The Vampire’s Kiss
Chapter One: Night Falls
© Copyright 2015
Story Codes: Male/Female, Oral Sex, Vampire, Magic, Wife, Violence
For a list of all the Vampire’s Kiss Chapters and other stories click here
Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as it’s
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.
Abigail D’Angelo controlled her fear as she pushed open the doors of Neil Armstrong High School. She hadn’t expected to be on the hunt when she came back to town to visit her sick mother. She stared into the dark school. It had been fourteen years since she strolled the hallways.
The last time had been to kill a vampire, too.
In some ways, the school looked unchanged since that bloody night, in others it was radically different. The same lockers marched down the hallway only painted a lighter blue instead of the puke green of her youth. The fliers on the walls proclaimed the upcoming Halloween Dance, still a staple of the school. The drinking fountains were different, made of white porcelain instead of stainless steel. Through the small, rectangular windows in the doors, she spotted the same lines of desks.
Memories flashed through Abigail’s mind of that terrible night fourteen years ago when she helped kill her first vampire. She had been Abigail Talbot then. Her, Damien D’Angelo, Frank Smythe, and Nora Wendle had entered the school in a mix of bravado and fear to kill the monster that had put two of their friends into the grave and turned a third. Only Abigail and Damien had walked out. Vincent had torn poor Nora’s head off and ripped out Frank’s throat before Abigail managed to hit the vampire with holy water.
Burned by the holy water, Vincent lay stunned as Damien had beat the vampire’s head to pulp with a silver cross the youths had stolen from St. Marks up the road from the school.
Abigail shook the memories away as her hands gripped her crossbow. I need to keep my focus. A white oak bolt was cradled in the weapon. Abigail had tracked the vampire to the school. They were often attracted to youthful vigor. Abigail’s own best friend, Lynette, had been Vincent’s first victim, transformed into a vampiress.
To this day, Abigail had not learned what happened to Lynette after Vincent died. Had another Knight Venator put her down, or was she still out there lurking in the shadows.
The hunter’s ears were tuned for any sound. She walked on the rubber soles of her combat boots. Her red hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail and she wore black fatigues, the pockets full of the tricks and weapons of the vampire hunting trade.
The coppery tinge of blood tickled her nose. The vampire had recently fed.
Where are you hiding? Abigail entered the cafeteria. The scent of blood grew stronger and stronger, stirring memories of fourteen years ago. Abigail fought to keep herself from staring at the spot where poor Nora’s head had been ripped off.
Stay focused. Abigail cast her eyes about the dark cafeteria for the vampire. He could be lurking under any of the tables that ran in neat rows across the large room.
It was stupid to hunt a vampire alone, but Abigail had killed over thirty in the last fourteen years. She had been trained and outfitted by the Jesuits and inducted into the Knights Venator. Every Knight knew on simple truth—sometimes you had no choice but to enter the lion’s den alone. Her partner was in Albuquerque on a hunt while she had been forced to come back home and care for her sick mother the last two weeks.
Sound rustled behind her.
Abigail spun. Shadows moved. Her crossbow bolt fired.
Damien D’Angelo tried not to worry about his wife as he stalked through the abandoned warehouse. Abigail was a capable hunter, and the vampire plaguing their hometown sounded young. Abigail believed it was a newly changed undead that had slipped off the leash of its dam or sire.
Just like the vampire Damien hunted.
Heavy metal music thudded through the warehouse, booming from below. This vampire had no class or style. Damien gripped the sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun in his hands. It was loaded with rock salt. Vampires couldn’t stand the touch of purity. Rock salt, blessed silver, holy water, and white oak could all cause the monsters pain.
Decapitation and sunlight were the only sure ways to kill one.
Damien found a set of stairs at the far end of the ruined building, half covered by a piece of plywood. It was a pathetic attempt to conceal the entrance to the basement and the vampire’s lair. The entire warehouse was covered in a layer of dust, and sliding the plywood over the stairs had left behind drag marks. Of course, the footprints coming and going were an even clearer sign.
Why had you even bothered? Or are you just that stupid? Damien settled on the latter option.
This was the tenth day of the hunt. The vampire had killed two since Damien arrived, both young, pretty girls. This vampire was fast. Security footage at one of the attacks only showed the creature moving as a blur.
Each vampire would have a gift. It was always random if they would get mesmerizing gaze, enhanced speed, shapechanging, illusions, shadow walk, or one of the others. Damien had fought vampires displaying one of ten abilities and there were always rumors of new ones.
You never knew quite what you were getting when fighting a vampire. That was why Damien and Abigail had been trained by the Jesuit priests, inducted into the Knights Venator and outfitted with relics and weapons. Outside the warehouse, Father Augustine waited, providing Damien with support.
“Found the entrance,” Damien reported over his Bluetooth as he kicked aside the plywood. “Communications might get spotty.”
“Because of being underground,” Father Augustine asked, his voice crystal clear. Once, they had used radios, but cell phone technology was far more practical.
“No, because the vamp’s blaring heavy metal.” Damien winced. “Pretty terrible shit. Not the good stuff I listened to.”
“Yes, because rock in the Nineties made such a wonderful cavalcade of sounds.”
