Nectar: DD Prince (15 page)

He rose from the table, “Be right back.” He fetched his phone from the floor and swiped at it as he left the room, his head down, shoulders slumped.

She sat quietly for a moment, contemplative. Then she refilled her glass and took it into the closet and turned the light on and began to rifle through the box of clothes. She found a pair of cheap black thong flip flops, her favourite flip flops. She sighed, remembering buying them at a beach kiosk last summer on an outing with Daisy and a few other neighbors from the building. They’d all chipped in and rented a van and spent the day on Wasaga Beach, the night at the midway, eating junk food, drinking beer and vodka coolers, and people-watching, and then camped out at a campsite near the beach. It had been one of the few carefree days she’d had in a very long time.  Could she have more days like that with bumper cars and cotton candy and giggles? Probably not, not if she lived with a vampire and wasn’t allowed to leave his bedroom.

She put the $5 flip flops on and stepped out onto the balcony with her wineglass.  Everything was dark, except for a few dim lights around the pool. It was a starry night and the aroma of all the flowers in the courtyard together with the near quiet, just the sound of the pool pump, was relaxing. She inhaled the scent and tried to clear her head. Across the way she saw a light go on in a room directly opposite her.

It prompted a light bulb moment. The balcony wrapped around ¾ of the courtyard’s second floor. She knew that just this suite and the other bedroom were in this wing of the house so it stood to reason that there was at least one more way to the staircase off the rooms on the other side. Maybe
that
entrance was not gated. If she got over there when he was asleep maybe she could get out of the house.

She narrowed her eyes, sucked on her lower lip, and drummed on the balcony railing with her fingertips, wondering if the terrace doors on that side were unlocked. There were a few sets of them at each of 3 junctions of the inside of second floor balcony. She expected that they would be, given that this door and the guest room’s terrace door had been unlocked.

She thought of his face as they’d looked into one another’s eyes in bed a little while ago. She thought about all the emotion that had oozed out of her.  She felt a stabbing pain in her chest and a longing.

For what? Him?

She shook herself back to reality. No. This couldn’t be; it couldn’t be her reality. Pleading with a vampire to bite her? Obviously she must be slipping in and out of hypnosis. Moments of clarity and then moments of weakness? Back and forth like a seesaw. It was the only thing that made sense.

She had to go. Regardless of how he’d made her feel earlier she couldn’t just succumb to this fate, this blood slave prison. Surely her life had to be about more than the physical attraction with him. Eventually he’d get tired of her. What then? How would he make sure she wasn’t out there with his secret? She already felt like she was losing herself, knew she was doing things that didn’t make sense.  She had to make this end before it ended badly for her. She had to get her head back on straight. Getting away from him would probably be the key to that and if what had happened earlier tonight was an indication of the power he had over her she’d better get out of here soon before she totally fell under his spell.

Every time he was near her Kyla’s common sense seemed like it disintegrated. Princess? Calling her that hit a trigger for her, a big one, that being the nickname she’d dreamt of being called since a little girl, since before she’d become so skeptical of love, by whatever man would be her soul mate. She couldn’t let her common sense vacate like this. She
had
to try to get out of here.

She dashed back into the closet to see if there might be running shoes in there with her belongings.  Ten minutes later she’d rifled quickly through all the boxes and hadn’t found any other pairs of shoes. She was no Imelda Marcos but she owned several pairs of shoes. So where were they all?

She took a pair of yoga pants and a black hooded sweatshirt and stuffed them under the bed with her flip flops and then changed quickly into a pair of pink cotton Hello Kitty sleeping shorts and a pink tank top that had been with her things. It would be better than sleeping naked beside him, unless he ripped them to shreds like her other clothing, and would serve as underclothes when she left with the sweats. She climbed into the bed, her heart thudding wildly. She felt like she was doing something awful, like she was about to make a mistake. But she had to try to get out of here. She couldn’t just be a victim. Staying would be allowing herself to be a victim.

Right?

She growled in frustration. Almost everything inside her head told her that she had to run. This wasn’t her world. She wasn’t even meant to even know about its existence. If she weren’t some freak of nature she wouldn’t be what he’d called lucid, wouldn’t have a clue. She’d be back home, living her ‘not much of a’ life.

She’d never have remembered feeling those intense blue eyes burn through her, never felt those teeth on her, and never felt these feelings inside of her.  A part of her wanted to say
fuck it
and see where this thing with them could go. She’d never felt like this about anyone. This feeling, this connection, this attraction --- she couldn’t reconcile it in her head. It had to be wrong. It had to be. She shook the feelings off with another frustrated “Grrrr.”

Yep, this was emotion at its finest; it fucked you up and made you weak. It had never equated to anything positive for her. But then again, it had never felt quite like this before, either.

She hoped that he would be back soon, fall asleep, and then she could try and get it over with and find out if the balcony was, truly, a way out. She tried to calm herself down, taking a few deep breaths. She found a TV remote on the side of the bed Tristan favoured and flicked on the television that was mounted over the fireplace directly ahead. She needed something to zone out with and just quiet her anxiety down for the next little while.

She flicked through mindless late night TV for a few hours, not able to lose herself in any of the storylines. They all seemed beyond ridiculous, irritating to her, even. She used to love to zone out in front of the TV for a few hours after her shift at the bar but not now. It all seemed too trivial given her present circumstances.

She’d watched about an hour of news and there were no missing persons reports about her, of course. She felt so restless. She really wanted to try to see if she could get through to another part of the house but knew it would be foolish to try now when he could very likely be over there in that room where the light had gone on.

