––––––––
It was just like quitting smoking.
That’s what people didn’t seem to realize. If you wanted to give up blood and you had a hell of a lot of willpower, you could do it. It wasn’t easy. Hell, it was probably the hardest thing Byron had ever done, but it was possible.
Vampire stories were so romanticized. All that undead stuff, the melodrama of addiction, the eroticism, the homoeroticism wasn’t what life was like for Byron, even if he was gay. Well, bi, actually. His boyfriend Tyler was always on him about bi invisibility and how they shouldn’t let people think they were gay just because they were two guys who loved each other. Byron didn’t care so much what people thought, but for Tyler’s sake he corrected their mistakes. Sometimes.
Well, okay, maybe part of the reason he let people assume he was gay was that it helped in his profession. If you’re styling a woman’s hair and she’s sitting there thinking you’re gay, she’ll open up to you like crazy. It makes the job way easier. Tell her you’re bi and suddenly she’s wondering why you mentioned it at all. Are you hitting on her? What’s the deal?
So often Byron let sleeping dogs lie. No skin off his ass.
And then along came Amy and everything changed.
Everything.
From the moment she said hi and he caught that tilted little smile on her blood red lips, he knew no amount of willpower could save him. She sat at his station with her hair freshly washed, wispy black strands sticking to her pale neck. Her skin was so white it was almost blue, and she reminded him of a flapper girl in a black and white movie. She would be his undoing. He knew that from the start.
“What did you have in mind?” Byron asked as he unfastened the towel from around her head. A mass of black hair splashed across her shoulders, shimmering like oil.
“Classic bob.” Her lips curved into that crooked smile he loved already. “Straight lines and a fringe. Like Cleopatra.”
“Cleopatra,” Byron replied, because his mind was too muddled to say anything else.
Amy glanced around Byron’s station as he combed her hair. She looked for a long time at the picture of him and Tyler at Halloween when they’d both dressed like Bowie. Most people stole glances, but Amy actually stared.
“Is that your boyfriend?”
Byron nodded, watching their reflections in the mirror. For some damn reason, instead of saying yes he said, “We’re bi. Both of us, me and him. Both bi.”
What an idiot.
Amy giggled, and there was something in the timbre of her amusement that made Byron want to see under her black salon smock. Not that he wanted to see her naked, not in that moment. He wanted to see what her clothes looked like. Something poofy. He could tell by the way her smock billowed up at the front. If she had crinolines on he’d give himself to her then and there. Hell, he’d let the whole salon watch.
“Are you going to cut?” Amy asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“Cut?”
Her eyes were huge and round like a dairy cow’s, dark and dreamy in the centre but with crisp, clear whites. Byron hadn’t met anyone like her, not since his days hanging out with other vamps. He craved blood just looking at her, and she seemed to know it.
“Or are you just going to comb it all afternoon?” Amy asked.
Byron chuckled, but he felt like the world’s biggest moron. “Cut your hair? Oh...”
Amy’s expression fell, just for a second, but long enough for Byron to spot it. “What else would you cut?” she asked with a snicker that seemed insincere. “You’re a hairstylist, aren’t you?”
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Byron struggled to centre himself. There was something about this girl that put him totally off kilter. Even as he started sectioning her hair, he didn’t know how he was going to cut with his blood pumping so hot in his veins. Christ, he could feel gushes of warmth every time he breathed. His heart circulated his own rushing red fluid, but the more he thought about it, the lonelier he felt. He wanted someone else’s blood inside of him. He wanted Amy’s.
He tried cutting her hair without looking at her, because every time he looked at her his heart went wild. The craving was back. He could feel it in his throat every time he swallowed: a thickness, a warmth, a need very much like lust and yet somehow different. Byron thought about blood every day, but the recollection hadn’t been this physical in ages.
With each snip near the nape of her neck, he imagined opening his shears and pressing them to her flesh, drawing blood. In his mind’s eye, he could see the precise shade of red she would bleed. He’d watch a droplet drizzle down the nape of her neck and then lean in and catch it with his tongue just before it could slip beneath the salon smock.
Byron struggled through the cut, dizzied by the ongoing fantasy of consumption. He’d had plenty of days like these back when he was first quitting blood, but there was something about Amy that rekindled his desire for it. He didn’t know quite what that was until after he’d finished the cut.