Damien smiled at the priest’s dry tone.
The vampire hunter descended down the stairs. It led to a dark hallway. Damien switched on his flashlight, holding it his left hand as we walked forward, shotgun held out before him. In the movies, vampire hunters always used UV lights to fight the undead. It wasn’t ultraviolet spectrum of sunlight that harmed vampires. It was the purity of the sun’s rays and what the fiery disc in the sky represented.
His eyes noticed the dark alcove. It could be a spot for an ambush, or merely was a branching tunnel. The thudding music came from straight ahead. There was a door with light flooding through it. Vampires could see in the dark, but the young ones were still too accustomed to their mortal lives and attached to what was familiar.
Damien kept his shotgun pointed right at the alcove as he advanced. He wasn’t surprised when the female vampire leaped out. She was naked, her breasts lovely and firm with youth, her blonde hair streaming behind her. She probably had been sired by the vampire Damien hunted, under her sire’s control.
Damien pulled both triggers of the shotgun. The explosion was deafening in the tunnels. His ears rang as the vampiress fell to the ground, her naked stomach and perfect breasts blackened by the purity rock salt. Her mouth opened but Damien couldn’t hear her screams over the deafening ringing in his ears.
Calmly, Damien sheathed his shotgun in a holster dangling off his belt and drew a silver plated machete inscribed with prayers, the knuckle bone of a saint set in the pommel. He seized the vampiress’s blonde hair and pulled, exposing her neck as she thrashed in pain. With a single swipe, he decapitated her. The body shriveled and grew black, decaying in a heartbeat. Before Damien could let go of her hair, she was dust swirling about his feet.
The lights were still on in the room at the hallway’s end. Damien’s hearing began to return as he reloaded his shotgun. The music still thudded. Damien wasn’t even sure the vampire had heard the shotgun blast over the blaring music and realized his new whore was dead.
Next time, pay better attention. Damien smiled at the thought. Of course, there won’t be a next time.
Damien pulled a hand crossbow from beneath the leather duster he wore. His wife always teased him for the affectation, but Damien enjoyed dressing like a badass out of a western. Of course, the jacket was woven with prayers and could give him a moments of protection against a vampire’s attack.
“One dead,” Damien reported as he reached the door. “About to breach.”
Augustine didn’t answer. The call probably dropped with all the concrete over his head.
Damien put away his flashlight and tested the doorknob. Unlocked. What a trusting vampire.
Damien twisted the handle and shouldered open the door. He burst through it and he brought up his crossbow. A vampiress lounged on a bean bag, her thighs spread open and her fingers playing with her pink pussy.
She screeched as the white oak bolt took her in the heart, paralyzing her entire body. Damien swept his gaze around as he furiously cranked back the crossbow’s windlass. A male vampire with a blonde goatee and dressed in torn, black clothing stood up. A silver skull earing dangled from the vampire’s right ear. Fangs flashed as he growled.
“Do you know who’s territory you are treading on, Mortal?” the vampire demanded with exaggerated bombastity.
He’s watched too many bad movies. “Nope.”
Damien pulled out a white oak bolt and dropped it into the crossbow’s cradle.
“I am Spike, the slayer of—”
Damien snorted with laughter. “Did you say your name is Spike? Like from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” That show had been big when Damien was a teenager. It helped Damien and his future wife realize a vampire haunted their school, feeding off their friends.
“No,” hissed the vampire, indignation crossing his pale face. The vampires lips were dark black, almost a pair of shadows compared to the corpse-white of the his skin.
Was he wearing makeup to make himself look that pale?
“Spyke with a Y.”
“And that makes it better?” Damien snorted and raised the crossbow.
The vampire attacked in a blur of speed. Damien fired the crossbow bolt straight in front of him. Like Damien expected, the vampire charged headlong towards him. The bolt took the monster in the chest. Paralysis crashed into Spyke a moment before he slammed into Damien. Damien twisted and let Spyke crash to the floor.
“Why does your kind always give speeches before they attack?” Damien demanded to the paralyzed vampire as he drew his machete. “Even the best of you is given over to speeches. You gave me all the time I needed to reload.”
“Wait,” Spyke groaned, struggling to move his body, “he promised…it would be…different.”
“Vampires lie.” Damien beheaded the vampire.
Behind him, the vampiress let out a wheezing gasp.
“I’ll attend to you in a moment,” Damien nodded and looked around the room. There was a young woman naked in the corner, blood dribbling from her neck and thighs. She had been fed upon. Most vampires could spend days drinking from a victim before they died, keeping them in a state of euphoria. Vampire venom was a potent drug.
Damien knelt beside the victim and touched her throat. Her pulse was thready.
“You’re a survivor,” he told the wounded girl. “You’ll make it through. He didn’t ruin you.”
Damien attended to the vampiress with his machete.
The Angel watched Damien behead the female vampire before attending to the wounded, young woman. Her white wings flapped as she floated in the Ether. “What are my odds for success, Gideon?”
“9%,” Gideon answered her. The second angel drifted towards her in the Ether, the immaterial realm between Life and Beyond. “His psyche profile indicates he will be hard to manipulate, Aurora.”
