The Hunter's Prey (11 page)

Liz and Becca looked at each other in shock. Understanding each other completely, they immersed themselves in coffee drinking again. Coffee was something they could handle, unlike Julie talking about moving home.

“What about you, darlings?” Julie asked. “Your vampire was a real hunk, Becca. Rafael Perez, right? He looked damn good next to your Morticia Addams outfit. Rather large for your typical Latin lover but who cares with that body?”

Becca remembered seeing Rafael’s shoulders looming above her as he thrust into her. Was that the second or third time he rode her? The aches deep down in her body said that he’d had her more times than that. She blushed all the way down to her chest.
 

Becca opened her mouth to say something but an iron vise clamped around her throat. She remembered a deep voice forbidding her to ever speak of what they’d done together. She took a deep breath and relaxed slowly, as the ban faded with her decision not to talk.
 

“So he was that good after you two went upstairs. Good for you, darling.” Julie lifted her coffee mug in salute.
 

Then she and Becca turned their attention to Liz. Liz kept her face buried in the enormous mug.

“I saw you, Liz, with that tall Rebel officer. Nice, nice butt there. Didn’t seem to be eyeing you like a sister,” Julie teased. “What was his name, Becca?”

“Pete introduced him as Ethan Templeton. Come on, Liz, tell us about it,” Becca urged, glad to turn attention from herself. “Blond guys don’t come along every day who look like a mountain lion on the prowl. Especially fellows who match your
Gone with the Wind
finery. Did he roar in the bedroom? Or were you the one doing the roaring?”

“I don’t remember,” Liz managed before grabbing another gulp of coffee.

Julie’s eyebrows went up.

“I swear I heard you giggling for a solid five minutes in there, Liz. Right after the bed stopped pounding the wall.”

Liz shrugged. Her over-sized T-shirt fell away from her neck, revealing a substantial hickey.
 

Becca whistled.

“Sounds like we all had a good time last night. I think this needs a special salute.” She unearthed a bottle of Kahlua and poured a dollop into each mug. The three friends clinked their mugs together and drank.

“Halloween and I met a vampire,” Becca mused.

“Jean-Marie said he was a vampire but I just laughed at him. That costume was definitely for the Phantom.”

”Ethan mentioned something about being a vampire, while we were dancing,” Liz offered. “He did leave before dawn.”

“That’s when Rafael left.”

“And Jean-Marie. He said his fangs were real, too.”

The three women looked at each other.

“Could it be,” Liz started.

“Nah.”

“Definitely not,” confirmed Becca.

Each woman took another drink and resolved never to mention the bite marks on their thighs to another. After all, a guy could be kinky without being a vampire.

And there’s no such thing as vampires, even on the morning after Halloween.

A Tale Of Ethan Templeton

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I just wrote those words. I swore I wouldn’t be like every other little girl and that included keeping a diary. But, hell, if it’s the only way to remember Ethan, then I’ll do it.

Of course, there’s a lot of things I swore I’d never do, most of which I have managed to try. I still haven’t gotten drunk on bourbon, though.

Ethan has given me permission to talk once about my meetings with him. I told my girlfriends about our first meeting and haven’t been able to tell anyone else about it since. I can’t even write it down, dammit. So from now on, I’m keeping a log of all of our meetings. I probably won’t be able to show this log to anyone but who cares? At least I can read it.

I met Ethan while I was a cop in a suburb of Austin, Texas. Damn, now I can feel that block against writing down how we met. So let’s just say that we met and had some really great sex. That’s pretty rare for me; most guys are too scared to approach a gal who can bench-press more than she weighs, rated expert with pistol and rifle, third-degree black belt in karate and always carries handcuffs.
 

Wimps.

But that didn’t bother Ethan at all, boy howdy! So we started seeing each other, fairly often but not regularly. It’s never been a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of arrangement.
 

Hell, who’d try that with a vampire? I’m certainly not going for an exclusive relationship with him. He’d immediately say no and I’d sure like to find an ordinary guy for marriage one day. But in the meantime, you can’t find a better partner for blowing off steam than Ethan. He’s also been very helpful for solving some problems that a cop can notice but not take care of within the law. (I’m not going to say anything more than that, even in my own diary.)
 

I always wanted to be a Texas Ranger and one day they accepted my application. (Yes! I’m still pumped up about that news.) So I worked out my notice at that suburban police department and arranged to take some time off before starting as a Ranger. I had a list of things to accomplish and Ethan was the key to one of them. So I called and left a voice mail for him. (It always fascinates me that a guy born in 1839 is so comfortable with modern technology.)
 

He called me back on my cell phone later that night, while I was having a cup of coffee and a doughnut in my cruiser. I recognized his number immediately on the readout.

“Hi, Ethan,” I mumbled through a mouthful of doughnut.

He snorted. I’m always eating when he calls me. Hell, I can’t help it if I have to consume twice as much as anyone else just to keep up my weight.

“What can I do for you, Steve?”
 

It’s usually best to skip small talk with Ethan, which is fine by me. I’m not much of one for polite chit-chat, either.

“My last day with the department is Friday and I’m spending next week with my folks, but I don’t have to be there until Sunday night. Care to do something on Saturday night?”
 

“Sure,” he agreed. Then he asked me the question I was afraid of. The one that I’d have to answer because it’s always best to tell him the truth, no matter how embarrassing. “Got anything in mind?”

“Uh, well, I was wondering,” I stuttered. “I’d like to just feel like a woman. Your woman.”

The line went silent. I waited, without a thought of my hot coffee or doughnut.
 

