This is a one shot. One chapter. A self contained story.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed getting to know my version of Edward once again.

My first thought as I enter the club is that this is dangerous.

I'm dangerous. The situation I've put myself in is dangerous.

I don't fear it, but others should fear me in the mood I'm in.

I want the danger, I want to pull it towards me and feed from the fear around me. I'm sprung tight. A predator wound up tight and ready to unleash unholy hell on earth and I like it. It's been so long since I could let this side of my nature out.

The swirl of human scents, the crush of warm bodies and the evidence of human debauchery swamps my senses as I make my way to the bar.

I tap my rolled up hundred just once and within seconds a tattooed brunette asks me what my poison is.

"Patron, straight up," I tell her just loudly enough to be heard over the crushing beat of the techno-trance rubbish that passes for music these days.

When my drink is delivered I leave a twenty and the useless coins I've been given as change on the bar for the very appreciative hostess. I keep the glass in my hand but don't drink from it. I don't want anything in my mouth or against my lips that will detract from the pleasure I'm seeking. I want nothing to mar the taste of my own venom, for now. Instead I tip the glass slightly and allow a little of its contents to fall to the floor. The slow drip, drip, drip goes unnoticed as it joins the other puddles at my feet. Clubs are notoriously filthy places.

There isn't a square inch of available space on the dance floor and only slightly more room on the carpeted area that rings it. I scan the room and do my best to isolate any thoughts that might be relevant to me specifically, but nobody is thinking about me. I'm just another nobody in a mash of hundreds of other nobodies.

My place at the bar isn't a good one.

In order to scan the crowd I'm leaving my flank unsecured and I'm also annoying the hell out of other patrons by not moving once I have my drink.

I make my way very carefully through the crowd and take a more strategic position at the rear of the enormous room. I need to brush against a myriad of bodies to get there and each of them leaves their scent on my clothing. As I reach my chosen spot I take a second to breathe deeply about myself. Arousal, alcohol and narcotics in various forms mix with makeup, deodorants and perfumes all of which combine to create a nauseating permutation of all that is human. I hate it, I want it off my person, off my clothing and out of my nose but if I leave I'll have missed my chance and that will not do.

So I stand, at the rear of the room, and watch the gyrations of the human bodies and listen to the thoughts of those humans as they seek. And each of them is seeking. Something. Variations on the usual themes. Sex, acceptance, popularity and most strangely of all companionship.

They won't find those things here and yet they congregate here, and in other clubs, every night of every week of every year and have done so since before the last century began. Long before I was born and long before I was created anew.

The women have dressed provocatively and yet they scowl and mentally curse when they are ogled. The men have dressed in their best night attire and have drenched themselves in all manner of colognes to mask the smells of their daytime hours spent at various industries. Almost all have shaved and some have shaved more than just their faces in readiness for what this night might bring them.

Groups laugh and joke, talk and tease all around the room. Girls stand within groups of other girls and do their best to surreptitiously rate their chances amongst their group and others. Men stand with other men and sip their drinks, one ear on the conversation, and one eye on the women in the club.

Scoring systems for attractiveness are being enacted within almost every group. I've scored quite highly amongst the groups of women I've been noticed by. None will approach me for they sense the danger I exude from my very pores, but they score me none the less. The men see me as a threat and not just to themselves but also with regard to their ability to attract a female with me in the room. I bother the men, I attract the females. Neither the males nor the females will approach me though. Not in the state I'm in tonight anyway.

On another night, perhaps.

On a night I'm not so predatory maybe. But tonight I don't want their company. Tonight I'm allowing small wafts of my venom to float out of my mouth and across my lips as humans pass me by. Anyone with even a passing or fleeting interest in me who comes by me gets one whiff of it and they move right along without pausing, just the way I want it to be.

The thoughts of those in the club are nothing new. There is nothing that excites me being played out in any mind in the vicinity. The thoughts could be those of any of a million other humans I've had the displeasure of 'hearing' for a century. 'Will she want me' 'Will he respect me in the morning' 'I hate her' 'I hate him' 'I'm lonely' 'I'm drunk' 'I'm high'...the answers are quite usually exactly what would be expected and I've long since given up wanting to know those answers for myself.

No she doesn't really want you but in the absence of a better offer you'll do. Of course he won't respect you in the morning; you're going to blow him on the first date, in his car, in the parking lot. He won't even remember your name, sweetheart, I want to shout. She hates you too. You don't hate him but you want your friends to think you hate him because he's your ex and you think you should. You're lonely because your expectations of others are too high/low. Yes, you're very drunk and now would be a fine time to go outside and flag down a taxi because you're about to puke on his shoes. Yes, you're high and bowed to peer pressure to get high because you crave acceptance from all the wrong people. No, offering yourself to him won't make you popular or him respected. The diseases he carries aren't going to be disclosed before you close the deal. Yes the scar by his ear is from a covert facelift that hasn't given him better self esteem like it was supposed to.

Humans. Simplistic in their desires and highly destructive in their attempts to achieve those desires.