Aurora nodded, her wings beating faster as she studied Damien. He was a handsome mortal, tall and athletic, with dark hair and the shadow of stubble across his squared jaw. He was confident and skilled, practiced at his craft. He dispatched three vampires with ease. Even if the vampires were unskilled, it was an impressive feat.
“I have chosen my incarnation,” Aurora answered. “I will make sure Damien chooses correctly.”
“Even with Jezebel prowling around, working her foul designs?”
Aurora’s wings glowed whiter. She fought the urge to curse at the demon. “Have they let her out of Perdition again?”
“Looks like it,” Gideon answered.
“She will not deter me this time,” Aurora declared. Her enmity with Jezebel stretched back a thousand years.
The demon lounged on the floor of the van Father Augustine waited in, studying the priest. He was a tall man and lanky, his body almost devoid of flesh. He was all sharp angles. Hard, blue eyes monitored the equipment while a hand absently scratched at his temples. His hair was black save for a pair of iron-gray wings sweeping from his temples.
Jezebel fluttered her black wings, her fingers itching to corrupt. She was on the edge of the Ether, almost manifested into Life but just out of reach of mortal senses. The angels were buzzing around the van like annoying flies. She had no idea why that cow Aurora had shown up. God damned harpy, always zipping around and taking away all my fun.
Their last clash had resulted in Jezebel’s banishment to Perdition for a hundred years.
The back of the van opened up and Damien climbed in cradling a wounded girl. The vampire hunter had dispatched his quarry with ease. Jezebel hated how pure Damien was. He barely had any sinful thoughts in his head, devoted to his pretty wife and their crusade against vampires.
What a waste, and with that body.
But the priest seethed with sin. She could feel the vile thoughts leaking out of him. Father Augustine loved to stare at the pretty, young parishioners of his church, especially in confession. He would make the girls spell out in detail all of their naughty, sexual sins, his cock rigid beneath his cassock.
Jezebel fluttered her wings and set to work, whispering her corruption from the Ether. Perdition had plans, regardless of any Angels fluttering around causing trouble.
Damien’s phone chirped as Father Augustine pulled the van up to Albuquerque International Sunport Airport. The hunt had finished up hours ago, the young woman taken to a hospital where she would, hopefully, recover.
Damien fished his out of his pocket and swiped the screen. Relief flooded him as he read the message.
“Abigail’s hunt was successful?” Augustine inquired.
“Yeah,” Damien nodded, reading the text from his wife.
“Thank the Lord,” the priest smiled, rubbing his bony hands together.
“She dispatched the vampire in our old high school,” Damien frowned. “Strange.”
“The same place where you killed Vincent?”
Damien read the text again. “Hun, 1 vamp dusted in our old cafeteria. Spooky being back. Mom’s doing better. On the way home. I think I’ll beat you back.”
“Yeah.” Damien shook his head. “Small world.” Damien didn’t like to think about fourteen years ago. He could still feel the boiling anger as he beat Vincent’s head to a pulp with the stolen silver cross while poor Frank bled out nearby, his throat torn out by the vampire.
“Well, safe travels,” Father Augustine smiled, “I’ll see you and Abby in a few days.”
The priest had a two drive back. The equipment in the back would never make it past airport screening. Father Augustine always drove the van to the hunt. “I enjoy the solitude,” the priest would always say. “Time for me and the Lord to get closer together.”
“You be safe, too, Father,” Damien said as he climbed out of the van, his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. He still wore his leather duster, but had made sure to strip off all his weapons and leave them in the van. After a successful hunt, being arrested by the TSA because he forgot to remove a silver knife from his back pocket would be embarrassing.
“The white zone is for loading and unloading only,” a recorded announcement played. Sometimes, Damien wondered if the same woman recorded those announcements for every airport in America.
Father Augustine pulled the van from the concourse as Damien strolled into the airport. He stood in line to check in and have his tickets printed. He had a First Class flight from Albuquerque to Chicago. O’Hare International Airport was a great hub with direct connections with most of America. That was why Damien lived in a small suburb outside of the city.
“Heading through security,” Damien texted as he stood in line, “wish me luck.”
Abigail texted back, “You never know, you might get lucky with one of the guards.”
Damien chuckled. His wife always had a feisty tongue. “Nothing like an overweight man giving me a reach around.”
His phone vibrated immediately, “LOL. That is an image I did not need in my head.”
“Just giving you fodder for your long flight.”
“Hun, it’s an hour flight,” Abigail replied. “I’m practically home. You’re the one that needs something to keep you occupied.”
“That would be sleep.” Damien yawned as he shuffled forward. “I could use a few winks after the last two week.”
“And here I was planning on seducing you when you got home.” A winky emoji and a glass of wine ended her tweet.
“That’s why I’m sleeping on the plane. I need to be well rested to feed your appetites.” Damien smiled as he hit send.
“I’m hungry. You know what killing vampires does to me.”
Damien paused. “It wasn’t weird. Being back there.”
“Yeah. It was.”
“I’m a tough cookie.”
Damien texted, “I know, I chipped a tooth last time I bit you.”
