Page 95 of Even Vampires Bleed
Well, shit, I didn’t even think to try the walls. The house looks so old—and old-fashioned—that I didn’t even think there could be hidden appliances.
“No, there is only one bed. At least that I know of,” I tell her.
“So, where have you been sleeping?” she asks again.
I don’t know why she’s so focused on knowing where I slept. It’s not like we can change anything about the sleeping arrangement.
Unless we find a hidden mattress—and I really doubt it’s a possibility with walls made of stones—there is nothing either of us can do.
“On the couch,” I finally answer with a sigh when I see that she won’t relent.
There is a glint in her eyes that makes me think she could dare me to do anything, and I’m pretty sure I would rise to the bet.
Cassiopé takes a look at the couch and then deflates. She can see exactly what it means for me to sleep on that.
I’m pretty sure that thing has seen better days, but there is also the obvious fact that it’s too small to sleep on.
“But how can you sleep on that?” she asks.
I shrug, but she doesn’t seem to see it and keeps talking.
“We could barely fit in there while sitting. Not that we’ve tried, but I’m pretty sure we would be squeezed together and that it would be uncomfortable. Aren’t you uncomfortable? Of course you are. It can’t be the best way to sleep. And look at those cushions. They’re all flat.”
I don’t tell her that her rambling is amusing. She usually tries to talk as little as she can to me, but now it’s like a dam broke, and she can’t stop herself anymore.
I also don’t tell her that there would be a way for us to sit together on that couch where we would be squeezed in another way, and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t make any of us uncomfortable. Maybe if she could straddle my lap…
No.
Not going there.
She hasn’t shown any interest. I can’t start fantasizing about her in the middle of the day. Especially after a shower.
The house is too small, and I can’t think of any other place to get release that she wouldn’t stumble into.
But I can’t stop thinking about how she would feel right on top of me—how it would feel to have her sweet cunt wrapped around my cock and let her ride me.
Oh, hell, I’m getting hard again. I need to stop torturing myself.
This isn’t happening. Get your head straight.
I sit on the couch to hide the fact that in a matter of seconds, my shorts have started to tent over my growing hard on. I soon won’t be able to hide it anymore if I don’t do something drastic.
Think granny panties. Think mangled wings.
It starts to work, but then Cassiopé walks in my direction and sits on the armrest next to me. Her smell and the nasty thoughts that come with it envelop me, reversing all my success.
Why is her smell so freaking tantalizing?
It’s surely not the only thing that makes her attractive, but it’s the one thing I can’t seem to be able to shake away.
Maybe it’s because I slept in the smell of her for days when I came back to this new life. I don’t know, but it always awakens all my senses.
It was easier when she was confined to the room, though. Because now her smell trails after her and no matter where I go, I can smell it—I can smell her—and it’s driving me crazy.
I still don’t understand what her point is here.
“It’s not like I was going to sleep in the same bed you were,” I tell her with yet another shrug. “And it’s not like I would have made you sleep on the couch, either. You were in recovery. You needed all the sleep you could get.”
