in that huge case in the corner.”

“Oh... that.” She grins.

“Are you gonna tell me or am I gonna have to spank it out of you?”

“Oooh, promises, promises…”

“Jess…” His tone serious, hoping to scare the information out of her.

“OK, OK,” she giggles. “The surprise is that this 'date' doesn’t end at five today.” Luke’s face creases with confusion, but Jessica carries on. “Your mother is looking after the kids, your schedule and mine have been cleared, and we do not have to leave this room until late tomorrow morning. The case is our overnight bag.” She beams at him.

Luke whoops with delight, scoops her up and squeezes her so tight she squeaks.

“You are the best wife in the world.”

“You’d better believe it, Buster, because I have another surprise.”

“Better than the last one?”

“Yeah, you’ll think so.” Her blue eyes twinkle and that naughty little tongue darts out and wets her lips again. “I did a little shaving of my own before I got here.”

His eyes dip to the tiny scrap of material covering her mound. He sends an exploratory hand under the fabric and meets with baby soft skin and silky folds already slick with moisture. A sharp spike of lust hits him straight in his own freshly shaved groin.

“Lord, have mercy,” he murmurs as his fingers discover this new velvety playground. Jessica’s hips start to gyrate.

“He may have some, Luke, but don’t expect any from me.”

Her hips lift and buck hard against his hand. Luke smiles and sets to work. He has a debt to repay. With interest.

*********

If you enjoyed this story, then look for my next one on October 12, 2010 when I will be posting again.  Hotels are such rich pickings for sexy stories that I am sure I can find another guest or two (or three perhaps?!) to lay themselves bare for you…

Copyright © 2010 Greta Goddard

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Hooked

The antique ormolu clock on the mantel chimed quarter passed the hour. Its delicate ding nearly drowned out by the activities going on upstairs.  Feminine giggles and sighs interspersed with male groans and the rhythmic thumping of someone’s headboard against the wall blended into the usual soundtrack of my days.

Dust motes floated through the hazy sunshine that shone in through the lace curtained windows. My eyes followed a particularly large spec as it wound down to the floor. The front door flew open and a cool breeze kicked the object of my attention back up into the air.

I followed its trajectory and my eyes settled on the dark outline of the man framed by the bright, sunny day outside. His features were in shadow but I didn’t need to see them to know the face of the man who was standing in our vestibule. He came for me every morning at ten fifteen sharp. Warmth pooled in the bottom of my stomach, a precursor to the heat that would come soon enough.

“Welcome to Fae’s.” Our burly, earringed and tattooed security guard Ashvin reached out and pushed the door closed with the hook that replaced his right hand. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Piskie. Belle is waiting for you in the living room. Her room is prepared, as usual.”

Chocolate brown eyes turned nearly black with intensity fixated on me. “Thank you."

My bare feet slid to the carpet as he entered the room. The pale green silk nightgown whispered and tumbled to brush over my ankles as I stood to greet him.

“Good morning, Belle.”

His voice was rich, warm and held the promise of hours of pleasure to come. I knew the nuances of Peter Piskie well. The soft hush of whispered endearments as his palm smacked the round globes of my bottom and the harsh abrasion of commands tempered by kisses and caresses. Peter paid for the best and I prided myself on being exactly that for him.

“Peter. Can I get you a drink before we go upstairs?”

Strong fingers, roughened by hard won calluses, brushed up the smooth, perfumed skin of my arm. A sharp tug undid the ribbon that held my nightgown closed over my shoulder and I glanced down to watch the filmy material droop.

“You have the most beautiful tits.”

One of my eyebrows rose in question as I looked up at him. He returned the expression, with the hint of a smile, and pulled the other ribbon so that the leaf green garment sagged around my waist.

“Spectacular.”

My mouth opened to question him but he silenced me with a look and a raised hand. His hands closed around my waist and held me against him as Peter walked towards the sideboard and sat me on it.

Strong, tanned fingers undid the golden buckle of his belt and the button on his pants slid from its hole. The ripping sound of a zipper being torn open riveted my attention on Peter’s crotch and I bit my lip with anticipation as he released eight inches of thick, marble hard manhood.

I drew my fingers in lazy circles around the dusky rose peaks of my breasts, thighs spread and eager for his invasion. His mood, and the brusque way he’d handled me so far indicated I was in for one hell of a ride. It wasn’t my job to like what he did to me, but I did. I liked it one hell of a lot when he took me hard and fast.

Peter had never taken me in the parlour before and the thrill of possible discovery added an edge to the excitement that had me sopping wet in seconds. The walls of my vagina clenched as he bunched my gown around my waist and stepped closer.

“Peter, please.”

His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs and tweaked it so hard that I forgot about my nipples and fisted the material of his shirt to pull him closer. The tip of his cock brushed the inside of my left thigh and my hips tilted in automatic invitation.

“No talking Belle.” The pad of his thumb ground against my clit with each word. “I’ve been dreaming of fucking you like this and I will not have us interrupted.”

His left hand wrapped around his shaft at the root and guided the purple head between the glistening wet folds. I watched, fixated, as he fed inch after inch into my aching cleft.

The slow, teasing way he pushed inside misled me into thinking, disappointedly, that Peter was going to do the opposite of what I’d anticipated. I closed my eyes, leaned back against the mirror and prepared to put on my best show of faking it until he pulled back and shoved in so hard we both grunted from the impact.

“Yes.”

Peter’s mouth came down on mine in a harsh clashing of teeth, lips and tongue designed to silence and possess. I pulled the edges of his shirt apart, mindless of the buttons that ripped off and flew around us as my fingers found their way beneath the thin cotton. My nails dug into the hard slabs of his pecs and drew a lusty groan from him that I swallowed with another kiss.

Crystal glasses and china rattled inside the sideboard creating a soft, tinkling music to accompany the wet, sucking sounds our bodies made as Peter fucked me harder than he had ever done.

Our bodies pounded together, every thrust slammed Peter’s thumb into my clit and each whimper that he pulled from my throat grew as the pressure intensified. I wasn’t a screamer but I could feel one building as an intense orgasm took seed and waited, poised on the brink for that one final push that would set it, and me, free.

The unforgiving frame of the mirror biting into my shoulders and the hard twist of my nipple between Peter’s fingers put the perfect edge of pain on the pleasure to send me rocketing over the brink.

A small change in the angle of his thrust and the pinch of Peter’s other hand as it gripped my backside sent me screaming into ecstasy. My heels dug into the hard rounds of his ass and held him deep inside as he groaned hard and filled every bit of my core with the thick, creamy jets of his own orgasm.

The door to the parlour flew open and we both looked up, wide-eyed with surprise as my employer, Fae, spotted us.

