Lust

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I don't know much about Evangeline

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I don't know much about Evangeline. I don't know her favorite aria or her preferred reading genre or even what she likes to eat (other than possibly pizza, and I suspect that it's terrible here in Boston, compared to my beloved pizza in Napoli).

Given that she's a modern woman, and that modern women—hell, all women— confound me, I wouldn't hazard a guess at her preferences. But there is a vibration between us, something that seems to flow with ease.

Maybe it's sexual tension? Maybe my years-long celibacy has somehow affected my judgment? I almost laugh out loud because I'm thinking this while my face is buried between her legs.

We've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and most of that time we've indulged in our physical desires. Not that there's anything wrong with that — as Damiano used to say, we might be undead, but we still need pleasure. "Why not indulge," he'd ask, then laugh.

Vampires live a life of tedious, grasping eternity, he'd add, but at least the occasional orgasm makes it somewhat tolerable. And to be sure, I have indulged from time to time. I try to keep sex separate from feeding, because one is sustenance and the other is practically spiritual.

God knows I want to indulge in this woman who is splayed before me. Fortunately for the both of us, I fed recently, so I don't need to satiate that particular need today. If I hadn't, I would've probably already drained Evangeline dry. 

Horniness and hunger are a painful combination for a vampire.

But there are a few other problems that I can't overlook, even if her pussy tastes delicious and her body feels perfect in my hands, like clay ready to be molded into a masterpiece.

I ease away from her pussy, replacing my tongue with my thumb. The added pressure on her clit drives her wild, I've discovered, and that makes my dick positively throb with need. So. Fucking. Satisfying.

But my dick needs to stay out of this. I'm aware of that fact. Sadly, my dick is one of the many problems right now.

Vampires like me aren't supposed to fuck or feed from halflings. This is codified in The Council's rules, ones that I agreed to hundreds of years ago. I'm treading on thin ice by kissing and stroking Evangeline, although I suspect the council would spare me because this is a means to an end.

At least that's what I'm telling myself. I'm doing a terrible job of finding out about her brother, although I suppose that will come later.

"Please, Matteo? Your tongue?" she whispers, as if helpless.

"Of course," I murmur, licking her once more. She sighs in such an indulgent way that I want to keep this up all day long.

Back to the problems...

She doesn't know that I know.

As I bring Evangeline to the brink of another orgasm with my tongue, my mind races with thoughts.

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