The Red Collection (46 page)

‘No!’

The word was extraordinarily loud and shocking. As if a lion had roared in her ear, Teresa shrank back, fearful yet more impossibly turned on than ever.

Zack released her hands, but with that strange, unnatural turn of speed of his, he was over her again, half lying on her before she could draw breath. With one long, cool hand he covered her eyes.

‘Close your eyes.’

Teresa obeyed him instantly and without question. A part of herself – floating high above the proceedings – was outraged at such submissiveness, but the woman who lay beneath Zack accepted dreamily and complied.

Even when he took away his hand, her leaden eyelids didn’t lift. She felt him move off her, but she couldn’t follow. It was as if she were pinned to the bed by some force she didn’t understand. Even her arms, free now, lay inert at her sides.

Moments seemed to stretch out like elastic as she lay there, and she could feel his cool gaze coasting over her satin-clad limbs. Obediently blind, she still seemed to see his dark head tilt again, in slow contemplation.

But then there was a sudden, sharp, tearing sound, totally unexpected. In the shock of it, the spell on her eyes was broken and they fluttered open. She saw a flash of movement, then all went dark again, and she felt smooth cotton being tied around her head in a makeshift blindfold. The cloth smelt deliciously of Zack’s floral cologne.

What had he done, ripped a piece of a fine expensive shirt, just to cover her eyes?

He obviously had, and the action induced a rush of new excitement. There seemed to be no knowing what to expect next. One minute Zack was insisting they be just friends. The next, he was an innocent, tentative lover. And the next, he was dominant enough to play erotic blindfold games. Being with him was a switchback ride, like a sleigh on the Cresta run – her body was a well of pure adrenaline.

Now the effort of keeping her eyes closed was gone, another sensual gate opened wide. The tingling electric field across her skin ramped up sharply. The weight of her silky pyjamas against her breasts seemed to oppress her, and she inched herself restlessly about on the bed as if her body was reacting and fizzing like a volatile chemical.

Perfectly instinctive, Zack began to unfasten her pyjama top. He slipped each button from its hole, but didn’t open the panels, moving all the way down to the hem with her body still covered. Then, and only then, did he pluck apart the leaves of satin and expose her. Warm night air sluiced deliciously across her skin.

‘Touch your breasts. Show me what you do.’

The words were soft but they made Teresa shudder with desire. Swallowing hard, she drew in a great breath and tilted her head back against the pillow. Her face was hot beneath the blindfold. She’d never displayed herself this way, never performed for a man. She’d always wanted to, but somehow a fugitive spirit had stolen the desire away from her at the critical moment, whispering subversively that the man just wasn’t worth the effort.

But now, in the face of strange, mysterious Zack, it was she who seemed to be the unworthy one.

Her face flamed brighter as she took her nipple between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it this way and that, enjoying the twist and tug of it, and the way she always managed to feel the sensation between her legs, as if a ghostly hand was shadowing hers, tweaking her clitoris in the same rhythm. Tonight, the phenomenon was more intense than it had ever been, and instinctively her free hand flew to her groin, so convinced was she that Zack had slid his fingers between her legs and begun to play with her.

But there was no hand down there but her own, and as she wriggled her bottom against the mattress, she clasped her sex and gripped it hard.

Zack uttered a low murmur of approval. She squeezed harder, making the breath catch in her throat.

The clock on the mantelpiece tick, tick, ticked as she handled herself and outside, in the park somewhere, an animal howled. Sticky juice began to trickle down into the cleft of her bottom, oozing from her as sensation gathered and massed.

‘Stop a moment. I can’t see …’

A cold hand prised her fingers away from her crotch, and then slid down her pyjama bottoms, leaving them bunched at her knees. Teresa groaned anew, imagining her exposure, and how rude and wanton she must look with her nightclothes opened and pushed apart to reveal her breasts and crotch to her cool eager watcher.

‘Continue …’

His voice was still low, but there was a faint ragged edge to it. Teresa longed to see his face, and the desire and excitement painted on it. Again, she had that gut feeling that despite the odds against it, Zack wasn’t all that experienced. And this situation was as new and exotic to him as it was to her.