“Tinkerbelle.”

Peter chuckled as he kissed my cheek. “I always knew you looked good in green for a reason.”

Come back on October 11, 2010 for the next installment of  The Erotic Adventures of Sidony Tassen and on October 25, 2010 for another short story.

Copyright  © 2010 Danielle Gavan

Danielle Gavan
Paranormal and Erotic Romance Author
Possession is Nine Tenths - Ardeur
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Vampire Vacation ~ Chapter Five

Please read Thursday's post and recap to bring you up to speed. These chapters are from my book, set to release in October through RH Publishing. Not every chapter contains erotica. If it's not to your liking, please stop back by on Monday for our normal content.

** Telepathic speech between the married couple is indicated by the use of italics.

Chapter Five

When our glow has worn off, Rafe flicks on the worktable light. My kind, gentle lover helps to peel the tools off my back. The items became slightly embedded in my flesh when he changed our position for the spectacular ending.

Ah… there’s nothing like a good rogering from your husband to make you feel special and push the cares of the day away.

“Okay, sweet cheeks, jump on down. You look fine.” He punctuates this with a slap to my hip.

My indignant look falls on his uninterested visage as he starts to whistle softly in his happiness. I’m a non-whistler. Those who like to whistle, who aren’t very good, like Rafe, can be difficult to suffer through.

I decide not to let anything bring my mood down, especially after I have supped so sweetly from my mate’s neck. A girl can forgive a lot after some fornicating, two great orgasms and a blood chaser. Never taking more than a taste allows me to indulge more frequently. A lap of my tongue and the enzymes from my saliva repair any damage to leave Rafe unblemished. At my age, I don’t need much sustenance to survive. After a full feeding, I could go weeks without additional nourishment if I really had to, which isn’t an issue with Rafe on hand.

Never one to let an opportunity to tease slip by, I jump down gracefully and stare Rafe square in the eye. He towers over me by seven inches, but the come-fuck-me-heels put us a little closer. Intensifying my look, I drop my lids and recall the way my body felt when I came that last time. I push out a bit and watch his pupils dilate with passion.

Want to go again? His voice rumbles in my mind.

I turn and step away. I hesitate a bit then look back over my shoulder. The corner of my mouth turns up in a delicious little grin.

“Later,” I say aloud. “Can you keep up, baby?”

He smiles, reaching out to smack my rump. I prance away with a little burst of speed so his fingers miss me, but barely. I spread my legs in a wide stance before bending from the waist to pick up my discarded dress. His quick intake of breath indicates the only answer I need. Oh yes, he’ll be ready to play again later.

With the dress in hand, I rise to walk away without looking back. “Come have some coffee with me. I need to discuss our new guests and see what you think.” I walk up the stairs, with my naked butt jiggling in the breeze, the dress draped over my arm.

Who happens to be standing at the top of the stairs but Jonathan. Damn! Caught almost nudie with blatant physical evidence on me that I’ve recently made love. I can do this. I can pretend I always walk around like this.

“Umm,” I raise an eyebrow then look down at my watch, “you’re a bit early. It’s only 7:30.”

I love to flirt, but it’s usually on my terms, not being caught by surprise after making love with my husband.

Jonathan, a sturdy man of medium height, stands not much taller than me. He’s dressed as usual: jeans and layers of thermal with a plaid flannel shirt. His good-old-boy style screams lumberjack, but it helps him blend in well with the locals. The smell surrounding him contains elements of the outdoors with hints of animal musk too. His thick chest supports crossed arms, which I know are corded with muscle under the bulky clothes.

I imagine he could’ve made an excellent wrestler, but picturing him rolling around in tight clothes may not be a good idea right now. His quick smile adds to his natural aura of confidence, making him a great choice to handle dealings in town.

Jonathan inhales deeply, which triggers a low-pitched rumble in his chest. That bastard scents my recent releases and gets off on it! Arrogant prick.

“Down, boy,” I say with as much nonchalance as I can muster. “Let me get a robe on.”

I walk toward the bedroom as gracefully as I can in my semi-naked state. I’m not going to cover up with my hands, acting embarrassed. It would show weakness to a predator, which is exactly what this werewolf is, something I can never allow myself to forget.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I add.

I can feel his eyes follow me as I walk away.

He starts to snigger, “Nice hammer imprint on your shoulder blade.”

Deciding to rise above his school-aged amusement, I ignore him and keep walking. Rafe comes up the stairs as I cross into our closet for a robe. I grab the closest one, an emerald silk number, before hustling back out.

“Watcha doing here, Wolfman? Like to listen in to what you’ll never get?”

Uh-oh. Danger, Will Robinson, danger! I sprint down the hall projecting calm happy thoughts into their minds before inserting myself between the two. Catching them both right as Jonathan straightens to launch himself at Rafe.

“Now, now, let’s play nice. Rafe, you must know why I’ve called Jonathan here.”

Jonathan’s the only werewolf on our compound. He left his pack in Canada about seven years ago when he didn’t want to challenge his Alpha for dominance. In my eyes, it made him an honorable man for doing so. Two powerful male wolves, Alphas, can’t stay in the same pack for long or a fight to the death would occur. Rafe stares down at the shorter but still powerful man.

Time to get everyone back on track and off the lingering scent of sex in the air.

“The whole ‘dead body in the shed’ thing,” I remind Rafe. He comes back to himself and meets my eyes with a fond smile. He loves baiting Jon, the jerk.

“What are you talking about, Viv?” Jon looks like he’s almost back to his normal laid-back self. His hazel eyes leak back from the lighter golden brown of his wolf form. Rafe loses interest in poking at him and sits down at the kitchen table. I fill Jonathan in on everything we know so far, including the location of the body in the shed, finishing up with the question he never did answer.

“Why are you here early? That’s not like you.”

Jonathan doesn’t avoid the main building—he’s just busier outside of it. In addition to being head groundskeeper, he cares for a huge pack of thirty Alaskan Malamute-wolf crossbreeds, which he employs to patrol the property. Jon does come over when we ask him to, but it isn’t a habit of his to hang out and mingle at the bar. He’s a bit of a loner and it’s fine by me. Once I started feeding from him seven years ago, Rafe hasn’t been overly friendly toward him. Jonathan made his intentions clear: he wants to be my bonded mate, which will never happen.

The simple fact remains that Were blood carries more potency than a human’s. I need more blood than can safely be taken from Rafe in order to stay up around the clock during the long darkness, which is not normal vampire behavior. He’s never minded in the past when I had to feed from some of the employees out of necessity, but when Jonathan entered the picture, it became a whole new game.

Jon’s blood makes me temporarily stronger. Let’s face a cold hard fact: with so many powerful vamps on site, it wouldn’t pay to be weak. Nor does it help matters that this wolf is arrogant and makes a play for me whenever he thinks he can get away with it.