“Thank you,” she said, and when she handed him a tip, he caught sight of it.
Her wrist...
The scars, some faded, some fresh...
A cutter! No wonder Amy stirred up Byron’s blood lust. She was probably as focused on letting blood as he’d ever been on drinking it. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad for Byron. He took her money, but shuffled her out to reception as fast as he could. She dragged her feet all the way, obviously wanting a word with him, but he couldn’t handle it. If he couldn’t be around other vamps, he couldn’t be around cutters either. He’d kicked the habit. He was good now.
Even when Amy was gone, she was all Byron could think about. When he got home, he found Tyler in the kitchen. The first word out of his mouth was “Amy.” He told his boyfriend everything. No secrets between them. If he was tempted, Tyler would be the first to know.
“But you got through it,” Tyler said, always encouraging. “You got through the cut and you didn’t do anything stupid.”
Byron eyed the big knife his boyfriend was using to slice peppers. They’d gone veg after quitting blood, since eating animal flesh was too close a reminder. But, man oh man, a block of tofu didn’t hold a candle to a nice big slab of meat. No way. He pictured a filet mignon, just barely rare. He imagined slicing into it and watching the blood pool on a clean white plate. Oh god, he wanted that.
And then he thought about Amy and, god, he wanted that too.
“She was really pretty,” Byron said as he watched Tyler chop vegetables. “Like, vamp-pretty. She’d fit right in with our old friends.”
“So what?” Tyler snapped. “Stop thinking about her.”
Byron took a step back, leaning against the fridge. “Jeeze, I’m sorry, okay?”
Tyler held his pose for a moment, knife poised above an onion. He stared at Byron. Stared, his eyes so intense Byron could feel the fire in him. Finally, his shoulders fell and he shook his head, relenting, “It’s not the girl.”
“Then what is it?” Byron asked.
“It’s the blood.” Shaking his head, Tyler sliced into the onion and backed away from its intense aroma. “Look, I don’t want you starting up again with that stuff. We worked hard to kick the habit, and if you go back you’re making me choose...”
Tyler put the knife down.
“What?” Byron asked. “Choose what?”
Tyler started rattling around in the cupboards like he was looking for something. Turned away from Byron, he said, “I can’t stay with you if you start up with blood. I can’t go through that again.”
“What?” Byron scoffed, though he knew Tyler’s concern was well-founded. “Who ever said anything about going back to blood? I was just telling you about some girl I met. That’s all.”
“That’s not all,” Tyler growled, pulling a can of black beans from the cupboard. “Don’t start seeing her, man. You know where it’s gonna lead and it won’t be pretty.”
Byron slammed the flat of his hand against the fridge and propelled himself out of the kitchen. He headed toward the bedroom and then changed his mind. The bedroom was too close. He slipped on his shoes and picked up his keys while Tyler asked, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Out!” he shouted, and slammed the door.
“Out,” he kept thinking to himself as he left the building. He didn’t look back, not once. He was acting like such a little queen, he realized, but sometimes Tyler just pissed him the hell off. No, it wasn’t Tyler. He was just blaming his boyfriend for being right. Byron wanted blood. He wanted it so damn bad he could taste it on his tongue, like a hot, thick elixir.
“Byron!”
He turned, expecting to see Tyler chasing after him even though it wasn’t Tyler’s voice that had said his name. It was Amy’s voice. It was Amy.
“Hey, I found you,” she said.
“Yeah, I guess you did.” He was so surprised to see her he forgot to be nervous. And then he remembered. “Hey... hi... you look... wow!”
“Same as I did last time you saw me,” she said. “Your haircut. Your work.”
He nodded. “It looks good.”
Amy scrunched up her nose and turned around. “Not in the back, though. My roommate told me when I got home. It’s kind of crooked.”
Byron touched the tips of her hair, and the silky sensation against his fingers brought a surge of electricity through him. She was right. He’d really screwed up.
“How did you find me?” Byron asked, wondering at once if she was psychic as well as a cutter.
“I called the salon and asked for your address. They weren’t going to give it to me, but I said we used to be friends.”
“Oh.”
Amy walked a ways down the sidewalk, and settled on the ledge of the neighbouring building’s water feature. Her crinolines poofed up in front of her, and she folded her hands in her lap, waiting for Byron to sit at her side. The fountain at her back splashed up in the air like a geyser, creating a soothing water sound. He walked by this place every day and he’d never noticed how nice it was.
