8 comments/ 18586 views/ 19 favorites The Not-So-Glittery Vampire By: DinaDevereux CHAPTER 1 The October nights were getting colder; in fact, it was feeling more like December, despite the fact that summer had lingered longer than it should. Chelsea adjusted her crimson scarf so that it covered her ears against the brisk wind. Her stylish Amber Rose-esque haircut seemed like a great idea a few weeks ago—she had to remember to dig out her winter hats when she got home. The walk from the attorney's office where she'd just dropped off her resume to her car wasn't long—just a few blocks. It was just before rush hour—if you could call it that in this Podunk town—and the sidewalks were fairly deserted. But she was questioning her choice of attire. The black pencil skirt, white buttoned-up blouse, grey tights and black boots were warm enough with her grey wool pea coat, but the three-inch heels on the boots were hazardous. She could see her car parked at the lot on the corner when the heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Down she went. "Shit!" Chelsea screeched, catching herself on her hands and knees. She struggled to her feet just as she heard his voice. "Are you okay?" Chelsea looked up just in time to see a chocolate brown-skinned man bend down in front of her to examine her bleeding knees through the shreds in her tights. Even on one knee, she could tell he was tall. He lifted his head and took her hands in his to check her palms. Oh Lord, he was gorgeous, Chelsea thought. His hands were cool against her hot palms. "Yeah, uh, I'm fine. Trying to do too much in these heels," she said, pulling her hands back to look at them. Not too much damage, just skinned, a few tiny gravels. Her knees were a different story. She could feel the blood dripping down her shins. "Let me help you—I'm a doctor. Doctor DuBois. Sorry, Germaine. Germaine DuBois," he said, holding out his hand. She looked down at her own hand before looking at him dumbly. "Shit, sorry, you can't shake hands right now," he said, recovering from the uncomfortable moment by laughing. Chelsea couldn't help but smile in return. "I'm Chelsea Willow." "Hi Chelsea," he said, taking her elbow to guide her to his SUV, "But seriously, you need to get those knees looked at. I have my bag with me. At least let me clean them up." Chelsea felt a moment of hesitation—he was a stranger, after all. But this was her hometown. Her uncle's pawn shop was four blocks away. The law office where her cousin's father was reviewing her resume at that very moment was only two blocks in the other direction. Her car was at the far end of the lot. She felt safe. She felt safe with Germaine. "Okay," she said, allowing him to guide her to the passenger seat. She hopped up and sat sideways in the seat while he retrieved his back from the back. He put it in the floorboard beside her and pulled out a pair of gloves, gauze, alcohol wipes, and the other necessary accoutrements for cleaning a pair of skinned knees. He wiped the shallow scrapes on her hands first with alcohol wipes. They didn't require any kind of bandage. "These tights are pretty much ruined," he notified her. She nodded in return. "I'm just going to get them out of the way," he said, unzipping her boot. Her heart soared as he slid the leather down her calf, his fingers tracing the same path. She felt a jolt as those fingers clutched her ankle and then feathered across the sole of her foot. Goosebumps rose up all over her skin, her eyes closed, and her toes curled involuntarily. A second later, those strong, gloved hands were back at her knee, ripping the delicate mesh all the way around. He peeled the torn fabric down and discarded it in a plastic bag from his kit. Chelsea knew this innocent seduction was all in her head. Her eyes flew open. She felt her face flush and prayed that he hadn't noticed her reactions. He seemed focused on the task at hand, not looking at her face at all. She was studying his though: bald head, straight white teeth, dimpled chin, and the shadow of a beard across a strong jaw. And that smirk was undeniable. Or was it? She sighed as he spent the next minute removing the boot and tights from the other foot. "You did a real number on these, Ms. Willow," Germaine said, dabbing the blood away with the gauze and neatly depositing each soiled square into the plastic bag. "Please call me Chelsea," she said, watching him as he worked. "Chelsea," he corrected himself, "And you can call me Germaine. This is going to sting, okay?" She nodded. He pressed the alcohol pad against the scrapes and gently swiped. Then she felt him blowing the sting away. The goosebumps returned. "Sorry," he said, "Probably not the most sanitary procedure, but my sons require it for their own scraped knees. Force of habit." She smiled. "You have sons?" "Yeah, two. Levi and Lincoln—four year old twins." "Wow," she said, "that's a fun age." "It is," he agreed. "But then, they're fun at pretty much all ages, aren't they?" she amended. He smiled, applying an oversized band-aid to each knee, "That's true too. You have kids?" "No, just a six-year-old nephew. He's like, my favorite person