On principal, Rafe understands. He’s secure in our relationship and trusts me, but he doesn’t like Jon. The cold reality exists that through these feedings, Jon became my servant. He wants to please, protect and provide for me. All the things a servant should want after a dual exchange of blood takes place. This relationship, with all its complications, leads Rafe to tweak Jon at every turn. He wants to put the Were firmly in his place and suffers no qualms about being cruel to do it.

Other monogamous, mated couples who need servants may not choose a Were for the job, with good reason. Weres are desirable as hell by nature; it’s a pheromone they put off. Jon’s blood smells like dark chocolate to me, which makes feeding from him akin to drinking down hot cocoa spiked with adrenaline. The mate bond allows Rafe to experience first hand the delectable taste of Jon’s blood. That’s a hard lump for any man to swallow—they too desire the man their wife feeds from on a regular basis.

Jon answers my question about why he arrived early. “There’s an unknown vampire on the property.”

“What? I don’t understand,” I say, recoiling in shock. “Do you think you may have confused the scent with someone here on vacation?”

“No,” Jon snorts. “I don’t make simple mistakes. Besides, I double-checked outside all the cabins and all the entrances to the hotel. The trace isn’t from a guest nor is it someone who’s ever stayed here before.”

“Hmm,” Rafe comments, “which means it could have something to do with John Pierre’s dead body in room six.”

That’s my Rafe: he loves to tease me, but he’s not some sharp-tongued, witty detective either. I don’t release my snide observation of his less-than-stellar addition, having learned enough over the years to keep such thoughts in.

“Is it possible, Viv,” he continues, “that you missed the scent of another vamp?”

Okay, now he has a valid point, dammit.

I think back to the moment. The smell of the blood overwhelmed everything. So yes, I could have missed another vamp scent. And to be honest, I did not think to walk around the room like a bloodhound. While it would have been awkward in my dress, it could have revealed some new information.

“Yes, it’s a possibility.” I turn to Jon. “I don’t have time now, but do you want to check the room out later with me? If it is a match, we should both get familiar with the scent.”

“Yeah, I’ll head up whenever you’re ready. Have you thought to question the other guests yet?” Is it condescension I hear in Jon’s voice? I know I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do remember to question people.

“No, and I’m not an idiot. I will ask them. It’s only been,” I check my watch, “about two and a half hours since we discovered the corpse. I’ve had other things to do, you know. Business to run, guests to see to…things like that.”

“You left off ‘husband to shag’,” smiles Rafe.

What can I say? I have a very strong sense of priorities and shagging my husband remains at the top of the list. Yeah, yeah, I’m horny, so sue me. He loves the trait and that’s all that matters in the big picture.

“Yes, well, no need to point out the obvious now, is there?” I reply with some heat.

“Uh-um,” Jon clears his throat. “I came by early to tell you both my news, but why did you call me here?”

Jon can figure out why I called him; he just wants to hear me say it.

“It’s time for me to take a full feeding again. It’s been a few weeks so I knew you’d be able.” I try to keep my tone light and neutral.

Projecting my need, I let the hunger envelope him so he knows what to expect. It’s not a rip-your-throat-out kind of feel, more of a topping-off-the-tank one. I don’t ever get famished with Rafe around. The murder makes me prefer to play it safe and be at my peak when I know it may be needed.

Jon’s face lights up like he’s anticipating this could be the moment he’s been dreaming about.

“Finally decided to dump that human you’ve shackled yourself to and mate with the stronger man?” He grins and I know it’s partly to hide his own feelings of self-doubt. Rafe just snorts while walking away from the table.

“Anytime you want to see who the stronger man is, Jon, you let me know.” Rafe goes to the fridge to collect ingredients for his dinner. He gives Jon his back, a clear sign to the Were he doesn’t consider him a real threat. The blood bond between us has made Rafe as fast as a vamp and as strong. My husband doesn’t need to prove his point or fear Jon in any way, and he knows it.

“Done yet, you two?” I ask as bland as I can. Silence. “Okay then. Jon, come into the office with me.”

I head toward the bedroom then make a left into the office Rafe and I share. Jon settles himself on the couch with an eager look on his face. A vampire bite transforms every experience, making it more detailed. The vampire controls the donor’s mind, removing any pain associated with the bite, and turning it into passion. It’s common to even let the person experience an orgasm during the feeding. Since I have no desire to leave Jon hot and bothered every month nor will I give him pleasure, I’ve had to alter the feelings he would normally get from this deep feeding to something he really wants and needs. He doesn’t know I’ve read his deepest desire is to have a pack of his own.

We have given him that here, to an extent, with us and all his half-wolves. Some day I’ll find him a female Were and all will be good. Until then, I do the best I can not to hurt him. Sitting on the couch next to him, I feel the excitement come off him in waves. He’s hopeful this time I will make it sexual, but sadly that will never happen. I angle my body toward him while he turns to face me.

He gazes deep into my emerald eyes with a sigh.

“God, Viv, you’re so beautiful. You know, you ever get tired of him, you just have to call.”

Ignoring the comment, I smile while deepening my look to put him into a relaxed state. I project calm feelings of home and acceptance, security and love. These are the key components in a pack, which I’m able to help him feel most when he’s here by my side.

I project the aromas of the forest along with the heavy scent found in a wolf den. His shoulders relax, allowing him to sink back into the couch. The tension drains from his body as his earlier anticipation of a romp is replaced by the warm cocooning feel of the pack. He drops his head back, breaking our eye contact, to the cushion behind him while breathing in the scents he thinks are engulfing him.

Leaning in, I don’t allow my body to touch his. The delicate spell takes care to weave, which means I need to concentrate not to break it. Cool lips graze his warm neck while I test his skin with my teeth. My canines elongate and sharpen, eager to pierce his skin. I project more of the same sensations I’ve been feeding him since we locked eyes and place my mouth firmly over his pounding pulse. The smell of him intoxicates me. A combination of rich chocolate and warm male, fresh from outdoor exertion, makes my own pulse pound in response.

The blood rushes under his skin through the vein. This moment of control differentiates a young vamp from an experienced one. It would be so easy to rip into his skin and take more than I need. The desire to do the unthinkable is a hard one to contain, but one I always must.

I allow one sharp fang to puncture the surface, causing my mouth to fill. I drink down his life source as it flows over my tongue. The flavors assailing my senses are delicious. It’s possible to read all of him in this moment if I choose. Every secret, every desire, every thought. Nothing can be hidden from nosferatu when they feed.

To hold myself apart from him, to protect his heart, I block the images flooding my mind.