I've seen and heard it all before both verbally and mentally. None of it interests me. The petty games played by the women bore me and the posturing of the men disgusts me.

So why am I here you ask?

I'm waiting for a woman.

Does that put me in the 'male posturing' category? Possible.

Do I intend to posture to get myself a woman? Definitely not. I don't need to. I've never needed to. I won't lie to get one and I won't connive, scheme or conspire to get one to do what I want either.

But then I'm not waiting for just any ordinary woman either.

I'm waiting for a woman who isn't frightened of me, who doesn't cower if I go too far – and I will, I always do. I want a woman who will rise to her toes and take me on. I want a woman who will see past the blackness of my eyes and look into the very heart of me.

And like the humans around me I want her to be attracted to me. I want her to notice me. I want my appearance to please her, my mannerisms to delight her and my dangerous nature to excite her.

I'm too early yet though.

The type of woman I'm waiting for won't be here yet. She'll come later. Perhaps straight from her work, perhaps from dinner with friends or family. She'll transform herself from the straight-laced, respectably dressed 'lady' society thinks she is and she'll come to this club tonight dressed as the wanton, pleasure seeking vixen she is underneath all that.

Not for me are the giggling, alcohol addled girls who are here now. No. I want a woman. I want a woman who knows she's all woman and who knows what she wants from a man. I want a woman who her mother would never suspect of doing – and enjoying – the depraved acts she'll do with me when I lead her away from this club.

I want a woman who won't balk when I tear her clothing from her.

I want a woman who won't play coy when I force her to her knees.

I want a woman who will stare up at me from beneath her lashes as she takes me into her mouth.

I want a woman who knows her body and wants me to learn her every curve in the hours we have available.

I want a woman who refuses to leave my company until she's taken from me what she wants, what she needs, what she craves.

Those types of women aren't in the club yet.

They come later. After the work groups have gone home after seeing the Janes and the Andrews off on their holidays. They come after the Johns and the Jeff's have left to take their nerdy friend Gavin to his first strip joint. They arrive after the Nicole's and the Nancy's need to get home to their cats and they come well after the Stevens and the Mikes go home to their Xbox's and their internet porn after 'striking out'.

I like to come early though. I like to watch the groups, as inane as that can be. I like to make bets with myself who will pair off with whom. I like to watch the girlfriends arrive at ten to drag their boyfriends home by the ear with a scowl and the threat of celibacy if they 'don't come home right this second, Peter'. I like to watch the boyfriends and jealous exes front up to the new potentials and fight for their women. I like it best when they lose. I'm a sadist like that. The exes are usually exes for a reason anyway.

I like to watch the Debbie's fight with the Sandra's over the one non-Neanderthal specimen who isn't too drunk to dance with them. I like to listen to the thoughts of the mousy girls who've agreed to be the designated driver. They invariably mentally curse the members of their groups for poor decision making, despite knowing that in a few days, when its someone else's turn to drive, they too will make those same bad choices after a rowdy round of drinks or ten.

As the clock ticks ever closer to midnight the crowd begins to inevitably thin. The office workers take their leave and explain they have early starts the next morning. The tradesmen and blue collar workers apologise to their friends and blame the boss/foreman/union rep for ending the party prematurely and the sexual predators – the human ones – choose their final targets and make their final plays.

Offers of sex, trades for drugs and empty promises are made and accepted as the groups split apart and shuffle their way to the doors. A steady trickle of 'real' players flow into the club and so begins the next round of life's game.

The game of life that humans play anyway.

I keep a steady watch on the bar knowing the woman I'm waiting for will do as I've done and take a drink to nurse while she scans the crowd for what she's needing. Once, twice and a third time I see different women do just as I've done. Take a drink, scan the crowd for anyone they know, pinpoint a good vantage point and then I watch as each of them make their way through the crowd to whatever spot they've chosen to watch from tonight.

I'm eyed once or twice by them as they pass by me and I have to hide my smirk as they size me up as a potential partner. Their whims are simple ones. Sex, money and a euphoric high that they only find as they reach for orgasm with nameless men. Sorry ladies I think as one of the last bored office girl looks my way before deciding to go home alone, I'm not on the market for the likes of you. I like my woman a little more lethal.

I know the instant I've found what I'm looking for because my cock twitches against the buttons of my jeans. I move, only slightly, to give myself more room from dull the ache I'm already feeling as I watch her move.

She's all tousled dark hair and blood red lips.

I can tell she's the one quite easily. It's as though she's been designed specifically for me. All the attributes I look for are present and accounted for.

The unmistakable sensuality in her attitude. The self confidence she exudes as she arrives alone and the way she is unbothered by having done it. The surety with which she takes in her surroundings. She radiates coolness. She isn't nervous, she's excited. She isn't uneasy to be a single, lone female on her own in a club like this in the depths of a dark night.

And then there are the physical attributes. Not as important to me, but important enough to catalogue them all the same.

The graceful curve of her neck, the sensual curve of her hip in the sinful skirt. The pert handful of her breasts and the unmistakable glint in her eye as she smiles at the bartender who slides her drink towards her. The long, long legs and the lusciousness of her ass cheeks.

