The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

As she sat in her car waiting for him, all the old doubts began to resurface. She was 15 years older now, with all the physical changes a maturing body brings. Would he still see her as desirable? Would the heat and passion still be there for them both?



Twin headlights suddenly illuminated the interior of her vehicle as a pick-up truck pulled perpendicularly across the spaces next to her car and came to an abrupt halt. The driver’s door opened and a male figure sprang out. Her brain barely had time to register that it was him as he jerked open her door.



He pulled her from her seat and into his arms for first a hug, and then a crushing, mind-numbing kiss. And as he deepened it, her brain began to process the signals that her other senses were sending.



He smelled so good. The scent of his cologne was familiar, soothing.



His shoulders had broadened over the years. He, like her, had aged. His head, once full of dark locks, was now quite gray – as were the beard and mustache she remembered so well. It was a look she thought she could get used to.



As they came up for air, she felt the weight of his body pressed against hers. They still fit in the old familiar ways. It seemed easy, but she knew it wouldn’t be. But for now, she wanted it, wanted more.



He took her hand and kissed it, and she told him she was glad he had made it safely. He leaned to take her keys from her ignition, then closed and locked her door. He took her hand in his and they walked across the parking lot and into the store.



After quickly shopping to replace what toiletries he had needed, they exited back to their vehicles and he followed her home. He parked in the space next to hers, then rushed to open her door for her. He retrieved his bag from the front floorboard of his truck and they walked up the stairs to her apartment.



She had no expectations for a physical reunion as she knew he was exhausted from the drive. She was happy to have him there, finally, and could wait for him to get some rest. It would be enough for her to just lie next to him, to watch him sleep and know that he was really there.



As they came to her door, he set his bag down and took the keys from her hand. He opened it, and bent down to make peace with the mass of wiggling dog at the entryway. Once he had made his introduction, he stood again and, handing her his bag, picked her up. He carried her inside, stopping only long enough once across the threshold for her to shut and lock the door. After asking her which way to go in the darkened apartment, he continued to carry her into the bedroom.



She had set candles burning before she left to meet him, and they were the only light in the room. He set her gently down and took the bag from her hands, tossing it gently into the chair in a corner as he shut and locked the door.



He turned to her, and she really looked at him for the first time. Yes, he was older, but he seemed to wear it well. And then he dove for her, pressing her back against the door, and she let her system rage under his hands. He crushed his mouth to hers, letting the storm of emotions that had shadowed them both since he left her break over them both.



Oh, to be touched again, stroked by hard hands so foreign and familiar. The wild and wicked freedom of it gushed into her, flooded away questions, worries, doubts. To be wanted like this again, devoured by desperation. To have her own needs matched by equally insatiable ones.



The unique flavor of him seared through her, sizzling nerves, smoking the senses. His arms tightened so that her body was molded to his, and against his heart her heart kicked and galloped until the paces matched. Exactly.



The memories of the boy he had been, the reality of the man in her arms – both blurred together and became one. Became him.



He said her name once, his lips moving against hers, then she broke free, staggering back two steps. And then he said the words to her that she had wanted to hear, and yet dreaded – I love you. I always have. I never stopped.



Her breathing was as uneven as his. His eyes were huge, dark, almost unreadable. And then she moved to him in one quick stride. Locking her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, she took from him as he had taken from her.



Her mouth was a fever, and the ache of it throbbed through her. He was the only man who’d ever brought her pain, and the only man who’d ever brought her true pleasure. Both edges of that sword stabbed, and still she took.



She had pushed him, plucked at the ragged edges of his self control with one underlying purpose. This. Just this. Whatever the risks, whatever the price, she had to know.



She remembered the taste of him, the texture, the way it felt when his hands slid up her waist to fist in her hair. She relived all of that now, and experienced the new.



He nipped her bottom lip, just one quick bite before his tongue slicked over the same spot to soothe and to entice. She changed the angle of the kiss, daring him to follow, to circle the slippery rim of that well of need.



Someone trembled. She wasn’t sure who, but it was enough to remind her that she had choices. She drew back, then away, as the reverberations of that mating of mouths tossed her emotions.



So she knew. He was still the only one who could meet and match her passions. Too bad she wasn’t sure about the rest of it. It was as if a curtain had been lowered, dead center of her vision. She could see peripherally, but straight ahead was blocked. It worried her more than she was willing to admit.



Behind the curtain were choices, she understood that. But how could she make the right one if she was so unsure?



He was one of her choices. But to what extent did she trust her instincts there, weighing them with logic and past history? Balancing them against primal sexual attraction that tended to cloud logic.



Once she’d believed in happily-ever-after. But she’d learned, and learned well, that there were some losses that sliced you to bits, shattered your spirit into dust. And still you went on, you remade yourself, mended your spirit. You lived. If not happily ever after, then contentedly enough.



She had let herself love him again. Or rather, her heart had turned on her when she had been vulnerable. But she would not become a victim of her own emotions, not a second time. She wouldn’t throw herself mindlessly into love, putting herself and everything that mattered to her at risk.



For years, so many years of her life, she’d have given everything to have him look at her they way he’d just done, to tell her he loved her the way he just had. Now that he had, why did it have to be so hard? Why did it make her want to break down and cry?



A part of her had been born loving him. She had closed off that part. She had had no choice. And that was the problem. Not knowing if she should open it up again or keep it closed. She had made the mistake once, and he had left. She couldn’t afford to make the same mistake again, whether he stayed or went.



For her, it wasn’t a matter of believing. It was a matter of considering every possibility. If she opened herself up to him again, completely, what if he left? Could she survive the leaving again?



She had loved him once. But her love had been twined around her own wants and needs and wishes. It had been a girl’s love, with its borders. When he had left, she had locked that love away. She hadn’t been able to survive with it alive inside of her.



She didn’t want to love him again. She had put those dreams aside, and didn’t want them now. She was afraid to dream, to hope, to live again.

And then he kissed her, and nothing else mattered.



Clothing was thrown to the floor in their rush to see and touch each other. She pulled his shirt aside and touched warm, strong flesh. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, for the wanting of him.



They took each other where they stood, and took hard and fast. The race through pleasure, toward bliss, stole breath and reason as they mated with a kind of willful violence. The climax raked her like claws. One long swipe that sliced her and laid her bare. Helpless against it, she surrendered. And felt him plunge after her.



As he lowered his forehead to hers, she struggled to draw in air. Dizzy, she tumbled through the haze as they fell back onto her bed together. Lying flat on their backs, they both stared at the ceiling together.



He nuzzled at the curve of her shoulder, rubbed his cheek against hers. As he pulled her close to hold her in his arms, her mind began to clear again.



What had she done? She’d stripped aside, by her own will, the last of her defenses. She had given him all she was once again, taken what he had to offer.



She had let herself fall in love with him again. Stupid, she thought. Stupid, careless, and dangerous.



He had left her no choice, exploited her weakness, drained her will with a ruthless tenderness. He had watched her surrender, to him, to herself. There was no denying it now.



Even knowing it, she could lie there with his weight pressing against her and want to gather him close and cling to the dreamy echoes of what they had just shared. It had been a long time, a very long time, since her body had felt so loose, so used. It made her want to curl up like a cat and purr.



Gradually she relaxed against him, sinking into the comfort and coziness, lulled by the intimacy of silence. She’d never had a lover like him, before or since – one who understood her. Was that why she had fallen in love with him the first time? If so, would it continue to trigger the same emotions? Or had she always felt the same without knowing it? Whatever the answer, it had to be dealt with, explored and examined until the pieces fit.



All she knew for now was that he, and they, were finally home once more.