“So, how long since you quit the vampire life?” Amy asked.
Byron’s spine went straight. All his muscles tightened. “What... how did you...?”
“It’s obvious,” she said, and shrugged. For a while she stared at her hands, and Byron stared at them too—at the chipped black nail polish and the long sleeves covering her forearms. “I bet you think I’m one, too.”
“I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t want to sound accusatory or anything.
“I spent a couple years dabbling in the scene,” she admitted. “But there was something weird about me. That’s what everyone said. My blood wasn’t... it wasn’t like everyone else’s.”
Byron watched her kick the heels of her patent leather shoes against the base of the fountain. “What do you mean your blood’s not like everyone else’s?”
She glanced up at him and smiled, then lowered her eyes back down to her lap. “Some vamps would utterly drain me and say they felt nothing, like my blood was a non-alcoholic beer or something. They didn’t even get buzzed off it. Then people started getting better after drinking me week in, week out.”
“No...” Byron had heard of people like Amy, but he didn’t think they really existed.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m like a human nicotine patch. I’ve got the cure for bloodlust flowing through my veins.”
“How?” Byron asked.
“I don’t know.” She looked up at him, her eyes large and round, two dark pools of mystery. “I really don’t know how or why, but I know it works. If you want to kick your habit for good, I’m the girl to drink.”
Byron’s heart beat fast, too fast, too loud and too wild. “No, Amy, I’ve already kicked it. I haven’t had a sip in... years.”
“Except when you’ve relapsed behind your boyfriend’s back and tried to hide it from him, lied when he asked, ‘Is that blood on your breath?’ Overreacted to make him question himself. You’ve done all that, right?”
Suddenly Byron felt dizzy, like Amy had stolen his thoughts and he was left empty. “How did you know?”
She shrugged like this was all so simple. “I’ve seen it before. Now are you going to take me upstairs, or what?”
“Upstairs?” Byron couldn’t blame the girl for trying.
“To fix my hair,” she said. “It’s crooked, remember?”
“Oh.” He’d forgotten already, with all this blood talk.
“You have scissors at home?”
“Yeah, but my boyfriend,” he said. “Tyler’s up there and we just had a fight.”
“Introduce me.” She perked up, bouncing a little against the fountain’s edge. “If he’s as cute in real life as he was in that picture, I’m sure I won’t be able to think straight.”
Byron stood, though his legs felt like jello. “Tyler didn’t want me seeing you. You’ll need to explain to him, you know, all that stuff about the nicotine patch. Tell him you’re not going to fling me off the wagon.”
Amy laughed at his turn of phrase and took his hand while they walked slowly toward his building. The architecture was early twentieth-century, and he watched her take note of it. Vampires always seemed to love great architecture. As they inched slowly up the stairs, Byron clung tighter to her hand. Tyler would not be happy, not one bit.
“I saw you with that vamp girl!” he hollered the second Byron’s key turned in the lock. “I saw you on the sidewalk, and you went next door and you sat by the fountain!”
“Yeah, we did,” Byron agreed, ushering Amy into the apartment. “And then I brought her up to meet you.”
Tyler stood stunned at the entrance to the kitchen. He flipped a tea towel over his shoulder and swallowed hard. His voice was much softer when he said, “Oh crap, I’m sorry. It’s Amy, right? Please come in.”
“Tyler always was good with guests,” Byron said with a smile that made Tyler smile back.
He explained about Amy’s haircut, how he’d screwed it up and needed to fix it. Then Amy took over, offering Tyler the same information she’d just given Byron. She was a blood addict’s nicotine patch. She could fix them for good. Tyler didn’t seem sold on the idea, even though he’d heard of blood like Amy’s before. It was just so rare to encounter a girl like her. It seemed impossible that her blood could wean a vamp off his cravings.
“Well, you might as well get started while I work on dinner,” Tyler told them. “I hope you’ll stay, Amy. It’s a tofu stir-fry tonight.”
She scrunched up her nose and then laughed. “Sure, sounds nice.”
Byron went into the bathroom to fetch his spare styling tools, and he returned to Amy sitting in the dining room wearing a strapless black corset, crinoline skirts, fishnets and dainty shoes. The sight took his breath away, and when he gazed into the pass-through between the dining room and kitchen, he saw Tyler staring every bit as intently.
