Page 93 of Even Vampires Bleed
Which is a blessing, because the only shower is inside the room she was sleeping in.
And this isn’t my first shower since we arrived.
It’s the first I can take at normal temperature though.
I’m not a masochist, but I had no other choice with her in the room.
She might have been passed out, but I wasn’t going to do what I’m about to do now.
My brain might have been dizzy with the smell of her in such close quarters, but I would never do that while she is unconscious.
If she’s awake and wants to watch now… That would be completely different.
It’s with this thought on my mind that I reach for my cock.
I’m already hard.
I was already hard by the time I went through the door of the bedroom.
From freaking holding hands. Maybe it was just the reminder of how I felt when she was drinking from me, or maybe it’s been too long since I’ve fucked something other than my hands. The result is the same, though.
I proposed to help in the kitchen, but all I could think about was bending Cassiopé over the oven—without turning it on—and losing myself inside of her.
Except, I don’t think she would take it kindly now.
I’ll have to satisfy myself with my imagination then.
I turn on the shower and pour a bit of liquid soap in my hand, before lathering my whole body—might as well get cleaned while I’m here—and finish by grabbing my cock.
I bend under the water and let it fall on the back of my neck while I hold myself against the wall with the other hand.
I start moving up and down around my cock, imagining Cassiopé’s eyes on me. If it was real, I would take my time and tease her with the sight, but I already feel like I’m about to explode so instead my movements grow frantic quickly and all I can see in my mind are those damn lips of hers parting for me.
I accelerate. My breathing grows heavy, and I imagine those lips sliding around my cock as I pump inside her mouth. And that’s when it happens.
I come with a silent scream and sag against the wall, my head against my forearm.
And all too fast, it’s already over.
I count my blessings though because I know she is waiting for me to cook our dinner, and I’m thankful she’s willing to show me, because those three days feel like I finally got to experience kids’ food. I can’t wait for it to change.
Even if I’m actually ravenous for something else now.
47
Cassiopé
Léandre comes back to the kitchen after a while, and I realize I heard nothing through the walls, not even the water falling from the shower.
I could get used to that level of phonic insulation.
He helps me crush the potatoes once they are boiled. We add a little milk, and then we cook the meat together with the onions and garlic—meat that we had to cut in tiny pieces by ourselves because there was no way to make it into ground beef in this kitchen, and that’s how I needed it.
He adds the carrots—in small pieces, too—while I keep turning the wooden spoon inside the pan. Then he adds the tomato, and he shows me how to reduce the intensity. I let it cook for five minutes before I transfer the mix into a glass container and cover with the mashed potatoes and some cheese—I’m not supposed to put any, but there was cheese in the cooler and everything is always better with cheese.
We put everything in the oven and…
Now what do we do?
