Authors Ramblings?: Thank you for being here, I really appreciate it and enjoy that you have enjoyed the story this far. I hope that I can hit the mark for you.
One thing that always bugged me in action movies, was the guy who was just doing his job, usually dies. Like the helicopter pilot that was just contracted out to fly a client, killed by the 'good guy' and everyone cheers. When literally that guy was just doing his job and was probably innocent and just paid to fly the 'bad guy' to another city.
There are these people that just signed up for a job to put food on the table, and when they're killed it's kinda like 'Meh' and no one cares.
In the last story, I talked about how being close to Veronica, felt like pointing a loaded gun at your own head. I actually got that analogy from a friend who was sexually assaulted and did it because he no longer felt like a man, the way he screamed it at me made it where I could feel it as well. I could grasp that feeling, as if I was doing it, I didn't think he was crazy for telling me that. He was just so hurt.
When Pertas trying to explain who the Blackstars are, the Tallhee can't grasp the thought of someone having so much money that they have power. I'm American, and when colonizers came here, they couldn't understand how native Americans had no interest in currency. To the natives it made no sense, the thought of having money, they just couldn't grasp it or why the white man was so intent on getting so much. And I just thought that was really, beautiful. (?) I'm not trying to sound poetic, I just can't think of a better word.
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Authors important note: I'm trying not to break your immersion, so like last time '......' is the end of this chapter, we're moving to a different point of view or a different setting. '~' is musical, singing or saying a word with melody. '*' or '*xxxxx* is remembering, this one is important and I struggled with figuring out how to write a few parts, when you see that symbol, that's a memory or flash of recollection. I really hope this helps and appreciate you reading this part.
AUTHORS WARNING: there is gore in this story, not sexualized though.
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Scowling fire expecting the worst, but receiving his best. So hurt and alone, but finding the company shared was healing them both. Fervent red hands, gasping human lips, tears falling as the thought of hate was silenced.
Screaming pain returning, and with it a mothers love.
A promise.
Fear.
Hope for something better.
Gifts given to ones who had stolen, a name, why was it so heavy?
To consume, to fill and feast with ravishing fang, not out of gluttony. But hunger.
Life comes with blood and screams, with snarled maw and crippling pain.
But death comes with a kiss.
......
"I'm surprised you called me here." Savanna said in a husky tone, in truth; she knew it would lead to this. He had been growing bolder by the day it seemed. Longer looks at her body, his hands finding reasons to touch her. Even if it was only the slightest graze of flesh, she could see he was desperate for it.
But she couldn't lord it over him too much, because she wanted it as well, the way he kept himself so lean. It seemed to tease her insatiable appetite for him, forbidden fruit that was so close. She wondered if it made her as bad as the heiress of the estate, looking at the scars that adorned his body. Like a cloak of resilience to the world around him, it made her heart twist inside when she saw him unguarded.
His war-torn skin, exposing himself to inspect his wounds in the sunlight that spilled through the windows. The muscles of his torso stretching and writhing under what could be seen as battle-hardened flesh. The pain in his eyes, was it due to her? Her being just out of reach, so close yet he couldn't dare lay a finger on her.
Savanna bit her lip, feeling her chest flush with heat as she understood why he called her here tonight. Veronica was out for the evening, and now was his chance to strike. He yearned for the hips of a real woman, eyes that weren't so wicked they would see him as a worthless dog. But as the man he obviously was, it was abundantly apparent.
The head just visible under the pants he wore, swollen with desire as he tried to play coy. He wanted it, but he couldn't be the first to act, did he want to see her beg? Was he so mistreated by Veronica demanding his attention that his soul needed to see a woman try and gain his affection. A wanting partner to try and take the heiresses breeding stud for a ride on this silent night.
Savanna looked out of the window, seeing the sun kissing the horizon, the light it cast on the walls looked to burn the room down. A scorching orange that had to match the heat of her loins, this was her night, her chance before it slipped away. Pushing a wild strand of curly hair out of the way, she looked at his blue eyes that pierced right through her.
"I know why you called me here, Peter."
She watched him cross the room, a mix of bashful hesitance trying to be masked by dominating male bravado. She felt a shiver run up her spine, like he was determined to truly wreck her, his resolve just as hard as his balled up fists.
She gasped as Peter invited himself into her personal space, pushing her up against the dresser with no escape. She wished she would've been better dressed for the occasion, wearing her simple black tactical pants and button up shirt. But she did switch to a more appealing set of lingerie underneath, hoping to drive him wild as he unwrapped his present for the night.
His greedy hands reached for her, carefully at first, touching her sides and seeming to memorize her toned figure. Then when she didn't push him away, they made their way behind her, feeling her back and hungry for her supple cheeks.
But she couldn't let him move too quickly, she wanted something from him, something that always tugged at her heart strings. Looking at his pouty lips she moved her face to him, touching her lips to his and relishing in the comforting heat they provided. Soft and delicate, as if he didn't want to hurt her, she felt him shiver and look away. Catching a shiny tear at the edge of his glaring eye, trying to hide how needed the comforting touch was.
"Peter." Savanna said delicately, touching a hand to his cheek, "Don't hide it, I won't let you go."
She watched him take her hand in his, trying to blink away the tears still, moving in for more. More intimacy, meshing their lips to one another with dancing tongues coming together. She felt him pulling her to the bed, taking the initiative she pushed him the rest of the way. Letting him fall onto it as she straddled him, not wanting to lose the taste of his lips as she kept sampling him.
She paused for only a moment, trying to unzip her boots as quickly as possible and kick them off. Her pants fell next, the thick belt adorned with her accessories of security hitting the granite floor with a sharp crack. She quickly yanked open her shirt, security badge flying to the side as the lanyard held it to her body. Letting him witness her heavy tits jostle in the lace lingerie. Then pouncing on him again, staring into Peter Hammersteads panting face as he drank her in. His for the night, his to do whatever he wanted with before the morning sun cut them apart again.
"Please, Savanna." He moaned, taking her wrists in his hands and pulling them.
