Page 34 of Kentucky Nights
Clearly, he only rests here.
If I lived here, I would change that.
Why am I thinking like that? This isn’t my house. I don’t live here. In a few days, I’ll be home in the comfort of my own bed, surrounded by books, movies, records, pictures, and everything else that makes me,me. That brings me peace like the dozens ofblankets I have that I love to wrap myself in while lying in bed and watching TV.
I dart my eyes around the room, twisting and turning my body to see if I’m missing it.
Nope.
Kentucky doesn’t have a TV.
The wind howls outside, causing the trees to smack against the glass, and I jump, startled by how loud it is.
The rain is bulleting against the windows too, and in the distance, the trees sway and lightning strobes in the clouds. With every burst of light, the sky illuminates the pasture, the long grass swaying back and forth.
It’s serene.
Unable to stop myself any longer, I lean down and place my eye against the telescope, guiding it left, right, up, and down to find where Kentucky is. He was by his truck, but he isn’t there anymore.
“Where did you go?” I ask no one other than myself.
My sights finally land on him, and a breath catches in my throat when I take in his bare chest. I straighten, knowing I can’t look at him without him being aware.
That would be wrong. So very wrong.
I nibble on my thumbnail with anxiety, staring at the telescope and debating if I should walk away.
The temptation is too strong.
He doesn’t need to find out.
Bending down again, I rearrange the focus on the lens to get the clearest view of Kentucky I can. He is gripping the top of the window frame, leaning out to allow the rain to drench his body.
“Damn,” I whisper to the empty room, thankful that I’m alone or I’d be embarrassed gawking over him.
The water slicks his torso, defining the hard ridges of every muscle. His chest and shoulders are wide, built with large muscles that only come from working on a ranch his entire life.
He slicks his hair back, away from his eyes, the twin crimson drops glowing in the chaos of the storm. His mouth opens, the low light from the barn shines against the pointed fangs, and his roar is so loud, it causes a picture to fall from the mantle.
I’ll pick it up in a minute.
In response, my blood heats, and a light sheen of sweat causes his shirt to stick to my back.
I straighten again, fanning myself from the overwhelming sudden warmth that not only has my cheeks burning, but my underwear drenched. My clit throbs with need, my nipples tighten under the shirt, and the material lightly scratches against them. The slight sensation causes me to pinch my lips shut to hold in a gasp.
I can’t look at him again. It isn’t right. It’s wrong. Everything about me lusting after him is hypocritical. He should be everything I’m against.
I can’t help it.
I have to. Ineedto see him. If I don’t, I might scream until I die, until I run out of air, and don’t care to take another inhale because living for another second without seeing him wouldn’t be worth it.
Peering into the telescope, my mouth becomes dry from what I see. Kentucky is kneeling, eyes once again the color of a predator, frustration and pleasure snarling his face, and his hand stroking his thick cock.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, licking my lips as if I need to quench my thirst by licking the rain off his body.
His head is tossed back, one arm leans against the barn, while his other hand is busy fucking his cock. Kentucky’ssculpted muscles are tense, the veins in his arm defined by the stern grip he has on himself.
By how his nails have lengthened to claws and his facial features seem a little sharper, more cut and angled, he is in full vampire form. Another roar rips from him, the vibrations tickling the pads of my feet. He’s staring at the house through the storm, his free hand slamming against the ground. His claws create grooves in the wood as if he is holding himself back from launching himself in my direction.