“I didn’t want bits of hair all stuck in my top,” she explained.
He nodded, but wrapped a stylist’s smock around her. No way he’d be able to concentrate on hair if he could glance over her shoulder and catch sight of those pale white breasts rising and falling with every breath.
Tyler gulped audibly from the kitchen, and then resumed his chopping. His pace was slower than usual, like he was afraid he might cut off a finger or two.
Once Amy was covered, Byron realized he hadn’t taken notice of her scars. Damn it! There was something about cutter scars that did it for him, but he didn’t want to ask. He just concentrated on the crisp clipping sound his scissors made as they evened out Amy’s hair. Christ, he’d done a seriously shitty job the first time around. He must have been hella-distracted by his lust for her blood.
This time when he finished the trim he let Tyler be the judge.
“Yeah, looks good,” Tyler said as he set the table. He didn’t even look up before answering. “Dinner’s ready, so get everything cleaned up, okay?”
Byron pulled Amy away from the table so they wouldn’t get bits of hair in their food. He swept off her smock and brushed her neck with a feather duster, which made her giggle and purr. When she turned to face him, he glanced down at her arms. God, those cuts. Those fine lines, some healed white, some glowing red. He wanted to lick her so bad his cock pulsed against his fly.
When he noticed Tyler staring, he said to Amy, “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Amy smiled bashfully, but she didn’t put her top back on. She sat at their table in her black strapless corset and began eating while they watched. “Mmm... this is good. I didn’t expect to like it but, yeah, I really do.”
Tyler looked at her blankly for a long moment before grunting a monosyllabic, “Thanks.” Slinking into his chair, he shovelled stir-fry into his mouth.
Byron knew exactly what Tyler was up to: filling his mouth with the taste of vegetables and teriyaki so he wouldn’t imagine how her blood might feel on his tongue.
Oh, her hot, red, beautiful blood...
They ate quickly, shrouded in a thick, weighted silence. When they’d cleaned their plates, Byron didn’t know what to do. His body felt itchy, inside and out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so anxious. He wanted blood and sex, and he wanted to share all that with Tyler. And with Amy. God, it had been so long since they’d been with a girl, or another guy for that matter. Not since their vampire days. Everything had become so convoluted.
“Thanks for the cut,” Amy said. “And for dinner.”
Against the soft glow of a setting sun, her lips looked red as blood and her skin powder-white. She stood, but she didn’t go anywhere. She just looked at them, back and forth from Byron to Tyler, like she’d asked a question and was waiting for an answer.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” Byron said. “It was our pleasure. Truly.”
Bowing slightly, Amy took a long breath and then glanced around. Time slowed to a crawl as she walked to the sideboard, where Byron had set his shears after disinfecting them. She picked them up, holding them high in the air. The sharpened edge glinted like a beast’s snarling teeth.
Amy opened the scissors wide, as wide as they would go, and by the time Tyler had shouted, “No!” it was too late. She’d opened her left arm in a long line near the pit of her elbow. The slice wasn’t along the vein, but it brought brilliant red dots to the surface. Those dots joined together in slow motion, and formed a crimson line on her snow-white skin.
“Come on,” she said, sidestepping to their bedroom. “It’s good for you. I’m the human nicotine patch, remember?”
“We don’t need you.” Tyler backed away, like that was the only way to resist her siren’s song.
Byron moved toward the bedroom, a sleepwalker wide awake. His heart slowed at the sight of that blood, and his pulse moved lower down in his body. “Maybe we do.”
Tyler’s voice turned hard. “No,” he said, emphatically. “We don’t.”
“But...”
“Byron!” Tyler’s voice turned uncharacteristically resonant. “You’ve got your thirst under control. Don’t do it.”
Byron didn’t turn around, didn’t respond. Amy’s crimson blood had cast a spell over him, and he entered the bedroom, approaching her like a wolf on the prowl. He could smell it, warm and rich and sweet. Sure, he wanted to stop himself, but how? He craved Amy’s essence more than he’d ever craved anything.
“Get back here,” Tyler shouted. He hardly ever raised his voice, but he was angry now—not that Byron could blame him. “You’re making a choice. It’s her or me.”
“Both,” Byron said, so quietly the word barely left his lips.