She too scans the room once she has her drink of choice in her hand and shakes her head at a moron in black leather pants who hits on her within seconds of her turning to face the room.

I can't help but smile to myself as I watch her move along the outer edge of the dance floor. She's wearing a game face, just as I am, but every now and then a slight grin crosses her features. She's playing a game not unlike my own. She's hunting, as I am. She's scoping the room looking for prey, as I was. But I've found her now, I've settled on my conquest, and no other will do.

A man approaches her and with the merest shake of her head he retraces his steps and goes back to his booth and his friends.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and I need to adjust my stance once again to accommodate the arousal it's induced within me. The plump redness of her mouth is calling me and I cannot ignore her sirens song. I can't smell her from here, she's too far and there are a hundred other human scents that get between us, but I can imagine it.

Anticipation smells sweet to me. Nervous excitement even more so. Fear is a particularly distinct smell but I doubt I'd get a whiff of that from her as I watch her deny yet another 'potential' man. This one takes the brush off a little more personally than the last two but I smile as I watch her lean in to him and then watch the fear she instils bloom across his face. Whatever she's said he gets the picture loud and clear.

I imagine his dilated pupils, his breath quickening and the rush of blood to his cheeks as whatever she's said fully registers in his brain. She's not been kind or gentle. He too leaves her and heads back to his own group. Another one shot down.

Women avoid her, as men avoid me. We're threatening and not just in a predatory way.

She's as stunning to the men as I am to the women. Women loathe her on sight, this spectacular creature. They imagine her to be snobbish, unapproachable and with the body she has she's a threat to them and they know it. She'd have the choice from all the men in the club whether they're attached or not and the other women sense it and know it to be true.

I glean all this from the thoughts of the women closest to her in the club. They hate her immediately. They know nothing about her. Not a name or nationality. They've not heard her speak or had any interaction with her at all and yet they imagine her stealing their men. They imagine their men measuring them against her and they know instantly that they'll never quite stack up if the men have this woman on their minds.

But this woman, this luscious woman, either doesn't care that the women are shooting daggers at her or she doesn't see. She continues to scan the room without a seeming thought for anyone, male or female.

She finds a space for herself opposite where I'm stood leaning against a wall. Like me she seems to sip from her drink but, also like me, she's scanning the room with her eyes over its brim.

My practised air of casualness has left me now. Now I'm hungry. Ravenous in fact. And I've found my prey. If my heart beat it would be strumming so fast I'd be seeing stars. Instead my venom is flowing like a river. I have to suck it back and swallow it lest it be smelled, or its shimmering glaze be spotted by the humans. I lick my lips carefully, to hide the action, and make one last motion to simulate draining my glass.

Leaving it on a nearby table I begin my hunt proper. It's a slow progression through the space. I stop often. I stand behind other groups and beside some more as I make my way as close to her as I can without alerting her to my presence. Stealth is key. In all situations. It would never do to have your prey know you were stalking them after all.

The thrill of the hunt is now coursing through my body. I'm stiff in my trousers and my fingers itch to touch her, wherever she will let me. But even if she won't allow it I will allow my digits their fill and they know it. Every inch of my skin aches for wanting her. I need to feel her beneath me, above me, I need to be inside her.

My skin burns for this creature as I scout around yet another group of inebriated oafs. The thoughts around me are beginning to get sluggish as the alcohol and the late hour take their toll. The minds around me are regarding what's left of the crowd. Some are resigned to be leaving alone; others are making last ditch efforts to find a welcoming body with which to couple. Not many will be successful I chuckle to myself as I steady yet another body before leaving it and taking up a position downwind of my quarry. Or as downwind as I can manage in the crush of sweaty bodies.

She's watching a couple now and I have to suck another wad of venom back over my teeth as her pupils dilate while she stares. The woman is familiar with this man. The man has been with her before. They aren't lovers in the truest sense, merely acquaintances that have failed in their quest to find 'fresh meat' before and are once again willing to settle for each other.

My prey doesn't know this as she watches them dance around each other both physically and mentally. They aren't truly sizing each other up as their bodies slam into one another to the beat of the hypnotic music. No. The sizing has been completed before.

It isn't long before they begin groping each other and I watch in fascination as my quarry stares. Far from behaving as though she's disgusted by the display I stiffen further when she licks her bottom lip.

I'm treated to a faint waft of her scent and another lake of venom coats my mouth and tongue. It's richer now, spicier as my lust and desire grows. By the time I have this woman it will be more potent again. It will grow in its strength, viscosity and the silvery sheen will become almost milky as I coat her skin with it as I have her.

But she won't be afraid of it. No. Not this woman. She'll welcome the sting as I sink my teeth into her creamy white flesh. She'll beg for more of it when I drag the flat expanse of my tongue between the lips of her sex. She'll scream for me when I nick her with the tip of just one of my razor sharp teeth. She'll writhe and buck, moan and whimper as my sinful essence enters her body.