Jonathan sighs, closing his eyes in contentment. The mood wraps around him like a hug, both comforting and protective at once. I know, from past feedings, he will soon fall asleep, letting the peace which envelopes him complete its loving embrace.

The warmth of his blood fills my body. I’m naturally on the cold side, so being infused with a lot of blood at one time makes me almost feverish. Even though I project calm and peace, I feel a flame burning from within. It never fails to turn me on when feeding, but what I do with that arousal is what counts.

Enjoying your dinner, luv? I can feel the power coursing through you. You’re feeling a bit warm in all my favorite places.

I work the wound open to pull more deeply from Jon’s neck. Instinctively, I know exactly how much to take and I’m almost done. No matter he tastes so damn good I want to keep going. I can’t. It’s easy to see why some vampires become addicted to Were blood. Having supped from very few wolves in my lifetime, one thing is clear; they are all damn yummy.

Yes, I respond to Rafe, it’s like licking chocolate off mister stiffy with a blood chaser at the end.

Rafe’s sharp bark of laughter sounds from the next room.

At least the furball’s good for something.

Lapping at the small wound, I seal it beneath my tongue. Jon has drifted off to sleep. I rise from the couch then reach down to adjust his legs. Once they’re on the couch, I cover his slumbering form with a blanket. He’ll be out for at least an hour and it’s the least I can do to make him comfortable.

The power pulsing through me right now feels exhilarating, as though I’ve fed from a half-dozen donors at once, but without the bloating. The refreshing zing energizes me as if I’ve slept a whole day after being awake for weeks. There’s a strong sensation, like a surge of electricity, beating under my skin.

The force filling me warps my mind, making me slightly high with the thought I could rule the world.

Muhuhahaha!!

God, Dria, you’re too much! Rafe laughs out loud with me, at least I prefer to think that over him laughing at me. Rule the world? Now you’re sounding like you’ve had too much alcohol to drink!

Maybe he isn’t quite laughing with me. Well, okay then, maybe I can go on ruling my own little corner of it. I trip on the edge of my robe in my haste to leave the room, stumble and catch myself before actually falling. Then again, maybe not.

I’ll be lucky not to make an ass out of myself these next few hours.

Please return on October 2nd for chapter six of Vampire Vacation. If you have the time, please consider leaving us a review on Amazon. We'd be ever so grateful for the support.

~~ C.J. Ellisson ~~
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Copyright © 2010 C.J. Ellisson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Vampire Vacation ~ Chapter Four

Content: m/f sex scene with some mild anal play.

Please read yesterday's post and recap to bring you up to speed.

** Telepathic speech between the married couple is indicated by the use of italics.

Chapter Four

I head away from the lobby, pleased that I’ve had a chance to greet them all by name and shake their hands. I learned a lot in each little touch. The mated pair, Liam and Francesca, have been together a long time, about forty years. What she really wants is to finally rule him, but hasn’t had a chance to fulfill her inner fantasy yet. Liam, in turn, desires for her to be happy.

Domination is a pretty common fantasy I deal with here, hence the two dungeon rooms. Both rooms are outfitted with special silver restraints to hold vamps. It’s a big step in trust for most of our kind and I wonder if Liam has refused or if Francesca has not approached him with it.

Liam will be the biggest obstacle; he likes to have power and has trouble letting go. I will take them on a tour of the rooms on the third floor tomorrow and see if I can pique their interest without my input. If not, I’ll give them a nudge.

The rooms up there are just a delight, in an evil I-want-sex-now kind of way. The west wing holds room eleven, which looks like a Moroccan desert lair. Suite twelve mirrors an old schoolroom. Thirteen’s fashioned after a gym. And room fourteen’s inspired by the classic baths of Rome.

The north wing graduates to a bit naughtier; fifteen and sixteen are done up like dungeons; and seventeen sports the nickname of the “orgy room.” Oh, the fun those rooms have seen!

To the east, we have room eighteen, stylized after an English manor gentleman’s library, complete with dark wood, leather wing-back chairs and a fireplace. Nineteen looks like an Irish pub, and twenty resembles a nightclub. Not all rooms are the same size but are large enough to accommodate a good-sized group. Those last three rooms are located over the pool on the main level. They are not normally rented out; these rooms are where the guests can mingle and interact with each other.

Rafe, love, what are you doing?

Afraid I might be slacking off, your highness, and you’re cracking the whip?

Um… no… I was hoping you could check with Tommy and see if we have anyone signed up for a tour of the fun floor tomorrow.

Yeah, I’ll check. Learn anything interesting with the guests?

Yes, I did, I’ll fill you in later. Going to check and see if there is any magic in the rooms yet.

Sure. You’re a horny little devil with a voyeuristic streak in you.

I smile at the thought his words conjure.

Maybe.

Gently closing the connection between us, I try to focus my thoughts back on the guests. I bet I’m not the only one who’s feeling like a horny little devil and perhaps that’s the reason for Rafe’s uncharacteristic sharpness. Built-up testosterone can do strange things to some men’s normally sunny dispositions. Keeping them happy requires frequent releases.

Antonio could be the type of guy who thinks he “needs” lots of releases but doesn’t take the time to have quality ones. My touch during our handshake revealed he is new to this seethe, only five years. His greatest desire had my stomach doing flips: He wants to fall in love. Antonio has been without a mate his whole afterlife.

The companion in this group, Olivia, craves him with every cell of her being. One touch was enough for me to see the depth of love she has for the sultry Italian vamp. Also a newcomer, she has only been with the MacKellans for a few months. Olivia set her sights to catching Antonio. He certainly enjoys what she has to offer, taking her quite often; the bigger question is why has he not marked her yet?

The last female vamp, Joanna, came here just to relax. She tagged along with the others out of friendship, having no hidden desires to fulfill on this trip. Joanna can’t wait to try the resort’s downhill and cross-country skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiles, ice-skating, and tubing. She plans to enjoy everything and rest by the indoor pool. I even see she’s contemplating a spray tan while she’s here to surprise the rest of the seethe on her return.

I head back upstairs to the second floor, past rooms two, three and four in the west wing, to see how Salvador’s party is doing. They came for a two-week extended trip. Sal and his wife Theresa come every year, yet they still have a honeymoon quality to them.

Their group indulges in the rooms on the third floor almost daily, even if only to mingle in the bar for a few hours. The time Rafe and I spend in the bar each night mixing with our guests helps us gauge who might need my particular brand of guidance. As on previous visits, Salvador’s group has not needed any help from us.

The smell of fresh blood from John Pierre has dissipated completely, thanks to our excellent filtration system. With luck, the new arrivals will think any remaining traces are deliberate, to whet their appetites.

