Samson's Lovely Mortal

EIGHT

Samson pulled out a condom from the box and put it into the pocket of his bathrobe before he turned back to face Delilah.

“You want me to do what?” A grin was already forming on his face. He liked her suggestion. In fact, he liked it very much.

“Catch me, and if you do, maybe I’ll let you rip the robe off me.” She laughed and jumped over the bed and off on the other side. She wore a long robe of dark-green silk he had loaned her. It was too long for her and presented a tripping hazard. Not that he needed the unfair advantage he had over her.

“It’ll be a short chase,” Samson warned her without malice. “And, I always win.”

“I’m fast.”

Damn, she was cute. And playful.

“I’m faster.”

Effortlessly he jumped over the bed as he saw her take off around the armchair and then run over the floor pillows in front of the fireplace. He took a different route but took his time. He didn’t want the hunt to be over too soon. He always kept two steps behind her, making sure she was almost in reach, but giving her the feeling she could get away if she wanted to.

Her giggles filled the room which, for too long, had not seen or heard any smiles and laughter, let alone the intoxicating reverberations of Delilah’s voice.

Delilah rounded the armchair again, and Samson stopped right opposite of her. She made an indication to the right, but then veered left. She jumped over the chaise lounge as if it was a hurdle, and he had to admire her agility. The way she could spread her legs would come in handy eventually. He could think of more than one use for her nimbleness: how her long, shapely legs would wrap around him, how he would draw them up to his shoulders. His cock went rigid at the thought.

Samson licked his lips and went after her as she headed for the bed and jumped onto it. That was exactly where he wanted her. He seized her ankles and pulled her down, making her fall face forward into the soft pillows, almost knocking the wind out of her.

“Got you.” He jumped onto the bed like a tiger capturing its prey, pinning her underneath him. “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

He pulled her hair to the side to reveal her neck and face. She was breathing heavily. Realizing that he was probably crushing her diaphragm with his weight, he rolled to her side, pulling her with him. He neatly tucked her cute ass into his groin and molded his chest to her back. He enjoyed playing with her, yet he’d never been the playful type. Never had a woman’s body felt so good to him. It had to be the fact he was so deprived of sex.

“I let you win,” Delilah insisted, still out of breath.

“I won fair and square.” Samson smirked while he pulled her silky robe aside, exposing her legs. How could a small woman like her have such long legs? He let his hand run down her smooth thigh, admiring her perfect form.

“What do you want?”

It was plain and simple. “You.”

“You already have me.” Did she realize what she was admitting to him?

He eased the robe off her shoulders. “So, all this is mine?” The word “mine” sunk deep into his chest, feeling utterly right as he pressed his lips onto her shoulder. Without bringing out his fangs, his teeth scraped at her skin. He felt her shiver. “Did you know that a lion bites his lioness during mating to claim her as his?”

The thought of claiming her whipped through his mind like a bullet ricocheting in a confined space.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?” She didn’t pull away.

“Don’t tempt me, or I might just do what a lion would do.”

Samson had to stop looking at her neck where her artery pulsated under her skin. The only way to forget about the blood flowing in her veins was to satisfy another hunger, one that made his cock throb uncontrollably.

“Who says I would stop you?”

Samson pulled in his breath at the tempting thought, before he slid her robe down further and unwrapped her from it within seconds. He quickly shed his own bathrobe and pulled her back to his chest. Her sweet ass lined up perfectly with his hard shaft. If ever he’d seen a woman with the most perfect behind, it was Delilah. Just looking at her, knowing that in a few seconds he’d bury himself in her while enjoying the view of those delightful round cheeks, filled him with desire.

He fumbled for the condom and slipped it on. “I’ve never been so hard in my life than with you.” So constantly hard, so constantly wanting.

“Anything I can do for you?”

Samson pushed himself between her legs, felt for her entrance and rammed his cock into her up to the hilt. “Yes.” He moaned loudly. “You can let me fuck you till sunrise.”

Or longer.

Delilah pulled her knees up higher to give him better access, and he seized her hips and pushed harder. She was so wet; he effortlessly slipped in and out despite his size. From his position behind her, he had complete control over her. She was vulnerable, yet all he could hear were her sounds of pleasure, moans escaping from her lips with every thrust he made. It was like music to his ears. A concert of magic sounds appeasing his body in a way no other sounds ever had.