She's aroused. I can smell it. The scent is heady and I need to adjust myself again as I take two small steps toward her. I mustn't startle her with my presence though; it will not do to have her flee before I have the chance to charm her into submission. No posturing. No lies. Just charm and luck.

I am behind her slightly as she's turned her body in towards the dance floor while she watches the couple gyrate. Her ass is magnificent, like a ripe peach and I ache to squeeze each of its globes in my fingers.

Her neck is long and slender, her hair a curtain about her shoulders.

The one hand I can see clearly is delicate. Her wrist and elbow the same creamy flawlessness I can see of her shoulder and the side of her face. Perfection. No lines or marks.

Her clothing is simple but quality. No jewellery save for the single gold band hanging from a thick gold rope around her neck. Perhaps a wedding band? Perhaps a lover's promise? No matter.

The couple are about to make their exit and I need to make my move before they do, recognising the hypnotic effect their swivelling bodies have had on my target. Before the words are spoken by the humans I take the last step between myself and the woman and inhale deeply from her hair.

She smells of anticipation and need.

She's fucking perfect.

"He's going to take her to his home and fuck her until the sun comes up," I growl softly behind her.

She stiffens minutely but doesn't turn to face me. I find this pleasing. The scent of my venom wafting across her flesh should make her afraid but it hasn't.

I allow my words to sink in a moment and use the time to draw in more of her scent. Its thickening as we stand. Her arousal is heightening and she's drawing a little more breath in and over her lips that she truly doesn't need.

Before she can comment I lean in again and touch my lips to the point of her shoulder. I lay the slightest trace of venom across her flesh and cannot help but grin smugly when she shivers ever so slightly. "He prefers to have her ride him so he can watch his cock disappear and her breasts sway with each thrust," I tell her lowly.

Another miniscule shiver punctuates her understanding and then we both watch the couple leave the dance floor and head towards the exit. When they are both out of our line of sight my quarry turns to face me for the first time.

Her eyes are dark and the blood red of her lips has deepened. Her scent is punctuated with excitement now and it's gotten spicier as time passes, just as mine has. She's magnificent. Not afraid.

"Does she want him?" my prey asks softly, barely above a whisper and I can't help but grin.

"Not him specifically, but he'll do," I tell her honestly because that's exactly what the woman was thinking as they left the club. He'd do for tonight.

She quirks an eyebrow at me and tilts her head ever so slightly while she ponders my rationale. She either accepts what I've said as truth or she's made the same assumption for herself because she doesn't question me any further. Instead she turns away from me again. I'm all at once disappointed but then instantly pleased as the gorgeous creature takes a slight step backwards, closer to me, and leans until her back is pressed to my chest.

My hands find her hips as though I've done it a thousand times. My cock aches behind the zipper of my pants and her hair washes her scent across my nose as though she knows it's what I'm seeking.

It is.

I inhale deeply once again at the flesh where her neck joins her shoulder then suck back the venom that the heady aroma has brought forth into my mouth.

"Another," she whispers as she nods towards the dance floor.

Digging my fingers into her hips I move my lips to the shell of her ear. "Another what?" I ask, but I already know what she wants. I just want her to voice it.

"There," she nods minutely to our left. "The one in the killer heels. The guy with the blue hair," she says matter of factly and I do my best to hone in on their thoughts.

The guy has both his hands on her ass as they grind together. Her head is thrown back and he's staring right down her top at the swell of her breasts. I take half a second to form the words and then I lean back down and suckle the first available flesh I come across into my mouth. My body shakes as she squirms then sighs. This woman was made for me.

"He's married," I moan into the arch of her throat. "She knows. He told her straight up but she doesn't care. He wants her nipples between his teeth. She wants his hands inside her pants. Right here."

She turns in my arms unexpectedly and that leaves my hands on her ass, just like the guy on the dance floor. It also means that my mouth is now empty of the taste of her skin. She stares at my lips; they are still parted from where they were splayed across her collarbone seconds before.

I can't read her. I have no insight into what she's thinking. Without warning she's on her toes and pressing her lips to the underside of my chin.

I can't help the inhuman growl that leaves my throat at the touch of her mouth to my skin. She doesn't flinch. She's not afraid. She's fucking perfect.

She nips at me, eliciting another growl from me, and then opens her mouth to take a little of my flesh into her mouth. Her tongue is warm and wet as she swipes it first left then right along my superheated skin.

She licks those lips as though I were an icy treat on a hot day as she settles back down onto the balls of her feet. Her eyes are blazing as they return to mine.

"You taste like rain," she murmurs.

I swipe my tongue to the roof of my mouth to refresh the memory of her taste for myself before I reply. "You taste like sin," I tell her.

Her 'hmm' is barely audible and before I know it she spins in my grasp once more and faces the dwindling sea of bodies again. "Another," she asks and I search for another pair of thoughts with which to continue our game.

I choose an unlikely couple from the throng of humans. A plump girl with a pretty face and a tall, slim man with sex on his mind.