Tyler must have heard him, even all the way across the room. Out of nowhere, Tyler was running through the apartment, then jumping like a maniac, landing so hard on Byron’s back they both flew across the bedroom. Byron caught himself on the bookshelf, shaking the old wood enough to knock a load of paperbacks to the floor. Like an animal, Tyler hooked both feet around Byron’s waist, arms over shoulders.
“Get off me!” Byron hollered, trying to unhook his boyfriend’s hands from around his neck. “I want it. You can’t change that.”
“You’re an addict! You can’t stop yourself.” Tyler sounded so choked and tortured Byron’s heart bled. Of course he wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. Every inch of his body burned for Amy’s blood.
Byron was usually the kind of guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but just now his muscles twitched to toss his boyfriend across the bedroom. He would do anything to get Tyler off his back. He would do anything for the blood now dripping onto their hardwood floor.
“Amy’s our elixir,” Byron cried. “She’s our anti-venom. If you had any faith in me, you’d drink her blood to. We’ll be healed forever.”
“She’s lying!”
“I’m not.” Splayed on the bed, Amy held her bleeding arm in one hand, like a gift.
Tyler hooked his legs tighter around Byron’s waist. “You know vamps. They’ll say anything.”
“I’m not one of them,” Amy pleaded, looking almost hurt by the comparison. “Please, you have to believe me!”
Just as Byron opened his mouth to console her, Tyler cupped both hands under his jaw and pulled up, forcing his head back.
The lightning bolt of pain that shot down Byron’s spine put him right over the edge. Howling, he propelled himself—and Tyler along with him—across the bedroom. Amy let out a terrified scream as they reached the doorframe. Spinning on his heels, Byron bashed his boyfriend’s body against the wooden jamb. The crushing force that drove Tyler into the entryway forced a groan from his winded system. He let go only for a moment, but it was enough time for Byron to toss him out of the bedroom and lock the door.
“You bastard!” Tyler jiggled the handle, then growled like a grizzly. “If you drink from her, I’ll leave you tonight. I’m not even joking.”
“Amy’s the cure,” Byron said, though probably not loud enough for Tyler to hear over his shouting and banging and rattling at the door.
“He’s really mad.” Amy cowered on the bed, her bloody arm extended. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
“Were you lying?” Byron asked. His muscles surged with excitement.
Amy shook her head. Jet black hair waved sharply against her pale cheeks. She looked scared out of her wits. “I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t lie. My blood can fix you. Just drink it and you’ll see.”
“You hear that?” Byron shouted at the door. His cock was so hard it hurt, and his heart beat like a drum. “Her blood will fix me. Drink, and I’ll never crave it again. I’ll never go to another vamp party behind your back, and then lie about where I’ve been. I’ll never put you in danger.”
Tyler didn’t say anything, but he did stop banging on the bedroom door. For Byron, that was as good as a go-ahead.
Byron followed his rampant erection to Amy. A few drops of blood had dripped onto the clean hardwood floor, and she pointed to them as she leaned against the headboard. “Don’t waste.”
Though his cock throbbed inside his pants, begging for freedom, he dropped to his knees and licked. When Amy’s essence touched his tongue, a long-forgotten sensation came over him. It was the taste he’d never forgotten, the heaviness of it. But Amy was right in what she’d said before—there was something missing. It didn’t have that quality, that addictive je ne sais quoi of other bloods. Hers was unique. He could tell from the first drop.
“So you’ve made your choice,” Tyler hollered. The words seemed angry, but his tone didn’t sound that way. Maybe he was cast under Amy’s spell just as much as Byron was.
Closing his eyes, Byron imagined Tyler falling at Amy’s feet, right there beside him, licking her blood from the floor. There was something incredibly hot about that mental snapshot of his boyfriend on all fours, ass in the air, running his hot, wet tongue across the hardwood. Byron could anticipate Tyler’s reaction—the recognition, the warmth, the realization that Amy would not destroy them. He would gaze up at her the way a puppy greets his master, worshipful and loving, and then he would kneel high and lick her arm, all along the cut.
The knocking began again.
“Let me in,” Tyler cried, with more urgency in his voice than anger. “Open the door, Byron. I want inside.”
Byron tried to block out Tyler’s voice, but it wasn’t easy. He loved his guy, yet he couldn’t stay away from Amy, whatever the repercussions.
