Page 110 of Even Vampires Bleed
I also feel fucking good.
So focused on my pleasure, I didn’t pay attention to the rest of my body, but now it occurs to me that I feel rested and even energized.
I feel great.
I don’t know if it’s from sleeping in the same bed as Cassiopé or if it’s that morning orgasm, but I haven’t felt good like this in days.
Slowly, I smile to myself.
It’s going to be a good day. As soon as the thought comes to my mind, my cock starts growing hard again, and I know I’m going to need a cold shower if I want to survive another day.
I need to talk to Cassiopé.
I think.
It’s barely been over a week since we arrived here, and I already feel like I’m losing my mind.
Sometimes I feel like she’s staring at me with need in her eyes and other times with fear. When she doesn’t know that I’m looking, it’s like her guard gets down for just a second and then her eyes are nothing but ice, and I keep telling myself that I must have imagined it.
I don’t know what to do or what to think.
I’d love to say that I’ve never been good with women, but I can’t remember and it’s also killing me.
I need to know if there is a chance my attraction isn’t just one sided.
I need to know so I can kill this need in the egg or I’m going to go mad at the idea that maybe there is a chance that this could happen—that there is a chance Cassiopé is even slightly attracted to me.
With a sigh, I sit on my side of the bed with my feet on the ground and look at my shirt.
It’s ruined, but I hide it in the side pocket of my bag.
I can’t do that with my laundry next week. I don’t think I would feel okay handing that to Angélique or whoever will come and bring the mattress.
Because if we keep sleeping in the same bed, and if I keep being left to my own designs every morning afterward, I can see this happening again.
Well, for the next five days.
Then I’ll have my own mattress.
Then I’ll have my own bed, without Cassiopé in it.
58
Cassiopé
I’m bored.
Well, not completely. But what I like to do is ogle the bird shifter currently stuck with me in a tiny house, and if I do that all the time. He's going to notice and think I’m a weirdo.
I gave up the idea that I stopped being attracted to him when he lost his memory.
He might not be exactly the same, but I like this new person too.
But I still need to find something to do.
Because—obviously—reading next to him has dramatically not functioned so far.
I’ve been reading the same book for three days.
