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Delilah

Clinging to her curvy hips and breasts was a fresh pressed white dress. Her cleavage caught wandering eyes and the slit in the middle revealed toned legs.  Styled straight bangs laid directly above her eyes as a short veil, and her long weave brushed across her back.

The Full Moon was the only time she dressed up to hunt. Moon energy always enhanced her sex, and she always looked for the black and gray wolves lingering in corners of Sleepy Hollow woods. The Full Moon’s glow penetrated the blood of the innocent and the tainted; something that kept her alive, well and youthful.

She walked onto the dance floor filled with lust and hunger. Drinks overflowed and desire spilled across the bar. Bartenders clad in skimpy see-thru outfits cleaned up messes while handing out more drinks; earning their tips with red lips and glassy eyes. Music blared and strobe lights spotted with red, green, and blue.

She kept her drink tucked in her hand, fingering the rim and scanned the room. Living in the quiet city of Sleepy Hollow improved her chances of unnoticed fresh kills.

This night was different because tonight was about revenge.

She’s killed thousands of men before, and most of them without any mercy, without another thought to reconsider. Her thirst for blood always took over rationality and regret. But there was one person she needed.

Eight years ago she was supposed to marry this were-devil. An abnormal combo of devil and werewolf made her immediately submissive. This devil saw right through her flaws, her thirst, her anger. He adored her secretive, manipulative side. She never harmed him despite her hunger. Love so deep in the pit of her stomach that she had no idea it existed unless she saw him.

Every year, she wallowed in her sorrows about being forgotten and left to die starving in the woods by him.

“Devil in a white dress,” a raspy voice said in her ear. She recognized the scent she’d been hunting for years. Her long hair made her look different from the back. She tilted her head slightly enough to catch his stature in her peripheral view. He stood taller than she, even with her stilettos on. A look of shock and upset replaced his snide and arrogant clout once he recognized the pouty purple lips, subtle cheekbones and tawny brown skin. “Delilah. How the fuck did you find me?” As she wanted, his upset bubbled his blood with arousal.

“I don’t have time to talk.” She left a purple lip print on his cheek, sliding her hand up and down his stomach. “Let’s meet again at your place.” And she disappeared within the crowd.

~§~

Although he reached home with mild unwillingness, he was a little excited to play the unwanted game. He smelled her scent lingering in his home’s foyer. He shook his head, hoping his past-life demons didn’t follow him home.

He walked upstairs slowly, waiting for her to pop out. The old Victorian-style home engrossed with rooms echoed his footsteps. Each step forward, her scent grew stronger, but he couldn’t match the fragrance to a figure.

Out of nowhere, a group of rose petals whirled past his face. Shaping into his favorite hourglass figure. The purple lip imprint casted a spell upon him, which seeped through his skin.

The tour around his house continued quietly. Each room he looked into buried in roses, his hallway floor engulfed in roses.  However, once he blinked, the red roses turned black and disappeared. His hallucinations grew stranger as he approached his attic doorway. Roses turned into thorn bushes, guiding his attention to turn the knob. Every ounce in his body resisted, but her spell was powerful. He glanced inside the last room. She was laid across the bed, her hair sprayed across her shoulders, his favorite mink blanket settled between her curvaceous legs. Purple glossy lips mouthed “You’re dead.”

Two blinks later and her figure vanished. His bed empty of her body’s imprint. The hallucinations ended abruptly as his eyesight went black.

~§~

He woke up to nothing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Finally, a voice came from the far corner in the room of black.

“I’d rather forget, Delilah.” His voice remained uninterested, and he knew it would make her angry. “Whatever you want to do, just do it already.”

“You’re taking the fun out of this.” Her voice was deep and sexy.

“If that means you’ll let me go for the hundredth time, then why not.” He was getting irritated, but remained calm. He knew how she liked her prey: heated.

A ceiling lamp came on, illuminating his surroundings of his home’s attic.He was seated in a chair, free of ropes or chains. The entire room turned into an optical illusion because of the walls covered in mirrors and the floor covered with red, bloody roses. Still reminiscent of her spell, he couldn’t figure out how many tall figures stood before him.

She sashayed alongside the mirrored wall.

He was absolutely mesmerized. Shamelessly, he watched her hips sway with her strut. Her brown skin played peek-a-boo with the panels of her shiny robe because of her leisurely seductress walk.

Deep red lingerie clung to her peanut butter brown skin beneath lace and silk garments. Panties with wide waist bands, ran thin and small to cover the front patch of his favorite spot. A barely-there bra held her bouncy C cups toward spilling over.

Slowly, she removed his pants, keeping eye contact the entire time. Then, she straddled him, bringing her nose to his neck to inhale his scent. He felt the warmth of her pussy upon his dick. Though she was warm and moist, he was fully aware of her icy, wet dagger-like teeth tipped toward his neck. Instead, she kissed his neck and his entire body overcame goosebumps and craving.

“I just want one last time, and you can do whatever you want with me afterwards.” Her whisper complete of poison.

Under her spell, he believed everything she said. He took her in his arms, cradling her well-formed body he missed, and laid her on the floor of roses. With permission, he tilted his dick inside her, not bothering to take her panties off. Quickly, she turned him to lay beneath her.

Rotating across his lap, she let her hips dance as she awaited his dick to get hard. Her long hair tresses down her back covered her scars of despair and anger. Her wings itched to release from excitement.

Her sweat dripped down above his body.

Fascinated with her breasts, and the strength in her movement, he watched her bounce up and down. She concentrated on making sure she came first, and she could feel his uneasiness. He wasn’t able to handle her aggression with the capability he thought he possessed.

“I’m going to cum,” accompanied with wicked moans were her fangs. He was horrified and turned on at the same time. She watched his eyes turn golden from amazement. Her orgasm shed through her body, through the veins in her wings.

She continued riding him; purposely waiting to feel his thick dick on the brink of release. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me,” she gazed directly in his eyes. The metallic gold of his eyes penetrated through her glowing green ones.

He continued to stroke her from underneath, her ass palmed neatly in his hands, and her pussy juicing profusely. She could see his uncertainty to speak.

A nibble on his lip from her fangs, brought him closer to her target zone. She used her pussy muscles to squeeze him tighter inside her.

“I’m about to nut right now,” his breath was a murmur.

“Say it louder.” Quickly, she cupped underneath his neck, waiting for his vein to protrude.

“I’m going to fucking nut, get up.”

In his attempt to push her off of him, she kept him down with one hand. As the vein in his neck pronounced through his skin, her fangs lengthened. Golden eyes widen in terror as she attacked before he could defy.

Rich blood coated her craving throat, and she listened his fading palpating heartbeat. The roses splattered with blood, wilted into black.

Wet and warm from his blood, a gory smile across her face, her blood-filled tongue swiped across his lips. His eyes were wide, horrified, and slowly became empty. The gold glimmer around his eye dimmed.

Blood packed with an adrenaline rush was her favorite meal. But the dessert was the revenge of the kill. She didn’t drink him dry, but she let him bleed out before her. His eyes filled for mercy, desire and help in one last glimmer.

She laid beside him through the remainder of the night. Hereafter, she took the last of his heat.

Her fingers glided down his stomach freckled with hair and cold sweat. Laying in a haze of heat and musk, sleepiness crept on her, and she wept the last of her sorrows away.

Her eyes scanned across his golden skin; cold and dewy. Lifeless and useless.

She was thirsty all over again.

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