Tentatively, she touched her belly. She didn’t know what to do. Masturbation certainly wasn’t new to her. She did it quite a bit. But in the dark, on this magic night, all her experience was stripped away from her. She felt new and innocent, just as she sensed Zack was. They were like two enchanted teenagers experimenting.

His hand took hers, guided it towards her cleft. Her heart turned over in her chest – he was trembling.

Oh, bless you, you beautiful man …

Then he withdrew his hand again, and let it rest on her thigh, cool and light.

Parting the lips of her sex, she slid in her fingertips, astonished by the swimming abundance of the slippery liquid there. She was wetter than she’d ever been. So ready for something. For anything. She sought out her clitoris, and gasped at the contact. She’d never felt so hyper-sensitive either.

Pinching the tip of her breast, and circling one fingertip around her clit, she suddenly laughed, thinking of the old children’s co-ordination game of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. It was quite an art, fondling herself this way, but she was excelling. The way her sex fluttered and leapt betrayed skill.

In a world of darkness she seemed to see Zack again, his face intense, almost intimidating. He looked nothing like the kind composed Zack who’d given her a home and his company and friendship. His expression was fierce, hungry, wildly feral. His eyes glittered with an unearthly light, and his mouth curved strangely.

His unfamiliarity frightened her, but there was no way to escape it. It was in her mind so closing her eyes, behind her mask, made no difference. There was only one thing to do – go on with her task.

She fingered her clit. She massaged her nipple. The sensation of gathering, deep in her belly, became an ever-tightening knot. She couldn’t keep her bottom still on the bed, and in her mind’s eye, Zack devoured her lascivious wriggling. His fingertips curved like talons into the tender skin of her thigh.

‘Oh … oh … oh …’ she burbled. And, between her legs, her sex rippled like a mirror, preparing to fling her over the edge into pleasure.

A hand joined hers in her cleft, one big male finger pushing inside her, sweetening the sensations, making them perfect.

Teresa shouted, her hips bucking, her core clenching and clenching on the cool unyielding intrusion that curved inside her.

Climaxing, climaxing furiously, she wrenched at the blindfold. She had to see him. See his face and his eyes.

But when she did – in the midst of orgasm – her consciousness slid sharply sideways and veered away from her.

Zack’s eyes were red, and his beautiful mouth framed pointed fangs.

5

The rattle of crockery woke her.

‘Hey, sleepy-head … Ready for breakfast?’

Her eyes fluttered open.

The heavy net curtains were still drawn but the room was light. It was daytime – with a dullish-looking sky, but perfectly normal.

And Zack, in a soft dark-blue casual shirt and jeans, looked perfectly normal too.

Teresa fought the urge to shrink back against the pillows. Her mind’s eye overlaid Zack’s pale but fresh-faced appearance with the terrifying modifications from her dream.

Surreptitiously, she fished around under the covers and found her pyjama jacket chastely buttoned and her trousers right where they should be. Even so, the sensations of the night were still vivid.

She’d been blindfolded, but somehow still able to see. And she’d blushed with furious embarrassment on exposing herself to Zack, and masturbating at his command.

But, oh, that hadn’t been the most extreme thing.

Those last seconds; Zack’s eyes red and burning – and his teeth.

Oh dear God, his teeth! Her vampire fantasies had invaded her dream now, and with bared fangs, Zack had been hell bent on biting her!

‘Are you OK?’

Clear blue eyes regarded her with concern. White, even, but perfectly un-pointed teeth glinted in a smile.

He was holding a tray, set for breakfast for one, tempting and indulgent with eggs and bacon, toast and jam, and fragrant coffee.

Am I OK? Teresa wondered.

The juxtaposition between dream and reality still made her head feel vaguely woozy, and right at the edge of perception, she detected just the edge of a slight, peculiar hum. Tinnitus, possibly? She’d have to get that checked out when they got back.

‘I’m fine … thanks, Zack,’ she lied, but, even as she spoke, the sumptuous aroma of a full English breakfast was setting the world and her thoughts straight again. ‘It’s just that I had a
really
weird dream … I think it’s sleeping in a strange bed
though
.’ The silvery hum had disappeared, and she smiled back at him, and sat up straight. ‘But I’m all right now. And this lot smells heavenly!’ She patted her lap and Zack set the tray carefully in place on its folding legs.

