tagErotic CouplingsNefarious: My Bloody Valentine

Nefarious: My Bloody Valentine

bymoncrief_the_advocate©

I sat at the desk in front of my bedroom window. The faded sunlight lit the page as I wrote. It was supposed to be a card, only a card, but it was more than that and the sweat from my nervous palm made the pen slip. The message was a reminiscence, a confession and a prayer. I put the pen down as my mind drifted to earlier events.

We'd gone to the park in the center of town. I leaned against the wrought iron fence, warmed by the sun, his hand played with the ends of my hair. We said nothing. The leaves of the trees pressed against the sky like the pages of a book-emerald and sapphire, and the spray from the fountain refracted the light and obscured his face with a glare. He leaned into me, and it was like I bit a flashing lure. The feel of his lips was the hope of childhood-the carefree nature of a heart yet to break. He cupped his hand against the side of my face and I forgot the world and all the suffering in it. My Valentine-my tourniquet against the severed artery of life.

I picked up the pen and signed my name, and took a lighter and envelope from the desk drawer. I lit the candle I'd placed on the window sill that morning, and put the card into the envelope. I waited for the wax to melt and flame to still, then dripped the red liquid onto the flap. I set it in the center of the desk, stood and put my hands against the back of the chair and peered outside.

Dusk had now fallen on Valentine's day and the crowds began to swarm. I was glad to be inside, out of the mud and noise and the dizzying, faceless horde. I saw him across the yard, rounding the corner of the street before reaching my front door. He was hard to miss, a head taller than the crowd. The first time I saw him I asked if he hit his head a lot. I fiddled with my earring, and resolved not give him that card. It felt like a burning coal when I picked it up, like I was being dishonest. I shoved it into the drawer of the desk, heard the door behind me creak open and steeled myself.

"You're angry," he said. I pursed my lips and my nails dug into the back of the chair. An hour ago, we'd gone to the diner down the street. I had a gift card for it, part of my Christmas present from Mrs. Ewee.

"How many?" The hostess had asked with a cheerful lilt in her voice, like a chirping dove.

"Two," he'd answered, and followed her while I trailed behind. I hadn't been there for several years, and the place had gotten shabby. The vestibule was unswept, the edges of the carpet were frayed in places and were held together with red tape. The patterns looked like chalk outlines of the victims of a crime scene.

We were led to a four-top, with half the seats against the wall and part of a booth bench, the other two single, hard chairs. He quickened his pace, and I slowed mine. He took the bench and our hostess gave us the menus and left.

"I tend to beat people to the best seats." He smiled, and I recoiled inside.

"I purposely slowed down to give you the better one."

"Oh." He broke eye contact and I riffled through my purse.

"You can have this one," he stammered.

Too late for that, and I put the card down on the table.

"Enjoy your meal," I said and walked away.

"Elyse?" The din of the crowd drowned his voice, and I didn't look back and went home to my desk. Anxiety and guilt gnawed at me. The feelings didn't abate until I picked up that pen. I'd started to write a rambling apology as the sun set. Now that it was finished, my anger had faded along with setting sun and took my courage with it. What to do?

I took my hands from the back of the chair, shoved them into my pockets to keep from fidgeting and turned on my heel. He held a bouquet of deep purple roses. My favorite-at least he listened.

"I'm not angry." I shifted my weight. Confrontation usually made a liar out of me.

"I may be insensitive, but I'm not an idiot." His voice had an edge and I couldn't maintain eye contact.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, shifted my weight again. The silence hung thick in the air along with the scent of the flowers.

"I'm afraid." I sounded and felt two feet tall.

"Of what?"

"That I'll be putting you first and you won't reciprocate. I mean, it was something as little as a chair and you didn't even want to give that up until I pointed it out to you." The corners of his mouth dropped and he looked pained by an internal wound.