Her face showed signs of ecstasy; her breathing was short and huffed, her body pliable, responsive.

“Give me more.” More? This human woman wanted him to fuck her harder? He would break her. He shouldn’t do it. It was too dangerous.

“More,” she begged again until he could hold back no longer. He felt his fangs come out, and his body harden. His vampire self wanted to fuck her. Damn it, he’d been holding back for so long, he had neither the willpower nor the self control to stop the transformation. She wanted to be fucked. What was he waiting for, another invitation?

But he couldn’t let her see him like this, no, not with his fangs extended and his eyes glowing red. She would be scared of him if she saw him like this. His hand went in search for the broad silk belt of her robe. He found it and pulled it up.

“Close your eyes and I’ll fulfill your every wish.” He tried to control his voice and put the belt over her eyes. She was startled at first, but to his surprise let him proceed tying the knot behind her head.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I know.” It was incomprehensible why Delilah trusted him. But he knew that she did. He could feel it.

Samson gave her one last thrust from behind before he pulled himself out of her. Then he turned her onto her back and lowered himself onto her, centering himself.

“Delilah, sweetness, wrap your legs around me.”

He plunged into her and rode her hard, harder than he had before, harder than he should with a human. Hell, he shouldn’t have sex with a human in the first place. Too late. He was already in too deep, literally and figuratively. And he wasn’t going to stop—no. Stopping now, when he had everything he wanted, was not an option. Giving up making her body hum with pleasure, and his in return? No. No man ever could—and a vampire even less. He was driven by his desires, more an animal now than a man.

His fangs hungered for her neck and the blood it promised beneath her pale skin. Skin so vulnerable, so breakable, so delicious. He soaked in her scent of lavender and knew what he needed, but couldn’t get it. He couldn’t kiss her, not now, not with his fangs extended. Damn!

Her muscles were so tight around his shaft Samson knew she would milk him any moment. He knew he’d be ripping the damn condom to shreds when he did but he didn’t care. No more holding back.

“Oh, God, yes.” Delilah met each of his thrust with an equally powerful reaction, their bodies slamming together so forcefully, he thought he’d break her into pieces. But he kept on impaling her on his hard shaft, filling her tight sheath perfectly.

Then suddenly her muscles squeezed him tighter as she came, too unexpected for him to stop the approach of his own climax. He could literally feel the waves crashing through her body. In a ripple effect they ignited what seemed like dynamite in his own cells, making him explode with the force of an atomic bomb. His head veered toward her neck, his fangs ready to rip her vein open and drink her blood.

Take her! She’s yours!

At the last second, he jerked his head into the other direction and buried his fangs into the pillow as he collapsed on top of her.

Samson exhaled heavily, once, twice, three times. He’d almost bitten her, almost. This was getting too dangerous for her. Yet, at the same time, he knew he couldn’t stop. He needed more of her, and there weren’t enough hours in the night left to truly get his fill of her.

He felt how she pulled her blindfold off and turned her head, but he kept his own buried in the pillow. Slowly his fangs receded into his gums, and he could feel the tension in his jaw ease.

“So, you were holding out on me the first time,” she said, panting as heavily as he was.

Samson raised his head, knowing his fangs had fully retreated, and the red glow in his eyes had subsided. He would look completely normal to her again—or as normal as he could look after the most mind-blowing orgasm to date. He was sure he had a stupid grin plastered on his face. The kind of grin a sixteen-year-old boy would have after his first sexual encounter.

“You’re going to curse me tomorrow when you see all the bruises I’ve left you with. You’re so breakable.”

“I’m not any more breakable than any other woman.”

But a lot more breakable than a vampire female.

And a lot tastier.

Her lips beckoned, and he couldn’t resist. Tenderly he kissed her, capturing her upper lip and gently sucking it into his mouth.

“You amaze me. It feels like you’re two different people, one wild and one tender.”

“Hmh.” She had no idea how accurate her assessment of him was, so instead of answering her, Samson decided to show her his tender self and continued his kiss.

When he finally pulled out of her, he realized that he’d guessed right.

“I’m afraid the condom didn’t make it.” He got rid of the damaged item.

Delilah flinched. “Oh no!”

He put his hand under her chin and made her look at him. “Sweetness, I don’t want you to worry about it. I can’t get you pregnant, and I guarantee you, I’m completely healthy.”