in the world," she conceded, "But I love kids in general. So much that I worked at a daycare for several years. They're so energetic and honest." "I'm so busy at the hospital, I feel like I miss out on so much. But you're right, Levi and Lincoln are the epitome of energetic and honest." "Does your wife have much help with the boys? I'm sure twins must be extra tough, especially if she's alone while you're at work." "Wife?" he said, peeling the gloves off his hands, "There's no wife. The boys were the product of an unfortunate incident with an old friend back home. She didn't want children. I let her off the hook." "I'm sorry," Chelsea said, embarrassed, "I didn't mean to pry." "No, no. It's fine. It's something we're open about. Before we moved from New Orleans, the boys had a nanny that they loved. She couldn't move with us. I'm actually looking for a replacement right now. My mother is home with them now, but she has to go back to New Orleans just after Halloween." "That's less than a week away," Chelsea said, pulling her boots back on over her now-bare feet. "Who are you telling?" Germaine said, laughing, "I've been busting my butt trying to find someone suitable." "Where have you looked?" she asked, hopping down from the leather seat. She adjusted her coat and scarf again and looked down at the ends of her ragged tights. She listened as he rattled off the list of the people and places he'd looked for qualified care for his children. "Is it a live-in position? What other responsibilities would it entail besides childcare? Do you require references?" "Whoa, whoa," he said, chuckling as he walked her back to her car, "Are you trying to apply?" "Sorry," she said, getting more excited, "Actually, I'd be interested. I'm looking for a job now. And I have experience in childcare. What do you think? I have a copy of my resume right here." She pulled out a stack of folders and shuffled through them while Germaine studied her face. He'd caught her blushing earlier and knew how the rush of blood in her cheeks affected his own rush of blood elsewhere. She was at least a foot shorter than his 6'4" frame. She'd buzzed her hair, but it only made her look even more feminine—her huge hazel eyes, button nose, and pouty lips stood out. And Lord, she was thick. He could see the wide hips and thick thighs despite the thick wool coat she wore. It hid the roundness of her butt, but he could see the shape of it anyway. But would she be able to take care of his children? They were a handful—not just because they were twins; but because they were his. When he'd left the employment agency on his search for a new nanny, he'd caught the scent of her blood before he saw her on hands and knees on the sidewalk. His fangs instantly dropped in his mouth and he'd struggled to retract them and slow his steps as he went to offer his assistance. There were only a few people out and about, but they'd have surely noticed if he'd zoomed to her side at vamp-speed. He knelt down to examine her bloody knees and fought the urge to lick the salty O- goodness. Hands—he'd told himself—look at her hands, they're not as tempting. From her hands, he'd looked up into her eyes and he, again, had a hard time ignoring the temptation. Those green and gold orbs seemed to stare into his soul. How else could he explain that the mother of his children died at their own hands. Or, rather, their own fangs. The infants were unable to comprehend that feeding at their mother's breast meant suckling the milk, not burying fangs into the soft skin of those nipples that he himself had fed from. Had it been one child, she would've lived. She couldn't bear to leave one hungry baby in the crib crying while she fed the other. So she'd placed a baby at each breast. Two hungry vampire babies needed too much. He'd explained to her the risks and the rewards. A human woman could bear a vampire child. She could care for him, feed him even. But two increased the risk. And now she was gone. Not that Germaine loved Celeste. He hadn't. She'd been nothing more than a vessel, an easy meal, an obedient servant to his needs, both sexual and physical. She was a beautiful woman, tall, caramel-complexioned. She was fascinated by the fact that Germaine had been a vampire. In fact, they'd been introduced by another vamp/human couple. She knew what she was getting into. He felt no guilt about her death and wouldn't allow his sons to either. The nanny was a different story. Levi and Lincoln overheard Germaine talking on the phone one night—he'd been explaining to his own vampire brother, Greg, about the move to Kentucky and how Emmy Valdez would be staying in town. New Orleans was saturated with his kind and they all needed a nanny at one point in time. But for him, it was time to branch out. His mother wasn't too excited, but she understood his need to leave. He'd convinced her with tales of Derby parties, rolling hills of bluegrass, and an untapped population of humans to feed from. A vampire in Kentucky? Why the hell not? "Oh, Emmy? She's not coming with us. She's of no use to us anymore." Of no use to us anymore. Four year old twins interpreted this as Emmy