Page 22 of Stolen By the Demon

“What year is it now?” Blanche asked quietly.

“It’s 2025,” I replied.

“So I’m…”

“Over four hundred and thirty years old,” I confirmed.

“I don’t remember any of this… What happened to me during all this time?”

I had an idea, but I wasn’t about to share it with her yet, afraid to send her already turmoiled mind spiraling. Someone could only digest so much at one time, and I suspected she was at her limit.

Little cracks showed in her skin because she was stressed out. Her body was using up the little blood I had fed her faster than it usually would.

“Why am I so… thirsty?” she asked in a scratchy voice.

“You need to drink something, Blanche.” I tried to gently ease her into the inevitable.

“But… just the thought of water or wine turns my stomach.” She looked at me, pleading from bloodred eyes that didn’t resemble my Blanche at all.

“Trust me?” I asked, pulling the sleeve of my shirt up to expose my wrist.

Her head tilted questioningly. “Always,” she said but looked dubiously as I pulled out a knife.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust your instinct, okay, Blanche?” I said, raking the sharp edge of the knife over my skin. Blood quelled instantly.

“Devon, no!” she cried, but her eyes were glued to my wrist.

I swallowed dryly even though my mouth seemed to water. The sight of his blood was… was… I licked my lips. A craving spread that appalled and scared me as much as it pulled me in like a magnet.

“You need to feed, Blanche,” he said, holding his wrist up. “Take it.”

“N-oho,” I protested even as I slid forward.

His hand moved. My nostrils flared, and the scent of his blood made me dizzy with desire.

He brushed the finger of his other hand over the wound, brought it up to my lips, and smeared them with it. A groan escaped me. I snatched his finger, sucked it into my mouth, and licked every last drop. Nothing had ever tasted this good.

Now, it was Devon’s turn to groan. He closed his eyes, and a shudder moved through him. “Come, little flame, drink.”

He moved his wrist up, and primal greed overtook me. It compared to nothing I had ever experienced before. With a hiss, I grabbed his wrist with both my hands and brought it up to my mouth. When I licked my lips, I realized that my teeth had changed into… fangs, it should have disturbed me, but the moment my lips made contact with Devon’s blood, I began to suck and my mind turned off. Greedily, I drank his blood in gulping swallows and felt my body’s energies restore.

“That’s it,” Devon moaned, and I realized he was aroused. His hips bucked, and his hard, erect manhood was outlined against the material of his pants.

Seeing him like this sent quivers through my loins, and a pulse grew in my clit. For a moment, I saw myself riding him, latched on to his neck, and felt a nearly orgasmic shudder rake my body.

I felt him gently trying to pull his wrist back. I let go, but only to snarl and hiss at him. The reaction startled him more than me, but he threw his head back and laughed. His free hand caressed my face. “My ferocious little flame.”

The caress and the sound of his voice brought me back to myself. Shamed, I stared at him. The blood coming out of his wound slowed to a tickle.

“Lick your fangs, Blanche, then my wrist,” Devon encouraged.

My tongue darted to my fangs, and I tasted something bitter dripping from them; I spread it over the open wound on his wrist and watched in astonishment as it instantly closed. The need to keep licking every last drop of blood still clinging to his flesh turned out to be stronger than my shame and horror. But when another groan escaped him, I looked up into the face of a man who wanted me.

I was already wet, and I definitely wasn’t the virgin I had thought myself to be yesterday morning. Still dressed only in my towel, it was easy to discard it, standing naked before him.

He was already loosening his belt, freeing his hard cock as it bobbed against his shirt.

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