Read Online Undead and Unwed by MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
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have no idea what you're asking." I tried to sound tough and cool, but since I gasped out the whole sentence I sounded more like a horny cheerleader.
"Sure I do. Part of the reason I'm up here is—you were right, I figured there's nothing new in the world except death and people being shitty to each other. I never should have been a doctor. Never wanted to be. But my dad—anyway, it's just death and paperwork and more death." He trailed off and I saw his eyes shine with unshed tears. He blinked them back. "Anyway. Sorry. So, prove me wrong. Prove a few more things, besides. I want to feel what it's like. I want to feel something besides—besides nothing."
I bit my lip. The poor guy! "Forget it." But I was sidling toward him. I was thirsty, and here was a perfectly sane (as sane as a clinically depressed suicidal man could be) specimen offering to be my dinner. I was nuts to turn it down. The alternative was taking it by force from some poor jerk. Why in the world would I hurt or scare someone, when there was a willing guy standing right in front of me? At least he wasn't all goo-goo eyed and mumbling about my beauty, such as it was. He was perfectly clear-eyed, and curious, and what was the harm? And why was I trying to convince myself? I had to eat, right? Why was I still talking to myself?
"Okay...if I do this..." I did a fairly good imitation of Reluctant Night Stalker. "...you promise not to jump?"
"Yes."
"Or leap in front of a truck or take a bath with your toaster or comb your hair with a chainsaw?"
He laughed. He looked years younger when he did that. He wasn't afraid at all. And that made up my mind for me. "I promise. Now do it, cutie, before I come to my senses."
I pulled him off the ledge, gently. Brought him to me like a lover. His shirt had a v-neck, so I just pulled him toward me and bit him. He gasped and went rigid in my arms, then his arms came around me in a strangler's grip. He went up on his toes and his hips pistoned toward mine. His blood was slowly spilling into my mouth and it tasted like the lushest, most potent wine ever made. My unbearable thirst became—if possible—even more unbearable for a split second, then abruptly abated. Sounds were sharper, the light—such as it was—became brighter. His heartbeat pounded in my ears and he was breathing in ragged gasps. I could smell his sex, hard and urgent and pressing against me, the smell of musk, the smell of life.
I pulled away. Another thing the movies got wrong. Vampires didn't have to drain a person dry...heck, I'd probably had half a cup, if that much. And it would last me the rest of the night, easily. I could drink more, of course, but it would be for pure pleasure, not need. I bet that creep from the cemetery drank ten times a night.
"No," my dinner gasped.
"Yes, that's all I need."
"Do it again."
"No—uh—what are you--?"
He was fumbling at the drawstring of his pants, tugging, and then his pants were around his ankles and he was pulling his turgid cock from the slit in his boxers (navy, with red stripes, my mind reported helpfully). His erection filled his hand; his cock wasn't terribly long, but was certainly thick, and pre-come glistened at the tip. He gripped himself so hard his knuckles went white and, while I watched in stupefaction, pumped once, twice, three times, and then he was coming, and I leapt out of the way.
We stared at each other for a long moment, then he hurriedly stuffed his cock away and pulled up his pants.
I blinked. "As God is my witness, I have no idea what to say to you."
"Me? What the hell did you do ?" He asked the question in a tone of total admiration. "One minute I was miserable as hell, the next all I could think of was—uh—the exact opposite of dying." He colored, the blood rushing to his cheeks. I could almost hear it. "I've never done that before in front of—I'm sorry. You have no idea how weird that is for me."
"Hey, I'm not
"Sure I do. Part of the reason I'm up here is—you were right, I figured there's nothing new in the world except death and people being shitty to each other. I never should have been a doctor. Never wanted to be. But my dad—anyway, it's just death and paperwork and more death." He trailed off and I saw his eyes shine with unshed tears. He blinked them back. "Anyway. Sorry. So, prove me wrong. Prove a few more things, besides. I want to feel what it's like. I want to feel something besides—besides nothing."
I bit my lip. The poor guy! "Forget it." But I was sidling toward him. I was thirsty, and here was a perfectly sane (as sane as a clinically depressed suicidal man could be) specimen offering to be my dinner. I was nuts to turn it down. The alternative was taking it by force from some poor jerk. Why in the world would I hurt or scare someone, when there was a willing guy standing right in front of me? At least he wasn't all goo-goo eyed and mumbling about my beauty, such as it was. He was perfectly clear-eyed, and curious, and what was the harm? And why was I trying to convince myself? I had to eat, right? Why was I still talking to myself?
"Okay...if I do this..." I did a fairly good imitation of Reluctant Night Stalker. "...you promise not to jump?"
"Yes."
"Or leap in front of a truck or take a bath with your toaster or comb your hair with a chainsaw?"
He laughed. He looked years younger when he did that. He wasn't afraid at all. And that made up my mind for me. "I promise. Now do it, cutie, before I come to my senses."
I pulled him off the ledge, gently. Brought him to me like a lover. His shirt had a v-neck, so I just pulled him toward me and bit him. He gasped and went rigid in my arms, then his arms came around me in a strangler's grip. He went up on his toes and his hips pistoned toward mine. His blood was slowly spilling into my mouth and it tasted like the lushest, most potent wine ever made. My unbearable thirst became—if possible—even more unbearable for a split second, then abruptly abated. Sounds were sharper, the light—such as it was—became brighter. His heartbeat pounded in my ears and he was breathing in ragged gasps. I could smell his sex, hard and urgent and pressing against me, the smell of musk, the smell of life.
I pulled away. Another thing the movies got wrong. Vampires didn't have to drain a person dry...heck, I'd probably had half a cup, if that much. And it would last me the rest of the night, easily. I could drink more, of course, but it would be for pure pleasure, not need. I bet that creep from the cemetery drank ten times a night.
"No," my dinner gasped.
"Yes, that's all I need."
"Do it again."
"No—uh—what are you--?"
He was fumbling at the drawstring of his pants, tugging, and then his pants were around his ankles and he was pulling his turgid cock from the slit in his boxers (navy, with red stripes, my mind reported helpfully). His erection filled his hand; his cock wasn't terribly long, but was certainly thick, and pre-come glistened at the tip. He gripped himself so hard his knuckles went white and, while I watched in stupefaction, pumped once, twice, three times, and then he was coming, and I leapt out of the way.
We stared at each other for a long moment, then he hurriedly stuffed his cock away and pulled up his pants.
I blinked. "As God is my witness, I have no idea what to say to you."
"Me? What the hell did you do ?" He asked the question in a tone of total admiration. "One minute I was miserable as hell, the next all I could think of was—uh—the exact opposite of dying." He colored, the blood rushing to his cheeks. I could almost hear it. "I've never done that before in front of—I'm sorry. You have no idea how weird that is for me."
"Hey, I'm not
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