"To your left, by the bar. She's in a red sweater, he's in the pinstriped suit," I tell my prey. I give her a moment to find the ones I mean and when she nods I tell her what they're thinking as they stand a foot apart speaking about innocuous things. "He thinks she's perfect and she's worried he thinks she's fat." I lower my voice another octave and bury my lips into her throat for just a moment while I listen to more of their conversation and their thoughts. "She has nothing to worry about because he thinks she's divine just as she is. He doesn't want today's seemingly perfect ideal of a woman, he wants a real woman with a brain and a good heart." I take a little of her sinful flesh into my mouth and suck just a little harder than I have previously and win for myself a delicious moan.

"Does she want him?" my quarry asks on the end of yet another moan.

"She does," I tell her because it's the truth. "He's mustering the courage to ask her to leave with him. Watch," I instruct and follow the slight movement of her head to watch the couple too.

The man asks her to accompany him out of the club and his smile lights up his whole face when she agrees.

"That's sweet," my prey whispers.

"It is," I agree but continue. "He wants to undress her slowly, then wear her pantyhose while he fucks her. That's why he likes his women plump, so the hose will fit him," I tell her and bury my lips in the crease of her neck once again.

"Jesus Christ," she murmurs in either disgust or outrage. Whichever it is the image I've given her isn't one that's turned her on and I'm pleased. It does nothing for me either. I don't have the legs for stockings myself.

I wait as patiently as I can for her to either ask me for 'another' or to move forward in our own little dance but instead she's fallen silent. I nip lightly at her shoulder and feel her shiver against me. "Leave with me?" I ask cautiously.

She needs to come with me willingly, at least for now. Once I've got her outside the confines of the club it won't matter to me if she's willing. But I need her to come outside of her own accord. Security insists on at least that much compliance. After that she's at my mercy.

Her hesitation is worrying and I ready myself to 'sell' the proposal to her. I spin her once again in my arms and once she's facing me I stare deep into the dark pools of her eyes. "Come away with me?" I plead simply. I'm willing to give this my all and grovel but her grin tells me I don't need to.

"Do you have a ride?" she asks breathily.

"Ride me," comes out of my mouth without my brains permission.

Her bark of laughter surprises and shocks me. I had intended to apologise but she grips my forearms with a little pressure from her fingertips and leans toward me so that she's pressed to my front from crotch to breastbone. "Do you want to watch yourself disappear inside me, or is it more about watching my tits sway?" she asks.

I don't allow her to retreat. Instead I pull her harder up against me, making sure she can feel my erection against her belly, and then I lower my mouth to her ear. "Both," I growl into her ear. "Come, now," I demand.

The merest nod of her head has my senses once again reeling. She gives me no time to consider how this is to be done. She reaches for my hand at her waist and tugs until it's me following her out of the club.

This isn't my usual modus operandi.

It's me who leads my prey outside.

It's me who's supposed to guide her to the dark, dirty alley at the back of the club.

It's me who drives this train.

Instead I find myself being led like a dog out of the club and I find that I like it.

I like strong women. I like women who take charge.

I like women who aren't afraid of me.

I like this woman.

She stops abruptly and I'm so lost in thought that I bump into her, stumble and its she who rights me. It's almost embarrassing.

Her soft lilting laughter rings in my ears as she steps away a little and looks me over from head to foot. I feel as though I'm being assessed and I probably am.

I drag myself up to my full height and plaster my best sheepish grin onto my mortified face.

I need to put her off her game so that I can get back into mine. The options are easy ones. Call her bluff and take back control.

I pull her hand until she stops – this time I'm ready for it and I step aside as she halts. I take one small step and put myself in front of her and in that one, simple move, I've wrestled control back from her grip. Now it's me who tugs her hand. Now it's me leading her to where I want her to be. Now it's me who'll set the scene so that I can take from her what I want and need.

From my peripheral vision I can see her scanning the alley as we move along it. There are some small security lights dotted along the walls but when the alley narrows and comes to its conclusion – leaving her nowhere to go but back the way we came in – it grows darker and darker until there is nothing but the shadowed moon above us.

I can see her perfectly. Every delicate feature is in stark relief for me. Every curve, every expression is mine to take in because I can see in the inky blackness.

Her eyes dart left and right then left again as she takes in her surroundings.

It's filthy. There is a leaking pipe that runs the height of the brickwork to her left and a slight hiss from a gas pipe above our heads. There is trash and debris from all manner of dark deeds strewn around our feet and yet I find the place strangely erotic.

It isn't a place for loving. It's a place for sin.

A shout rings out from the mouth of the alley and she startles slightly. The squeal of tyres maybe two streets away has her eyes darting to and fro again.

I give her no time to rethink her evening's choices and slide one hand into the hair at the base of her neck and the other back around her hip.

Her eyes are wide and I hope the excitement I feel she feels too. The scent of her arousal tells me she does.

I waste no time and pull her to me. I wind her hair through my fingers and pull her head back roughly. I growl, just once, and then I lower my mouth to hers.

If she was expecting soft and gentle kisses she gave no outward indication of it as I force my tongue into her mouth. She takes me almost hungrily and I cannot help but moan into her waiting mouth.