being free game. He'd found the nanny an hour later, drained, lying on the floor while Levi and Lincoln played video games from their bunk beds. "What the hell? Boys, what did I tell you about Miss Emmy? We need her, we don't feed from her! Right?" he stepped over her body and snatched the video game controllers from the boys' hands. "But Daddy, you told Uncle Greg that we didn't need her anymore," little Levi said, looking as innocent as can be, brown eyes filling with bloody vampire tears. Germaine sighed, wiped his face, and told the boys they were grounded. "I told you not to feed from Miss Emmy. You are not to drain ANYONE. Is that clear?" "Yes sir," both boys said in unison. "No video games until we get to Kentucky," he stated, "Now go to bed. I need to take care of Miss Emmy." He'd buried the body, notified her next employers that they'd need to look elsewhere, and finished packing. They'd be in Kentucky in a month. He could make do until then. Maybe his mother could lend a hand. CHAPTER 2 "I think we've found our new nanny," Germaine announced as he walked into the living room that evening. He'd read Chelsea's resume, but more importantly, he'd inhaled the contents of the plastic bag the entire way home. Her blood, O-, sweet and salty, was as important to his decision as her Master's degree in early childhood education. The final decision would be made when the boys met her. "Thank goodness," Giselle sighed over the noise of the episode of "Spongebob Squarepants" that Lincoln and Levi were entranced by, "Not that I don't love spending all this time with my family, but you know. I need to get back to my life." "I understand completely, mother dearest," Germaine said, smiling. Finally, the boys realized their father was home and they bombarded him with hugs and kisses. "So did you hear the news?" he asked the boys, "I think we found our new nanny." "Is she pretty?" Levi asked. "When do we meet her?" Lincoln chimed in. "Yes, she is pretty," Germaine answered, grimacing at the raised eyebrow his mother gave him, "And you guys will meet her as soon as I call to arrange it. Mom, here's her resume, just so you know the details." "You know I trust your judgment, Germaine dear," Giselle admonished, but quickly took the sheet of paper from his outstretched hand. "Call her now, Daddy. What's her name?" Lincoln demanded. "Her name is Miss Chelsea. And I think I will call her right now. Maybe we can set something up for tomorrow or the next day." Chelsea didn't know who the strange phone number belonged to, but she answered anyway. She'd already gotten home, stripped out of what was left of her ruined stockings, and was in the process of running a bath to soak her aching knees. "Hello?" "Chelsea? It's Germaine. Are you busy?" "No," she said, stepping out of the bathroom and away from the noise of the faucet, "Just got home a little while ago." "Great. I just wanted to let you know, my mother and I reviewed your resume and I think you'd be great for the position. If you are able to come over tomorrow evening, we can go over some details, salary, expectations, et cetera. And you can meet the boys. And my mother." "Um, sure. Can you text me your address? Just let me know what time I should show up." "Yeah, I'll do that. I'll be getting home from my shift at the hospital around this time tomorrow, if that works for you?" "Yes, I'll see you then." "Okay. Bye Chelsea." "Bye Germaine." She trotted back into the bathroom, turning off the water just in time. She received a text a few seconds later—2209 Greenwood County Road. He was kind of out in the country with that address. She turned on her mp3 player on the sink cabinet and laid her towel on the toilet lid before gingerly climbing in the steamy bathwater. She winced as she pulled the bandages off her damaged knees and was shocked to see that there was barely a scratch. She must be going crazy. They were gushing blood an hour ago. She rubbed her temples and leaned back against the end of the tub. Thirty minutes later, she was dry, warm, and cozy on the couch reading the second book of the Twilight saga. Her mother had gone absolutely nuts over the series and forced Chelsea to read the first book. She'd gotten hooked, despite the silliness of glittery vampires. She'd just gotten to the part when Edward's brother attacked Bella at her birthday party when her phone rang. Her brother. He was calling to confirm their Halloween plans. Halloween was Chelsea's favorite holiday and she'd always insisted on taking her nephew trick-or-treating. This year was no different. Her nephew was going as a ninja and Chelsea had finally decided that she was going as a glittery vampire. She was so influenced by what she read. She had tried to explain the costume to her brother but he'd just rolled his eyes. Her mother, however, was thrilled, as she'd expected. After confirming plans, Chelsea had gotten off the phone and scarfed down a Lean Cuisine meal while poring over the next few chapters. Edward left her? Gah! Chelsea, again influenced by her reading material, felt as depressed as poor Bella. Finally, she fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of