Hello! Here's a little piece that's been trotting in my head for a while. This is my version of how Eric would have met Pam (according to the time laps from TB since Eric and Pam said they'd been together a hundred years or so, which is different in the books). So yeah, I hope you enjoy it as I had fun writing it.

I know I've been a bad updater this past week with Fresh Blood, Concrete in Your Hair and After The End, my other fics, but I'll be sure to post some stuff this week as I finished my midterm exams today and now have time to write (YAYYY! :D)

So yeah, here it is, hope you like it. I did some research about Whitechapel and about the vampire myth and, as the first version of a classy vampire (So NOT Nosferatu... if any of you have seen the 1922 mute movie, you'll understand the reference hahahahahah) was in a novella published in 1819, I believe it is quite accurate to say people knew what vampires were and had tales about them in the late 1800s which is when this fic takes place. And the myth of vampires has been around for a lot longer than we imagine. Bram Stoker didn't invent vampires, he merely took a fairy tale and gave it substance (and messed it up a bit too since Vlad Tepes on whom he based his Dracula character actually wasn't from Transylvania but from Wallachia (another part of Romania!). So yeah, vampire myths go back almost to prehistoric times even though the myth has evolved a great lot. Enough with the historical stuff. :P

Criticism always welcome, please, PLEASE review. Hate it or love it, I'll read it all and it helps me in becoming a better writer!

Love you all and thank you for reading!


Whitechapel was a sad neighborhood. But I was hungry and some of the women were quite pretty once you put aside the fact they wore too much makeup and had too little to eat. Most of them had sicknesses that would repulse any living man. Quite the luck I hadn't been alive for over nine hundred years.

And tonight I was hungry and horny. And I wanted blood, the sweet blood from a femoral artery.

I pranced the dark alleys of Whitechapel in search of the one I'd feed from tonight. I saw a couple of brunettes and a redhead stroll by, sashaying extravagantly in their dirty skirts, their breasts almost on display at the top of their tight corsets. One of them looked quite pretty with her doe eyes and vulgar lips but then again, I've never been a big fan of brunettes. Blondes are more my type, even though I just have a general… hunger and taste for women in general. Pun intended of course.

These women seemed to have no sense of self-preservation. Whereas humans usually felt we, vampires, were different and dangerous, most prostitutes were too deep in this ongoing flirt with death to even notice. They lived a tough life, I had to give them credit for it, but they were just food and I loved to play with my food, something Godric found rather frustrating and childish. It had been a few weeks since we'd parted once more and I was in a foul mood ever since.

And the best way to get myself back in a good mood would be for me to feed off a few prostitutes, fuck a couple more and then have a good day's sleep to start the process all over again the next night until I'd be satisfied, at least momentarily. I could hear the loud cacophony of taverns where I knew I would find what I was looking for, but somehow, I was in no mood for the ridicule display of human flirt. Men were so predictable and their drinking and singing and dancing only caused me boredom and annoyance. The streets reeked in this part of town, yet, as I strolled a rather dark alley, listening to the human noises in the night, I smelt something surprising. Blood. Human blood. Lots of it. Death. I followed the smell, intoxicated by the tangy flavor of fresh blood.

Her body was a mess. She'd been cut open and some of her organs had been laid next to her, her skirts a bloody disarray around her pallid nude thighs. Her sex was exposed, rivulets of thick red blood rolling lazily on the pale curls. A blonde. Her face was somehow serene. She'd been strangled. I could already see the bluish bruises around her neck. And she was very beautiful with full lips the color of a rose and skin of alabaster white. The bite marks were almost gone from the inside of her white thighs but I could tell. Any vampire could. He who'd done that was a vampire, and a rather peculiar one at that. He hadn't drained her, which is how we usually killed our victims if by mistake. This one had fed from her, strangled her and played doctor with her entrails. I winced my nose in disgust. Such a waste. As everyone else living in London, I'd heard about the famous killer, Jack the Ripper which caused the prostitutes to gather at better lit corners in fear of becoming his next victim. Or meal. Mystery solved, the man was a vampire psychopath who had a tendency for taking the term science project a step further. Strange way to study human nature, I thought, cocking a bored eyebrow at the blonde's blood that mingled with the rain and detritus that littered the street. The vampire's stench was somewhat repulsive. He was young, a lot younger than me, maybe a hundred years at best. His stench was heavy in the autumn air and I tried to concentrate on the smell of her blood. To no avail. Well fuck it, I thought, walking away. People would find her early in the morning when they'd go out to work. What did I care…

I heard her before I actually saw her. To be more precise, I heard the two men who were trying to take her by force before I heard her voice. That husky drawl that immediately caught my interest.