Her next reaction surprised him. “You can’t have kids?” He thought he could detect disappointment in her voice, but he had to be mistaken. “Oh.” She leaned her head against his chest.

“Are you tired?” He had the sudden urge to change the subject.

“Not particularly. I can’t sleep much at the moment. I’ve been having insomnia ever since I’ve arrived in San Francisco.”

“Insomnia?”

“Yes, it’s strange. I’ve not been able to sleep much at night, and then during the day I’m completely exhausted.”

“Have you had that before?” Samson gently stroked her hair.

“No. I’m the kind of person who can sleep anywhere and everywhere. Put me in the back of a car and start driving, and I’ll nod off.”

“So, what’s keeping you up at night then? Too much work?”

Delilah shook her head, before she rested it back on his chest. “No. Work is normal as always. Just some nightmares. Nothing important.”

Samson wondered what kind of nightmares a woman like her could be plagued with. “Monsters?”

“Nothing important. Just odd stuff. I could have sworn that I dreamed about this house the night before I met you. But it was probably nothing. I mean, there are so many Victorians in the city, and by night they really all look very similar.”

Her hand on his stomach, absentmindedly stroking him, felt right to him. Intimate, personal, good.

“You think you dreamed about this one though? And it was a nightmare? As a man, that doesn’t sound like something I want to hear from the woman in my arms. What happened in the nightmare? I hope I wasn’t in it.”

She gave him a light slap on his arm. “Of course not. It was probably not even your house. It could have been any Victorian.”

“So what happened in the Victorian?” He was curious about her dream.

“I wasn’t inside. I ran toward it because somebody was following me.”

“Like the other night?”

He felt how she held her breath for a few seconds. “Yes. Like the other night.” Delilah paused for a moment. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s probably just an unfamiliar bed,” she shrugged it off.

He didn’t press her. “Well, since this is also an unfamiliar bed, I think I’ll just have to keep you entertained then.” Samson smiled. “Maybe I can even make you tired enough so you’ll be able to sleep.”

“I should give you a little break to recover.”

He took her hand and led it to his erection. “No need.”

She propped her head up on her arm and looked at him. “I don’t understand this. How is it possible that you are hard again? It’s only been two minutes since you’ve made love to me.”

He threw up his hands. “Believe me, this is new to me too.”

Maybe not entirely new. As a vampire, he did have a lot more stamina than a human male. But nevertheless, it was unusual for him. “I just need to be in the same room with you, and I have a hard-on. It’s not exactly something I can control.” He’d picked up on the fact that she called it making love rather than having sex. Was that what she felt, that he’d made love to her? Was he capable of making love? It would imply more than just the physical aspect of joining their bodies: it would mean emotions were involved.

“I’m not complaining; I’m just surprised.” Delilah smiled at him while she gently ran her finger down his cock.

“For all I know, you’ve put a spell on me.” He gazed into her eyes and tried to understand why he reacted to her body the way he did. Why he couldn’t get enough of her and wanted her again so soon.

Several hours and lovemaking sessions later, Delilah finally seemed to get sleepy.

“Sweetness, when you wake up in the morning, I won’t be here.”

“Why not?” She seemed disappointed that he wouldn’t wake up with her. And he would have liked to.

“I have meetings all day and have to get going early,” Samson lied. “But I’ll see you when you get back in the evening. I’ll ask Oliver to take care of you tomorrow.”

“Take care of me?”

“He’s going to be your bodyguard for the day.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she protested and yawned. “That’s really overkill.”

“You’ve been attacked twice. I think you can’t be careful enough.”

“I’m not some kind of celebrity who needs a bodyguard. I can take care of myself.” Her voice had taken a harsher tone than he’d heard from her before. Why was she resisting his offer?

“I can’t be with you during the day, and I won’t be able to concentrate on anything if I can’t be sure you’re safe. That thug is still out there, and he’ll try it again if he gets a chance.”

“Samson, you can’t just take over my life like that. I was able to take care of myself up until two days ago. I really don’t need this.”

She seemed adamant about her refusal. There it was again, that control issue she had. As the auditor she wanted to control all aspects of her life. Except maybe sex. There she’d given control over to him, and he’d gobbled it up like a starving man.