“LMAO.” There was a pause. “But I’m fine. Looking forward to seeing you. I’ve accepted what happened years ago. We did pretty good for a bunch of dumb kids.”
“Sir, put all your metal objects and your phone in the tray,” a white-shirted TSA officer said as he stood by the metal detector.
Damien made it through security unmolested and gathered up his belongings. He strode through the airport and navigated to his gate. He sat down on a plastic chair and checked the clock. He had forty minutes before his flight. He texted his wife for a few minutes, but then she had to catch her flight.
He allowed his eyes to close, napping as he waited for his flight. He was eager to see his wife. Her smiling face, framed by her fiery hair, filled his vision. When she was on the hunt, she was cold, calculating, and even ruthless. But away from the filth of the vampires, she was a woman bubbling with life.
It was rare for them to not be on the same hunt. Normally, Damien would immediately enjoy her aroused passion after a successful kill. He didn’t have to wait on a four hour plane ride and another hour drive from the airport.
Luckily, hunting taught patience.
Damien stretched his long legs when the gate attendant announced boarding for his flight, starting with First Class and passengers with small children. He strolled up in line behind a woman in a dark red business suit with a skirt that hugged a curvy rear. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun. She turned her head, the profile of her face graceful and beautiful, with ruby-red lips, a smile curling at the corners.
“You do not see a lot of men wearing a leather duster,” the woman purred, her voice dripping with sweet honey.
“I watched too many Westerns as a kid,” Damien answered.
“I see that,” the woman purred, her hazel eyes flicking across Damien’s body. Her smile grew and Damien noticed the extra shake to her hips.
Damien ignored the itching swell in his groin and the friendly invitation in her eyes. He gave the woman a friendly smile while casually stroking his chin with his left hand, his gold wedding band prominent on his finger.
The line began to move. Damien fought the urge to stare at her ass as she walked before him. Her skirt hugged it like a second skin. The woman moved with grace on her high heels. Every movement seemed deliberate.
A paranoid part of him wondered if she was something more than a woman. Vampiress?
Vampires could be hard to tell apart from a normal person. If they just drank blood, they would have normal pallor to their skin and the only physical change were fangs that sprouted right before they fed. You had to watch for subtle movements. Vampires had more strength and dexterity than a human. The changes were betrayed in their movements if they weren’t careful.
Older vampires could be quite adapt at blending in.
Touching a person was a good indication of where they lived or where undead. While vampires had pulses and even breathed, their metabolism wasn’t like a human’s. Their bodies didn’t produce heat, so they would be the same temperature as the surrounding air, which usually meant they would feel cool to the touch.
The woman handed her boarding pass to the gate attendant then Damien. The gate attendant gave him an empty smile and a “Enjoy your flight, Sir,” before slipping the pass into the slot in her kiosk. Then Damien was trooping down the walkway. It swayed with everyone’s echoing steps, and the sounds of the plane’s engines grew louder. Flight attendants waited at the door with more fake smiles and “Enjoy your flight, Sir.”
Damien seat was 3B. The woman sat in 3A.
“Small world,” she purred, her legs crossed. Her skirt rode up past her knees, revealing dark, thigh-high stockings held up by garters. Damien always liked seeing a woman in thigh-highs. Her cleavage was transformed into a work of art by the push-up bra she wore.
“I guess so,” Damien said as he stowed his bag in the overhead compartment. He sank down in the seat and closed his eyes.
“The strong, silent type,” purred the woman. “At least you won’t chat me to death on the plane ride.”
“Pity,” she purred. “I bet you could provide a stimulating conversation.”
Is she hitting on me?
The exhaustion of the last week of hunting pulled on Damien. He kept his eyes closed, letting him sink down into sleep. Damien, like every soldiers since the first man was press-ganged into some petty tyrant’s army, had learned how to sleep anywhere. He dozed through the safety briefing as the plane taxied to the runway.
The roar of the engines as they powered up for takeoff pulled him out of sleep for a moment. He didn’t open his eyes as the plane shot down the runway, pressing him back into his seat. The plane shook, the woman beside him gasped.
She’s wearing Chanel perfume, he realized as the plane leapt into the air. A smile crossed his lips as he drifted down into sleep. A few years ago, he had bought Abigail a Chanel perfume, at the recommendation of the woman working in the perfume department, for her birthday. His wife had loved it.
And he had loved how his wife smelled wearing it.
As Damien fell into sleep, his dreams turned to his wife.
It was the hand on his thigh that brought Damien out of his sleep. The plane was at cruising altitude. Like on most red eyes, the cabin was dim and the passengers around him were sleeping. All except the woman beside him.
Her hand was on his thigh. Her hazel eyes almost were golden as she stared at him.
“What?” Damien groaned as he shook off sleep.
“Shhh,” she whispered, “you’ll wake everyone else.”
Her hand moved higher. He was all too aware of her hand reaching for his crotch. His dick swelled hard, tenting his jeans. The woman purred, her cleavage jiggling as she turned her body. His gaze fell into the valley formed by her lush mounds.
“I’m married,” Damien said as her hand reached his crotch. He fought his groan as she squeezed.
“I don’t care,” the woman answered. Her lips were a deep ruby.
