In the Flesh Ch 35: Dark Paranormal Erotica in Progress. Enjoy!
It’s Friday! Time for chapter 35 of In The Flesh, in which Susan sees the light.
There are only three more episodes of In The Flesh left, so be sure to mark Fridays on your calendar. You won’t want to miss the exciting ending.
In the Flesh is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.
To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25 Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34.
You can also read In The Flesh on Wattpad.
In The Flesh Chapter 35
Michael’s groan was pure lust as I took the first deep taste of him, and with the taste of his heart’s blood, for a split second, it wasn’t lust I felt. It was Michael’s agony at my death he was helpless to prevent. It was his anguish at me shutting him out, it was all the pent-up feelings of more lifetimes than I could imagine down through the ages when I only existed in his horrific knowledge of eternity in an instant, the agony of endless ages of waiting only to be denied. Alonso had warned me that there was so much more in the blood than just nourishment and lust, that the knowledge of the whole of a person’s existence was contained in the blood, and even beyond, the history of their people. He told me that a vampire could access such information in that first ravenous sip, but I’d never had the presence of mind to do so before, though I’d quite possibly taken only from people who knew how to shield their own inner workings. Alonso hadn’t yet taught me how to preserve the privacy of the person upon whom I fed, and Michael was suddenly wide open, laid completely bare to me in a rush of information that was heart breaking and terrifying and amazing all at once. There were glimpses of his relationship with the Guardian, there were flashes of him with Magda, there were images that made no sense in a context of anything that had ever been mortal. And then just a suddenly as it flooded my consciousness, it was gone. It was as though a heavy curtain had descended, and what remained was the pleasure of nourishment and lust twinned with the bond that I suddenly realized had not been broken by my death after all.
I acted more on instinct than on any real knowledge of what I did, tearing open the front of my blouse and ripping the bra as easily as I would a sheet of rice paper until my breasts were exposed. I sat up, still straddling him, and opened my own heart’s blood to him with a sharp flick of my nail, pulling him up to me to feed. To my delight, he took what I offered with a swirl of his tongue and an opening of his lips, and then he sucked hard and bit, just as he had when he had given me his mark. With a sharp cry of surprise, he pulled away enough to meet my gaze, lips wet with the sheen of my blood. “It’s still there. My mark.”
“Stronger than ever,” I said, nodding to the wound over his heart. “Because now you wear my mark as well.” I pulled him back to me and felt the tight delicious, almost painful pull of his lips and nip of his teeth, and it was as though he did the same between my legs. I felt it down there as surely as if his face were pressed between my thighs, as surely as if he fed upon my most intimate self. Careful not to pull away just yet, I lifted my bottom and fumbled open the tight strain of his fly, feeling the hiss of his breath against my breast as I freed him, slid aside the crotch of my panties and guided him home with a deep groan the was a combine effort. And he truly was home as I rode him and he rose up to meet me, kneading and cupping my breasts while he suckled. How could I ever not have realized that he was my heart and my only home?
“Not too much,” I said pulling away, him following me up with a groan of protest. “Too much will make you drunk and I don’t want you drunk. I won’t be done with you for a very long time yet.”
He sealed the wound with a press of his tongue as he’d seen me do and offered an evil chuckle. “Then for your pleasure, I’ll do my best to stay sober, Susan.” With that, he guided me back to him. Again instinct took control with the first taste of him, and I sipped and licked and nipped until his whole pectoral muscle tensed and rose with each breath he took, each breath which now came in heavy gasps and sharp little pants as though he battled for control. His nipple rose tight and dark pink beneath the brush of my chin, and I broke free from my feeding occasionally to give it a worrying lick or a sharp nip just to hear him pant and moan, just to feel him surge inside of me before I returned to his vein.
His cock filled me so completely, and the glide and move of the two of us was so in sync, so deeply connected that time went away, that everything went away but Michael inside me – what I had craved and longed for the length of my own eternity, which seemed desperately long before Michael filled it.
I arched over his body, and with a large hand curled in my tangled hair, he held me tight to the wound at his heart as I took from the nourishing flow of him, all the while undulating and shifting against the powerful rise and fall of him beneath me.
“I won’t go away, Susan, so you best get used to it.” He fisted my hair and pulled me away just enough that I was forced to look up into his deep ocean eyes. “You’re mine. The vampire might be your maker, but I’m the one who waited an eternity for you. I’m the one who’ll feed you. I’m the one who’ll give you what you need. I’m the one who loves you.” He licked the taste of himself from my lips with a possessive tongue.
Then he rolled with me pinning me beneath his massive body, and for the first time I realized just how powerful he was, just how much control he had exerted in our lovemaking before I became a vampire just to keep from hurting me, or even killing me. As though that blood connection had somehow made him aware of my thoughts, he bent and nipped my own wound licking it hard enough to make me squirm with transferred pleasure while he never lost the rhythm, the subtle increase of speed as we drew near our release. “You can’t hurt me, Susan, I promise. At least not physically.”
