Strangers in Strange Bars (Part 4)

I press into him harder as his hands slide around my waist pulling me onto his lap. My hands knot in his thick hair no longer holding back. I kiss him with uninhibited aggression.

The flavor of her life remains sweet on his soft lips, but beyond that I can taste him. And he tastes better than I could have ever dreamed.

My tongue traces over his bottom lip, sweeping in the lingering blood and his miraculous aroma. It's overwhelming and I falter.

I moan into his mouth as he takes a breath only to fiercely lock lips with mine once more.

His strong arms make me feel so dainty as one glides up the small of my back in unabashed possession.

The other hand cradles the side of my face, his fingers on an amiable journey to the nape of my neck as the determined hand sends tingling along my jawline and cheek.

He guides me into him. His mouth against mine makes my chest feel as if it will explode. He artfully tastes my lips with fervent, adept touches.

He has a pulsating energy I crave, something different than blood but compelling in its own way.

I wrap my fingers around his shoulder curling into textured leather. I wish I could will the jacket away so I could feel his skin instead. My nails scratch at the fabric trying to get to him.

He nips at my bottom lip as our impassioned mouths strive to devour one another. My body rolls against his, pushing against him. His hand digs into my thigh, stroking and kneading it.

A peculiar growl send chills through my bones, haunting my core. His lustful growl summons a dormant wanting and he flips me over skillfully, effortless. My back sinks into the couch as he traps me on both sides.

He towers dominant above, his hand pining my wrist to the cushion as his green eyes glitter with animalistic ambition. Through barred teeth he exhales a heavy breath. I shudder my own, surrendering to his whims, and the intense look is but a moment as he pulls me to him again.

He fists my hair, yanking my head back as his face buries into the bare skin on my neck forcing a gasp from my throat.

My heart feels like it's pounding, swirling somehow, my whole chest cavity is a vibrating energy.

More. I can't get enough.

This layer of clothes between as seems burdensome as I bask in the riveting sensation of his face nuzzled against my neck, his lips against my skin burn hot, though paradoxically cool.

My breathing becomes erratic as I arch into him. He continues to tease with dangerous yet sensual kisses along the crook of my neck to the lobe of my ear.

I long for him, his touch, his passion. That feeling when we were linked by her blood, I want to be connected to only him. To share in the emotions and wishes that drive him. I want to know him.

A yelp of pleasure rolls off my tongue. I claw into his shoulder as I writhe. I need more.

A breathless plea escapes my lungs, "Bite me."

He freezes up and I immediately regret saying anything, what did I even say?

My soul aches as he pulls away, his expression is somber looking past me as his green light dims. Did I upset him? I screwed this up somehow! He seemed to want me like I wanted him a moment ago. Why did he stop?

'Bite me.' Why would I tell him to do that? I don't understand, but it doesn't take away the fact that I do want him to bite me...and I want to bite him.

'What is wrong with me?' My heart sinks as he gets up, a hole in my chest grows more desolate and unfulfilled. He won't even look at me.

He sighs regretfully, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have agreed to share someone with you. I know better than this."

'What? Why!' Hurt, anger and confusion well up and I can't keep it from flooding my face. I like what I felt, I want to feel that again. Need it!

Kissing him was beyond… Everything, words fail to describe it. It was terrifying and wonderful and amazing and crazy.

...And now it's gone.

I didn't want to admit it before, but there's no denying it to myself now. I'm falling for him.

I hoped for a minute, maybe he felt something for me too.

How stupid, why would he? To him I'm probably just a pitiful girl to feel sorry for.

Well, I don't need his pity. I always manage to scrape by on my own and I can do it again if I have too.

"Why do you always go along with things you don't like!" I glower as his eyebrows shoot up at my sudden outburst.

He blinks and stares at me in confusion, then looks away frustrated. He's irked? I'm irked, I can't figure out why he plays hot and cold like this.

"You're all wound up on her blood and my life force," he shakes his head, "You wouldn't want this if not for that."

He's wrong, I know what I want. I just don't know what Sam wants. He's so reluctant and difficult.

I snap back, "Sam, you don't know what I want! Stop babying me like I have no self awareness or impulse control."

He's unmoved crossing his arms as he glares at the wall. An irritated grimace sets in, "You're missing the takeaway," his eyes are colder as they veer back to me, "it's simply not right for…" he stops as if taken off guard, "Are you alright?"

Now that he mentions it, something is different. I feel the anger melting off my face, it's hard to focus. I was so galled a moment ago, but now I'm just exhausted. Overwhelmingly sleepy, I can hardly keep my eyes open.

I know Sam made me upset but I'm too fatigued to really keep it going, or even dwell on why I was so ticked off in the first place.

Sam's rigid face is unexpectedly inches apart from mine. I can see the ripples in his gemstone irises from how close he is, way too close.

"Whoa," I breath a bit dazed. Where did he come from?

"Ash, what's going on? Are you ok?"

His hands are grasping my shoulders. I feel like a bobble head on a spring from his gentle shake. My eyes flutter trying to stay open.

He looks really concerned, he can be so caring and sweet when he wants to be. I'm just tired, no need for him to worry, right?

I yawn, "Yeah… yeah. I'm ok, I'm just really sleepy all of a sudden."

He doesn't look comforted at all, in fact, more distressed. I should do something...Ugh, my lids are so heavy, though. Can I stand?

I try to get up but my limbs feel like strings of dead fish. Sam catches me as my legs give out. I giggle uncontrollably from the outlandishness of it. Why the hell am I so freakishly tired?

Oh wait, my hunch. I thought alcohol would be the future colporate, but I'm not drunk. Just very…very tired.

"What do you mean sleepy?" Sam urges as all my weight falls on his arms, "Ash, you need to explain what's going on, stay with me."

"Hu-huh? Why-what are you…getting so worked up…for?"

"Hey, can you hear me? Hello?"

I can't move, can't open my eyes. I can hardly think. It's going dark.

It's all going dark.