The Point

Excerpt From: The Point

Hugh needed more, and as he thrust inside the juicy cunt beneath him, he knew it wasn’t enough. She moaned as he continued to go through the motions. If it were up to him, he’d leave out the sex bit, but it was an essential part of the process. He rolled onto his side, carrying the waif-like girl with him. She laughed and squealed in shock, and he pulled her back down onto his cock. He pressed a practiced finger to the juncture of their bodies and rubbed. Soon, she screamed and bucked in orgasm.

Hugh grunted and groaned as if he’d come, ready now for the thrill he was really after. He pushed her back down onto the bed and off him. She giggled and gasped as he grabbed her long hair and twisted her neck to the side.

“No,” she gasped, but her fake fear rang hollow as he flicked out his sharpened teeth and plunged them into her jugular vein. He drank, the vitality of her fresh blood zinging through him. He did not let himself get lost in the ecstasy though. He counted down from ten then ripped himself away.

He felt as if he’d been denied just on the brink of orgasm, but at least, his body buzzed with life even if he wasn’t fully sated. He took a wad of twenty pound notes from the pocket of his jacket beside the bed and gave it to the girl.

She smiled, her eyes still blissed out from the effect of the orgasm and the blood loss.

“See you again, Hugh. You’re the best, you know that?”

“Thanks.” He smiled and pulled on his creased black trousers then buttoned his stiff white shirt. The blonde cleaned herself up. Hugh felt slightly bad that he didn’t know her name though he’d fucked and sucked her five times before. He fastened his tie then shrugged on his long-lined suit jacket.

“Goodbye,” he said and didn’t wait for an answer. He walked from the room, through his club, The Point, and out the front doors into the cold air of the night.

Hugh hated what he was but over the years had developed a way to cope with it. He had been just twenty-eight when he’d been changed a hundred and some years ago. He had lived with his rich parents in the country and travelled now and then into the city to socialise and half-heartedly look for a bride. He had returned from one such trip to find utter devastation in his the living room.

His parents had lain in the centre, dead eyes staring, necks bloodied and torn. He had heard a noise and followed it. Up in his sister’s room he had found a man lying atop of her while she struggled to be free. Hugh had yelled, but it had been too late. The foul beast had already drained her and, moments later, was on top of him. Hugh had screamed and yelled for as long as possible but had known it was useless. The house was far away from any other homes. He had greeted the darkness quietly expecting to meet his maker.

It hadn’t worked like that. The evil being had brought him back into a new, cruel world where desire sat constantly in the pit of Hugh’s stomach and he ached to be filled. He had been a beast in those first months and he carried the shame of that with him still.

Only when he had ripped into the soft, white neck of Lucy, his old friend and secret crush had he realised what a monster he was. He had intended to turn her, to create a long-term mate, but as she had pleaded with him, his heart had melted. He had drained her and let her die because he could not control the blood lust that had run through his veins. He had buried her body and sworn he would never drain another human as long as he lived. And that, he realised, would be one hell of a long time.