"I'm sorry. I am an idiot." His voice had lost its edge, and he stepped towards me and put his hand on the back of the chair. I was caught between him and the bouquet that he placed on the desk. He ran his hand up my arm, and into my hair on the back of my neck. Tears stung my eyes. My lips parted and bit the lure again. He pressed me against the back of the chair and the heat of him turned my insides to liquid. I put my hand around his waist and pulled him closer, my other hand against his chest. I couldn't get enough of the taste of him, the roof of his mouth was a fragrant apple, his lips a sweet honeycomb. He pulled away from me and I came up for air.

"Take your clothes off and lay on the bed."

I tried to take a step back, narrowed my eyes and looked up at him. He pulled my dress off my shoulders, pushed it down to my waist and kissed my neck and tops of my breasts with a feverish intent that spurred me to obedience. I stepped out of my clothes and walked to the bed, sat on the end of it and watched him approach-slow, deliberate, the burning candle in his hand. My breath quickened.

"Lay down and open your legs." My knees were bent and my toes curled around the edge of the mattress as he stood between my feet. He brushed his hand over the outside of my thigh, and up the curves of my hip and waist before squeezing my breast. I sighed, arched my back and pressed myself into his hand and wrapped my legs around his back. He held my gaze and tilted the candle over my hardened nipple. Drops of hot wax seared my sensitive flesh and I cried out as he pulled my hair hard, exposing my neck. He licked that cleft at the base of my throat, sent shivers through me and whispered in my ear, "I can give you such pleasure along with the pain I cause you." I moaned as he pulled my hair tighter, stood over me and dripped the wax over my other nipple, and from the bottom of my belly button to the top of my shaven mound. My hands dug into the blanket and the back of my neck started to sweat from pain and anticipation.

"Samuel!" I cried as he blew out the candle and set it on the floor. He knelt in front of me, his face level with my pussy and cupped the backs of my thighs with both hands and spread me open. His dominance made me so wet I thought I would die if he didn't touch me. I pressed my clit into his face. He lightly sucked and bit it, his teeth the flint that set my loins aflame. He licked and encircled that nub of flesh with his tongue, the stubble of his chin rubbed against my lips and I saw stars. I gripped the blanket and arched my back, his tongue shoved deep inside me.

"I'm really close." My voice shook along with my legs.

"Get on top of me." He stood and my hands were unsteady as I undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. He put his hands on either side of my face as I gripped his dick, the heat from it seared my lips as he pushed my head down onto the shaft and I almost choked when I deep throated him. I heard him sigh, the tip of his dick was against my tonsils and I almost couldn't breathe and my jaw ached. He let go of my face and laid beside me, his hands on my hips and pulled me to him, and rubbed the tip of his dick against my clit.

"You're so big it shocks me every time," I whispered, and he kissed me deeply before he plunged into me. I screamed.

"I love making you stretch for me." He squeezed my breasts in his hands. My insides ached as he pumped his throbbing cock into my tight pussy, and my clit set my body alight every time it hit the base of his cock. I closed my eyes and he smacked my ass so hard it stung and I screamed again. He dug his fingers into my hair, his other hand squeezed my breast and my heart hammered against the palm of his hand as I rode him hard and took him as deep as I could. I got so close my eyes flew open and we held each other's gaze and the world stopped.

"Samuel, I'm coming."

"Oh good."

"I love you," I gasped.

"I love you, too," he sighed and cupped my face in his hand. I screamed with every pump of his dick and my vision blurred and my body was eclipsed in pleasure so great I thought I'd faint. His lips met mine, our breath mingled between our tongues and we were as one.

I collapsed onto his chest and inhaled the scent and sweat of his skin and gasped for air. He pushed me onto my back and knelt beside me. I kissed the tip of his dick, wrapped my fingers around the slippery shaft and took him in my mouth. He groaned and put his hand on the back of my head and forced himself deeper into my mouth. I slid my lips to the tip. My hand squeezed up his shaft-up and down and faster until I felt the tip become ridged and defined. I squeezed him one last time and his dick twitched and shot a load into the back of my throat. He sighed and I moaned as I lapped him up, his hot cum like a drink in the parched desert of my desire.