At the end of the landing, I enter one of the reading parlor areas overhanging the lobby. Opening a secret door only myself, Rafe and Jonathan know of, I slip into one of the observation rooms designed into each floor.

We use them to listen and watch during feedings or to see where I might need to lend a hand, or a tongue, while projecting to our guests. In twenty years, we’ve had no violent incidents. True violence, not the love-hidden-in-jealousy type. It’s never come up and I don’t think it ever will. But someone must have felt something or we wouldn’t have a dead John Pierre chilling in the shed, right?

Too bad we never installed a recording system in the setup, which would have resolved the mystery of John Pierre and who killed him. Right now, the observation room links a bunch of closed-circuit cameras on a single monitor screen, with a mouse to toggle between rooms.

The thought of recording my guests rubs me wrong but not a little healthy voyeurism. How else am I to know where I might be needed?

I wake the system and click room two.

No one there.

Move to room three.

Oh, lots going on there.

It all looks good. Is that an elbow? Everyone seems quite happy so I move on down the line. Room four… hmm… now what is this? Looks like—yes, I think it’s Sheba. She’s one of Salvador's companions. She appears to be crying. I send out a wave of calm while watching. Sheba takes a deep inhale then straightens. I’m not sure what’s going on there; I’ll need to check on her later.

A few more clicks change the picture to room seven. Liam and Francesca seem to be getting it on in a big way. I knew the warm-up in the lobby would get some blood moving. I leave them to it and venture on to room eight. Lo and behold, I’ve struck pay dirt. I catch the end of the stunning Antonio stripping down nude.

Oh, he’s the reason these cameras are just golden. My, my, my, he’s just a long drink of water now, isn’t he? His body could pass for a carving of Adonis—all hard edges and sculpted muscles. Knowing he’s undead, he must have looked like this before his change. I can see why his maker chose him; anyone would be hard pressed to ignore the perfection of his body, once revealed.

Staring at the glorious form of Antonio makes me think of Rafe again. He’s never far from my thoughts. Figuratively and literally.

Rafe, honey, you still hot and ready?

What do you think?

I’ll be done soon and coming to get you…

A growl of anticipation filters through our connection. Bring it on, I’m ready.

He leaves me wondering where he might be. My husband’s talent at blocking me improves with use and I couldn’t place exactly where he’s located this time. It could be because I’m distracted by the flesh displayed on the monitor.

Judging by the fastidious actions to fold his soiled clothes, I bet he’s going to go wash up to remove the remains of his earlier lobby orgasm from his body. I relax, imagining his scent filling my nostrils: musky, sexy and dark. A pure delight to my nose. Moisture starts to slip from inside me again, coating me in wetness. I impulsively decide to project a waking dream to the unsuspecting Antonio. The live video feed will show the exact moment he starts to feel my images take hold in his mind.

He becomes fully aroused in the span of a few heartbeats, thickening and rising from his groin right before my eyes. He’s a delicious piece of masculinity, which encourages my fingers to reach down and grab the hem of my dress. This time though, I’m not going to get him off. He deserves a tease.

I send an illusion of a woman on her knees in front of him. The blond hair will remind him of Olivia, but I don’t add clear features so he can’t place the face.

Antonio shakes his head as though in a daze but still reaches a hand out to guide the woman’s head closer. I push the feel of a wet mouth encircling his swollen head, triggering a loud groan of appreciation. The blond dream girl starts to pump, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and tempo. She slows to lick at his hard length, trying to give a proper tongue lashing, but he presses his hips forward, wanting none of it. He appears greedy for another release, so soon after his first one in the lobby. Interesting.

I work my dress up my thighs but don’t go any further. I know my own limits and want to save myself later for the hunt. If Rafe tries, he can feel the blood rushing through my system and what I’m seeing on the screen. The thought turns me on more, forcing a grunt of frustration from my lips, followed by a squirm on the hard chair. I still manage to keep my hands in place, but damn, it’s hard.

Focusing again on the screen, I see Antonio appears lost in the moment. I project Olivia’s name in his mind as the woman at his feet disappears. His head whips up to search the room. Antonio’s whole body throbs with desire. He looks momentarily caught off guard, confusion clear on his visage.

Sitting back, I watch to see what he’ll do.

His chest muscles rise and fall as he labors to steady himself. Antonio’s head whips toward the door. He bolts into the bathroom with his dirty clothes in hand. A split second later, Joanna enters with her bags.

Damn, that was a close one. I forgot they only had three rooms between the five of them. I stop my meddling for the moment to go check on room four as I’d originally intended.

By the time I rearrange my clothes, curse myself for getting worked up again so fast, and trudge down the hallway, room four stands empty. No Sheba. Let’s hope she wandered off to talk to someone to get past the tears. I’ll check again later to be sure.

Having nothing to distract me any longer, I turn my thoughts to a hunt. My body craves to be filled and a little distance from this new group would be prudent. The scorching inner desire to play with them runs rampant in me, but the long evening will give me plenty of time for such indulgences.

I close my eyes in the hall, allowing the whole hotel to come into sharp focus in my mind.

Where would my husband be? I sniff the air, hoping to scent him. Wandering through the north wing, I try to pick up his trail from earlier. The smell takes me down past the lobby through a hall, which leads to an exit heading to the shed. My vamp senses are on high alert, enabling me to make it all the way down the stairs and to the door without opening my eyes.

Rafe senses my anticipation; I allow it to leak through to get him in on my game.

Run, baby, run. You know I love a good chase.

His answering chuckle resounds in my head before he closes the mental door. The game is on. My body hums with life. In the span of seconds, I realize he did not come back through this door any time today. The choices are to go out into the snow to pick up his trail or try another spot to detect when he came back in.

One glance down at my heels and I opt for logic, retreating to try another entrance.

I pick up signs of Rafe again in our private kitchen, no surprise there, but it seems stronger by a door leading out back. Could my own desire be playing tricks on my mind? Only time will tell.

Having to sort through all the leads he has left over the past few hours to find the freshest, takes time and requires a patience I don’t have right now. The strongest takes me down the hall into our bedroom. Trying to discern anything in here, where we have shared so many hours of passion, proves pointless.

The files Tommy had delivered rest on a side table, but I have no time for them right now. Ten minutes into the hunt and if I had panties on, they’d be soaked. I pause again in the hall to let my senses flow out past the walls, hoping to catch my prey.

Where is he hiding? What space does he think is safe from me? He loves to be caught yet loves to outwit me. Desire sings through my veins, making my blood feel hot under my skin. Opening my mind up to discover his location, I’m greeted by darkness.

Trying to cheat, my dear?

The bastard has the nerve to say it with a grin.

It is not cheating, I answer. It’s called hunting. With an advantage.