glittery vampires and handsome doctors. Chelsea woke up late and then had to rush to complete her shopping. She went to several different Halloween shops for the fangs, the mall for the outfit, the shoe store, and then to a specialty makeup shop. A salesgirl had helped her try on the pale foundation, red lipstick, fake eyelashes, and glitter that she'd need to complete her look. It was perfect and she'd even pulled out the fangs. The salesgirl was so excited, she'd helped Chelsea custom-fit the teeth to her mouth. The salesgirl had called several of her coworkers over (and a few customers) to see the finished product. It took longer than she thought and when she finally glanced at her cell phone, she realized she was supposed to be at Germaine's house in thirty minutes! And it'd take that long to drive out to Greenwood County Road. She paid for her purchases and high-tailed it out of the store. Thirty-five minutes later, she pulled into his driveway and tried to pop the fangs out—they wouldn't budge. She'd spent the drive over using baby wipes to clear away most of the glitter and too-pale makeup. The red lipstick had stained her lips. She looked a mess. She was mortified. But, hopefully she could explain away the teeth. She ran her tongue over the sharp points and marched up the driveway and onto the wrap-around porch. Before she could knock, the door swung open and two of the cutest little boys she'd ever seen rushed to hug her legs. "Miss Chelsea!! Miss Chelsea!! You're here!" "Lincoln! Levi! Give Miss Chelsea some room. At least let her get in the door." Germaine apologized and pulled the boys far enough away so that Chelsea could squeeze by. "Please come in." Chelsea had just opened her mouth to explain the teeth when a gorgeous woman floated into the room. She had long silver dreads and wore a bronze shift dress and hoop earrings. Her face broke out into a smile when she saw Chelsea. "Chelsea, this is my mother Giselle. Mom, this is Chelsea Willow." "Chelsea, dear, how wonderful to meet you. Come in!" Giselle led Chelsea through the maze of four-year-olds and drew her through the entryway and into a family room. "Boys, let's sit down and talk to Miss Chelsea for a few minutes and then you all can go play your video games for a while, okay?" Germaine rounded up Levi and Lincoln and followed the two women into the family room. Of course, the boys had to sit down on either side of Chelsea. One fingered her chunky blue earrings and the other was satisfied to sit and hold her hand. They both bombarded her with questions. "Do you like video games? Spongebob? Football? Trick-or-treating?" And on, and on, and on. Germaine watched the attention Chelsea gave his sons and the sincerity, patience, and honesty with which she answered all of their questions. Lincoln finally let go of her hand, but crawled up into her lap instead. "Miss Chelsea," he asked as he hugged her, "Are you going to be our new nanny? Please?" "Well, I think I would love that. But I have to talk to your daddy first to make sure it's okay. How about you boys go on and play your games and before I'll leave, I'll come and say goodnight, okay?" "Deal," Levi said, pulling his brother from her lap so he could get his own hug. The two scampered off, Giselle right behind them. "So," Germaine said, holding back a laugh, "What's with the fangs?" "Shit," she said, hand to her mouth, "Sorry, I mean shoot. I spent the day shopping for my Halloween costume and got a little carried away at the makeup counter. And then they wouldn't come out! I meant to explain them as soon as I walked in, but I got distracted." Germaine finally burst out laughing and Chelsea couldn't help but follow suit. She explained her costume in greater detail and Germaine found himself fantasizing about the blood red lipstick and sexy red heels she'd described. "Halloween is your favorite holiday?" he asked, bemused, "Isn't that a little sacrilegious around here? This is the bible belt, right?" "Yeah, but we're not that crazy about it. It's not like I'm out sacrificing lambs or anything," she teased back. "Good to know—'does not sacrifice lambs'—that'll look good on your resume." They talked about details of the job—he gave her a tour of the house, showed her the suite of rooms she'd have if she was hired, he gave her a list of the responsibilities, and then they talked salary. The Not-So-Glittery Vampire "Okay, so I consider this a full-time job, Chelsea. In fact, since you'll be living here, it'll be more than a full-time job. You'll be part of the family. You'll practically be 'on-call' twenty-four/seven." "I understand," Chelsea said, nervously contemplating what was coming next. She hoped it was enough for her to take the position. The law office clerk job she'd applied for was paying $30,000 and that was barely enough for her to get by. Since she wouldn't have to pay rent, she could afford significantly less than that, but she'd have to work out how much less she could get by on. She'd like to save something for the future. "I'm offering $4000 a month. That includes room and board. You'll have to pay for your own insurance and saving, of