“You need to stop,” he said again as she stroked him through his jeans.
“You don’t want me to stop,” she laughed.
There was a part of Damien that wanted her to continue. It confused him that it was winning against the other part of him. His hand refused to move to seize her wrist and pull her away from his crotch. His cheeks reddened as she stroked his crotch again through his jeans before her fingers reached the zipper of his jeans.
Something’s not right, a part of Damien realized. It was the part drown out by the powerful throb in his cock.
“Mmm, I can tell you don’t want me to stop,” the woman purred, her lips drifting closer. “This part of your body is more honest.”
“That part of my body doesn’t get a vote.”
“Then stop me.” Her fingers drew down his zipper. It made a loud, rasping sound. Damien looked around at the plane. Everyone was still sleeping. His heart raced. A flight attendant could walk down the aisle at any moment.
Why aren’t I fighting this?
The woman purred as her hand reached into his jeans and rubbed at his black cotton briefs. “I didn’t take you for a briefs man.”
Damien answered with a groan as her finger caressed the tip of his dick. Her hand felt warm through his underwear. Not a vampiress. The air was too cool in the plane for her to feel so hot against him.
“What are you?” Damien managed to spit out. There were other creatures than vampires out there that also preyed on humans. Other Knights Venator trained to hunt different creatures than Damien.
“Your lover,” she answered with a sultry wink. Her free hand, the one not caressing his dick through his underwear, reached back and unpinned her hair. It fell in a loose, tousled mass of blonde about her face.
“You’re not,” Damien groaned. “My wife is.”
“And she isn’t here.” The woman’s fingers pulled down his underwear. His cock sprang out into his hands.
“You’re not a vampire,” Damien answered as she stroked his cock. “But what are you?”
“Salvation,” she answered. “If you just give in and sin a little.”
The woman leaned over, her blonde hair spilling across his crotch, and swallowed his cock into her hungry lips. Damien groaned as she sucked. All thought of fighting her went out of his mind as the pleasure rushed up to the tip of his cock.
Her tongue swirled around the tip as she sucked, then the woman worked more and more of her mouth down his shaft. Her fingers found his balls, massaging them. Damien groaned, his chair creaking as he leaned back in it.
And still everyone around them slept.
“Damn,” he panted.
His moan encouraged her. She bobbed her head faster. Her head twisted, twerking her mouth around his shaft. She moaned, adding an exciting hum to her performance. Pleasure rushed through Damien’s body.
“Who are you?” he gasped again. His hips bucked up, driving his cock deeper into her mouth. His hand pressed on the back of her head, pushing her down his cock. “Christ, what are you?”
The woman laughed around his cock as the tip brushed the back of her throat. Abigail had never deep-throated his cock; he never even asked his wife to even try, but he always wanted to. He was so close. His fingers tightened in her hair.
If this woman is such a whore that she sucks a stranger on a crowded plane, she won’t mind, the primal part of his mind growled.
Her throat relaxed as he pushed down on her head.
“Yes,” he groaned as her lips pressed all the way down to the root of his cock. “That’s it. Slut.”
She sucked harder. Her hips squirmed. She liked being called a slut. Her throat massaged Damien’s cock as she moaned. The pleasure boiled in his balls. Her fingers massaged them, eager to coax out his cum.
“Whore,” he growled as his back spasmed. “Fuck.”
His groan growled out through clenched teeth as his cock erupted. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose as pulse after pulse of his cum erupted down her throat and straight into her stomach. The woman moaned in delight as his pleasure reached its peak.
“Damn,” Damien panted as he released her mouth.
She slid up his still hard cock until she popped off. “Mmm, you really needed that.”
“I guess I did,” Damien panted. Sorry Abigail.
“Now isn’t the time to think of your wife,” the woman purred, “not when you’re with me.”
“My lover,” Damien groaned, his body buzzing with his orgasm.
“Exactly,” purred the woman as she straddled his lap. “You’re starting to get it.”
“Someone’s going to see,” Damien gasped. The flight attendants had to notice her head rising above the other seats and facing the wrong direction. They had to stay awake during the flight.
“Mmm, let them watch,” the woman purred as her fingers unbuttoned her blouse.
Damien groaned as her silk blouse parted, revealing her large tits pushed up by a front-clasping demi bra. It was white and lacy and so low cut the tops of her pink areolas peaked out. Damien reached out and unsnapped the bra.
Her round, lush tits sprang out before his face. He pressed his whiskered cheeks between them, squeezing their softness. His fingers pinched her nipples as his lips sucked at her flesh. She purred as he kissed to her nipple and sucked the fat nub into his lips.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Sin.”
Damien engulfed the nipple and sucked for all his might. She purred as she ground on him. His still hard cock brushed her naked thigh. Her hips shifted and his dick slid up to a wet pussy. She wore no panties.
He moaned around her nipple as she ground her naked pussy on his shaft. Her juices coated his dick. The tip throbbed. He needed to cum again. Damien was surprised to find his cock this hard so soon after his cum. Even as a teenager, he needed a few minutes to recover.
Her hand grasped his cock as he sucked on her nipple. Damien groaned as the woman sank down on his cock. Her pussy was tight and hot. He bucked in the seat, his lips popping off the nipple as he let out a low moan.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he panted.