Startlingly she echoes that moan and uses her fingers to pull me harder to her using my belt loops.

This was what I was looking for.

Total acquiescence.

Supplication of the highest order.

I force her to take a step backwards until her shoulders are pressed up against the brick wall. I pay no mind to whether or not she's comfortable, or if the fabric of her blouse will withstand the rough surface and protect her flesh. She'll let me know if it doesn't. I might even care if she does.

I tug her head back further so that I'm towering above her, my tongue in her mouth and my body against hers. She's got no chance to escape the confines of my body and I love that.

It's powerful. It's like a drug to me and it spurs me on to be even more bold.

I withdraw my tongue and bite her bottom lip. She takes in a harsh breath that she can only take from within me as I've closed the space between us even further. She sucks my breath into her body and shivers while I shake with the knowledge that her essence is now on my tongue.

With her pinned there I remove my hand from her hip and hold her at the small of her back. I kick her feet apart with one of mine and ball her blouse in my fist, anchoring her as I want her. She doesn't fight me but neither does she cower.

She's fucking perfect.

Just the right mix of compliant sinner and courageous fighter.

I spread her legs a little further with one more shove to her right leg and when she's slid ever so slightly down the wall I bring my thigh upwards between her legs. The heat of her core hits me instantly, as does the scent of her arousal.

I press, lightly, with my thigh until she's moaning in my mouth and then I press a little harder. Her fingers are clawing at my waist now. Her nails are digging into the seams at the side of my shirt and mine are slicing through the delicate fabric at the rear of her blouse.

The pads of my fingertips make contact with the flesh of her back and I feel another surge of ferocious power and lust come over my body and brain.

She's grinding herself down onto my thigh in a rhythmic push, pull, push motion and it drives me even more wild.

I slice her blouse a little more and then her entire back is exposed to the cool night air. She shivers and whimpers but not a word passes between us when I deny her my lips and tongue. I slip my fingernail upwards and cut through the collar of the shirt and then I pull the two halves, one side in each hand, until she's standing before me in nothing but the sheerest bra.

I involuntarily lick my lips and hear her grunt as I remove my leg from between hers to step away. It's a grunt of protest and it makes me ache even more for her.

I pull her away from the wall and take her place myself. I only give her the tiniest indication of what I want with one hand on one of her shoulders and I watch, enthralled, as she sinks to her knees before me.

She's perfect. She's silent and she's compliant.

I could just as easily have left her shirt intact and got her to her knees, but I want her exposed. Vulnerable. I want her excitement to heighten at the thought of being seen in just her bra.

Just as I'd hoped she would she stares up at me from beneath her lashes as her hands work first my belt then the fastenings on my pants. Her tongue snakes out as she frees me from within my boxer shorts and then she bites down on her bottom lip as she fists me, hard.

I don't want to break the eye contact but I have to as she strokes me firmly once, twice and then a third time. I have to push my head backwards, into the brickwork, and stifle the guttural growl that's threatening the back of my throat as she takes me into her warm, wet mouth.

Her tongue swirls around my head as she tastes me. Her lips clamp down on me as she slides forward and takes as much of me as she can inside her. I crane my neck and mentally calm myself as she sets a languorous pace.

Forward, back, a soft swirl of her tongue, forward, back and then she takes me to the hilt. Her throat convulses around me and I have to mentally steady myself to prevent my hips from jutting forward too violently.

Her eyes are closed and it just won't do. It's not what I want. I reach for her again and I place just one fingertip beneath her chin. She responds immediately and returns her eyes to mine.

I watch as I disappear into her mouth, her lips straining to take my girth. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks. She swallows around me and my hips do involuntarily jerk forwards. She grins around me and my knees buckle just slightly. She hums in the back of her throat and I come.

I give her no warning because I had no warning to give her. It overtook me and it was frantic.

I come and I come and I come and she takes it all.

I hold her roughly to me. I push myself deep into the back of her throat and hold her still while I fuck her mouth and come down her throat. She doesn't gag. She doesn't whimper. She doesn't fight me. She takes me. All of me. She swallows again and again and still I come.

Her nails dig into the backs of my thighs as I pump into her mouth and ride the last of my orgasm. Euphoria burns through me. The lust filled high pings and bounces off every nerve ending in my body before dulling only slightly as my rush recedes.

I release my hold on her head and allow her to eject me from her mouth. I tug her to her feet using a hand under each of her arms and when she's at her full height I stop any thoughts she has of speaking to me by once again plunging my tongue into her mouth.

She groans long and deep and I taste myself on her lips. I can't help but groan into her waiting mouth. It's something I've never done before but I'm not disgusted, as I thought I would be. But my ardour is growing quickly again. I'm not done, not by a long shot, and I want her again.

I manhandle her until she's once again back and shoulders to the wall. I frantically kick her feet until they are at her shoulder width and then I settle my thigh hard up against her core. She's grinding on me and I'm shifting my thigh higher, lower, retreating and advancing while our tongues fight for supremacy higher up.