course, but I think that'll be sufficient for you to work something out." Germaine kept talking, but Chelsea's brain was stuck. Four-thousand dollars a month? Did she hear him correctly? "Chelsea?" She looked at Germaine and closed her mouth. "You okay?" he asked, "I hate talking about money—you're really over-qualified for the position, but if you want to negotiate, we can discuss it if you want." "Um, no. I mean, yes, I'll take it. I'll take the job. I would love to take care of Lincoln and Levi." "Really?" he asked, his face breaking out into a grin. "Yes!" she said, standing up. He stood up too, and she impulsively hugged him. She was so giddy, she didn't realize that the hug might be inappropriate until she felt his muscles tense. She started to pull away but he relaxed into the hug. She buried her nose in his shirt, smelled his cologne, his laundry detergent, his own un-nameable fragrance that was entirely Germaine himself. She felt his arms around her own, his hands on her back. It started to get awkward and he pulled away this time. "Sorry," he said, visibly affected by their embrace, "Let's go tell the boys, okay?" "Yes, you don't have to apologize. We're going to be like family, right? Family members hug." He led her to the boys' room, thinking how that hug felt like no hug he'd ever given one of his family members. The boys were excited and Chelsea and Giselle planned a few activities so they could make the transition smoothly. Chelsea would learn the routines while Giselle was still around to help (in between packing up her apartment). Halloween was three days away—on a Friday. She'd take her nephew trick-or-treating, head home Friday night to finish packing, and move into Germaine's house that weekend. It was all worked out in her head. CHAPTER 3 Chelsea dropped her nephew off at her brother's house (after stealing a few pieces of candy) and headed home. She'd packed up everything except a few necessary clothes, toiletries, and her bedding. The movers would be by the next day at noon to carry one load to the storage facility and a smaller load to Germaine's. She dropped her keys and purse on the counter and unwrapped a mini Kit-Kat bar. She'd just taken a bite when she heard a knock on her door. She threaded through the boxes and looked through the peep-hole. It was Germaine. She quickly swallowed the chocolate and made sure her bustier and leather pants were adjusted. She'd dropped the cape as she walked in. But what was he doing here? Germaine had asked himself a similar question the entire drive to Chelsea's house. What am I doing? He'd taken the boys trick-or-treating and Giselle had taken them off to count candy and head to bed. He started to plop down on the couch, find a scary movie, and sip on a bag of the O- he had stored in his personal fridge when the thought popped into his head. Go see Chelsea, it said. He just obeyed. He left a note for Giselle and walked out of the house. He knew he shouldn't. He knew it could mess up everything before it had even begun. He'd prepped the boys (no drinking Miss Chelsea—they needed her). They assured him they wouldn't—they already liked her more than Miss Emmy. He shouldn't be messing this up. Her blood had haunted him all week. He'd smelled the contents of the plastic bag constantly. Last night, he'd finally allowed himself to taste it, placing a piece of the gauze into his mouth, allowing his saliva to re-moisten the dried blood, sucking on it like a piece of candy. He should NOT have reacted the way he did: dick hard, desire pulsating through his empty veins, and some strange pang in the place where his heart used to beat. It was plain old blood. Blood he'd drunk a thousand times before and only gotten nourishment from. But it was different this time. He wasn't sure why. He had to find out. Vampires hid what they were from society. They could reveal themselves to humans they deemed trustworthy. His father had entrusted Giselle with the information. He'd told the boys' mother. But he'd never wanted to share this information with a human so quickly. It had taken more than a year to trust the boys' mother. And even then, he'd only given her the basic information. Germaine wanted to reveal EVERYTHING to Chelsea. At the very least, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to feel the length of his cock pulsating inside the warmth of her pussy. He wanted to make her quiver around him. He wanted to make her scream his name. This was the last thought he had before she opened the door. "Germaine? Is everything okay?" "Um, yes, everything is fine. Can I come in?" "Sure—it's kind of a mess. Everything is packed up for tomorrow." "No problem," he said, following her through a maze of boxes. "I'm sorry, I've packed all my glasses, but I have a couple of bottles of beer in the fridge. Want one?" "Sure," he said, exhaling heavily, smiling at her. She'd not taken any of her makeup or costume off yet, so when she smiled back, her fangs pressed into her bottom lip. She handed him the bottle and leaned against the kitchen counter. "So," he said, after taking a swig, "Are you ready for tomorrow?" "Yeah," she replied, "Everything