‘You’re spoiling me! This is fab,’ she mumbled a moment or two later through a mouthful of sublime savoury bacon. ‘I haven’t had breakfast in bed for years.’

‘We’ll have to rectify that when we get home. You need a decent breakfast at least once a week. A piece of toast and a mouthful of coffee as you run out of the door just isn’t enough. You need more than that to see you through the day.’

Teresa’s heart turned over. He was so thoughtful. But she suspected they both knew it wouldn’t happen. There was no going back to their harmonious state of house buddies now. The thought of that cut like a knife, but there was no reason to spoil the next couple of days by dwelling on it. She returned her attention to mopping up egg yolk with fried bread.

And yet, as she munched and sighed with pleasure, she found herself watching Zack where he sat in an armchair, calmly sipping his breakfast while he read the paper.

What is that stuff?

When something looked like blood and smelt like blood, did that mean it actually was blood?

No, vampires are fiction. Dracula and Buffy aren’t real. They’re just stories
.

He doesn’t go out in sunlight, but he claims that because of his allergies.

Stop it
.

He appeared to be in his mid-to late-twenties, but who was to say that was how old he really was. She hadn’t known him long enough to tell.

Stop it
.

But weren’t vampires possessed of unnatural speed and strength?

Teresa’s fork clattered on the plate, and Zack looked up from his paper. ‘Something wrong with the bacon?’

‘No, it’s scrummy, thanks.’ She applied herself to the plate again, even though her throat was suddenly too tight to eat.

Zack could move like lightning and lift her as if she weighed nothing.

No, don’t be silly. You don’t believe in ghosts, spoon-bending or Ouija boards … why on earth should you suddenly start believing in vampires?

And yet still she pondered. Scoping him surreptitiously over the rim of her coffee cup as he turned another page of his paper, he looked just like a normal man to her. He was handsome as the devil and had rather pale skin, but there was nothing more sinister.

Mirrors! That was it! Had she ever actually seen Zack reflected in a mirror?

She sipped her coffee and wracked her brain.

No, she couldn’t ever remember seeing Zack’s reflection. But what did that mean? She’d never
looked
for it.

And she wasn’t going to start looking now, she decided, carefully avoiding looking in the direction of the dressing table.

*

By eleven thirty, vampires were the last thing on Teresa’s mind.

Ahead of them was a lunch, preceded by cocktails for guests who’d arrived early, as they had. And all her so-called friends would be there, the ones who’d been so solicitous
– and
slyly gloating – when Steve had dumped her. And everyone would have a significant other in tow.

It would have been a pure nightmare if it hadn’t been for Zack.

When she emerged from the bathroom, fluffing at her hair and hoping her little silk two-piece wouldn’t make her bottom look too big, she found him sitting on the bed, waiting for her.

If anything, he looked even more fabulous than ever.

She wasn’t sure how many suits he had in his suit carrier, but this one was dark blue, lightweight and pure fluid elegance, just like him. His shirt was blue silk too, a couple of shades lighter, and he was frowning over a pair of toning ties.

Teresa’s heart lurched. Why did life have to be so complicated? If Zack didn’t have these mysterious issues of his, she could be straddling him on the bed right now, gorgeous outfit and vampire fantasies notwithstanding.

‘You might not need a tie. I think it’s quite informal.’

Zack whipped around, ties still fluttering from his fingers.

‘Are you sure?’ His head tipped to one side, light glinting on his dark curly hair, now immaculately groomed again. ‘I don’t want to stand out by being too casual.’

You’ll always stand out because you’re gorgeous, she couldn’t stop herself thinking.

Teresa curved her fingers against her skirt to stop herself grabbing him. ‘That’s a beautiful suit … you look terrific.’

‘And so do you.’

Suddenly, he was in front of her, looking down into her eyes. He lifted a hand, gently smoothing her hair where it flicked around her face. Teresa almost groaned at the effort of not turning and pressing her lips against his palm.