'Hey Tom, what do you say we knock her out good? I like 'em feisty but this one is another pair of sleeves...' the first voice said, a thick accented voice that reeked of alcohol and sweat.

'Pair of legs, you mean. And those breasts, I'll be damned if I don't get a taste of those…' The second voice said, no doubt Tommy boy. He sounded younger, but equally as pathetic as his older partner. Drunks and abusers. Boring. I don't know what captivated me more when she spoke: her words or her tone, her voice, that throaty drawl of hers.

'You filthy bastards, take your hands off of me or I swear I'll feed you your balls with a fork.' She hissed at them. I chuckled. She had nerve. I liked that in a woman.

I rounded the corner, remaining in the darkness to observe the scene. She was dressed in your usual prostitute attire, a used dress, which had seen better days, hers a faded peacock blue with black lace patterns on the corset. Her breasts were indeed quite the sight, almost bulging out the too tight bodice, two round creamy mounds of flesh against her bony breastbone. And her legs were equally beautiful with her skirts dragged up to mid-thigh as the men pressed her against the wall, their dirty hands roaming her body. Her hair was the color of warm honey and her mouth was full and rosy. She looked in her late twenties with her beautiful blue eyes that spoke of her experience.

She spat and fought the two disgusting men like an angry cat, her nails clawing at them. They were grunting and the amount of alcohol in their blood was rendering them clumsy. At some point, her hand went for her bodice and in the semi-darkness of the alley I saw the gleaming sliver of a knife. She pressed it against Tommy-boy's throat and hissed.

'Let me go or I swear I'll slit your throat and enjoy doing it. And don't you dare try and touch Bonnie again, you bloody coward, or any of the girls from Rosemay's house. We don't do fucking fishermen.' She growled at the men as they backed off, suddenly afraid of how much spike the woman had.

'Hey you calm down, sissy, we just wanted a good tumble.' The older man grumbled as she pressed her knife to his crotch, a dangerous light in her eyes. I already loved her spirit and was impressed by her creativity. I would interfere if they tried to hurt her but for now, she was doing pretty good all by herself.

'And I want your fucking money. All of it. For my trouble.' She snapped, her free hand slipping to her thigh where she patted her empty pockets. 'Haven't had quite so many good clients tonight.' She explained, a strangely carnivorous smile on her beautiful features. She looked like a hungry cat mewling for trouble and I would be it. She looked like fun. Tremendous fun.

The two men gave up their wallets quite easily and scurried off. She sighed when she realized there wasn't much money in either and she emptied their content in her pocket before walking away, whistling a song. I followed her like a shadow. Somehow she must have felt me because she whirled around and looked in my direction. I was in complete darkness so there was no way she could see me, but she seemed to know I was there anyways.

'Whoever you are, if you don't want trouble, pass your way. I'm in no mood for shit tonight.' She hissed menacingly, her throaty voice sending shudders of amusement down my spine. I wanted her, now.

So I stepped out of the shadows, my gaze catching hers. She didn't look exactly surprised, more amused than surprised.

'What is it? What do you want?' She asked, eyeing me up and down. I was dressed as a gentleman and hell I had more money than most of the richest families of London. Being immortal and glamouring idiotic humans does have its advantages. For a woman like her, I was an easy mark. She had no idea I was the hunter here and her, a mere prey.

'What do you have to offer?' I said, my voice husky as I approached her. She pressed her back against the dirty bricks of the wall, a sly smirk on her face. From up close she was even more beautiful. She took in my height and cocked a curious eyebrow.

'You are not from here.' She stated. My accent usually gave me away, even though I'd had years to perfect it. Or maybe it was my size. Most Brits were no more than six feet tall whilst I towered a good four or five inches taller.

'Does it matter? I have money.' I said, amused.

'I can tell. What is it you want?' She repeated, very conscious of how my eyes roamed her body. She was really quite enticing, her breasts as full as her waist was fine. And those lips of hers were mesmerizing: full and slightly parted, exposing two rows of pearly white teeth. She looked quite healthy for a prostitute.

'You.' I replied. I could have glamoured her there but she was so interesting I preferred to let her come to me.

'Twenty pounds and I'm yours.' She giggled. I almost growled in frustration. She was clearly toying with me.

