Meet Elvis, aka Preston...
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POSSESSED BY A VAMPIRE
by Susan Griscom
© Susan Griscom, 2017
~ Lily ~
Press handed me a tumbler of something golden brown and I sniffed. Whiskey.
“I love this suite. Did you decorate it?”
He grinned. “Yes. And I hired someone. Come, let’s sit.”
I followed him to another sofa. This one was cream-colored and soft and plush, though it had no backing, just high, comfy-looking side arms graced with several small pillows of different shades of blue. I was beginning to get the distinct feeling that blue was Preston’s favorite color, or maybe it was just because it all went together so well. We sat facing a large picture window all drenched in blue light beaming down from the ceiling, giving way to a gorgeous view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the city lights of Tiburon across the bay. I couldn’t help but stare at the way the blue light changed the coloring of my hands and Preston’s face. It was very easy on the eyes, as well as romantic.
Press took a sip of his drink then set the glass down on the table beside him. “I was holding off asking what’s so important that you needed privacy, hoping you’d decide to start talking, but it seems you are either too wrapped up in my furnishings, or you’re scared to tell me. I’m guessing it’s the latter.”
He gently grabbed my hand, took the drink from my other one, and set it down, urging me closer to him. As I gazed into his dark eyes, a golden glow growing in them, I had a sad thought that this might be the last time I ever got a chance to be with him. Taking a chance like this was just too dangerous and I never knew when Dorian or his watchdogs would discover my whereabouts. But here we were now, alone in a bedroom made for romance and this was an opportunity I shouldn’t waste.
I’d spent too many years being afraid of the consequences of my actions and there was no one I’d rather defy Dorian with than Preston.
“I don’t want to talk,” I said and leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. He took over, and as my lips parted, welcoming him, he slipped his tongue in. Taking me, possessing me the way I wanted to be possessed. With affection, desire, and an undertone of urgency neither of us could deny. I didn’t feel owned or branded as someone’s belonging with Preston. I didn’t feel as if I were with him out of obligation to protect someone else. I just enjoyed him . . . this to the fullest. Every touch, every kiss was new. The sensations he brought to life inside of me made me realize what it felt like to live. Preston made me feel alive again. The realization, the feeling of being fully desired took over completely, and I clenched my legs together as heat gathered at my core.
“Are you sure, Lily?” Preston broke the kiss to ask as he trailed small, quick kisses down my neck and over the tops of my breasts.
“Yes. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
“I’ve needed to touch you for so long. I’m not sure I could stop now.”
His mouth caressed mine again; his tongue sliding over my lips in a sensual glide before slipping into my mouth. His kiss sent scorching heat through my veins. His hand roamed my thigh and moved up. The beat of my heart quickened and pounded against my chest. Or was that his? Maybe it was both. Two hearts beating as one.
When his fingers slipped beneath my skirt and inside my panties, I gasped at the unexpected pleasure as his forefinger found my clit, and I bucked my hips a little toward him for more. I couldn’t get enough. I startled at the sensation of my fangs elongating. A sexual stimulation I’d never experienced before. I caught sight of Preston’s face. He smiled, showing me his fangs. We were instantly on our feet, and it was suddenly so warm.
“Too many clothes,” I huffed out as I struggled with his shirt, and he unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to the floor. He shrugged out of his shirt, and I splayed my hands over his taut chest. His muscles were so defined. He pulled my top over my head. I had no bra. I never wore one. Even though I was over a hundred years old, my breasts were exactly the same as they had been when I was twenty, the age I was when Dorian changed both my brother and me.
The frenzy stopped for a minute, and Preston gathered me in his arms, cradling me with tenderness as he walked us over to the large bed covered with a puffy, midnight-blue down comforter. When he laid me across the bed, I sank down several inches into the covers, and I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I laughed. He took hold of my hands and pulled me to stand once more at the edge of the bed as he squatted in front of me, tugging my panties down to the floor. Lifting my foot up to his lips, he kissed the inside of my ankle and continued pressing little kisses all the way up the inside of my leg until he reached my core. Then his fingers dipped inside my folds.