But when it came to everything else, it seemed she didn’t want to relinquish control to him or anybody else, and arguing with her wouldn’t work.

“Please, Delilah. Do it for me.”

“Samson, that’s really ridiculous. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Delilah wasn’t going to win this argument, not if he could help it. Either way, Oliver would protect her tomorrow, even if he had to force her to accept it and use mind control to achieve it. But he preferred not to use so drastic a measure.

“What if the shoe was on the other foot?”

She opened her eyes wide. “That’s not fair.”

“Who says I’m fighting fair? What if I was the one in danger? I should hope that you would want me safe; unless of course, you didn’t care about what happened to me.”

When Samson looked at her face and noticed her frown, he knew he had won her over.

“Okay, but I do have to go to work.”

He greeted her concession with a kiss. “You won’t even notice he’s there.”

“Yeah, right.”

Moments later she snuggled into his chest, and her eyelids fell closed. Samson couldn’t sleep yet. His body wasn’t tired enough despite the physical exercise he’d gotten. He glanced at the half-empty condom box. He’d continued using them despite the fact that one of them had ripped and despite the fact that he’d told her she had nothing to worry about from him.

He would have much rather liked to go au natural to get an even more intense feel of her body. Maybe tomorrow night. He knew there had to be a next night. He was nowhere near done with her. Dr. Drake had been wrong when he thought having sex with her would turn him back into his former self. It hadn’t. Yes, his erection problems were gone, but now he had a whole different problem on his hands: he was becoming addicted to her.

As he looked at Delilah’s sleeping body, he felt the need to capture the image before him. The dark hair fanned out over the pillow, her palm was turned up, the vein pulsating in her wrist, her breasts sitting on her chest, rising with every breath she took.

He pulled out his sketch pad from his bureau and began to draw.

Samson loved drawing ever since he was little boy. He’d had a privileged upbringing in one of the finest households in England. His parents had been patrons of the arts and had encouraged him even as a little boy to follow his passions.

He’d always thought he’d be an artist when he grew up, but unfortunately his father made some unwise investments, and suddenly the family had been penniless. What could a young man with an artistic education do to make money? Nothing. His only chance was to scrape together what he could and get onto a ship to the New World. There were reports that enterprising young men could make a fortune in America, and he’d had nothing to lose.

Leaving his parents behind was heartbreaking, but Samson hoped to return a wealthy man to take care of them the way they’d taken care of him when he was a child. He never thought that the last time he’d see them was when they waved goodbye to him as he boarded the ship.

Without any skills to speak of, he found it hard to find employment until the bored wife of a British officer hired him as a tutor to instruct her children. It wasn’t the only thing she expected him to do. Whenever her husband was away she would sneak into Samson’s chambers and request his sexual services. As a relatively inexperienced young man, he appreciated the instructions in the carnal arts the woman was willing to provide him with. He was an outstanding student.

With a very healthy sexual appetite, there seemed nothing wrong with what he was doing. Somehow word spread among the bored wives of the area, and offers of employment started flooding in. Suddenly everybody wanted their children instructed in the arts—and their sexual needs met at night.

He’d had no qualms about it, and he’d finally had choices. Until one day, when suddenly there was only one choice left in his life, only one more decision to be made. Her name was Elizabeth …

The day he realized he was in love with her, the rain came and finally cooled the muggy air. Samson opened the door to the stable to get both himself and his horse out of the downpour.

He shook the water out of his hair as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light in the barn. A faint whimper made him spin around. There, huddled in the corner was Elizabeth, the seventeen-year-old beautiful daughter of his latest employer.

“Elizabeth. What are you doing out here in this weather?”

He let go of the horse’s reins and walked to her. When she looked up at him, he realized she was crying. Instinctively he knelt down and pulled her into his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Samson,” she wailed. “I am to be married in a fortnight!”

No! Not Elizabeth; not the woman he wanted for himself.

“Who said that?”

“Father announced it today. He’s chosen Fitzwilliam Herman for me. Samson, please help me, I can’t marry that man. He’s old, he’s ugly, he smells. I don’t like him.”

He stroked her flaxen hair, then put his hand under her chin to make her look at him. Her eyes were puffy, swollen from the tears she must have been shedding for hours.

“Elizabeth, do you trust me?”

She nodded.

