power.” His eyes were warm and brown in the morning light. “There are vampires hundreds of years old that don’t have the strength of you in your infancy.” The way he spoke, he was proud of his handiwork.
As we left, he took my hand. From murderer to boyfriend, all it took was sucking his dick.
“Don’t sell yourself short, pet,” he said. “Most women lose their wits, while you kept your head well enough to get the one last thing you wanted before you died.” He led me down a back street to his car, a shiny white Aston Martin.
“Nice car,” I said as he opened my door.
“Thanks.” He pulled out into the nearly deserted street.
“Will there be… other vampires?” I asked, my stomach doing flip-flops at the thought of having to deal with a vampire court.
“They’re subservient to me.” He laid his hand on my knee, and calm radiated through me. “I won’t lie. I expect some of them to be jealous. You don’t have to worry about them until tonight. Most fall asleep as soon as the sun rises.”
“So, the myths are true?”
“Some of them,” he said. “Put a stake through my heart, and I'd laugh. At my age, I would need to be cut to pieces and burned.”
I frowned at the thought of someone hurting my master. “Who would do such an awful thing?”
“Someone who protested me eating a woman once a week,” he replied, flashing me his brilliant smile.
“Oh.” I thought about my own life flowing into him. “But, wolves eat deer, is it really that different?”
“It’s been several millennium since I made a vampire, but I don’t recall him having such blind devotion to my kind the next day.” Jamie laughed. “He spent years protesting my diet.”
As he spoke, I realized I had justified my own murder. These thoughts, these feelings, were not my own. My chest tightened in a panic attack.
Jamie squeezed my knee. “Hey, Maria, take a deep breath. These feelings will fade. You’re newly made.” I squirmed in the seat as his hand crept up my thigh. “Most new vampires like to sit in their masters’ laps, gazing into their eyes.”
“ What about the man you turned?”
“Darius?” he said. “He was no different, it was awkward. But, either I turned him, or I let him die. He’d been a friend to me in a foreign city. He was loyal, and he kept my secrets.”
“Will I meet him?”
“I imagine he’ll be waiting up for me.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m surprised he hasn’t called. Then again, I’ve stayed out all night before.”
A silence settled over us. Jamie was smiling about something, and I was happy he was happy. He mentioned neophyte vampires curling up in their masters’ laps, and I wanted to lay my head down on his so I could smell his rich cologne and feel his heat.
He lifted his arm, and I lay down, my nose pressed against his cock.
“Do you mind if I listen to music?” he asked, and his lap vibrated as he spoke.
“No, of course not.” I couldn’t imagine why he would ask. What else would I want to listen to besides his music? An orchestra cued and a woman started singing. “You listen to opera?”
“Yes,” he said. “ La Traviata, it’s about a fallen woman. It starts out joyous, at a party, and ends with our heroine’s tragic death. We should be home by then.” He stroked my hair, and I nuzzled his crotch. With a laugh he pushed me away. “I know stories may have led you to believe I could concentrate on driving while you blew me, but I assure you Maria, your head in my lap is all the distraction I can bear.”
I relaxed, content to have his hand moving over me.
“You’re the generally good-natured sort, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You know, if I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have just kissed your cheek and left,” he said. “Sometimes I feel sorry for the girls I eat, and you were one of them.”
“Thank you, master.” I rubbed my cheek on his legs, glowing with the thought he liked me enough to feel bad about killing me. “God, I feel like a puppy.”
He ruffled my hair. “You do. Your emotions are pure adoration,” he said. “Don’t worry, my precious vermin, we’ll argue, and kiss and make up.”
After that, I drifted off to the swelling opera and his finger moving over my brow.
“Wake up Maria, we’re home.”
I sat up and yawned, stretching. My body was different, less clumsy. I sat, wiggling my fingers, until Jamie opened my door. We had pulled up outside a weathered stone mansion. Jamie took my arm as we strode up the front stairs. The Breakers, a summer home I toured, sprang to mind. My six year-old self had been enchanted by the place, and I begged my parents to take us there again.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “The Surf, my very own scaled down version of the Vanderbilt home. The only thing it lacks is a charming view of the sea.”
The heavy front doors were made of dark carved wood. Jamie opened them with a gentle tug. My childhood memories of a white iced palace solidified into cream columns and a red carpet leading up a great stair. A man sat on the bottom steps, reading.
“Jafari, you’re…” The man dropped his book and gaped at us.
“Darius, Maria,” Jamie said gesturing, “Maria, Darius. I’m tired. Park the car for me, will you?” He threw Darius the keys and led me up the stairs.
I heard the man mumble, “He brought home a woman. I wouldn’t have expected that in a million years.”
I felt awkward standing beside this majestic vampire, guided by his firm hand. As we approached his bedroom-I had no doubt his door was the one with the African art standing outside-I began to tremble. What if I didn’t please him? What if it was the thrill of the hunt that had made him like me?
“You do please me. Now let’s get those clothes off you.”
We moved in a flash. Everything settled around me, and we stood in front of a four poster bed draped in gold. He grabbed my chin and cunt, and as he kissed me, he bit my lip. “I cannot decide which I want more, this,” he growled, licking my lips. “Or this,” he finished, rubbing my twat.
“Both,” I said, leaning into him.
“Such a clever little rat. Take off your pretty necklace first. I don’t want to break it.” He gathered my hair in his hands and pushed me to sit on his bed. I undid the silver clasp and set my necklace on his nightstand.
The whole room was cluttered with art, from primitive masks to over a hundred paintings. There were slave markets and negro princes painted by every major school of western art. With my new eyes, I could make out the details of the brushstrokes. Jamie stood in front of me, and I sensed his approval. He wanted me to see something.
A dizzying array of paintings, their frames crowding each other, all depicting at least one black person, standing in the foreground or lurking in the back. There had to be a reason for the chaos. A large mirror hung on a wall and seeing the room reflected in its surface, I realized he was posing in every painting.
“These all have you in them,” I said and he nodded.
With the stunning portraits scattered about, I don’t know how I missed him. A pair of life-sized sculptures stood in a corner, one black, one white. I wanted to touch them, because I was shy about touching Jamie. He was rich and ancient, and that had to add up to being powerful. And I was, what? Someone who floated through life?
He took a step away from me. “This isn’t a museum, you can touch the art.”
I made my way to the statues, and he told me, “They’re made of marble and ebony, Grecian and Victorian. They’re also my favorites. You have a good eye.”
I stood in front of the marble Jamie. Thousands of years ago, he looked like a Greek demigod. A gilded wreath of laurel crowned his brow, and he held a lyre. Even rendered in stone, his smile was familiar. I touched the cold lips, and behind me Jamie purred.
His hand skimmed up the back of my leg, sending shivers through my skin. I trailed my hand down the statue’s throat, and he moved closer to me, his hand cupping around my thigh, just below my ass. I slipped my hand lower, and his slipped higher. I arched my back, bringing my nipples against the marble and my ass more firmly into his hand.