“Doing anything I want, Stephanie Amanda Darling?” he purred. I broke out into a sweat at the way he wrapped that drawl around all the syllables of my name. “Just want to be feminine? Got some fantasies about being submissive? Maybe try some rough stuff?”
 

“Yeah,” I agreed. The heat had moved down my body at his suggestions. Now, more than my brow was damp. “Something like that.”

“Okay. Get a room at the Sleepytime Motel for Saturday night. I’ll pick you up there at eight.”

“Fine.” I’d never seen a room at the Sleepytime Motel except during a bust. One thing for sure, nobody there would blink at anything he wanted to do.

“I’ll send you some clothes. Be sure you’re wearing those and nothing else when I pick you up.” His voice was harsher now.
 

“Okay,” I managed. I pressed my knees together against my body’s response. He’d never ordered me around before. Hell, I was usually the one doing that to him and he obviously liked it. I was surprised that I enjoyed him bossing me around because I’ve never been called meek.

“And Stephanie? Make sure you shave that pussy of yours. My woman doesn’t hide anything from me.”

I choked on a sip of coffee. Shave? Down there? But even if my mind wasn’t sure, my body was convinced that this was a very good idea. I closed my eyes against another surge of wetness between my legs. I might have to jack off before going back on duty after this break.

“Roger that,” I got out, unconsciously using the catch phrase from work.

Ethan laughed.

“See you Saturday.” He hung up. I sat in my cruiser for a moment and then got out resignedly. I could use the doughnut shop’s restroom for some privacy while I dealt with my reactions.

The rest of the week went past in a fairly normal way. At least the events were normal; my mind kept running off for daydreams about Ethan’s plans. I took a lot of teasing for thinking about my next job. The department gave me a great sendoff on Friday night and I managed not to get too drunk. I didn’t want to be hung over on Saturday.
 

I checked into the Sleepytime Motel at five on Saturday and found a hefty package waiting for me. I took a room at the back; every cop in town knew my Mustang convertible and I didn’t want to advertise my presence here.

I opened it as soon as I got into the room, of course. My jaw dropped at the mountain of brown suede that emerged. Leather chaps, fringed leather jacket, cowboy boots. They looked more like working duds than dress-up attire and were beautifully made. I petted them, enjoying the smooth velvety feel, and held them up to see how they’d fit. The jacket reached mid-thigh, longer than most of that style.

Then I started hunting for the rest of my clothes. Even Ethan wouldn’t want me to wear just chaps and a jacket, right? I shook everything out three or four times but couldn’t find a scrap of anything else, not even socks.
 

I called down to the desk and they swore there was nothing else waiting for me. I even searched the office myself without finding anything. (Well, that’s not quite accurate. They were running a heck of a pool on the coming high school football season. I ignored that, since I wasn’t a cop at the moment.)
 

Finally, I let myself back into my room and stared at the clothing spread out on the bed. Jacket, chaps, boots. That rig didn’t hide anything, except maybe my toes. I cursed my own stupidity at not setting stricter rules when I’d had the chance. Then I shrugged. I was sure that Ethan wouldn’t harm me, even when he drank my blood. Besides, my body kept celebrating the possibilities of that clothing.
 

So I gathered my toiletries together and went into the surprisingly clean bathroom. A long, hot bath did wonders for my frame of mind. After I’d toweled off, I arranged the hand mirrors I’d remembered to bring and started trimming my bush with the sharpest pair of barber’s scissors I could find. A big dollop of shaving cream followed and then I started to shave. Carefully, of course. Very, very carefully.

The results startled me. I looked naked and felt much more on display than I ever had before, even in the women’s showers at the gym or the station. I could feel every breath of air, every little twitch of my thighs. I could also see very clearly exactly what my excitement looked like, my folds deep red and beaded with moisture like an exotic flower.
 

I looked at my face in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself. My grandmother was a Cherokee out of Oklahoma and I have something of her look. Well, it was an exotic female I faced, someone I’d never seen before: big brown eyes set slightly aslant, pupils huge and drowsy with lust. A hectic flush of color on my cheekbones meant that I didn’t need any makeup, not that I usually wore any. My mouth was red and ripe, trembling a little, as if it needed to be kissed.
 

Then I caught sight of the clock’s reflection: seven something. I turned around and cursed; I had less than fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. I put on a little makeup, nothing fancy, just lipstick and mascara, something to celebrate a hot date.
 

I pulled on the leathers as fast as possible. They fit perfectly, of course; Ethan isn’t one to get anything wrong.
 

That left me with three minutes to see how I looked. The jacket covered me well enough so that I looked like a cowgirl in working clothes. At least while I stood up straight and kept everything in place.

But if the jacket was unbuttoned or removed, then I looked like a sexual toy. The chaps outlined my privates like an engraved invitation. I could see everything I had, especially with the hair gone.
 

If I bent over, the jacket slid up and out of the way, leaving my butt begging for attention.
 

I bit my lip when I thought of how Ethan might respond to that opportunity.
 

The doorbell rang while I was still working on ways to stay decent with the jacket. I froze at the sound and took a deep breath. Eight o’clock exactly.

I opened the door immediately, not needing to check who was there. Ethan looked down at me, hazel eyes noting every detail of my appearance.
 

“Aren’t you going to greet me, Stephanie?” he drawled.
 

I flushed and reached up to do so, the jacket riding up over my hips with the movement. His lips were cool and hard but quickly warmed up. Soon he was doing the kissing and I was moaning into his mouth. Part of my brain knew that his hands were busy on my bare skin under the jacket but most of me didn’t care what he did, as long as he kept doing it.