Approaching the bed on his knees, Byron licked a drop of blood that had dripped all the way down Amy’s hand. When he sucked her finger, she let out a wicked groan. She leaned back on their bed like liquid, like a body of pleasure. Byron followed her as an animal craving human flesh. He licked her all over. It wasn’t just her arm anymore, but everywhere her clothing wasn’t—her neck, her shoulder, the topmost curve of her breasts.
“Come on!” Tyler rapped madly at the door, making it rattle inside the jamb. “Open up. Let me in.”
Amy’s skin tasted salty and fresh, but Byron missed the metallic sting of copper from her blood. He went back to her arm for more, but he didn’t feel the lurid pull of addiction. Blood lust, yes, but it was temporary and he knew it could be satisfied body to body.
Tyler banged at the door. It sounded like he was using himself as a human battering ram.
“Let me,” Amy said, digging into Byron’s pants with the fingers he’d already sucked.
Byron looked at the trembling door.
“Is it okay?” Amy asked.
Of course it was okay. Tyler would never object to the sex. Sex wasn’t the problem. Blood was. But it was all mixed together in Byron’s lust, now. He wanted the taste and the feeling. He wanted the satisfaction.
He put on a laugh. “You think I’m gonna say no?”
With a coquettish grin, Amy unzipped his pants and his cock pummelled her hand. They both moaned as precum splashed her wrist. Byron had never felt so hard. His erection throbbed wildly, in time with Tyler’s insistent pounding at the door.
“I want you in my mouth, Byron.” Amy wrapped her hand around his shaft with familiar force, and gazed into his eyes. When she opened her mouth again, he expected words to tumble out. Instead, she slowly licked her lips and every muscle in Byron’s groin tightened.
“Fuck, I need this.” Byron tore out of his clothes, ripping them at the seams, no cares. Only destruction and desire.
Just as he’d finished struggling out of his shirt, the door burst open and Tyler rushed the bedroom like a tornado. Amy flipped onto her side and Byron’s heart raced, full speed ahead, with such velocity he could feel it against his ribcage. No doubt Tyler was about to take a swing at him, not that Tyler had ever done any such thing before.
Byron braced himself for impact.
But that’s not how it went down. Not even close.
Racing to Amy’s side, Tyler grabbed her bleeding arm with such force she gasped. Just as she started to pull away, he set his tongue to her cut and licked it, a savage embrace. Byron hadn’t seen his boyfriend’s appetite for blood so voracious since they were deep in the vamp lifestyle. He had no idea Tyler still harboured such unbound desires.
“Yes,” Amy whispered. Her eyes rolled back in her head, like he was bringing her to orgasm just by drinking her blood. “Oh god, I need something to suck.”
“Guess my cock will have to do,” Byron said as he shoved his erection between her brilliant red lips. In truth, he was a little jealous that she’d reacted so overwhelmingly to Tyler’s tongue. It bought out the rough stuff in him.
But Amy didn’t seem to mind Byron’s exertion of force. She went at his dick as voraciously as Tyler consumed her blood. The way she sucked him brought Byron nearer to ecstasy than he’d been in a hell of a long time. Sure the sex was great with Tyler, but they were so close. They knew what to expect from one another. Things were always different with someone new.
Amy’s chest heaved as she moaned around Byron’s erection. Her tits looked so gorgeous he shoved his hand deep inside her corset. She gasped as her cupped her full breasts, and then whimpered when he pinched her nipples.
The sounds of Amy’s pleasure drew Tyler’s attention. Stripping off his T-shirt, he pressed the fabric against her bleeding arm. When she took over applying pressure to the wound, he stripped out of his pants and then crawled over her body to undo her corset ties. Vamp girls loved corsets, so vamp guys had plenty of experience unlatching all those complicated systems.
While Tyler worked at stripping off her clothes, Byron watched the sweet pucker of Amy’s lips around his shaft. Her lipstick painted his dick crimson, though the shaft itself was getting pretty red through the pressure of her suction. She knew just how to do it—not afraid of sucking hard, but not going at it so rough it hurt. God, this girl was perfect. She rolled toward him, burbling as she wrapped her fist around the base of his cock.
Tearing off her corset, Tyler rolled Amy onto her back and Byron’s dick popped out of her mouth.
“Dude, what gives?”
Tyler glanced at Byron for the first time since he’d barrelled into the bedroom. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.”