“I know this is not like you would have imagined this day. And this is not the right place for it.” He glanced around the stable. “But I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t let you marry Herman. Because I love you.”

Her eyes widened.

“And I won’t allow it. Please marry me. We’ll go away tonight. We’ll hide. We’ll find a place where we can be together.”

Her answer was immediate. “Oh, yes, Samson. Take me away from here.”

And then he kissed her. For the first time he kissed the woman he’d secretly been pining after for months. The woman he was hopelessly in love with. Hopelessly, because he knew her parents would never approve of him. All this didn’t matter now—action was required. Losing her to another man was not an option.

Her lips were soft and sweet. His Elizabeth was pure, decent—not like the many married women who sought his bed.

“We’ll leave tonight. Pack only what we can take on a horse. I’ll be waiting for you here at midnight. Be careful,” he cautioned her. “Tell no one.”

He kissed her again, unable to get enough of her sweet taste.

“I’ll be here.”

She went to the door of the barn and turned back once more. “I love you.”

The hours until midnight seemed longer than they should be. Samson was nervous. What if she’d changed her mind? Going away with him, a penniless man without prospects couldn’t be what a rich heiress like her would want.

When the bell of the nearby church chimed out the twelve strokes of midnight, he was ready to go back to his chamber. Elizabeth wouldn’t come. She would be sleeping in her warm bed, crying maybe, but she’d stay and do what her parents wanted.

A sound made him turn. She was covered in a dark cloak, a small satchel in her hand. Elizabeth. She was his. Samson pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. Her lips erased all his doubts. Their future was uncertain, but his life was perfect. The woman he loved was prepared to give up everything to be with him.

The horses were saddled and ready. They only rode for an hour before they were attacked. Three men fell upon them, coming out of nowhere. It happened so fast, there was no time for escape.

Samson’s horse fell first, its throat ripped open. He hadn’t even seen the blow or what had struck it. By the time he freed himself from his horse in order not to be squashed underneath its body, he heard Elizabeth’s horrified screams.

What he saw couldn’t be happening. Wasn’t real. Wasn’t possible! One of the men drank from her throat. Her blood. His teeth were lodged in her throat.

Samson fought the other two, but he had no chance. He couldn’t get to her, couldn’t help her. He’d promised her to keep her safe. He’d failed.

If he couldn’t save her, he’d die avenging her. With more ferocity than he ever knew he possessed, he fought, clawed, and bit.

He felt fangs dig into his arm, felt the blood drain from him. Still, he didn’t give up. He threw a last look at Elizabeth’s dead body, then bit the man’s ear off and spit it out. The taste of the attacker’s blood in his mouth was metallic. It was the last thing he remembered.

He woke in a shed the next day. How he’d gotten there, he truly didn’t know.

To his surprise, the wounds the men had inflicted on him were gone, but when he opened the door and a ray of sunshine touched his arm, the burning sensation made him flinch and pull back.

It was the moment when he knew he’d been condemned to a life as a vampire; nothing else made sense.

One of the bad guys.

Punished for his sins of adultery and debauchery.

Beyond redemption.

Samson finished his drawing. He’d used his drawing skills over the years mostly to convey information to his associates in order to help them apprehend dangerous individuals. His art had gone by the wayside, but drawing Delilah reminded him of what he loved doing. She was the perfect muse. He looked at his sleeping beauty and planted small kisses on her neck and shoulders. His eyes glanced at the clock: the sun would rise in a few minutes.

“I have to go, sweetness,” he whispered to her, but she didn’t wake. He tucked his drawing pad away on his desk.

Samson collected his bathrobe and dressed, then slowly left his bedroom. Normally he slept in his bed with the shades drawn, but since she was here, he couldn’t risk her finding certain things strange when she woke up. For once, he would be hard—if not impossible!—to wake once he was asleep. And if she dared open the blinds to let the sun in, his skin would fry.

He quietly went downstairs. He’d built a safe room in the back of the house behind the garage, where he stayed during emergencies. The room was equipped with everything he needed: enough blood to last him several days, a bed, and communication equipment.

Samson locked the door from the inside and let himself fall onto the bed. He quickly sent a text message to Carl to notify him of where he was, and to Oliver to instruct him to take care of Delilah for the day. He ignored Ricky’s message that he needed to speak to him. It could wait. Then his head hit the pillow, and sleep claimed him.