I brace myself with one hand by her head and with the other I roughly pull the cup of her bra down. I palm her breast and knead it, then push its supple weight back in towards her body. I grasp it then release it alternately until its bouncing in my hand. The louder she moans, the faster she flicks her tongue over mine, the faster I grip and release. By the time she's forgotten about the dance our mouths are partaking in I'm slapping her breast quite roughly. Her nipple is rock hard and she's swaying against my leg, up then down, as her breast moves left then right.

She groans into my mouth again and it spurs me on. I pinch her nipple between my thumb and finger and shove my thigh up high into her.

She gasps into my waiting mouth and I suck in the sound hungrily.

She needs more and I'm oh so willing to give it to her.

I suck down her mewl of protest when I remove my leg and then drink in her whimper as I unceremoniously delve into her sopping wet panties. I give her no time to adjust to the coolness of my fingers. I run just the tips up between her lips then circle her clit before pinching it rhythmically in time with my fingers that encircle her nipple.

Her hands are roaming my back and shoulders now. She pulls me to her and pushes me away in time with my own ministrations. It's hypnotic. It's magnetic. I can't stop. She can't stop. She won't stop me. I won't stop.

I dip one finger inside her, the angle not quite right in our current position, but earn a deeply satisfying grunt all the same. I let her nipple go only long enough to pull her hips out further from the wall before I return to my duties at her breast.

Her moans and grunts are becoming louder, more forceful as she strives for more. More friction. More depth. More me.

Her skirt isn't restrictive but I dare not destroy it.

I range my hearing out around us and discern that we are still truly alone and have not piqued anyone's interest back here in the depths of the alley.

I shush her protest before she can give full voice to it as I withdraw both hands from her luscious body. I leave the skirt intact but tug her panties until they are pooled at her feet and then I slip just one of her feet from their confines. Her arousal is pungent while I'm on my knees at her feet and I can't help but swipe my tongue over my lips to lap at it as I rise once again to tower over her.

I drag the other bra cup down and away from her breast and deftly switch hands. I pinch her nipple with the fingers that are now coated in her own juices and slip my free hand inside her panties.

It's my prey that pulls my mouth back to hers. It's my quarry that bites my tongue as it enters her mouth. It's my willing accomplice to this sin that spreads her legs to give me better access to her sex.

The push, pull, back and forth finds its settling rhythm within seconds and then she's once again moaning into my waiting mouth.

I leave her clit and slip two fingers inside her and earn a wanton groan for my reward. I curl those fingers upwards and search for the round, rough spot I know will drive her over the edge. I find it with ease and circle it deftly. She mewls right up against my lips and I feel her knees give just slightly at the pleasure.

I allow her to break our kiss when she needs to pant but nudge and prod her to maintain the eye contact while she comes.

And come she does.

Long and hard on my fingers. Her walls spasm and her lashes flutter as she plunges headlong into the bliss of orgasm.

She isn't a screamer. She doesn't wail. She doesn't flail.

She grips me tightly with her nails about my waist. She shoves her hips towards me. She purses her lips just so and then exhales over them as the pleasure washes through her body.

And then she lifts those glorious lashes and stares at me again.

Wanton. Wanting. Fierce.

And I'm hard again.

I withdraw my fingers and grip her about the hips. I lift her off her feet and press her hard up against the wall. She needs no instruction and wraps her legs around me. I tug her skirt to expose her flesh and stare down to watch as I slide myself home.

It's her that growls this time.

It's me that whimpers.

Her heels meet behind me; her hands settle on my shoulders, my cock seats itself fully inside her and our eyes meet.

I don't miss the slight nod of her head and I begin to thrust.

She weighs nothing to me and it's easy to advance and withdraw whilst holding her steady up the wall. And still she stares me down.

There's no need for languid stroking. There's no need for kind words or gentle encouragement.

There's just a fierce and burning need to fuck her and fuck her hard.

And so I do.

I work us both into a frenzy.

I pump and plunge. She bucks and hisses. I push; she pulls me with her heels. I push her higher and tug one dusky pink nipple into my mouth. She shoves her fingers into my hair and pulls me harder to her.

She doesn't whine about the harshness of the brickwork at her back as I shove her harder and harder. She doesn't whimper as I dig my fingers into the flesh on the back of her thighs. She doesn't cringe or attempt to push me away as I lower my mouth to her breast once again and sink my teeth into her like the feral animal I am.


She doesn't do any of that.

What she does do is come.

As I swipe my now milky white venom across the bite mark I feel her clench around me hard. A hoarse groan escapes her lips and her fingers claw at my shoulders as she succumbs to the pleasure of her release. She takes me. She takes all of me. She lets me have her.

And in that moment she's truly mine.

I give her a second, no more, to ride out the ripples of her orgasm and then I begin to thrust again. Harder again, if it's possible.

The rasping, grating sound of her body being shoved higher up the wall as I pound into her mixes with her breathy moans and my rough grunts as I get closer and closer to the euphoria I know will accompany another climax.

This one builds. It doesn't sneak up on me as it did while I was in her mouth. This time I can feel the telltale signals my brain and body send me and I have time to adjust my rhythm to wring it out.