Sure, keep telling yourself that. But I can tell you, the longer you take, the more inclined I might be to start without you…

Cheeky son of a bitch! Oh, we’re ON all right. I concentrate, which allows me to hear his zipper go down.

Oh no, you don’t, that’s MINE!

In a flash, I pinpoint him. Racing down the hall, I wrench open a door then fly down the stairs. He’s hiding in the basement workroom. The lights are off, but I can hear his ragged breathing. He’s as turned on as I am and loves that he can drive me this crazy.

“What took you so long, liebling? Didn’t want to arrive after the party started, did you?” He wraps a hand around his arousal.

Words are beyond me right now. I can see him in the dark, which makes his fully clothed, zipper-open position even sexier. He gives his thick erection a stroke, moaning out his enjoyment when his fist reaches the tip. I slip off the sleeves of my dress and let it puddle on the floor at my feet. Stepping out, I’m wearing only a bra, thigh-high stockings and heels.

I stalk over to his hiding spot up against a wall in the corner. Jumping up, I wrap my arms around his shoulders while placing my heels on the wall to either side of his waist. His cock rests in his hand, offering guidance to help me mount him.

A harsh breath escapes him as I lower slowly down the shaft while fastening my mouth to his neck. My sharp teeth gently break his delectable skin as I shout in his mind.

MINE!

The sweet taste of his blood flows into my mouth as he responds.

Technically, it’s attached to me, but I’ll let you borrow it.

The small puncture on his neck releases very little blood with my first taste. The snarky rejoinder from him becomes a thing of the past with my first deep pull.

Rafe grabs my hips and jerks himself forward in response. In two thrusts, he’s seated all the way in.

“God, you feel like a fist wrapped around me.”

“Mmm… ” I murmur against his neck, unwilling to let go yet.

Never taking more than a mouthful or two, I savor every drop I ingest from his glorious body. His cock slides out from my sheath slowly. The sheer size of him pulls the skin while forcing my body to stretch and accommodate, even as he withdraws. Never has any lover fit me this well; it’s like he was made a little bit bigger than I’d need. The teasing I’ve experienced all afternoon through my projections has left me moist, open and ready.

Drawing more blood will only make him peak faster, so I stop, wanting to draw out our enjoyment. Sometimes, reading my lover’s mind is not a bad thing.

Not yet, not yet… got to hang on… God, she feels so wet… so damn tight… slow down…

I know he doesn’t mean to project, but our tight bond permits most surface thoughts to leak through.

His voice sounds rough. “Stop, slow down, Dria. I don’t want to come yet. I’m so damn close.”

He pushes in deep, holding my hips firmly against him. His strong hands lock me in place, making it impossible for me to pull back and ride him no matter how much I’m aching to. I start to squirm, writhing a bit on him, using my actions to beg him to continue.

I seal the small wound with a tiny lick, then draw back from his neck. Drinking from him pushes me closer to the edge as well. I hold still to allow him to catch hold of the sensations raging through his body, but my inner muscles start to convulse around him.

“No!” he shouts. It will push me over. I’m not through with you yet!

The twitching and spasms continue whether I want them to or not.

I can’t hold back!

Rafe pulls me from his cock.

In one swift motion, he lifts my whole body up to center my opening at his face. His hot lapping tongue zeros in on my clit; soft lips lock onto my swollen ones. My head and arms are close to the ceiling, so I reach up to grab the rafters to steady myself.

Rafe tightens his lips and sucks. It pushes me over the edge, with bright white light exploding behind my eyes.

Throwing my head back, I shout my release to the room. It comes out a bit like a small scream, and causes me to lock my thighs around his head while riding out the waves of pleasure.

When I think I’m coming down, he snakes his hand around from my hips, moistens a finger in my dripping pussy, and pulls back to tickle my rear opening. The wetness helps him to slide a thick digit in. Nice and slow.

It feels like an electric shock from my ass to my clit.

I gasp, sucking in air as I feel myself pushed back up the hill of my next orgasm. I let go of the rafters for Rafe to ease me down his body while he keeps a finger deep in place. My hard nipples push against the inside of my bra as I slide down, feeling the soft knit of his polo on my descent.

I shiver at the erotic picture we make of him fully clothed and me almost nude. When my heels touch down, I look up into his passion-filled gaze.

“Got to work this tight little ass of yours if I’m going to get back in any time soon,” he whispers softly, pushing his thick finger in and out of my tight pink bud.

He knows I love anal play. It takes a lot of preparation on my end because of his size. Sometimes, I think the warm-up for the event is just as much fun. Thankfully, so does he. It took me nearly a decade to discover he’d enjoy the same sensations I do, and boy has that been fun to explore.

He leans a bit down, hunching around my body so he can angle himself to watch his finger go deep into my pert bottom. I’m on my tiptoes in my heels and lean into him as the feelings of fullness start to overwhelm me. My hips move back and forth a bit on their own volition. His left hand leaves my side to journey to my front, and two fingers plunge deep inside my pussy. Not to be outdone, I reach out to his jutting cock, grabbing it in a firm grasp to pleasure him as well.

Rafe sucks in his breath while pulling his lower-half back, successfully breaking his member from my grip.

“Not yet,” he says.

My response comes out as a whimper. The sensations of being entered from my front and back are so intense, I feel like there’s molten lava brewing inside me. The pressure starts to build again and I want more.

I need your cock back inside.

Rafe responds by pulling his hands away then sweeping an arm out to clear the workbench. Tools scatter haphazardly to the ground, clattering as they land. I’m seized roughly by my waist and slammed down hard onto the dirty, waist-high table. Something digs into my back and my head feels wedged against a steel vise. The moment he presses against my wet, hot center, I cease to care where I am.

I draw my thighs up to rest against his chest. His left arm wraps over my legs to hold them together while the other drags me across the bench toward him. My body angles down off the surface, giving him the best position to thrust inside.

I growl out, “Hard, I want it hard.”

Rafe grunts, his body reacting with a steady rhythm. The pressure increases with each plunge as he slams into me with increasing strength. His movements cause the workbench to creak under the strain.

“More!” I bark out harshly. Going to come… come with me… Now!

Rafe’s hips piston with a last burst of energy. My back arches as I throw my head back, flailing blindly for his chest. I grab hold of both of his nipples and twist them while I let go. Wave after wave of release crashes over me, tightening my inner walls with each pulse.

The scream building in my throat works its way out as my vision clouds and goes black. It seems like the moans I’m hearing from Rafe come from a great distance. I know he’s reached his peak too, but I’m so far gone, I can’t tell much of the details.

God, Viv, that was good. I needed it.

I can’t help but laugh out loud. That’s my husband, the master of the obvious.