'That's a ridiculous price.' I growled, closing the space between us so that my hips were flush against hers. Her breath hitched and she craned her neck to look at me.

'You're quite the sight.' She said, biting her bottom lip. 'I rarely get pretty boys like you here.' She added, her fingers closing around her knife, ready to stab or cut if she needed to.

'Oh I'm hardly a boy.' I murmured, my mouth hovering near her ear. I could hear and feel her heartbeat accelerating. She was as excited by this as I was. And fuck me, I wanted to take her right there and then. I could feel that delectable tension in my groin growing.

'Are you afraid of me?' I murmured to her, my eyes boring in hers. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

'Should I be?' She drawled, raising her knife so that it was pressed against my throat. I laughed, I couldn't help it. A knife was not weapon against me.

'I'll pay you well. Come with me. A dark alley is no place for a lady.' I said, darkly.

'Good thing I'm no lady.' She sneered, amused.

'Oh yes you are. With a pair like this no doubt about it.' I said gazing at her breasts meaningfully. She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall, closing the space between us.

'You're mighty tall, mister.' She said, jutting her chin up to gaze at me.

'So are you. For a woman, I mean.' She was rather tall, maybe seven inches smaller than me whilst most women usually were nearly a foot shorter than I. Her hair was longer than I'd thought. It probably ran down to the curve of her back judging by how thick her loose bun looked. And it was the most beautiful shade of gold. I couldn't help but think about the girl's body I'd seen in that other alley earlier and realized it could have been this feisty beauty.

That's the moment I decided she'd be mine. I'd never taken pets as most vampires did in all my nine hundred years, but I found myself utterly fascinated by this woman. She possessed that little spark that distinguished her from most humans, that very strong desire to live, that fierce determination only very few humans I'd observed seemed to have. Her knife was still at my throat and I took her hand delicately, pressing the blade closer to my skin.

'Are you going to kill me?' I asked her giving her my best choirboy smile. Her eyes became slits and she studied me a few seconds.

'If I did I could take your money and not have to suck your dick for it.' She replied, purposeful. And then I laughed, laughed and laughed. I loved her vivacity, loved the fact she said the most vulgar things but still sounded more like an aristocrat than most noblemen I'd met during my years. She was taken aback by the fact I found her amusing and she put the knife down, her face questioning.

'Isn't this what you want? Sex?' She said, side stepping me so that I was the one against the wall.

'I want so many things from you, but nothing as lowly as you sucking my dick for money. If we have sex, I'll make love to you. Surely you'll be able to tell the difference.' I said, a sly grin on my lips. 'What's your name?' I asked her, observing her as she lifted her skirt and slipped her knife in a lacy strap she wore around her thigh. She had very beautiful legs, I noticed yet again.

'Pamela.' She murmured.

'Pamela.' I repeated. It suited her. Pamela. Pamela my muse for the night.

'And yours?' She asked me, fondling with the pearly buttons that kept her corsage closed, trying to mend the ones the two offending sailors had ripped in their attempt to bed her.

'Eric.' I replied. The name wasn't really familiar for a British gentleman at the time, which seemed to only enforce her idea that I wasn't from here. Her next question did not exactly surprise me.

'Where are you from? Surely you aren't from London. You don't have a London accent. And your name isn't all that common.' She said, twisting one of her loose curls around her finger to give it some bounce.

'Sweden.' I replied. The mere word held so many memories I had to suppress. 'Where can we go?' I said, my voice throaty. I wanted her blood in my mouth and her mouth on my neck.

'The Rosemay house. Ever heard of it? Not far from here. Prettiest girls in town.' She said briskly, strolling away. I followed her. She had a peculiar walk, proud and very feminine at the same time. Her hips swayed in a hypnotizing movement.

'Do you live there?' I asked her. She turned her chin towards me, looking at me over her shoulder and she nodded silently.

'But I hate it. I want to marry a rich man and get the hell out of here. Are you rich?' She said, amused. I chuckled. She was just way too amusing compared to all the boring whores I'd had so far in Whitechapel.

'How old are you?' I asked her.