“I’m just what you needed,” the woman purred. Her hips undulated as they slid up and down his cock. “A little temptation and sin to spice up your life.”
“Yeah,” Damien groaned, squeezing her tits as she rode him.
Damien’s dick throbbed in the wet embrace of her pussy. Her pussy clenched as she slid up his cock, almost trying to draw the cum out of his balls. He buried his face back into her pillowy tits as he growled in pleasure.
His hands reached around her to grasp her ass. He squeezed her naked flesh and pulled her down his cock. She swiveled her hips, stirring his cock around inside her sheath before rising back up. His balls boiled. Every inch of her flesh sliding up and down his cock increased the temperate inside his nuts.
“So good,” she purred. “Your cock is just what I needed. Mmm, yes. It’s perfect for me. I love it. I want to feel you cum in me.”
“Without a condom?” Damien groaned.
“That just makes it hotter,” she purred. “Imagine the risk. It isn’t sinning if you play it safe.”
His dick throbbed in her. “Damn.”
Damien’s hands squeezed her ass. He pulled her down his cock. She let out a sweet gasp as she undulated and ground on him. Her clit rubbed against his pubic bones. The chair creaked as she went faster and faster.
Damien moaned into her pillowy tits. He loved their softness on his cheeks almost as much as he loved her cunt wrapped around his dick. His hips thrust up into her, bouncing the woman back up his shaft.
She moaned every time she slammed down. “That’s it. Fuck me! Cum in me! Let’s make this memorable for the both of us.”
“Yes,” Damien growled as she bucked on him. He pulled on her blonde hair, bringing her ruby-red lips to his. He kissed her and thrust his tongue into her mouth, claiming like his cock claimed her hot cunt.
His dick throbbed in her pussy. The pressure reached its peak in his balls. The ache swelled at the tip of his cock. He had to cum. He couldn’t fight it any longer. He growled as his cum exploded out of his balls and into her pussy.
Her pussy writhed about his cock. She milked out his cum. She slammed down on him. His cock was engulfed in bliss. His fingers squeezed on her ass as the final, powerful blast squirted out of his dick and then he collapsed back into the seat panting.
A hand shook him. “Sir, wake up. We’re landing.”
Damien blinked. A flight attendant shook his leather jacket. The woman sat in her seat, staring disinterestedly out the window, her clothing perfect, her hair still pinned up. Damien sat up in his seat and blushed—his jeans were sticky.
I haven’t had a wet dream since I was sixteen.
He glance at the woman and she turned and gave him a smoky smile. “Hot dream?”
“What?” he asked in surprise.
“You were moaning.” She leaned forward. The Chanel perfume washed over his nose. “They sounded…sexy. Who was the lucky lady?”
“Lucky woman,” she purred. Her hand dipped into her cleavage and pulled out a card. “I’m in Chicago for the weekend. My cell phone number’s on the back. Maybe you can come to my hotel room and tell me more about this lucky woman.”
The dream filled Damien’s mind as he took the card. Another hot flush shot through him. He could remember every moment vividly. He hadn’t even felt like he was dreaming. It had seemed too real. His cock twinged at the memory of her hot pussy wrapped around his cock.
No, he told his cock. Damien’s right hand played with his wedding band. It was a dream. It doesn’t count. You’ll just have to be happy with that.
The woman strode off the plane. She felt Damien’s eyes on her as she strutted up the walkway to the terminal. A smile graced her lips. The dream had been exciting. Her pussy was wet, aching for the real thing. She hoped Damien would give in to temptation.
She burned for him to give in.
Her heels clicked as she strolled through the terminal, walking with confidence. Damien was behind her. He would follow her to the taxi stand. He would join her in the cab for a trip to her hotel and give into his temptation.
He had to.
A shock ran through the woman. Her nipples hardened. She gasped and shuddered as the connection between her and Damien severed. She spun around. Damien disappeared into the men’s room. In the garbage can right outside the bathroom, he had thrown away her card.
The woman let out a bitter, frustrated sigh. He loved his wife too much. Fidelity was to be admired most of the time. Not today. The woman strode into the ladies’ restroom, entered the final stall, and stopped being human and became the angel Aurora again.
“You were right, Gideon,” she sighed as she slipped into the Ether. “9%. How does this affect the plan?”
“Badly,” Gideon answered. “It really depends on his character now.”
Damien couldn’t shake the woman from the plane as he made the hour drive back home. The sun was rising as he drove out of Chicago to Pingree Grove. He followed I-90 until the town of Gilberts, and then headed southwest to make his way to the small village of Pingree Grove. A decade ago, Pingree Grove was a true village, but now it had boomed into a burgeoning town, swallowing up the surrounding farmland.
He chatted to his wife on the drive back. She was waiting for him at home, promising a surprise. Damien turned down his street and pulled into his driveway a moment later. He and his wife owned a three-story farmhouse, the only remains of the farm that had been transformed into a prosperous suburb. The house stood out on the cul-de-sac, painted white with the charm of an American farmhouse that the newer constructed houses lacked.
Those looked too well-built.
