each other. Icy fingers drifted through her hair, sliding across her right shoulder.
Air caught in her lungs finding no escape. Melinda steadied herself, placing her hands on the counter in front of her. She let out a fiery exhale when he pulled her hair off her neck and brushed the brown strands over to the left side, tucking them out of his way. Melinda didn’t have it in her to turn and look at him. But she knew his eyes were glued to the vein in her neck by the wanton groan chilling the air over her ear.
Icy fingers drew across her back, the zing of the zipper on her dress shooting her heart into overdrive and leaving cold air caressing her bare skin. Bare skin! She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. This was definitely a regular dream and not a prophetic one, as she’d never dare walk around in a thin dress, wearing nothing at all underneath.
“Let go of the counter,” William commanded, his voice a lustful whisper.
She did. The dress slid over her shoulders, slinking down her arms. It fell to the floor pooling around her ankles.
The air suddenly turned cold. Licking at her skin. But fire burned in her veins, heat flaring down to her center. His arms snaked around her, his embrace possessive.
Cold, stone-hard arms imprisoned her breasts, taunting her nipples into taut peaks. His left arm sank lower, pressing her stomach into him, skin against skin. His coolness against her warmth… thick hardness between them. Her legs, jelly. His grip keeping her on her feet.
“Do you want me to touch you, Melinda?”
“Yes.” It was the only word she could speak, but her mind shouted, Yes. Please, God. Yes. Her arms wrapped around his hips, her warm fingers sliding down his thighs. His icy skin trembled underneath her fiery touch.
Cool breath and lips against her neck sent a shudder from her chest down to her stomach, vibrating into her core.
His fingers followed the trail of her shudder, frost penetrating her fevered skin. He stopped, pausing on her inner thigh.
“Please, William.” She couldn’t wait.
He let out a savage breath, his eyes a ravenous black. His arm tightened around her breasts, his icy grip rubbing against her peaks, shooting red-hot pulses downward.
She gasped when there was a tight pinch on her neck.
He groaned. He could not bite her. Not yet.
Ice invaded her heat, her response a torrent of urgent breath.
He cradled the swollen fire between her legs, each stroke pushing her closer to release. William groaned, fangs drawing against her skin. He needed to taste her. Had to. His lips quivered against her neck.
Melinda’s legs faltered.
William’s grasp held firm, his left arm imprisoning her body against his.
She lifted off the floor. His right hand widened the gap between her legs, kneading her heated nub; squeezing, stroking, trapping her in complete ecstasy…
“William,” she moaned, with a buck of her hips.
Fangs sank into her neck.
The back of her head pushed against his chest. Fingernails dug into his thighs shooting daggers of pain surging into her hands in the effort. She writhed underneath his ensnaring hold of her.
Blood sucked up through her body, into his mouth. His hand didn’t release its attack of her center. He stroked her with tenacious determination, her swell throbbing against his fingers.
Melinda’s body tensed, a glorious spasm erupting.
She expelled a frenzied exhale.
He yanked his fangs out of her, a primal gasp seething over her head. Blood spattered through the vampire’s sated lips.
Her head fell forward, their euphoria coming out in an echo, almost as if it was someone else and she was suddenly just listening from a distance.
William’s cold grip released her body. A curtain of darkness slid over her, the dream plunged into total darkness. Total quiet, other than heavy breaths escaping her own lips.
“William?” she called out breathlessly. Her vampire wasn’t there anymore. He’d been torn out of her dream.
Her vampire… Melinda
Learning to Kill: Stories