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Please return on September 26th for chapter five of Vampire Vacation. If you have the time, please consider leaving us a review on Amazon. We'd be ever so grateful for the support.

~~ C.J. Ellisson ~~
Twitter * Facebook * Website * Blog

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Copyright © 2010 C.J. Ellisson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Vampire Vacation ~ Chapter Three

Content Advisor: Mild group orgasm scene with clothes in place.

We've had a bunch of new subscribers lately and I hope you're all enjoying our ongoing content. Please, if you like a serial use "the clip this article" feature for future reading. It will ensure you aren't lost when the next installment comes up.

Also, if you have the time, please consider leaving us a review on Amazon. We'd be ever so grateful for the support.

Check out chapters one & two in case you're new tuning in (and clicking on the link will bring you to the post via the internet if your Kindle allows the feature). This book is set to release in print and ebook on Amazon on October 10th. The listing may go up early, but I plan on releasing discount coupons here on the 10th for supporters of the blog.

RECAP: Dria (aka Vivian), our sultry undead innkeeper, and Rafe, her unaging human husband, run a secluded resort for vampires in Alaska -- during the dark winter months. A murder has taken place, they hide the body and start investigating, all with the hopes of discovering the culprit without alerting their high maintenance guests. Dria has questioned a maid and now is in the lobby ready to greet the next batch of guests arriving. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

“Welcome to The V V Inn. I’m Vivian, one of the owners. I’m here to help make your stay an enjoyable one.” Turning my inner thoughts out, I project sensuality through every pore. Between my legs I’m dripping wet, which means I can smell my own arousal in the air. The other vampires can too, and I get hotter thinking about it.

The man striding in from the main entrance has no mate on his arm. He’s olive-skinned with dark hair and brown eyes. Dressed in a custom-made black Italian suit, he saunters toward me. The power radiating off the handsome newcomer labels him a vampire like a calling card for the undead. I can tell by the tingling push against my skin he’s been dead about fifty years. It’s safe to assume he is not the head of this seethe. He must be the Antonio listed in my file.

His eyes lock on mine while my desire coils about him like a snake. Approaching the front desk, his tan nostrils flare when he takes a deep sniff. “I’d heard this place was like candy for your soul,” he observes, “but I had no idea.” Like most predators, he zeros in on what he considers to be prey, not sparing a glance at the surrounding lobby.

“You look good enough to eat.” His smile appears cold and calculated.

This is the drawback to pushing sexual feelings at guests when they walk through the door. Some foolish recipients direct their reactions back at me instead of the people they came with. I can sense that this young vamp hopes to stir my interest and entice me closer. Since I’ve never answered to corny one-liners in my past, I don’t see why I should now.

I smile, but don’t respond. My mother always told me if you don’t have something nice to say, not to say anything at all. I sometimes succeed in following her advice, but not often.

It’s obvious I’m like him, undead, but he’s unable to guess my true age. Like all smart women, I hide my age well. Controlling what others of my species sense of my power is intentional. Old blood is desired by all of our kind, especially the young ones. It helps them to grow strong enough to survive being prey to a more powerful vampire. The younger members of a seethe are bound in this need to the head of their family through exchanged blood.

Antonio’s gaze on my neck clearly indicates he hopes to taste my power and see what surprises my curvy body may hold. No matter how handsome I may find the young vamp, he will be disappointed. Although I may enjoy a good fantasy now and then, it doesn’t change the fact Rafe and I are married—neither of us will break our vows.

That doesn’t mean I don’t share my power through my blood. I do. Blood can be enjoyed in other ways than the mouth-on-neck route. I’m more generous than most of my kind. We serve shots of my blood mixed with alcohol at the bar. Of course, it sells for a steep price.

I decide to push a little with my mind to ensure Antonio sees me differently. With a delicate touch, I weave through his mind, inserting the thought to include me as his latest conquest would not be worth the trouble. The exchange is quick, going unnoticed by the new guest. Antonio turns to the desk to register, appearing less concerned with me. The tent in his tailored pants means he’s aroused though he can’t remember why.

I repeat my greeting when the rest of the party comes through the double doors then take a step back to allow them some time to register. Again, I push with my desire, feeling my cravings wrap around their senses while invading their minds. They’ll experience warmth touching their skin as my emotions and thoughts seep in to become their own.

The rest of the MacKellan group advances about twenty feet before they stop and stare up as the ceiling vaults away. All four are pulled into my web of desire but the three women react like a bunch of high school kids out drinking. Sounding giddy, almost carefree, they’re excited with their adventure and loving every moment. I hear jubilant sighs of “oh” and “ah” as they walk about while peering at the opulent surroundings. The electricity of the crafted moment gives them a high. A few bodies spin around to take in the grandeur of the lobby all at once.

Light sparkles off the twisted glass of the mouth-blown chandelier. Well-polished wood banisters gleam in its soft light. Sounds bounce up off the wood floors, rising, only to be muffled by the three-story, book-lined landings that circle around the lobby.

A svelte blond vampire whispers, “Do you feel that?”

“I feel something,” Antonio states, turning from the desk.

I note individual reactions to the space while watching the expressions run across their features. The female vamp who spoke looks like she’s close to going over the edge from the vibe I’m sending out. She breathes heavily, her lips parted, while her glassy eyes stare at nothing in particular.

She looks ripe and I’m going to enjoy bringing her to completion. The energy signature pulsing from her feels young, close to Antonio’s age. This could be Joanna. Her black Goth attire looks cute on her athletic Barbie figure, but I bet cute wasn’t what she was hoping for when she picked it out this morning.

The only other man in the group, Liam MacKellan, sends his energy out in a wave before him. His rude electric broadcast prickles my skin. It’s strong. Unless he blocks it like I do, it could get uncomfortable for me to be in a room with him for any length of time. I would judge him to be a little over three hundred, much younger than my own five hundred eighty years. He’s unquestionably the head of this seethe. His regal bearing and dominant strength remind me of a clansman of ages past. Liam may be dressed all in black, but I bet he’d look more at home painted blue, wearing a kilt, and wielding an axe.

Liam’s hard countenance reveals nothing while he observes his surroundings. I know he feels my sexual projections but he’s much more controlled than the others. He’ll be a fun one to shake up this week.

I assume it is his mate, the lush brunette, who has her hand resting in the nook of his arm. She could be the Francesca I have listed in my file, as her coloring reminds me of Italian blood. The woman holds herself with confidence and grace; she would have to be strong to hold her own with him.

Last, I see a petite blond. By her pure smell, I can tell no vampire has laid claim to her yet. Interesting. They have fed from her, but there has been no mutual exchange of blood. I wonder why she was invited if she is not a servant. One companion is not enough to feed three vamps, so why bother to bring her at all? She is pretty in a sweet kind of way. I would almost call her innocent—except for the company she keeps. If I got Joanna’s name right, then this young thing must be Olivia.