“But I was right, wasn’t I?” Byron asked, feeling just cocky enough to rub his engorged cockhead up and down Amy’s pale cheek. “Her blood’s special. You can taste it.”
Tyler didn’t say a thing. He seemed far more interested in Amy’s naked breasts rising and falling as she gulped for breath.
“Wow.” Pure lust blazed in Tyler’s eyes as he gazed down at her. “I’m getting kind of glad you followed my boy home. Honey, you’ve got the most gorgeous tits I’ve ever seen.”
Byron had never heard his boyfriend talk like that to any girl, vamp or not.
“You like my tits, sweetie-pie?” Amy grabbed his hands. Setting them at the sides of her breasts, she forced him to press those pallid mounds together. “Want to fuck them?”
Tyler shuddered visibly, like lust had seeped into his veins. Did she know how much he loved shoving his dick between a nice pair? It was the sort of thing Byron could never give him, but all the power to Tyler if tits were his thing.
Hopping off the bed, Byron fetched lube and condoms. He squirted the lube into his palm and then fisted Tyler’s cock, getting it all covered in slick liquid, tip to base. God, he loved the way his boyfriend’s dick jumped in his hand, like a puppy happy to its master. He stroked Tyler off, gazing from that huge, hard dick to Amy’s huge round tits. Oh, he had to. He just had to lean down and lick the erect buds of her nipples. They were so pert and perfect.
Amy arched and squealed as Byron sucked her tits. She somehow found his dick, squeezing it, and the three of them became a mess of limbs. As Tyler slipped his dick between Amy’s stunning breasts, she beat out his rhythm on Byron’s needful cock. They were like a human ball of yarn, all tangled up in each other. Byron barely knew which parts were his own.
“Fuck me,” Amy whispered.
Byron looked up at Tyler, still half-waiting for his boy to crack.
“Fuck her,” Tyler said, encouragingly, without a hint of jealousy. But that was Tyler. He was so giving, when it came to sex. He wanted Byron to take pleasure in life as long as that pleasure wasn’t harmful. And by that point, they both seemed to have reached their own conclusions that Amy’s blood was safe.
Flipping off the bed, Byron slipped on a condom and tossed up Amy’s crinolines. She had on fishnets, but no panties. The sight of her bare pussy lips pressing against the holes in those sexy stockings made Byron’s cock jump. She lifted her feet, opening her legs wide. Her pussy glistened just for him, and Byron moaned despite himself.
“Bad girl,” he said, watching her pussy lips splay. He craved the pink of her, the sheer wetness and want. “Were you walking around like this all day?”
Amy tilted her head to one side and glanced at him beyond Tyler’s thrusting body. “You betcha.”
This pretty vamp girl had been sitting in his salon chair with her wet pussy rubbing against nothing but this gaping pair of fishnet stockings. Oh god, and no panties when she was sitting by the fountain either. This knowledge changed everything. Byron wished he could go back in time and re-experience every moment with Amy’s pantyless pussy at the forefront of his mind.
Tyler turned his head and stared at Byron’s throbbing cock. “What are you waiting for?”
“Just...” Byron shook his head, staring into the pink of Amy’s pussy. “Just looking at this gaping, gorgeous slit. I can’t wait to fuck the hell out of it.”
“So stop looking.” Tyler dickhead poked through her cleavage, then hid back inside. He pressed Amy’s breasts together with such force that she squealed. “Start fucking.”
The sight of Tyler’s back muscles working as he thrust between her tits made Byron so horny he couldn’t stand it. Tyler’s butt bucked into Amy’s crinolines, and Byron had to push them forward to keep her pussy in sight.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her.
Tearing her fishnets open at the crotch, Byron pressed his cockhead into her wet heat. Her pink lips parted, just like her mouth had done before. She was so open, so willing, and that made his dick throb even harder. He pushed his hips forward, slowly, fighting the resistance. God, her pussy was hot. It hugged his cock so hard he shivered, grabbing her fishnets and holding tight.
“Fuck me,” she growled. She was grasping Tyler’s hips now, and he had one palm pressing against the cloth that stemmed her blood flow.
Byron watched that place where his boyfriend’s hand met Amy’s arm. He thought about the sweet metallic taste of her blood, its warmth and the pleasure he’d taken in drinking it. He asked himself if he wanted more. Did he?