He lowered his mouth, and took my nipples in turn, cupping and caressing my fullness with both gentleness and strength, and I held onto his arse, feeling the tensing and relaxing of fit, firm buttocks with each thrust. I couldn’t help it. I was unable to resist biting his neck – just a little nip – taking just a sip, intuiting what my feeding on him did to him, as he pressed deeper inside me and the rhythm became frantic, wild with power, filled with a hunger that had nothing to do with physical nourishment. I dug my nails into his back and bit harder and he grunted with some mix of pain and lust. “Oh dear God, Susan, I never want it to end, but I can’t hold back much longer.” His breath was warm and humid against my ear. “I want to know what it feels like to come while I feed you, to know that you possess me as completely as I possess you.”
Words – sometimes words are as powerful as touch; sometimes words are the tipping point, and they were this time. They were enough to send us both over the edge growling and grasping and trembling as though we would shake each other apart or dissolve completely into each other. Perhaps we did both. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I was completely unaware of where my body ended and Michael’s began. He was still hard and I was still fully impaled and happy to remain that way.
He rolled to one side so that his weight wasn’t fully on top of me and fumbled behind him for the duvet from the overturned bed. He offered me a wicked smile as he pulled it free. “Does this make me your familiar?”
“Don’t know,” I replied hooking my leg around him, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “I haven’t had that lesson yet.”
“Not sure how I could get much more familiar,” he said giving my breast an enthusiastic knead.
“Me neither, but why don’t we give it our best try, just to be sure you’re familiar enough.”
He had just taken me in a kiss that promised to lead to far more serious things when there was a knock on the door and Michael barely got the duvet pulled over us before Talia shoved her way in ignoring his curse and my little yelp.
“Oh good! You haven’t killed him,” she said with a sunny smile. “I brought food.” She sat a large covered tray on the one sailors trunk that hadn’t been turned over with the bed and gave the room, and then us, a knowing once over. “Alonso figured you’d need it, Michael, if your little scribe hadn’t drained you completely dry. And he asks that I remind you not to linger too much longer before you head for the basement. Dawn will be coming soon.” Then she left, chuckling under her breath.
“That woman’s a pain in the arse,” Michael said, taking the cover from the tray and biting the end off a freshly baked Baggett.
“She’s a good kisser though. I’m just saying,” I said as he gave me the evil eye and shoved half the Baggett into his mouth like a hungry nestling.
“So’s Cook,” he spoke around his efforts to chew. “But that doesn’t mean I want you kissing him.”
“You’ve kissed Cook?” I scooted closer and lifted a lid off a steaming bowl of lamb stew, taking note that even though I used to love lamb stew, it was now like thinking of eating cardboard soaked in water.
He shrugged. “We were both drunk at the time, and he had made a fabulous Beef Wellington for dinner that night. Worthy of at least a good kiss.”
Once Michael had devoured everything on the tray, he ate me for dessert and then I returned the favour. At some point we’d managed to right the mattress, and tangle ourselves in the remaining bedding, but we didn’t quite manage the rest of the bed before Michael took me from behind, me on my knees, hair fisted in his hand like I was the horse and he was reining me under control. It’s quite possible that’s exactly what he was trying to do. It didn’t work. The control part, I mean.
“You kept your strength from me,” I said, when at last we collapsed on the mattress and he pulled me into a spoon position.
“I had no reason to tell you,” he said. “I’ve kept my strength from everyone except Magda. I had to in order to interact safely with humans. You’re all so fragile. Well you were,” he added, then he bit the side of my neck playfully. “Nice to be able to play rough, and even nicer not to have to wait for you to recover.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Come on, let’s get down to the basement and then we’ll pick up where we left off.” He gave his still erect penis a stroke with the other fist to demonstrate.
I gave him a tug and off balanced him back onto the mattress. “I can’t possibly leave without just one more little taste, and maybe one more little fuck. We have time. Besides, the shutters are drawn tight and we’re down behind the bed frame. Alonso’s just being a worry wart. We’ll be fine.” Before he could protest, I straddled him and guide him up inside me, and as he began to thrust and grind beneath me, I opened my vein for him to feed. A long time later we fell against each other in an awkward twin orgasm that had us half off the mattress onto the stone floor before we collapsed.
“Okay,” he mumbled in an intoxicated slur. “It’s off to the basement for you, young lady.” Then he was out cold, with me not far behind him.
Dreams of The fells sparkling in the summer sun roused me drenched in sweat and half smothered beneath the body of a sleeping Angel. My angel, I reminded myself, as the delicious memories of last night came rushing back to me along with the mouthwatering scent of our lovemaking and our blood. I stretched and shoved my way out from under Michael, who mumbled something incomprehensible from his own dream world and gave my nearest breast an unconscious grope before I leaned in and kisses him, and he aimed a half- conscious smacking of lips in my general direction.
“It’s sweltering in here,” I said, noting the sheen of perspiration on his brow. “No wonder I was dreaming of the fells in summer. We need some air.”
“Susan? Susan don’t!”
“Oh don’t worry. I’m not going far,” I called over my shoulder, as I threw open the shutter and flung the windows wide, taking in a breath of fresh fell air I didn’t really need, lifting my face to the cool breeze. As the sunlight struck me full on, a voice inside me all but erupted like the press of my heart against my chest, and something not unlike static electricity prickled over skin. I gasped for breath, for strength, for context as the voice filled every cell of my body. “I may well be your prisoner little Scribe, but I will not be kept in darkness.”
What happened next was over almost before it started. Michael exploded from the bed roaring like a wounded lion, and the next thing I knew, my world went dark, suffocatingly tight, and a heavy weight drove me to the floor with the force of a lorry.