I don't back off the relentless pounding that is my cock invading her glorious body but I do slow my totally unnecessary breathing. I do my best to steady the push and pull. I draw out each stroke as much as I can whilst still reaching for the ultimate release.

I grip her by the shoulders, hard. I hold her as steady as I can while I force myself into her moist depths. I stare into her now hooded eyes and beg her to stay with me. Stay connected with me. I plead with her to look into my eyes as I lose myself in her body.

And she does.

Those lashes.

She stares at me from beneath them; her head slightly tilted down because I've shoved her so high up the wall she has to almost look down on me. But she stares. As I've insisted. She stares and I feel the pressure begin to reach its peak.

She knows. She knows I'm about to lose it. And it's at this point that this ceases to be a game.

This is now at its most dangerous point.

The club was random.

The games inside it planned.

The chase, the thrill of getting her to leave with me mere child's play.

But now. Now that I can feel the heat and pressure in my balls demanding release it's not a game any longer.

This is dangerous now.

More dangerous than the hunt itself.

Now I feel the need to possess. Fully. To claim. To mark. To bite.

But she knows.

As the sting begins in my calves she grins.

As the flutter in my stomach becomes a churn she blinks languidly and cranes her neck.

As I pinch her shoulders between my fingers to signal my impending release she gives me what she knows I need.

"Say it," she hisses, her venom wafting from between her gritted teeth and floating across the space between us, igniting my lust for this woman even further.

"Yours," I hiss in reply and dig the toes of my shoes into the ground.

I'm desperate for the release but she knows me. She knows this.

She knows I won't come until the words are said and meant. She knows.

I have to look away. It's a split second. Less than a split second and not long enough for a mere human to notice. But she notices. She sees.

"Look at me," she demands now. And I comply because I know her too. I know this. "Say it," she growls, the guttural intonation clear.

"I'm yours," I comply as I buck a little faster.

The heat I'm feeling from my groin is almost painful as I stave off the release as best I can. It's a lost cause. We both know it. But the game isn't quite done. The thrill isn't complete until I bellow. It's not over, or right, until I can't help but shout what she needs to hear and I need to say.

She shifts slightly, sinking back down the wall and making me go deeper than ever and I'm done.

"Fucking say it," she hisses from between her clenched teeth and I'm done. Lost.

"I'm fucking yours," I howl as my balls give one last mighty clench and my cock explodes deep inside her. "I'm fucking yours," I whimper as my knees buckle and we slide a little down the wall. "I'm fucking yours," I whisper against the pale lusciousness of her throat as the last ripples of ecstasy course through my body.

Her fingers are in my hair then.

Her lips are at my ear.

"All mine," she chants softly as I slump and press us both against the wall for balance rather than for traction. "All mine," she croons as I get my body under control.

"All yours," I whisper in return as her lips find mine.

I'm beyond the game now. Sated and consumed by the pleasure that living within my true nature affords me.

She rights us. She pushes me slightly and gets out from underneath me, leaving me heaving gently and braced by one hand against the wall. I see her fingers dart out between my parted legs as she retrieves her panties from the ground. She balls them up and slips them into the pocket of my jeans before she tugs the pants up my thighs.

I stay there, braced against the wall, as she tugs my shirt this way and that. I drop my arm only long enough for her to take my outer shirt off my body and then I put my hand right back against the wall, as though without doing so I'd collapse. Maybe I would.

I listen as she pulls on my shirt over her bra and grin as she kicks her own ruined shirt further down into the depths of the alley.

And then she's at my feet again.

I don't try to help. I can't. And so I stand there and let her tuck me back into my boxers and then my pants. I stare down at her tiny hands as she refastens my belt but I do not speak or move. I can't.

I'm done.

She understands. Because she knows.

She knows I need this. Now and then I need this.

I need to be who and what I really am.

I need to hunt. I need to chase. I need to be aggressive. I need to let myself be what I am without impunity.

And she knows.

It's why I love her.

It's why I adore her.

It's why I'm hers.

"All yours," I whisper as she reaches for the hand I have against the wall. I curl my fingers around hers and let her lead me back out of the alley. I let her lead me out into the street, out to where the harsh overhead lights shine on the sin around us.

"Take me home, Edward," she whispers as we come to where I've parked the car.

I lead her to it and just before she's about to bend and enter the vehicle I pull her to me and kiss her hard. It's a thank you and she knows it. I can feel her grin as the kiss comes to its logical conclusion. As I step away she raises a hand to stroke my cheek. "You're welcome, darling," she says as she smiles for me.

She bends again as if to get into the car but I tug on her hand once more. I bring my hand up between us and let her see the gold band that once again adorns my finger. I bring her back to my chest insistently, kiss her quickly once more and then hold her left hand between our bodies. "Put your wedding rings back on," I tell her firmly and she grins in response.

After one-hundred and thirty-seven years together she knows me.

It's the same every time.

Every single damn time.

Because she knows me.

Because she knows what I need.

Because she loves me.

Because I love her.

Because she knows I need to be a proper vampire every now and then.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review.