Gina has always wanted to take a bite out of Danny, her hot, half-vampire neighbor. Sadly, they’ve known each other forever, and he’s never been one to take her torrid teasing seriously.
Then, one warm summer night, Gina drops by, only to find Danny can’t take his hungry gaze off her. Suddenly, it’s up to her to keep a lid on the scorching tension between them, or risk being devoured in more ways than one…
Warning: DEVOURED is a short, erotic 7000-word story that contains hard vampire sex, biting, and oral sex. It is suitable only for mature audiences. Interested?
I remember what I was thinking as the door shuddered open— that waiting for something to happen is much easier when you can actually see and hear it happening— because as soon as I saw Danny, I know that thought died.
He was sweating a little, and panting slightly. It looked very good on him, even more so than usual. He was lit up from the side, his coffee-brown skin set off by the light from the lamp on the wall to his right, and he wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of familiar, ratty jeans. “Gina,” he said, frowning down at me. “I didn’t think you’d be here so early.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” I said, rolling my eyes, more at myself than at him. I’d fucked way cuter guys in the city by then, and wasn’t too impressed at how, well, impressed I still was at his normal, everyday hotness. “Back up, idiot. Coming through.” I bulled forward when he didn’t move, figuring that he’d do his usual careful dance out of the way, but he didn’t, or at least, didn’t do it fast enough.
It wasn’t much of a touch, too. My tits got the most of it, an uncomfortable smush against his wiry upper arm, and I think it only happened because he’d realized it might, and had tried to fend me off.
“Woah,” I said, to cover the fact that I was flushing like some dumb teenage girl, instead of the savvy, sassy slut I liked to think I was. “None of that before you take me out to dinner, sweetie.”
“Shut up,” Danny said. I wasn’t looking at him by then, being too busy checking out the miniscule changes in the decor of his apartment, so I didn’t think anything was wrong. “Why are you… I mean, what the hell is going on with that top you’re wearing?”
“I know what you mean,” I said, shrugging off my bag onto the unfamiliarly thick carpet right by the san-box containing the outdoor shoes. “I’d go without if I could, but then I’d feel even sweatier. I hate getting sweat underneath my tits.”
“Right,” was his slightly stiff answer. It wasn’t anything out of the usual— Danny’d always been shy about the subject of my tits, never even glancing down there occasionally like most of the people I knew. So I slipped my shoes off, stuck them in the san-box (Mr. Terrano had always been a stickler for that), then made my way over to the couch and flopped down onto it, revelling in the familiar, homey smell of the mint conditioner that they’d always used to clean it. “Gina.”
“Don’t take your pants off.”
“What? I’m wearing, you know, the little shorts? Thick as anything, you won’t see even a hint…”
“Yeah, I know, but don’t, okay? Just don’t.”
That was when I knew something was up.