'None of your goddamned business. Have no one ever taught you it is rude to ask for a woman's age?' She said, her husky voice warm in the chilly fog of this late London night. We turned a few corners in the alleys and then took a bigger street where many people were walking, drunkenly heading home. She didn't look remotely ashamed of how she looked to those people and it endeared her some more to me. She stopped in front of a well-lit house, all made of red brick with pretty white shutters. There were neatly trimmed bushes on the sides of the little path that led to the steps of the house. She looked over her shoulder to make sure I was still following her. I smirked before stepping in the light. The alleys hadn't rendered me justice as light did. My skin was as pale as hers but not exactly for the same reasons. She turned to give me a good look before she pushed open the door.

'You're very handsome.' She stated neither happy nor disappointed by the fact. The moment we passed the door I felt at home here. It was a rather strange feeling since the house was obviously inhabited by twenty or more prostitutes and held by an older one, but the place was warm and cozy and reminded me somehow of the long nights I'd spent as a child near the fire with my mother and her sisters as they told me tales of the great Odin. The foyer was littered with plushy couches in shades of mint and beige and a thick carpet covered the old wooden floor. There was a staircase that led upstairs and before I could take a better look at the first floor, Pamela was already halfway up the stairs.

'What is it? You seen any other you might enjoy more?' She taunted, looking at the girls who were lounging in the sofas of the foyer. One was rather stunning with turquoise eyes and dark blond hair and heart shaped lips but she was thin and she didn't look healthy. Pamela was far better looking that most of the women who were there, all eyeing me candidly.

'Pamela dear, who's that ravishing stallion you've brought back?' An Irish sounding redhead said, her drawl thick as molasses. She had bright green eyes and freckles all over her cheeks and bosom, which was tightly bound in a navy dress. She gave me a lopsided smirk appreciatively. I smiled back. I could certainly enjoy her too sometime. I liked a woman with attitude.

'None of your business, Cherry, now why don't you go ride your own stallion?' Pamela sneered, descending the few steps she'd gone up to grab my forearm possessively.

'Bloody selfish you are, Pam, I'm sure he's got enough to pleasure two or three of us…' A bony little blonde said, her dark eyes shining from a fever. She smelled of death and I knew that by tomorrow or the day after she'd be in bed, succumbing to some sickness. Her skin, which was most probably usually a nice rosy alabaster now looked like chalk.

'Well tonight he's mind. I found him. Get your own clients.' Pam said, pulling me after her up the stairs.

'Good night, ladies.' I said, nodding slowly at them before I followed Pamela. We took another flight of stairs before we finally arrived at her door. She opened it and gestured for me to come in. I took in the sight of the room with a curious glance. It was overall very feminine and there was a vanity table littered with powders and rouges and brushes. A silver comb lay beside a bunch of bows in all shades of pink and peach and there were two or three almost silver golden hairs twisted between the teeth of the comb. I was almost tempted to take them but I was sure the comb was genuine silver and didn't want to risk burning myself. Pamela lit a few candles to give us more light and I glanced at the bed. The sheets were clean – not that I really minded – and the room smelled strangely fresh for a prostitute's chamber. There was however in the air the faint but distinct smell of the few men that had been here in the last weeks or so. But it was Pamela's smell that dominated them all, a feminine yet powerful perfume that made me close my eyes in delight. I could hear her heart fluttering in her chest as she gazed at me. I opened my eyes and smiled at her.

'Let me help you.' She said, closing the space between us as he hands slid professionally under my vest, caressing my pectorals in a teasing manner before she pushed the vest down my arms, leaving me only in my shirt, tie and pants. There was suddenly a knock at the door and Pam rolled her eyes before abandoning me in the middle of the room to go open the door. In the doorway stood a young brunette with a scar on her lip from a recent beating, I gathered. She had doe eyes and had darker skin than Pamela. No doubt a black foot Irish girl, I thought.

'What do you want Bonnie?' Pamela said. 'Did they bother you again? I told them not to come here anymore.'

'No. I'm alright I just wanted to see him. The girls downstairs said he was quite dashing.' Bonnie said, her voice low yet crystalline. She was quite pretty for a brunette and I gave her a tight smile. She was incredibly young, no more than sixteen or seventeen and she seemed to like Pamela. 'I'm Bonnie, sir.' She said, curtsying. I passed my tongue on my teeth in my closed mouth, my eyes devouring her small frame. I'd enjoy drinking from her.

'Well now you've seen him. Go back to your sewing, now.' Pamela said, closing the door in the girl's face. I heard Bonnie sigh and listened as her steps receded down the corridor. The house was filled with the familiar noise of water in the plumbing and the chattering of women. There were other noises, that of men being pleasured by the other whores, of whores faking orgasms and of yells somewhere two floors up. The house was much higher than I'd thought at first.

