Page 31 of Craving Carla

She moves, her hips swaying in perfect rhythm to the bass that vibrates through the floor. When she turns, her short hair in pretty romantic curls just reaching her neckline swings gently, exposing the smooth column of her neck—prime feeding territory.

As if sensing my gaze, she locks eyes with me. Green eyes—not as vibrant as Carla’s, but still striking—hold mine as she deliberately runs her tongue across her bottom lip. She slows her movements, making each roll of her hips more pronounced, more deliberate. Her hands slide down her body, emphasizing the narrowness of her waist compared to the fullness of her ass and tits. One hand grips her thigh, fingers splayed wide, while the other toys with the hemline of her dress, threatening to expose more than legally allowed in public.

She’s performing for me, making it clear what she’s offering without saying a word. A meal and a fuck, wrapped in a delicious package. She’s exactly what I need.

Or so I think.

I look back at Ackley, who grins at me before going back to serving other patrons. I get up from my stool and adjust my suit,then walk to the private VIP area where vampires feed. I give her a wink as I pass by, signaling that I’ve chosen her, and I select one of the empty rooms, stepping inside and shutting the door.

I sit down on the long bench that looks like it belongs in a private strip club, but I know it’s just a feeding area for vampires like myself. I take off my jacket and unbutton my shirt, removing my cufflinks and setting them aside.

The woman doesn’t take long to join me. She knocks lightly, then steps inside, her round ass on display. She’s wearing a thong and doesn’t even bother pulling her dress down as she shuts the door.

“Did you just want a feed, or a good time?” she asks, bending over and placing her handbag on the small table.

I grin at her. She seems to already know what this is about. “Both.”

I go for the belt on my pants, unbuckling it. My dick should be hard already, but it’s not. It’s limp, as if I have no interest in the fat ass that’s here to ride on it. What the fuck? I look down at my dick, wondering what the hell is going on. I don’t turn down pussy when it’s offered, especially when I’m attracted to it. And I am, in fact, attracted to this woman.

So why is my dick limp? She notices as she kicks off her shoes, dropping to her knees and placing her hands on my thighs.

“Need a little help?” she questions.

I grin at her, then reach and place my hand gently around the back of her neck, guiding her to my shaft. Her lips curl around it, and I stiffen, almost as if I’m repulsed by the touch.

Her mouth goes down on my length, taking me in fully, and I close my eyes, trying to stay focused. Her tongue swirls around the head of my dick, warm and wet. She works her mouth down farther, taking more of me in, her throat contracting around me as she gags slightly but pushes through it. Her hands grip mythighs, nails digging into the fabric of my pants. She’s skilled—that much is obvious—the way she alternates between deep suction and teasing licks, the perfect amount of pressure as she moves up and down.

Any other night, I’d be rock hard already, fisting her hair and guiding her movements.Any other night, I’d be groaning, letting her know how good she’s making me feel.Any other night, I’d already be planning how I’d bend her over and claim that fat ass I spotted on the dance floor.

But not tonight.

I need to fuck, need something to take the edge off of today, but images of Carla start flooding my mind. Those eyes, those lips, when she smiled at me. Her feistiness, the way I want to fuck her attitude right out of her. Her curves, her breasts, her ass, the curve of it, the roundness of it. I imagine my lips pressed against hers, my fangs grazing over her plump bottom lip, my hands tangling in her wild curls, my nose nuzzling against her cheek, taking in her sweet peachy scent, my eyes counting every adorable freckle on her face.

Carla...

My eyes snap open, and my hands press against the woman’s shoulders, pulling her off my dick, which is still limp. She looks up at me, her face glistening with saliva. I don’t even know her name, nor do I care to know it.

“Something wrong? You’re not attracted to me or something?” Even she knows she can’t get my dick aroused right now.

I pull her up onto my lap so that she’s straddling me, my hands clasping her neck and tilting it to the side.

“I changed my mind. Just a feed,” I say.

She gasps but doesn’t fight me, her hands pressed against me. I can smell the disappointment in her scent, but apparently,my body only wants Carla right now, and that’s just pissing me off.

Because she’s not fated.

I bite into the woman’s neck, my fangs piercing through her skin, and feed on her. The sensation is immediate—her warm blood rushing into my mouth, coating my tongue with its metallic sweetness. I can taste the alcohol she’s been drinking, the hint of adrenaline from her excitement, the subtle undertones of what she ate for dinner.

Her body goes slack against mine, a soft moan escaping her lips as the endorphins hit her system—nature’s way of making our feeding less traumatic for the prey. Her pulse quickens then slows as I drink deeply, my hands gripping her waist to hold her steady. The veins in her neck throb against my lips, pushing more blood into my mouth with each beat of her heart.

I control my feeding carefully—not too fast, not too slow. Fast enough to sate my hunger, slow enough not to kill her. Her blood slides down my throat, warming me from the inside, spreading through my cold body like a current of electricity. It fills me, energizes me, brings my senses alive.

But it’s not completely satisfying. It lacks Carla’s peachy scent, the tantalizing hint of what her blood might taste like. Even so, it’s enough to fill me up. I drink deeply, feeling the woman’s strength drain with each pull. Finally, I withdraw my fangs from her neck and gently ease her weakened body off my lap, settling her down comfortably beside me.

I clean the blood from my mouth and fix my clothes, tucking my useless dick back into my pants before pulling on my shirt, securing my cufflinks, and pulling on my suit jacket. I’m full, but the woman is drained, looking exhausted as she slumps on the bench. I move over to her and pull down her dress to cover her exposed panties, then take a napkin to clean her cheek.

“You’re being so sweet, but you didn’t want me,” she says weakly.

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