A few years ago, he’d have been all over a cutter girl, licking and lapping her arms until he’d gorged himself on her essence. Maybe he’d changed, or maybe Amy really was different. Either way, he knew he wanted her in his life for good. And not in an addictive sense. It really wasn’t that. By now he knew the difference.
That’s what Byron was thinking about as he rammed his cock balls-deep into Amy’s wonderfully wet pussy. She whimpered and writhed. She must have been at least a little afraid Byron would fuck her harder than she could handle, because she started crawling up the bed. She didn’t get too far before Tyler pinned her down. They would satisfy her, for sure. They’d be rough in bed, but out there in the big bad world they’d always stand by her side.
“Amy,” Byron cried as her pussy muscles clamped around his cock. “Oh god, Amy, I’m going to come.”
“Me first!” Tyler moaned, his body jerking against Amy’s ample chest.
Byron let go of Amy’s fishnets with one hand and smacked his boyfriend’s ass. Crinolines bounced against their bodies like the froth beneath a waterfall while Tyler shrieked, “Again!”
Another smack. Byron spanked his guy while Amy wrapped her wicked legs around his middle. He could feel the dig of her patent leather flats into his flesh, and when he fucked her, Tyler got jostled in the mix.
“I’m coming!” Tyler cried.
“On my tits,” Amy begged, holding them together while Tyler took his cock in hand. There was no mistaking the sound of Tyler’s lubed up fist rushing up and down his shaft. Clenching his cheeks and groaning, he throttled his dick until he got himself all the way there.
Byron had to bend to the side to see his boyfriend’s cum spill across Amy’s breasts.
That spectacle put him over the top. He needed to come, and he was intent upon bringing Amy with him. Setting his thumb against her cherry-red clit, he traced circles around that explosive little spot. It was only when Tyler rolled off of her and started kissing her neck and shoulders that Byron saw how close she was. Her eyes rolled back and she fitted recklessly on the bed. Byron pushed his thumb down even harder on her clit, and he shoved his dick in her pussy with such rapid-fire thrusts that her hips started to buck with every fuck.
“Yes,” she murmured, over and over again. Her lipstick was nearly gone now, and her pink lips puckered as she hugged her breasts. They were still coated with Tyler’s hot cum, and when her fingers found the stuff, they painted her flesh with it.
Byron couldn’t believe he hadn’t blasted his load yet. Amy’s every move was so hot, so sexy, that he could have come sixty-nine times by now. With every thrust, the tension built inside him. He crushed his palm to her clit, feeling his cock moving inside her as he mashed that tender bud.
Amy went over the top. She screamed and tightened her grip on him, both with her pussy and her legs, bringing him so far inside herself that his balls pressed against her ass. When she arched off the bed, he couldn’t help but picture the rosy pucker of her asshole. Oh, that was it. Byron came hard, like the first few times with Tyler, when they were still exploring each other’s bodies. Now Tyler looked on, unsmiling, and just when Byron started to worry his boyfriend was mad as hell, Tyler zipped across the bed and kissed him fully and deeply, with such pleasure and pressure that Byron knew it was for real.
They fell in beside each other—one, two, three—across the bed. Staring at the ceiling, breathing so loudly nobody tried to talk over the sound. It was divine torture, those few moments after coming. You wanted more, but you couldn’t move. Your parts were spent and sore, so hot you didn’t want anyone touching them. You wanted your space, but not too much space.
Byron thought about the look of bliss on Amy’s face, the look of desire on Tyler’s. He wanted that forever. Both of them.
As if hearing his thoughts, Tyler said to the ceiling, “I didn’t believe your human nicotine patch story. I thought you were just one more vampire siren, luring addicts in recovery back to blood. But you were right—your blood is different, somehow. It tastes like the real thing, but there’s no buzz.”
“I’m too safe,” she said, placing one hand in Byron’s and the other in Tyler’s. “That’s why the addicts don’t like me. They laugh, like I’m some kind of joke, like I’m not playing at their level.”
“Don’t worry about those bastards,” Byron said, kissing her freshly cut hair. “You’ve found your place in our bed.”
“And our lives,” Tyler added.
“And your hearts?” Amy asked.
Byron’s breath caught in his throat, and he tried to arch up and grab Tyler’s attention as subtly as he could. But they all knew the answer, so there was no point in skirting it. “Always in our hearts,” Tyler said.
Sighing, Byron smiled. “And in our blood.”