Blooded at the Ball
Clayton White has opened his estate for the first time in years to host a charity ball - a clever disguise to prey upon them, as Clayton feeds only on the blood of the rich. Among the elite at the ball is Annabelle, a low-class girl from a low-class town. She's a nobody--so why can't Clayton get her out of his head? Does he want her blood--or more? 5900 words. Contains m/f sex, vampire sex. More
Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to talk to her or my instincts would completely take over. “Annabelle,” I said. She looked up at me quizzically, craning that delicate little neck of hers. Her eyes blinked up at me, the picture of innocence. I gently caressed her cheek. Carefully, and with a great deal of restraint, I leaned down and brought my lips to hers.
She melted under my touch and was soon kissing me back eagerly. I was surprised by her energy, seeing as she’d had some four or five drinks and was under my anaesthesia. But her lips were rushing to meet mine, her hands running through my hair. She tried to enter my mouth, but I gently denied her (not wanting her to feel my ever-lengthening fangs) and instead probed my tongue along the opening between her lips. They parted and let me in.
“Mmmm.” She moaned in appreciation as I pulled her in closer while my tongue explored her mouth. The girl was impossibly sweet like some addictive candy. I stroked her back while I kissed her deeply. I became acutely aware of her breasts pushing against me. As Annabelle moved her petite body to straddle my lap, I felt a sensation rising inside me – a familiar tug distinct from the hunger, yet at the same time they were one, feeding off each other, spreading inside me like wildfire. It was a vein of energy, an aggression that was taking over me. I grabbed at her body, tugging at the straps of her dress, feeling up and down the curve of her waist.
Annabelle drew back suddenly. Her eyes popped open and she stared up at me, wide-eyed and almost fearful. “Just what are you?” she whispered.
“Will you believe what I say to you?”
“No matter how outlandish or ‘impossible’ it seems?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“I am a vampire.”
Before she could react I swooped down and kissed her again.
Her hands were all over me, roaming, exploring, groping, caressing.
“Take me,” she whispered. “Take me.”
I looked deep into her eyes. “Perhaps we ought to retire to my bedchambers,” I suggested. I stood and, in one swift motion, scooped Annabelle into my arms. The girl gasped and giggled lightly as she flung her arms around my neck. I carried her feather-light body out of the lounge and down the corridor. I carried her up the long spiral staircase to my chambers at the top of my manor. William, panting slightly from the ascent, scurried forward to open the door for me. Annabelle turned her head to look at the room as we entered. I heard a soft gasp.
Like all other rooms in my home, my bedchambers were opulent and extravagantly decorated. I chose a blood-red motif for this particular room, accented with heavy mahogany wood. The centrepiece of the room was my bed, a massive structure framed by four posts and an ornately carved mahogany headboard. Scarlet drapes hung above the bed, waiting to close the bed-room from the world. I carried Annabelle to the bed and lay her gently in the middle. As I leaned over her for a kiss, I drew the curtains shut around us.
I deftly shrugged out of my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. I moved with a quickness the dull human couldn’t comprehend, and she stared up at my blankly as I stripped before her.
“Oh,” she breathed when I was naked from the waist up.