You crawled in next to me fully dressed tonight, skirt, jacket, stockings, heels, the entire power suit. Your hair was pinned up. You slipped your arm around me as I stirred, blinking awake.
"Hi," you said, struggling with the covers.
"Hi," I tried to gather you into my arms but you had other plans. You dragged the covers back and stood over me, giggling as you kept your balance, teetering, your heels sunk into the mattress. I reached to hold you up by your hips, mystified, but you pushed my hands away and reached under your skirt, pulling your panties down; you struggled out of them and finally tossed them onto the floor. You dropped to your hands and knees, straddling me, causing me to grunt loudly, which made you laugh again. You crawled over me, inching your skirt higher over your hips and taking my raging hardness firmly in your hand. The buttons on your jacket grazed my chest as you slid down onto me, causing me to arch up and yelp your name; you were slick and hot and I slid deep into you, effortlessly. You shook your hair out of it's elaborate prison and sighed, sitting up on me. I could feel your garters delicately scratching my thighs.
"What a day," you said, unbuttoning the jacket, "This client's driving me nuts. I mean, the guy thinks 'corporation' is a definition for 'dictatorship'. I was just listening to him go on and on about their integration program AFTER I'd already showed him the mock-up I made of their internal network map. It's full of holes, that system. But this guy's got himself fooled. Anal, I mean control freak from Hell...of course he's doing his thing, but listening skills are valuable even in the geek sector. You know, that's really what's wrong with everyooooh," I thrust upward and you ground onto me, your body throbbing around me, "It's a lack of communication skills. Oooh! Angel!" You have no idea how beautiful you are, biting your lower lip and and narrowing your eyes at me as the pleasure shudders through you. I waited until it had subsided.
"Communication skills," I groaned.
"Yeah..." you said, recovering enough to speak, "Even dweebs must speak with other humans sometimes," you were panting, a slight dew beginning to form on your upper lip. I was unbuttoning your blouse. You tossed it on the floor and unhooked your bra.
"I think I finally penetrated the brick wall of his so-called mind," you said, struggling out of the bra and throwing it, "Because I got the job," you grinned and then suddenly your eyes rolled back, "Pinch!" you cried; I had your breasts cupped gently in my hands and I complied, squeezing your nipples in my fingers. I was rewarded with a vice-like surge and a screech; I gritted my teeth in desperation.
"Buffy," I begged.
"It's a two-week gig, max," you said, beginning again to slide up and down on me, the heat of your body nearly scalding me, "So I'll take a look at the facility on Mo-oooooh," you fell on my chest, gripping my shoulders, "Now! Now!" I seized your hips and brought you against me, hard. You cried out; the scent of you, sweet as milk, engulfed me as you convulsed against me.
"I love you," I said; I pushed myself back in the bed so I was nearly sitting up, pulling you with me. You were still trembling. The size difference between us makes it necessary to compensate in some situations. I wanted your nipples in my mouth. I braced myself against the headboard and pulled you foreword to nibble on them. You crooned, and your body released more wetness that seeped over me, sweet and slippery. I wanted to drive pleasure through you until you were exhausted. You braced your hands on my chest and twisted up and down, your body gripping me hungrily. I wasn't going to last unless I put my mind somewhere else, and quickly.
"How long did it take you to find the leaks?" A lame attempt, but I had to try.
"Oh! Aaaooohhh....." you panted, "Half an hour!" you yelled, and then you sobbed my name, "Angel, now, now, deep, now, DEEP!"
I gave up at that point; it was useless, I'd have to try to wear you out later. I gripped you in my arms and twisted quickly, throwing you under me, and plunged into you viciously. You opened inside, taking more of me; I slid my tongue into your mouth and drove into you. The feeling of you expanding for me, giving up more wetness for me, and screaming into my mouth sent me over. We slammed against each other, crying out like dying people.
We finally fell away from each other. I groped for your hand. I found it and kissed your fingers.
"Hey," you said, rolling on your side to smile at me, "How'd you sleep?"
"Kiss me," I said.
And then I was completely awake, without you. Of course.
We're docking in three days. I didn't expect to so many strange emotions to have claim over me: distress, in thinking I might never see you again, rage, because John has been targeted and is already in hiding, and excitement, at the prospect of meeting him in person.
John and I have a strange relationship. He's over one hundred and seventy years younger than I am, but he's a blood relative. I wasn't able to extinguish every last member of my family when I was a demon; some escaped, and Darla became bored with Ireland. The Continent was more to her taste. My family managed to continue. A few years after I'd arrived in America I sent a letter addressed simply to the family, on the estate; I received a child's letter in return, a letter so full of acceptance and charm that I became addicted to the correspondence. John made me his secret friend, his confidant, his advisor, and the letters kept me going. It was a relief to know that I hadn't killed my entire family. It comforted me, and I liked John from the very beginning. I'm proud to count him as a relation.
John is a nephew, but with multiple "great"s in front of the title. He's seventy-two. I've been writing to him for over sixty years. Are you wondering if he knows about me? He does, and it made for years of interesting letters, letters begging me to seek mental help. The turning point came, appropriately enough, through questions of history. I knew things that I couldn't possibly know without having been in Galway in the late 1700's. I named documents, coats of arms, I knew the histories of individuals, and the complete genealogy of my family. The most exhaustive research could not have given me that much information. After a time he accepted what I told him, and after we began to speak on the phone a few years ago, we grew closer in trust. He's a friend, as well as a nephew.
He and his immediate family have been marked. It's an act of revenge by a handful of very powerful Ancients, the oldest vampires on the island and some of the most formidable among the Ancients of the world. As a rule, they move slowly, and only when necessary, but they made an exception for me. I've been making lots of enemies in LA. Enemies all over the world, but especially in my homeland, and they knew where to hit me, where it would hurt. They want me in Ireland because they have an ambush planned. They might have underestimated me. We'll see.
I miss you. Even more than in LA. You're so far away. You don't know I've left yet, and you won't be happy that I didn't talk to you about it. But this isn't your fight. It's mine. I have to do this for my remaining family and I have to stand up to the Ancients alone. I know you'll understand that.
I love you. I love you always.