What if those were Joe’s or Sam’s rooms, if they lived here? What if there were others in the house, too? She pushed the thoughts out. She had to at least try but would wait until Tristan was asleep. She got up and glanced out the window again. The light across the way was still on.

She’d pretend to be asleep when he came in so that he would hopefully ignore her and just go to sleep. What happened earlier still nagged at her but she kept pushing it back, not ready to put any more thought into what had happened, what she’d felt. She still felt so raw after falling apart and decided to push all of that to be reviewed later. She didn’t want stay stuck in her own head, in her angst, analyzing all of that. She was more than accustomed to pushing feelings away. Hopefully soon she would be out of here with no need to review all of those emotions at all. Ever.

It felt like an eternity before she finally heard the door opening. She quickly turned so that her back would be facing his side of the bed and pulled the blankets up so that they shielded most of her face from view. She tried to keep her breathing as steady as possible.

She heard Tristan go into the bathroom. During the time he was in there her heart felt like it pumped in her throat. He was there for a few minutes and she heard the shower and then heard shuffling of him getting in beside her. He moaned and pulled her back against him, spooning her. She ignored that her heartbeat was picking up tempo and tried to feign sleeping. It wasn’t easy. He smelled like shampoo but also like toothpaste and chocolate, creating a mint chocolate chip aroma. She could feel his erection against her backside.

Not again.

His mouth was on the back of her neck and he was inhaling her scent, burying his nose into her hair. His hand was on her stomach. He whispered her name and told her she smelled so good.

She intentionally stirred, pulling away to try to make herself seem like she was in a deep sleep and annoyed by his touch. She could feel his breath on her neck, could smell how sweet it was. He pressed his pelvis against her backside and gyrated,

“Baby…”

She squirmed away from him and tried to make her breathing sound heavier.

He moved in closer again, “Can’t get enough of you.”

Why wouldn’t he just…STOP? She wanted to scream. She was on the edge of the bed and felt like she was on the edge of madness. There was no place to fucking go.

She felt his teeth graze the middle of her back, then her backside. She knew his fangs were out. Okay, she couldn’t possibly pretend to sleep through this.

“I’m tired, Tristan,” she said, then winced, wishing she hadn’t said his name.

He groaned and ran his tongue slowly from her spine straight up her back and then his mouth was at her ear. The sound and the heat of his breathing, together, made her belly dip. Then his lips trailed kissed from her shoulder, down her arm to her hip. Then suddenly his teeth were against her hip and his hand slid from behind, between her legs and cupped possessively, “I need you, Kyla. Mmmm, hello kitty.” He chuckled, clearly pleased with his use of the double entendre. He must have the eyesight of a cat! He was, after all, a ‘creature’ of the night.

“Ouch!” she yelped as his teeth punctured her hip. She wanted to protest and tried to clamp her legs shut and shove his hand away but he flipped her onto her back and started to pull at her clothes. He licked her hip and then moved down to her inner thigh and pierced near where he had first bit her. He pushed the crotch of her shorts aside and started to push a finger, then multiple fingers into her while rubbing her clit with his thumb. For a second he stopped drinking and slithered his tongue inside her, then went back to feeding. She stopped fighting and felt her eyes roll toward the back of her head. He started to grab at the waistband of her shorts. She lifted her bottom so he could get them off. Better than him shredding them.

Will he eventually drain me dry? Screw me to death?

As per the new usual, her body didn’t care what her mind had to say. She knew at this point she couldn’t make him stop but she wanted to not feel him, not feel this…this emotion. She begged her brain to tune out the feelings and sensations.

But maybe she’d get away tonight and it would be the last time she’d be with him. It felt like something pierced her heart. She felt her eyes well up with tears and a stabbing pain in her chest while a rawness flooded her stomach. Why did the idea of never seeing him or feeling him again suddenly cause pain like this, cause an aching gaping hole in her gut?

He was staring at her like she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, drinking from her with an appreciation in his eyes as if she was giving him a gift. He caressed her throughout the process, worshipping her body.  Peacefulness or something like that was trying to overtake her emotions. It was bizarre, like a war raging in her brain.

“Please stop fighting. Ignore that nagging doubt, baby.”

She furrowed her brows.

He moved up to nuzzle her neck, “Every time I taste you, you taste even better. How is this possible? I keep thinking you can’t possibly taste any better, but then I taste you again and you do.”

Then it felt like she was going to explode, like fireworks, shattering like tiny countless splinters, then popping into a zillion specks of light raining into the night sky. It was like the spot he sucked was now full of the same nerves as what was directly between her legs. His teeth were transforming whatever they punctured into an erogenous zone.

Kyla was gasping for air, totally winded, feeling dizzy as she floated back to solid ground. He climbed up her body and slid inside of her.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moaned into her ear and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, his tongue probing and twirling around hers. Chocolate fudge brownies. The best chocolate fudge brownies ever.

Ever!

Then he pulled out, flipped her over onto her stomach and then yanked at her hips and pulled her rear end into the air. He drove deep inside of her from behind, running his hand from her hip upwards to her breasts and then landing on her throat. His fingertips skated back and forth along the puncture wounds as he pumped in and out. It was so deep, so full, Kyla felt like her eyes were rolling into the back of her head again. She was already so raw and sore down there, with their multiple times daily escapades, but this was sweet, sweet pain.

He put fingers back to her clit and twirled it around and around it. It felt like her clit was pulsing. She soon detonated into an almost painful orgasm and she heard herself cry out his name. His name just wanted to tumble off her tongue, to please him, and that was such a bizarre feeling. She bucked back against him, wanting to feel him deeper, despite the feeling of being on fire down there.

Brainwashed? Oh, who the fuck cares? My kitty is going to fall the fuck off! But this feels soooo good…