Call Of The Dark

Emma returned with a towel dabbed with cold water. "I am so sorry!" she said looking at the mess she had created.

She lunged at his trousers to wipe the mess. But before she could grab his cock, he caught her hand and in an angry breathless voice said, "Gahhh! Leave it. I will manage." He was on the brink of coming and if she touched him even once, he was sure that he would spill inside his pants.

"How can I leave it?" she said, nervous about her attempt to seduce him by 'servicing' him. Surely, it all went wrong. She swatted his hand away and grabbed his cock to wipe it but the minute she did that, he came all over inside his trousers with an agonized roar. Emma didn't know whether to watch his face or his trousers. It was getting wet by the second. She looked at its growing wetness while she placed a hand on his chest. In the end when he was breathless and sweating and heaving, she remarked, "Damn! Your cock has thrown up and I couldn't even service it well." What she meant by service it well was that she couldn't even feed it well.

Through his half-mast eyes, he looked at her, while panting. He couldn't believe that he was like a randy teenager around a girl like Emma. He had never come this bad and this desperately in front of anyone. And he had so many women at his disposal. Though he was feeling a thousand times better, he had hoped for a better sexual encounter with her.

When Emma tried to wipe the mess with her shaky hands, he just grabbed her wrists and yanked her towards him.

"You are going to lie down on this bed," he growled, pointing at the bed. "And do not touch me. Is that clear?"

Emma nodded, feeling terrible about her wasted efforts. She had to makeup somehow. He snatched the wet towel from her and pointed at the bed for her to lie down. Reluctantly, she went to lie down on the bed while he strode to the bathroom to clean himself and change.

The night was young, perfect for vampires to go out and do their daily jobs, but Lazarus wanted to… sleep. He took a quick hot bath and couldn't help but relax. He didn't know that releasing was going to be such a therapy. But his mate was dangerous. A touch of hers would burn him.

When he returned after wearing his night pajamas, she was lying down with her eyes closed at the far end of the bed. She was curled up in a ball, feeling cold. He stroked the fire in the hearth and went to bed.

Emma was cursing herself repeatedly for wasting so much time. She barely had three weeks to seduce him and she didn't know what she did. When she heard the door opening, she closed her eyes tightly, pretending to sleep. Moments later, the bed dipped and she heard rustle of fabric. He covered her with a thick quilt before settling on the pillows.

"Have you ever pleasured yourself?" he asked.

"Yes!" she responded immediately, turning to look at him.

He turned his face and raised an eyebrow. "You have?"

"Yes!" Emma was happy that she was going to get another chance. She saw him reclining on the pillows with nothing but silk pajamas. It was difficult for her not to see his pure masculine charm.

"How have you pleasured yourself?" he asked.

"Oh, for that I would need a butterfly!"

"A butterfly?" he repeated.

She got up and nodded vehemently.

He narrowed his eyes, hundreds of fantasies bouncing in his head about whether she would pleasure herself with a butterfly. Suddenly he traced to the gardens maintained by the humans in the palace. From there he caught a golden butterfly and traced back to his room. He handed it to her. "Now show me how you pleasure yourself."

Emma squealed when she felt the wings of the butterfly fluttering in her hands. And then she opened her hands. The butterfly sat with its dainty legs on her palm, fluttered its gossamer wings and flew away. Immediately, Emma ran after her to catch it.

For the next half an hour, a very angry Lazarus watched her chasing it, trying to catch the butterfly as she squealed and shrieked and laughed and ran everywhere in his room. He realized that this was how she was pleasuring herself. When she couldn't catch the butterfly, he traced to it and caught it. He wanted to tear its wings for taking away his precious time from her.

"Give it to me!" Emma said excitedly. Strands of hair had escaped her braid and her cheeks were pink.

She looked... refreshing. The scent of violets of her blood was mixed with intoxicating spices. "Give!"

Instead, he walked to the window, opened the glass and let the butterfly fly away. He closed it and walked back to the bed giving her a pointed look. "Enough of pleasuring yourself," he growled. Emma's lips downturned. She dragged her feet after him to the bed like a baby.

That night they slept on his bed. She was so tired that she went off to sleep immediately, but Lazarus couldn't wink an eye. He found himself moving towards her warmth and before he could give meaning to his actions, he had curled an arm around her tightly, pulled her towards him and spooned her. Her warmth and steady heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

Lazarus woke up the next evening and saw that she was still sleeping. He slipped out of the bed without disturbing her, his mind relaxed a lot and got dressed. He went about his work, but returned to his room quicker than usual. Emma wasn't there. Panicked, he was about to shout her name, when she appeared on the door wearing his silk black shirt, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. She leaned against the door with a seductive smile.

All his senses were tossed out of the window. What happened to her?

After studying her for a moment, he walked to the bed, reclined against the pillows and stretched his long legs in front of him. He looked at her cockily.