“Hi, Mr. D’Angelo,” young Britney Lawson smiled as Damien climbed out of his car.
The eighteen-year-old was wearing a tight pair of jogging shorts and a loose tank top, the sides open to show her black sports bra holding in her impressive bosom. The perky, young woman jogged past, her blonde hair trailing behind her.
“Hey, Britney,” Damien said. “How’s your parents?”
“Fine,” she smiled. “How was your business trip?”
“Successful. I’m eager to see Abby, though.”
“Oh, when did she get back?” Britney asked, pausing to jog in place.
“Late last night. Her mother’s doing a lot better.”
“Wonderful,” beamed the young lady. With a wave, she kept jogging down the street.
Damien pulled out his keys, unlocked the front door, and swept into the house. “Hey, Abby.”
Music drifted from above. Their bedroom was all the way on the third floor. Between hunts, they had spent their time remodeling the house. The Catholic Church’s stipend paid well enough, and neither of D’Angelos had expensive habits. The basement was their armory and training room, complete with padded mats for sparing.
Damien pulled off his leather duster and hung it on a coat rack then dropped his keys into a crystal bowel next to Abigail’s. The music playing above was R&B, the base thudding through the house. His wife loved R&B. Damien listened and decided the music sounded like Boys to Men.
She is feeling randy.
The stairs creaked as Damien climbed. He pulled off his t-shirt as he passed the second floor, revealing his muscular body crisscrossed with scars. He took the steps two at a time, the music swelling louder as he reached the landing.
“Hey, Abby,” he called out as he stepped into the bedroom. It was dark, lit only by flickering candles. Abigail had pulled the heavy curtains over the windows. The couple were often night owls and slept through the day.
“In here,” Abigail called from the bathroom.
More candles flickered in the bathroom, their orange-red light beckoning him. Water rippled. During their remodel, they had installed a large, hot tub style bathtub. Damien kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt as he crossed the room.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” Damien asked as he leaned against the open bathroom door.
“Maybe,” purred his wife. She sat in the hot water. One leg was lifted out of the bath, glistening in the candle light. Her red hair fanned about about her head and the tops of her breasts just rose over the water.
Chanel perfumed the air. Damien didn’t think of the woman on the plane.
Abigail leaned back, her breasts cresting the surface of the water. Her nipples were pink, hard, and inviting. Abigail’s toe curled as she let out a sensuous moan. Damien’s cock hardened in his pants as he admired his wife’s beauty.
“How was your flight?” Abigail asked. “Mine was boring.”
“Uneventful,” Damien answered.
“Ooh, what happened?” his wife purred. She could always read him.
Abigail arched an eyebrow.
“I had a…dream.”
“A sex dream?” Abigail asked. “About who?”
“The woman I sat next to on the flight.” Damien smiled at his wife. “Do you want me to talk about another woman or get in the tub?”
“Get those pants off and hop in, stud,” Abigail moaned.
Damien ripped off his jeans, throwing them back into their bedroom, followed by his black briefs. Abigail’s blue eyes sparkled in the candle light. She licked her lips as he strolled to the tub. Steam rose off the water. He sighed as he sank into the warmth across from her.
Abigail’s leg dived under water, her foot sliding up his thigh to his cock. The fatigue of the hunt washed away from Damien as her foot caressed his dick. He sighed, leaning back his head as her foot stroked his shaft, her toes caressing the tip.
“You know how to spoil me,” Damien sighed.
“Oh, you are going to spoil me,” she purred. “Two weeks visiting Mom in the hospital…I need to be pampered.”
“Oh? What kind of pampering were you think of?”
Her foot stroked faster. His cock throbbed hard beneath the warm water. “The kind only your lips can give me.”
Damien seized her foot rubbing at his cock. He pulled it out of the water. Her toes were small and dainty. He brought them to his lips. His tongue twirled around the tip. A shudder ran down Abigail’s leg and she let out a low sigh as he teased her.
His thumbs massaged the soles of her feet as he nibbled on her warm toes. He enjoyed pampering and loving his wife. After a hunt, it was wonderful to treat her like a lady. She could relax and shed her strength in the safety of their bedroom.
“I missed this,” Abigail sighed. “No one gives me foot massages back in our hometown.”
“Good to hear,” Damien smiled as he let go of her foot and searched her other one. He pulled it out of the water. “I’d be very concerned if anyone was giving you my kind of foot massages.”
“Yes, my trip wasn’t nearly as exciting as yours.” Her smile grew mischievous. “How beautiful was she?”
“Very,” Damien admitted, his thumbs digging into the soles of her feet. “In a business suit with a tight skirt. She even gave me her card. Wanted me to give her a booty call.”
“You don’t need to embellish. I know you’re a handsome man, but really, you’re not that handsome.”
“Are you sure?” Damien asked. “My charms seduced you.”
“Oh, you are a hunk,” she sighed as Damien nibbled on her toes, “but you’re not ‘ask a stranger to go back to your hotel and bang you hot.’ But you are close.”
She giggled as he lowered her feet. “Mmm, but you’re more than hunky enough for me. Now, if she’d seen you in action, she’d have her panties around her ankles begging to be bedded.”