I can hardly contain my compulsive desire to touch them all and read their desires, but that will have to wait a bit longer. Fireworks first. I always like to start the trip off with a bang.

I walk sedately to a nearby sitting area while enjoying the feel of the form-fitting dress embracing my lush curves. Listening to their chatter for the right time to begin my show, I know timing is crucial in a performance.

Tommy explains some house rules with our guests while distributing room key cards. “Hungry for blood, please call the front desk. We have willing donors on the premises twenty-four hours a day. No sharing of blood with your donors. It’s a one-way transaction. Please do not use any vampire mind control to alter memories unless asked by Vivian or Rafe directly—and she will be checking.” Handing out the last key card, he wraps up his spiel. “Tours and instruction of the third floor rooms will be given at noon tomorrow. Please call if you’d like a private viewing with one of the owners. All other information on the resort can be found in the binder in your room, including the directions for the items in your welcome basket.”

Francesca coos with delight, “Oh, I love welcome baskets. I can hardly wait to see what’s inside!”

Tommy’s answering grin is a knowing one. He has first-hand experience with what’s in those baskets. We give out samples of all the new toys to the staff when a shipment comes in. It’s a great way to ensure their proficient use of the intimate items.

I try to tune out the rest of the playful banter between the guests by lowering myself into a comfortable chair. I love this part of my job. The first feel our visitors get when they arrive can set the tone for their whole vacation.

Not many vampires have the power to project real-life illusions, and of those who can, none are able to fool their fellow undead—except for the rare ones like me. I’m the only powerful manipulator left of my kind. The rest have been hunted down and killed by the tribunal of ancients to ensure no vampire can mind control another.

Who would guess they were vacationing with one of the best enforcers our vampire tribunal has ever seen? My high kill rate was always attributed to fighting skills and never my use of subtlety. Here, residing at a resort above the Arctic Circle, I hide to avoid the debilitating silver hood used to control my kind, while using my gift. The no-daylight setting, combined with my hidden skill, guarantees that everyone will have a good time, and my added proficiency ensures I’m never suspected.

I cross my legs, debating how far to go tonight. This group has a lot of dynamics I’m unaware of but I’d like to take a risk and push the envelope. Opening my mate bond to see Rafe’s thoughts might help me decide.

Reading my mind makes him smile. Go for it, Dria. But leave the employees be. Tommy’s already half in love with you, I suspect. You might want to try soothing them from their embarrassment afterward as well.

You’re right on all counts. I uncross my legs, allowing my thighs to squeeze together a bit before I ease them flat on the chair. I need your help though.

My husband’s look becomes naked with heat. I take a brief moment to scan the room to reassure myself no one watches, including the sharp-eyed Liam. All clear. They’re excited, on the edge of full-blown arousal, and not questioning why. Pushing outward again, I allow my arousal to enter their minds. Men’s hands reach down to adjust themselves. Women’s faces become flushed with excitement.

Creating a barrier in their minds, I skillfully weave a protective circle around my chair. They will look everywhere except at me. I may be a bit of an exhibitionist but everything has a time and place. Focusing again with my mind brings Rafe back into view. His mouth appears full and wet, as though he has licked his lips.

Dria, I want you to open your legs just a bit. I comply. Oh, my love, I can smell you. You need me, don’t you?

My plea is silent but he hears it. I open my legs while gripping the arms of the chair to keep my hands from plunging into the side slit of my dress to explore my inner folds.

Relax into the chair. Rest your head back and close your eyes. That’s it, love. Do you feel my finger on you?

Through our union, my husband has gained a portion of my powers enabling me to feel his finger at my center of being. Right where I need it most.

Yes, yes! Harder.

Mmmm, you feel so wet and hot. I know the spot you need it most… let me ease you…

The build-up and blood exposure from earlier have left me incredibly responsive. I knew it would be a fast one, but I hadn’t anticipated how fast.

My head slams back against the chair while I crash over the peak of sensation. I want you inside me!

Rafe complies and I feel his thick fingers push into my wet sheath, prolonging my release. I share the continuing waves of pleasure with the guests in the room. Instantly, I hear the party of five crest with me. I convulse around the imaginary fingers, shuddering with the last of my climax.

The guests weren’t aware this could happen and their responses are loud.

“Oh God!”

“Ahhh.”

“Yes!”

The surprised cries reaching my ears sound full of intensity. Hips jerk forward in response while some of their knees give way. My silent moans are conveyed through my mate bond, which also enables me to feel the rigidity of Rafe’s need as well.

Your pleasure is so hot, liebling. I feel like I’m going to scream with my own need. Come find me and make it soon… His face twists with his longing when he gently closes the link between us.

Never fear… I’ll not leave you hanging.

Even though he’s closed the link, I know my thoughts can get through when I try. The closing is more like a sheer curtain for privacy than an all-out solid door.

I raise my head, while pulling the protective circle away, to see women clinging to the person standing closest to them, while the men reach out a hand to steady themselves on the front desk or a nearby piece of furniture. Thankfully, no one loses balance or falls. That’s always much harder to explain away.

Having been the ringmaster to this little circus of pleasure, I regain my composure first, set about easing my guest’s minds of embarrassment while infusing them with contentment.

As I rise, Tommy meets my eyes over the heads of our guests and smiles. He knows something, but he’s not sure what he knows. I’m able to pinpoint who in a room enjoys an illusion, so he’s never had such an experience with my powers. Tommy’s participation in our world is closely limited by me, for his protection, which means he’s not quite sure of all I can do.

I walk over to the front desk, waiting for our guests to slowly come back to the present.

They all have soft expressions on their faces. None of them have realized yet that they have each shared the same physical experience. The most common reaction is to think it’s just oneself, or to think he or she imagined it all. The mated pair, Liam and Francesca, gaze adoringly at each other, sharing a sigh of contentment. The remaining two young vampires, Antonio and Joanna, almost shine with energy.

The glow of release with a mate is much more intense than what a vampire can experience with a non-mated partner. My big, strapping stud of a husband has helped me project an orgasm the likes of which they never knew existed.

The human companion, Olivia, has a dazed cast to her features. She reaches up and touches her neck, associating the experience with what she feels from a feeding. Right before my eyes, I see the vamps ease a little bit closer to the humans in the lobby. I’d be willing to bet some major magic will happen upstairs in a few minutes.

Damn, I’m good.

Please return on September 25th for chapter four of Vampire Vacation.

~~ C.J. Ellisson ~~
Twitter * Facebook * Website * Blog

.

Copyright © 2010 C.J. Ellisson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.