'Let me tell you the rules.' Pamela said. She was back in front of me, undoing my tie deliberately slowly. I shook myself out of my trance and gazed down at her. 'No kissing, whatsoever.' She started as her expert hands undid the first buttons of my shirt. I caught her hands and stopped her.

'What if I really want to?' I asked, eyeing her lips meaningfully.

'You don't. I don't kiss clients.' She said.

'What if I'm a special client?' Her skin touched mine as she undid yet another button and she stepped back.

She looked at me, surprised more then terrified. My skin was a lot cooler than that of a human man and she hadn't failed to notice.

'You're skin is awfully cold.' She stated, looking at my alabaster skin with a newfound knowledge. She knew I wasn't human. Her heartbeat started to race and I gave her a long look. I wouldn't glamour her. There was no need and it wasn't fun anyways. I wanted her lucid and having me because she wanted to.

'What are you?' She asked, cocking her head to the side.

'A special client?' I offered, a sly smile on my lips. I must have looked predatory because her hand instinctively went to her lace-clad thigh where her knife was. Before she knew it, I had her pinned against the door of her room, her knife thrown on the vanity table out of her reach.

She blinked and tensed beneath me.

'How did you do that?' she asked, her voice strong even though she clearly was afraid of me.

I liked her courage and strength.

'Let's just say I have many powers. And you interest me. Do you want me to go find someone else to satisfy me?' I asked her. I'd never taken a woman by force and I wasn't about to start now. Especially not with her. She fascinated me too much.

She studied my face for a while as her chest heaved with the deep breaths she took. She finally nodded slowly.

'Alright. What are you?' She asked.

'In Greece we're known as vrykolakas, in Romania people call us strigoi. But here, I believe humans name us Vampires.' Her eyes went wide and she blanched. 'I really have no idea why I'm telling you all this but I find you interesting.' I admitted to her, smiling sheepishly.

'You'll have me believe that the tales are true?' she managed to say. She then glanced at the mirror on her vanity where the both of us were reflected. 'But I can see you in the mirror…' She murmured. Right, she had heard of the old folklore, folklore we'd spread ourselves so that humans wouldn't know how to recognize a real vampire if faced with one.

'Bullshit. We spread most of the rumors on ourselves.' I explained, my hand finding the nape of her neck. I quickly undid the pins that held her bun together and her curls spilled on her bare shoulders, haloing her face with gold. She trembled and closed her eyes before opening them again.

'Are you going to kill me? I'll scream and fight till death, be sure of that.' She growled softly. I laughed. She was by far the most fun I'd had in the last hundreds of years.

'No, I'm not going to kill you. But I'll drink from you. And I'll pleasure you because I feel like it. You'll scream my name by the end of the night, my sweet.' I said, my hand finding the small of her back to press her hips against my erection.

'Drink from me… You'll drink my blood?' she muttered, her eyes wide. She looked more curious than afraid.

'How much do you know about vampires?' I asked her, my breath ghosting on the side of her neck as I breathed in her scent. She truly smelled delicious. Her hand went for something on top of her drawers and I had to pin her hands over her head to stop her squirming and moving around. Her breasts were jutted right under my nose and I couldn't resist kissing her right at the juncture between her two mounds.

'Let me go, you demon.' She hissed, trying to wriggle out of my hold. But I was much stronger, much, much stronger.

'Oh, I'm hardly a demon, dear Pamela. Let me have you for the night and then you can decide if you want to see me again.' I purred, my voice seductive as I leveled our eyes. I pressed my hips into hers once more, causing her to gasp softly. Ah yes, she'd felt it. I smirked, content, and rubbed myself on her slowly. She spat like an angry cat but I could hear her heartbeat accelerating in excitement, not in fear. Her cheeks were flushed and I had to resist kissing her.

'How much do you know about my kind?' I asked her again, letting go of her wrists. Her hands slid down to my shoulders and she tried to push me away but she might as well have been trying to push a boulder of rocks. She settled for pressing her palms flat against the door by her thighs, breathing heavily and trying to figure out what to do next.

'I know that you drink human blood and are cold as death. And you fear garlic and stakes and holy water and crosses. And you have no reflection.' She murmured.

'We do drink human blood. Garlic is just irritating. Stakes can kill us but they have to be made of wood and plunged in our hearts. Holy water and crosses are just symbols. As for the reflection, I think we've already established I have one. What else do you know?'