The water rippled as Damien moved across the bath to her. His arms went around her as he settled between her spread thighs. Her body undulated, pressing against his beneath the water. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him down to her lips.
“So that’s why you don’t want us working with any female hunters.”
“Uh-huh,” Abigail moaned before her lips found his. “I get jealous.”
Damien moaned into the kiss. Her lips were soft against his. Her body undulated beneath the water. Her nipples were hard on his chest. Her arms tightened around his neck, holding him tight to her lips. Her tongue caressed his. His blood boiled. His hands roamed her body, stroking her sides down to her ass. Her kiss grew sweeter as his finger ran across her body.
“Damn, I missed this,” Abigail moaned when she broke the kiss. “Next time, you’re coming with me to care for my mom.”
“And miss out killing a vampire named Spyke.”
“Like from Buffy?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“With a Y not an I.”
“You’re kidding?” Abigail laughed. “Don’t distract me. I am horny, and you are not killing the mood with talk of ridiculous vampire names.”
“Deal,” Damien agreed before his lips sucked at her neck.
“Oh, I need you to eat me out,” Abigail moaned. “I’ve been so wet waiting for your flight to land and for you to get home. It was so hard not taking care of myself.”
“Sounds like you suffered.”
“Badly. You owe me.”
Damien’s hands squeezed her thighs. “Then I better start paying you back.”
Abigail didn’t wait. She rose and sat on the edge, the water trickling down her body. Her thighs were parted, her fiery, trimmed bush covering her aroused vulva. In the candlelight, she seemed ethereal, a goddess who descended to earth and waited to be worshiped.
Damien ran his hands down her thighs as he leaned in. Her skin was so silky and warm beneath his touch. His lips nuzzled into her pussy, licking into her hot folds. Her tart flavor was faint but growing with every lick.
“Oh, baby,” Abigail moaned, her hands running through Damien’s hair as his whiskered cheeks rubbed against her soft folds. Her hips undulated on the bath tub’s edge, her breasts jiggling above Damien as she shuddered. “Eat me, baby. I missed this.”
His wife’s groans were primal and urgent. The pitch of her voice rose. Damien knew the signs. He was a hunter, he studied his prey, and he knew intimately his wife’s reactions. Her fingers tightened in his short hair, pulling hard as her passion consumed her.
“Damien!” she gasped, her body shuddering hard. Her juices flooded his mouth, so tart and delicious. He drank them down while he kept his tongue flailing through her vulva, gathering every last drop of her juices. Her breasts bounced up as her back arched. Her fingers gripped his hair tight.
And then they relaxed as she let out a purring moan.
“Mmm, that’s what I missed.” Her blue eyes fluttered open and stared down at him. Her hands caressed his cheeks. “I love you, Damien.”
He grinned at her.
Abigail sank down into the water, her arms around his neck, pulling Damien in for a hot kiss. Her tongue flicked around his lips, gathering her juices as her hips undulated. Damien reached down and guided his cock to her pussy’s entrance.
Abigail’s thighs wrapped around him as he sank into her depths. Pleasure raced up his cock as he experienced his wife’s embrace. She broke the kiss and let out a shuddering moan as he delved all the way into her sheath.
“Oh, Damien,” she moaned. “Mmm, yes. I love it.”
Abigail locked her ankles behind the small of his back, using her legs to slid her pussy up and down his shaft as he punched. Her lips pressed against his neck, hot and nibbling. Shudders ran down his body to his aching cock.
“So warm,” she moaned. “I can feel the warmth of your love beating inside of you.”
“For you,” Damien groaned, his hands cupping her ass beneath the waters.
“I know,” Abigail panted, her breath growing throaty. Her pussy clenched down on his cock. “Mmm, you are so warm. I can feel it.”
Her lips nibbled again at his neck.
“And you’re hot,” Damien groaned. “So tight on my cock. I missed you, baby. I wish you had come to Albuquerque with me.”
“So do I!” she moaned. “I’m sorry.”
“For?” he groaned, his hips thrusting harder. It was hard to think with her pussy clenching about his cock. The pleasure rushed through his body. He shuddered in her embrace as his balls tightened, his orgasm only a few thrusts away.
“I messed up.” Her lips sucked up on his neck.
Sharp fangs pierced his throat. Euphoria flooded through his veins. Abigail moaned as she drank his coppery blood. Her pussy spasmed about his cock as she writhed beneath him. She sucked harder, drinking down his life as she came on his cock.
The euphoria of her vampiric venom banished almost all thought from Damien. He couldn’t break away from her tight embrace. He didn’t want to. Bliss filled his mind. His hips thrust into her as the euphoria reached his balls. They tightened. The pressure swelled in his nuts.
His vision darkened as he erupted into the vampiress that had been his wife.
She’s turning me. The realization struck Damien at the height of his orgasm. No!
There was no fighting her sucking mouth. His he art beat slowed as his orgasm died. His vision went dark. Her lips were hot on his throat as the last feeble pulses of his life flowed into her.
Who destroyed my wife. What vampire turned her?
Damien sank down into undeath.
To be continued…
Click here for Chapter 2.
I have released a part 18 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!by