We fell onto the bed, our legs and arms entwined, faces buried into each other's necks as we panted in ecstasy. He stroked my face and hair until our breathing returned to normal.

"I have to go." The mattress creaked as he stood.

"Why?" I asked, propped up on my elbows.

"I have to get up early for work-wouldn't want my alarm waking you," he grinned. His hands shook as he buttoned his shirt and pants.

I fell back onto the pillows as he leaned over and kissed me, and ran my hand up and down his arm. I loved the feel of his skin. He pulled away and asked, "when do I see you again?"

"I have some time tomorrow evening." He kissed my forehead and left the room. I heard his foot falls, assured and heavy on the steps as I settled into the blankets that smelled like him. I closed my eyes and smiled as endorphins coursed through my body, every muscle marinated in liquid pleasure. I fell into a dreamless sleep.

****

The downstairs clock struck midnight when I felt the bite of needles in my neck-poison in my veins. The acrid taste of copper flooded my mouth, and I felt my knees quack as I slipped into the ether of unconsciousness. Now, I was awake, and shivered from the fear and frost in the air. My head was covered by a black veil and I could feel his presence, like a burning censor, but filled with ice.

"My dear, how I've missed you," he said, and tore off the veil with my hair in it. I gasped in pain, and instinct compelled me to reach for the back of my head, but my hands were tied to the arms of a rickety, dry chair and splinters dug into my wrists. I could see little through the tears that stung my eyes, but we were outside, and I heard the crackling of a campfire.

"Have you forgotten your valentine?" he asked, dropping my hair. I refused to look at him. And at his feet a massive hound, white, with eyes that shone green, and beamed like lanterns.

"This is Lupercalia." She strained against a chain he held and snarled, vicious and unforgiving-her teeth sharper than his. I began to sob.

"I'd save those. You'll need them soon." He leaned down and licked them off my face. His fang cut into my jawline and his breath smelled like the sulfur of hell. I screamed, my face sticky from his tongue and my blood. His laugh was mirthless.

"Samuel is here. Yes, right over that ridge. I sent him on a quest." His voice was monotonous, the hammer of a gavel in my skull. I stopped breathing.

"Your interest is piqued? Spectacular." He salivated, my blood dripped from his razor teeth onto his fiery beard. "I set a cat o' nine tails on a stump in the woods. He must bring it to me before Lupercalia brings me his innards."

"No!" The scream caught in the back of my throat as he let loose the hound from her chain. She howled, the sound rattled my bones and she set off like lightning over the ridge.

"Fret not, I've given him a generous start, but she will be quick on his heels. Now I must get you out of that chair." He raised an eyebrow like someone considering a checkbook that refused to balance. He leaned towards me again, and bile burned against the back of my throat. He placed a hand over my left breast, roughly encircling the nipple with his thumb. It hardened like a pebble and I hated my body in that instant. His breath was hot against my neck.

"Your heart's beating so fast," he said as he bit me again and I saw black for the second time.

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by Anonymous

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Thanks

Thank you for your feedback. That is very helpful.

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by Anonymous03/27/17

stream of conscious

I have a problem with this:
We'd gone to the park in the center of town. I leaned against THE wrought iron fence, warmed by the sun, his hand played with the ends of my hair. We said nothing.

What?more...

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by JJMemaw062302/08/17

The only problem I have with it is that it just stops. I want more! Even though this is a Valentine's submission I would ask that you continue this story with an additional/different name. Thanks for amore...

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Horror

Okay I wasn't sure what exactly to put it under. Thank you for the suggestion.

No rudeness intended either, but did you read it thoroughly? My character refers to her boyfriend in the second paragraphmore...

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by Anonymous01/30/17

Excuse me, what!?

Apologies for any rudeness in this reply, but this story should be under horror and nothing more. It is most sssuredly non-erotic, unless you are into snuff films. Additionally, what does it have to domore...

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