is packed up except some toiletries and my bed stuff." "Great," he said, nervously taking another swig. He watched her take her own drink, the blood red lips encircling the mouth of the bottle seductively. Except she wasn't trying. They looked at each other nervously. Chelsea was dying inside—Germaine? In her house? How was she going to live with this man every day without jumping his bones? He'd taken off his coat and his broad shoulders were clearly visible even with the bulky sweater he had on. And those jeans? Jesus, he had the best ass she'd ever seen. Shit, she had bitten her lip with these damn fangs. She'd have to take them out as soon as --oh shit! As soon as Germaine saw the drop of blood form on that plump, crimson lip, he reacted and jumped toward Chelsea. He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. In that second, he waited for rejection, for fear, for something besides shock and wanting, but that was all he found. And then, he kissed her, molding his tongue to hers, relishing in the salty, metallic taste of the blood, a hint of beer, and something else....chocolate. He couldn't think of a better combination at that moment. Their tongues battled softly, then roughly, then softly again and she clutched the front of his sweater. He pressed his hips into hers and pulled his mouth far enough away so that he could suck her bottom lip. He nursed at the scratch so quickly, but so gently that she'd never realize what he was doing. As the blood trickled down his throat, his cock strained against his jeans. He'd been too preoccupied to retract his fangs and he wondered if she'd noticed yet. He quickly popped them back into his gums and moved to trail kisses down Chelsea's throat. Chelsea was shocked, but more turned on than she'd ever been in her life. Germaine's kiss made her forget where she was. And each time he sucked her lip, she felt the pull all the way to her pussy. She forgot her name, she forgot why she shouldn't be doing this. When his lips moved to her throat, she whimpered and pushed herself closer to him. Germaine didn't waste any time or the momentum he'd gained. He picked her up and zoomed to the unmade bed, laying her down, spreading her legs, and fitting himself in between them at the same time. They were both still clothed, but not for long, if Germaine could help it. The lips that had her so tantalized had moved lower between her breasts and were slowly moving around the mound to the rosy pink tip that was already rock hard. How had her bustier come untied? His fingers grazed the other breast and Chelsea was gasping. She finally realized they were lying in her bed and had no recollection of stumbling their way there. His hand dipped lower to the zipper of her pants and she knew she had to stop. "Germaine," she finally was able to gasp out his name, "Wait..." What? Don't stop him! Her body screamed at her as his hands stilled at her request. "I want you, Chelsea. I know this has the potential to fuck things up, but we don't have to let it. I want you. Don't you want me?" Chelsea thought about his words, felt his weight settled between her legs, and knew she wanted him too. "I do," she said, her cheeks flushing even more than before. Her lipstick was smeared on both of their mouths and those fangs, goddamn. "But," she continued, "I'm on my period." Germaine groaned and his dick became harder than it had ever been. He thought he'd smelled her blood upon entering her apartment, but the leather pants had kept the scent contained. When he thought about the blood that had been collecting in her pussy, the sweat from the leather mixing with the menstrual scent, he couldn't contain himself. He kissed her again, needy, passionately, scrambling to unzip her pants, ripping the bustier the rest of the way open. He stood to take off his own clothes and he had to hold back from using his excessive speed once again. Once he was completely naked, he pulled her pants down her legs, breathing deeply as her panties were revealed. Chelsea was nothing but curves. He couldn't wait to touch every part of her. The pants were thrown onto the floor and then he slowly peeled her panties down. The pantyliner had a few pinkish spots, and he saw the telltale string peeking out from between lusciously plump pussy lips. He looked back up into her hazel eyes and he saw the insecurity there. "You're beautiful, Chelsea." He received a shy smile at his compliment. "You don't believe me?" She shrugged. "You have the body of a Greek god, an African warrior, a Viking king. I'm short and plump and sweaty. And bloody. I feel dirty." "Well, thank you for the compliments. But I would never call you plump. Curvy. Thick. Voluptuous. Not plump. The blood is natural. And I want to make you feel very dirty. A very dirty girl." He leaned down to kiss her again and started to make his way down her body slowly. "Let me..." she started between her gasps, "...go the bathroom. I'll take care of the, uh, tampon." "Do you need to use the bathroom, Chelsea?" "No, just to take out the..." "Then don't worry about it." CHAPTER 4 She felt his hands caressing her breasts, smoothing over her rounded