Indeed, Thorne heard her. The depth of her whispered passion found him and he fought the urge to return to her balcony, to beg her to open the glass and let him in. But he hadn't let her open the glass because he wanted something more. He didn't want her to be another victim. She stirred feelings so deep inside him that he had streaked home, heading straight for his room and hiding under the covers. Still, her words had found him and the connection left him breathless.
"You can hear me, can't you?"
He tried to ignore the sweet strains of her voice but his heart wouldn't let him. Somehow, she had found out how to use the connection that he had created and a flood of warmth raised goosebumps on his skin, making him hiss with need.
"Oh, yes! I can feel you!"
"Please stop."
He pleaded, throwing the covers aside and letting the cool night air caress his rock-hard cock.
"I can't take it."
"It's your fault."
Her voice tickled in the corners of his mind.
"You started this."
She laughed and the brightness of her soul seared him with its beauty.
"Now I'm going to finish it."
"Sammi, don't … "
His entire body shuddered in concert with hers.
"Too late."
Their connection was so strong that he could see her and he groaned, his hand encircling his purpled cock and stroking it gently. She was laying on her bed, the white silk robe carelessly tossed to the side. Her strawberry-blonde hair hung in an autumnal cascade over the edge of the bed, her fair skin pink in the soft light. He gasped.
"Do you see me?"
Thorne could not respond. The breath refused to leave his lungs as he stroked his thick pole, using the copious pre-cum to lubricate the heated skin. His fingers moved down, circling around to give the heavy balls a squeeze, then slid back up to the head and gave it a hard squeeze.
"Sammi, please … "
"You
do
see me!"
"I see you. I smell you … "
"You smell me? Do you smell my pussy?"
He groaned, inhaling deeply. He could fly blindly and find her by that scent.
"Oh, yes."
"And do you want to taste it?"
Again, Thorne groaned. The visual was just too much for him to stand. It had been …
how many years?
… since he'd had human contact. He'd been a vampire for nigh on seven hundred years and he could never remember actually falling in love, wanting to be with one person. He'd had plenty of relationships before but no one had touched him like this.
"Yes."
"Oh, please. Tell me your name."
"No."
"Yes. Tell me or never visit me again."
"My name is … Thorne."
"Thorne … "The weight of his name on her tongue floored him once again, making him shiver.
"Oh, Thorne, my pussy is wet. I want to cum so badly. Mmmm … "
She dipped her fingers into her honeypot and held them to her nose, inhaling deeply.
"Smell that?"
His cock throbbed in his fist as her womanly essences filled his nostrils. She was so ripe, so ready for his assault that he could barely think straight.
"Sammi, I … "
She slid her fingers around her fat, wet pussy lips, stroking them softly and drawing a lazy circle around her rippling hole. Thorne felt the electrical pulses as they streaked through her body and blasted into him. He groaned loudly, his muscles tightening in response. His aching cock twitched again, the fountain of pre-cum steadily pooling in the wide slit and sliding over his rigid flesh. As her fingers slipped into her well-lubed hole, his fist moved up and down, sending a storm of tingles raining onto his body.
"Oh, yes, Thorne … "
Her voice was sultry and breathless, her desire riding her hard as circling fingers plunged deep, temporarily robbing her of her senses and catapulting her closer and closer to her climax. He felt her need as keenly as he felt his own: dark, deep and enduring and his hand moved a bit faster, gripping harder and lengthening the strokes.
"Sammi!"
The heat of her ardor sparked his vampiric nature and his canines elongated, fueled by the passion in his blood.
"Don't!"
She didn't heed his warning and he was lost to the sensations of her climax, mingled with his own release. Just as her pussy clamped around her fingers, a thick string of semen spurted from his tortured prick, spraying his chest once, twice, three times.
His eyes were filled with the rubescence of blood and it was several minutes before he returned to present time, to the sun cracking the dark shell of the sky and allowing the golden yolk to flow over the world below. His fangs retracted as his bloodlust cleared and he laid silently, his heart still pounding, the turgid flow of his blood pulsating through his now-flaccid cock.
"Good night, Thorne."
*****
A few hours later, when the morning sun beat a path to Sammi's bedroom and the alarm clock blared U2, the newswoman was pulling into the parking lot of Channel 5, her eyes bright and her latte steaming. Within moments, she'd passed the security checkpoint and was striding into the newsroom, news director Jacob Whiting following her like a dog in heat.
"Where the hell have you been, Sam? I've been trying to call you for the last two hours."
"I was at home, sleeping, Jake. I would have answered the phone if you'd have called."
"I did call. I called seven times. You never answered."
Sammi shrugged her shoulders, hiding the questions she was asking herself. Normally, she was a light sleeper. Could that dream she had have anything to do with it? "Maybe the battery died." She grinned and took a swallow of her coffee. "How's Mary?"
"Fine. She called earlier to thank you and I told her that you'd call when you got in."
"Good."
"And there's something else." His usually enthusiastic face turned somber. "There was a murder last night."
"A murder?"
"Yeah. Just a few blocks west of where you were. Did you hear anything last night?"
Sammi thought for a long moment. Something was attempting to rise to the surface but bobbed lazily under the waters. "No. We finished up and left."
"Well, a middle-aged man was found dead in an alleyway and his throat was ripped out."