She closed her eyes and sighed before opening them again.

'You drink from the throats of humans.' She murmured.

'Not just there.' I murmured, amused. My fingers entwined around her left wrist, caressing the round bone slowly. I turned her wrist around to expose the soft white skin inside. My fingers ghosted there slowly, causing her breath to hitch. I could feel her pulse through the thin skin over her bluish veins. It was fast and nervous, that of an aroused woman.

'There too.' I said. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something else but my hand trailed up her arm and towards her collarbone. I stopped there, my eyes intent on the round curve of her breasts. In a second, I cupped both her mounds and caressed them roughly through the material of her cheap dress. I could feel her nipples hardening under the lace and satin. She whined softly and I chuckled darkly.

'There.' I whispered, my mouth on the shell of her ear as I pressed my thumbs on her erect nipples through the material of her dress. Her eyes shot open and she tried to push me away some more.

I ignored her attempts and let my hands slide down her sides towards her hips. I then lifted the skirt of her dress excruciatingly slowly. She was up against the door because of our mere proximity as her knees weren't holding her anymore. I just loved the effect I had on women…

I slid my hand under her skirts and in between her legs in a swift movement. She tensed as I delighted in how warm her thighs were against my cool skin. I stopped at mid thigh and caressed her smooth skin softly and she pressed her thighs together, trapping my hand. She moaned softly. 'There too.' I added, my hand sliding up to her core. She was wet and ready and I purred softly.

'Aren't you a curious little vixen.' I murmured as my mouth hovered right below her jaw, close to where her pulse was maddeningly fast.

'What do you want from me?' She managed to say as my palm pressed against her most sensitive nub, causing her hips to meet mine.

'Your body and your soul.' I hissed, capturing her earlobe between my teeth, nibbling at it softly.

'You must be the devil with hands like these.' She breathed as my free hand started unfastening her bodice.

'Not quite.' I murmured back, playful. My fangs than popped out of their own accord and she tensed at the sound. She looked up at my face and saw them glimmering in the candlelight. She passed a hesitant finger on them, curiosity on her face. She clumsily pricked her finger on the tip of my left fang and I growled softly at the smell of her blood. She brought her index to her mouth to suck on the tiny puncture wound but I was faster. I brought her index to my lips and started sucking on it, delighting in her flavor. My other hand was still caressing her core at a regular rhythm, causing her to moan softly at the joint sensation of my mouth on her finger and my hand between her thighs.

She must have set her mind on something there and then because she yanked my shirt out of my pants, breaking half the buttons on it as she did so. She then pulled it off my shoulders, breaking the contact between us only a second whilst she pulled the sleeves off me. I growled when her hands found the bulge in my pants, rubbing me through the material. She knew exactly how to caress a man to render him as speechless as I'd made her. But I was not a man, merely had the attributes of one so her touch only lit my fire some more.

I spun us around and sat her on the bed, ripping the top of her dress clean apart in a swift move. She gasped in surprise.

'Ladies first.' I murmured. In no time, I'd rid her of her dress and I took in the sight of her naked body. I had to agree with the no good scum that had attacked her earlier that night: the woman had beautiful breasts and amazing legs. I pulled her closer to me and captured her nipple between my lips, sucking and nibbling at it. She moaned loudly and dug her hands in my hair, pulling my face away from her to look down at me.

I gazed at her full lips and purred.

'Can I please kiss you? I promise not to tell…' I breathed, pulling her chin towards me. She closed her eyes and sighed.

'No.' She growled.

'Then I'll have to settle for down here then…' I breathed, plunging between her thighs. I started sucking and licking and biting in all the right ways and soon enough she was moaning like a hungry cat. She tasted delicious and I knew this was just the appetizer to a very busy night. Her hands were lost in my hair, roughly guiding my mouth where she wanted and needed it most. But I knew what I was doing and before long, I had her trembling in my arms, a cry escaping her lips. I looked up at her from where I was busy. Our gazes locked.

'Do you trust me?' I asked her as my hands caressed her hard nipples. She gave me a puzzled look.

'Do I have a choice?' she murmured, her voice strained from panting and moaning so much.

I smirked and turned my face towards the inside of her creamy warm thigh. I could feel her pulse, hear it, hell I could smell her blood through that warm creamy skin. And it smelled delicious. I looked up at her once more.

'Look at me.' I said, before turning my head to the inside of her thigh.

And I bit down.