tummy, out and around her hips, and then delving between her thighs to spread them even further apart. His mouth continued down from her breasts and took the same path his hands took. When they reached the apex of her thighs, she started feeling a tugging from inside. His hands had moved back to her breasts...so...how was he pulling the tampon string? Suddenly, his lips, mouth, tongue, teeth were on her pussy, around her pussy, on her clit, and still, that gentle tugging. Until she felt its absence. And then it was replaced by his tongue. Her hips bucked off the bed and she was on the edge. Until his thumb found her clit and then she fell. She fell and fell and fell. And then, Germaine caught her. He rolled her over in one swift movement and was underneath her, eyes blazing black fire. He positioned her above his dick and she balanced herself with hands on his perfect chest. Perfect abs. She sank down and was filled up. Perfect dick. Oh god, her hips began undulating on their own. She pushed up and fell back down on his dick with each rotation of her hips and her second orgasm teased her aggressively. She fought for it, speeding up, then slowing down. It was almost there....shit, shit....almost....there.... She was almost there, Germaine could tell, and damn, if he wasn't on the edge as well. He watched her struggle, bouncing her with his own hips to aid her progress. Her period blood had dripped down his dick, made a mess of the inside of her thighs. It was so erotic. The friction and sweat of their coupling had made the blood coat his lower abdomen. He was going to come before she finished if he didn't stop thinking about the bloody connection they were sharing. He pinched her nipples and she got even closer. He gripped her hips, pushing himself deeper, pressing her down harder on his dick. Finally, he swiped his thumb gently across her clit, smearing the blood there, and he felt her release. It was like an earthquake and a vortex, breaking across him and sucking him inside. As she fell forward, he continued pumping, bringing that bloody thumb to his mouth, sucking on it deeply as he finally released his cum into her bloody pussy. She continued to shake, a dead weight against his chest, pussy still jerking from the inside. He had never been more sated in his entire life, living or undead. Chelsea felt the tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she soared through her orgasm. She'd had sex before. She'd had good sex before. But she'd never, ever, come like that before. She didn't even care that it looked like a massacre between her legs. She didn't care that her chubby body was probably suffocating the man that had just taken her to such heights. She just let tears fall, let herself fall, and relished the fullness inside her as Germaine released his grip on her hips and started softly stroking her instead. Germaine didn't know how much time passed. It was still dark. Chelsea's soft breathing had changed—he knew she'd woken back up. He hadn't moved an inch since she fell asleep. His softened dick was still firmly implanted in her pussy and when he realized she was awake, it quickly hardened again. She turned her head and pushed herself up so she was staring right into his eyes. "How long did I sleep?" "Not sure, I fell asleep too." "I didn't realize you were going as a vampire too," she said, lying her head back down on his chest as she squeezed him with her pussy, "But what did you do with your teeth? Mine still won't come out." She rose again and worked the fake fang with her finger, trying to loosen it. Germaine had frozen. She had seen his fangs. Before he knew what she was doing, she'd lifted his lip to look at his teeth. His fangs had retracted since they'd finished fucking. But the movements of her pussy were making them want to come back down again. He could take this opportunity to tell her the truth. He flipped her over so that she was on her back again. He hovered over her and grinned at her wickedly, pumping shallowly into her pussy. "What if I told you something unbelievable?" "I'd probably believe you," she said, gasping with each pump, "But only because it's you." "I'm going to tell you something. And then I'm going to show you something. And I don't want you to freak out. Because I don't want to lose you. I don't want my boys to lose their nanny. I don't want to lose this," he said, indicating with his dick exactly what he didn't want to lose. "I know you're going to freak out, but I promise, I won't hurt you, okay?" "Well, you're already freaking me out," she said, grunting when he pumped extra hard. "What if I told you," he said, gyrating his hips, "that I go as a vampire every Halloween?" "Oh yeah?" "What if I told you," he said, "that I go as a vampire every day?" Her brow crinkled but the pumping had turned into a pounding. "What if I told you that I was a vampire?" The pounding stilled. Her face turned doubtful. But no fear registered. "What do you mean, Germaine? Is this a joke?" "No, Chelsea, it's not a joke. This is Halloween, not April Fool's Day." "A vampire? You're a vampire. I don't believe you." "But you're not afraid," he