And Harry wondered about that, too: how come she knew how to do it all? For after all, he knew she was an innocent … his little innocent, whose death he would soon avenge.
‘Isn’t bringing me back enough?’ she whispered, guiding his rubbery fingers to her stiffening nipples. ‘Do you have to go after him, too? You know, Harry, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since all of this happened. And, I mean, I’ve got so much to be glad for. I was dead, and now I’m alive! It would be sort of ungrateful of me to want revenge, too. Oh, I wanted it at first, I know, but now I’m not so sure. But I’d settle for you, certainly.’
He lay back and listened to her, and felt her small, gentle fingers tight on his flesh where it throbbed, but lazily as yet like a motor waiting for the throttle. And in the darkness she sat up beside him, crouched over him, and patted him with her hands so that he swayed from side to side, jerking and snatching at the darkness.
Are the sexual arts instinctive in some people? Harry couldn’t remember who had shown him. Or had he just known? Maybe he would remember when he woke up. But for the moment he didn’t want to wake up. Here, now, asleep, he was just a man. No more the Necroscope, no more the vampire, just a man being loved and making love, and waiting for the sweet sucking thing which was the heart of Penny’s womanhood to descend on to his silently singing flesh. And hoping against hope that the dream wouldn’t fade or change its course, and that he would get to come. The last time he’d made love had been . . . just weeks ago, but already it felt like forever. He felt full to bursting. Maybe it was just being with this girl, Penny, just being human, which from now on he could never be again.
And the poignancy of that was so great that when at last, gasping, she actually slid her sweet young body down onto him, he came almost at once, like an urgent youth stroking his first love’s breasts. And feeling him shuddering within her – the hot spurt of his juices – she clenched him that much tighter, until the jerking of his flesh had spent him to the last drop.
Following which . . . the gradual resurgence of his need was slow but sure, and her guidance unwavering, until he was in her again.
This time they lay on their sides, and while his left hand stroked, squeezed and compressed the pillow of her right buttock, so the tight tube of her vagina sucked on him for the milk of love and life. And Harry thought: If this were real I wouldn’t dare, for fear of making her pregnant with my damned ‘milk of life’! Or in my case, my tainted Wamphyri sperm!
And deep inside his vampire laughed at him. Milk of life? Frothing spume of lust, more like. For as everyone knows, only the blood is the true life.
‘Harry!’ she clawed at his shoulders, rubbed his chest furiously with her flattened, generous breasts. And, ‘Harry!’ she panted again. ‘I’m coming . . . coming . . . coming!’
It brought him to climax, too, the thought of her orgasm and the feel of its wet, wrenching tremors. But more than that, it brought him to his senses. Suddenly he was awake. Wide awake in their sweat and their fluids and the pungent smell of their love – which wasn’t fading back into the depths of his subconscious mind! Which wasn’t the ephemeral stuff of dreams! Which was in fact totally, terribly, real! Because Penny was there in his bed with him!
Harry gasped and opened his eyes, and shot bolt upright in the tumbled bed.
‘It’s all right, it’s OK!’ Penny said, grasping his wrists in the moment before she saw his eyes. Then: ‘Oh!’ she said, as her hand flew to her mouth.
Harry’s mind whirled. What the hell was happening here? How had Penny got into the house? Where was Jordan? ‘Oh?’ he finally repeated her. ‘Bloody oh!? Penny, you don’t realize what you’ve done!’