said, "Right? Because I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise, I won't hurt you. Okay?" She nodded and resumed fucking her. "Watch." She nodded again and looked into his eyes. He saw a little bit of confusion. He opened his mouth. And popped out his fangs. "Shit!" she said, eyes widening. In fear? No. In shock. He kept pounding away and she kept responding. But her eyes didn't stray from his fangs. Slowly, he felt her hand on his shoulder, then his neck, then his cheek. Then, her fingers softly touched his lips. She paused. And then touched a fang. So gently. Those fangs that could've ripped her throat out. Those fangs that could drain her dry. She touched them so gently, almost reverently. Like they could be broken. "Chelsea." He said her name like a prayer, his forehead dropping gently on her own. They rocked into each other, her finger still exploring the length and sharpness of the fang. She pressed it against the tip softly and he moaned. He could feel the pressure of the blood, just under her delicate skin. She pressed it harder and harder until that skin broke. She cried out softly and the blood dripped onto his tongue. He moaned louder and his dick jolted into her. But he didn't lose control. She pressed her finger into his mouth, caressed his tongue. He looked into her eyes as he sucked. And she saw a lone tear, red as her own blood, fall from his eye. It made a slow path down his cheek. She brought his face closer to her mouth and she kissed that tear. Felt the wetness on her lips and tasted the metallic saltiness on her tongue. Germaine had lost all control. He had shed a tear over this woman, this human, mortal woman. And she'd accepted him in all his strength and all his weakness. He kissed her and they rocked together slowly until they both finished. Her legs wrapped around him and she signed in contentment. What had Chelsea gotten herself into? What had gotten into Chelsea? She met this man five days ago, he was now her employer, she'd just had wild, crazy period sex with him, and now she is learning that he's a vampire? And she'd just let him suck her blood? Had fed it to him, let him lick her finger like it was a dollop of chocolate? On Halloween? And their fuck session had just turned into some sort of spiritual, love-making session? She didn't feel panicky about it. Her mind was racing, but not in a negative way. He'd promised not to hurt her, and while she didn't believe him at first, he'd just shown her proof. One part of her felt like this was the most natural, normal thing in the world; the other part felt like she should find her way to the nearest loony bin, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Shut up, she told her brain, shut up, for like, 5 minutes. Enjoy this mind-blowing experience, even if it is with a vampire. Ask all your questions later. Out loud. To him. And so she did. Germaine could feel her mind racing. He didn't know what she was thinking—panic? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of those. He started to worry. She hadn't pulled away. She'd left her legs wrapped around him. He still had his head buried in the crook of her neck. He'd almost caught his breath. It was time to move, to say something. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked her straight in the eye. "Are you with me, Chelsea?" "Yes," she said, lips twisting to the side. "I didn't have to tell you this. But I wanted to." "Who knows?" "Giselle, of course. She is my true mother. She was human when she gave birth to my brother and a few years later, me. When we started school, she asked my father to turn her. He did." The Not-So-Glittery Vampire "Giselle is a vampire?" "You sound more shocked about her than me," he said with a chuckle. He lifted himself from her and turned to the side, pulling her up against him. "So, a vampire father and a human mother make vampire babies." "Yes," he said, letting her work things out for herself. "Levi and Lincoln are vampires then." "Yes," he said again, "It doesn't work the other way, however." "So no vampire mommies." "Right." "So," she said, pausing, "Are you recruiting me for your next child?" "No. I really want you to be Levi and Lincoln's nanny. And my lover. If that is acceptable to you." "And that's it?" "Well, I'm not saying that this couldn't develop into something more. And if you wanted a child and we got to that point in our relationship, I would give you a child. But I'm not asking anything like that of you right now. Don't feel overwhelmed by this, Chelsea. I just felt such a connection to you and I wanted you to know everything about me." She rolled over on her stomach and looked up at me. "This isn't some kind of vampire love voodoo spell, then? All Hallow's Eve and all? You felt the connection with me too?" Germaine smiled and nodded. "I'm a vampire, not a witch, Chelsea." She leaned up to kiss him. "Let's go take a shower, get ready to move me in, huh?" "I can't wait. Although, we might need to rethink the sleeping arrangements," he said, wiggling his eyebrows seductively. She laughed and pulled him into the bathroom. She couldn't wait to move in with her vampire family.