Sparkly Vamp Erotica

(This is an excerpt from a fanfic I starting writing about Siobhan from the Irish Coven in The Twilight Saga)

This for some reason is one memory I have no problem recalling. Here it is. It was a Sunday in the middle of October, there was frost on the ground and a wicked wind chill, my family and I were coming home from Mass, shawls donned our shoulders and our hair blowing behind us like a burning flag.

My sister Saoirse (pronounced Sear-sha) was about 4, and was busy toddling up the road towards the house, when she pointed to something in the tree line besides our house.

I saw the figure, he was tall, handsome and had extremely pale skin. I instantly thought, he must be a laird, as the richer families of our island didn’t work in the fields so never experienced the browning of the skin–The worker’s paint, they used to call it where we lived. The men would walk around with their shirts off in the summer and all the girls would be drooling over them, was quite pathetic.

Saoirse was giggling away to herself as we came level to this handsome creature. I was drawn to his eyes, and noticed that they were redder than the flames of hell the priest had spoken about in mass. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, but everyone of my family seemed to adore him. His name was Dairmuid (pronounced Deer-mid), his voice sounded so smooth, it was enchanting.

My family was completely enthralled with this stranger. I admit, I did like his clothes, and the northern drawl he had in his accent. He spoke to my mother and father in private about taking my hand in marriage, as he had seen me from afar and thought I would look fine on his arm and in his home. My father took me to one side and explained all this, asked me if I was happy to go with the man, that he seemed legit and my father had his word as a gentleman that I would be kept safe and treated like royalty. I fell in love with the notion and agreed.

The gentleman’s only stipulation was that I were to leave with him that night, and we would set sale for America the next day. I was told not to bother packing, as I would have a new wardrobe bought for me. It was that simple line, a whole new wardrobe for myself, that for me sealed the deal. I knew how expensive clothes were, as I had always made my own, but to have a whole wardrobe full of dresses for me, I couldn’t wait. I kissed my family goodbye, promising them I would write every week. 

I walked down the road, tears wetting my cheeks and neck, Dairmuid put his arm around me to comfort my sobs; he was cold, unbelievably cold. I can remember shivering under his arm. As we got to the end of the road there was a horse and carriage waiting for us, why it hadn’t come up to the house I am still unsure of to this date.

Dairmuid held my hand and helped me into the carriage, then pulled himself into it. We sat down and started talking about our new life together. Dairmuid was a landowner in American but had been living in Ireland for many years now. He came from a wealthy background. His mother, father and sibling had all died several years before, in a horrific fire. I didn’t ask for any more information about the incident, as it seemed rude. Nothing that concerned me.

As the carriage continued to our destination, he offered me cold meats and vegetables. A proper meal. I agreed and remember not tasting anything that delicious before. The pepper and salt were subtle and accentuated the taste of the boiled ham. This would be the last time I ever ate food.

I was offered wine of a ridiculous vintage; I didn’t enjoy the taste, it reminded me of the sacramental wine in mass, but it did make the carriage sway a little. It made my eyelids droopy and I asked Dairmuid if he would mind if I closed my eyes. He put his arm around me again, and I shivered and went to sleep.

I woke up in a very plush bed, silk and satin everywhere. I was wearing nothing, and could feel cold sensation all over my body. The shock made me squirm, Dairmuid whispered in my ear “This is our eternity, welcome to my world.”

The romanticism of the moment made me relax, and I started to enjoy his touch. One hand was caressing my hair, the other slowly tracing the lines of my body. Neckline, collarbone, breast, stomach, hip, leg. Every time his cold hand went near my “Forbidden” parts, I could feel a heat burning inside, that I had never felt before. I was a virgin, and I knew that was about to be taken, and I wanted to give it.

I tried to push my lips to his neck and started kissing his jaw line, his long dark curls framing his face smelt of Rosemary. He returned the kisses, first on my forehead, then on my cheek, then my neck. The tension between us mounting.

He pulled himself on top of me, his solid muscles cold against my now flaming skin. He started kissing my breasts, nibbling on my nipples, licking them in turn as quiet moans escaped my lips. Embarrassed by the inhuman sound that had escaped my lips, I giggled nervously. Dairmuid intensified his foreplay. As he moved his hands to my hips, all I could do was lie there. 

Grinding himself into me, to show me he was pleased with my form. Feeling him there like that, made the fire inside burn harder. I could feel my legs parting all by themselves. Instantly, Dairmuid responded, he put his hand on my special place. ”This is called a Vagina; this is going to give you a world of pleasure,” he said, tracing the lips with his cold fingers.

I moaned in pleasure, feeling his fingers getting closer and closer to the burning that was inside me. I moved closer to his hand, silently urging his fingers to go to wherever the burning was. They did, and there was pain, only slight pain, but I can remember crying.

“Don’t be alarmed my sweet, this will get better,” Dairmuid said, changing his position so he was knelt beside my hip, his left hand fondling my breast as his right hand played with my vagina. He turned his hand and started to slide it inside; I was now hot and very wet. I could feel a pressure on the front wall of my insides. I instantly moaned and writhed as his hand slowly manipulated a special part of me I had never felt before. The urge to push against him was unbelievable; I thought my parts were going to explode. He started stroking faster and faster.

A scream left my mouth–I was now too far into whatever was happening to care about my embarrassment. The contrast of cold and heat was immense. Just as I was about to scream again, he stopped.

“Huh? Wha?”

“Now it’s your turn,” Dairmuid said. I was confused, what did he want me to do? I understood as soon as he rolled over and I saw his manhood standing proudly. I placed my hands on his member and started stroking, as I did this, he pulled me around so my vagina was hovering over his face, I felt his tongue on me and I understood the next part. As my hands moved up and down his shaft, I placed my hot mouth on his cold, rock-hard member.

I heard him growl as I slowly moved my mouth up and down, paying close attention to not be messy, I licked from the bottom up and deliberately focused on the head, and sucked. I felt his groin pushing towards my mouth, I obliged his need to be deeper in me and I pushed my head down as far as it would go.

Once again, Dairmuid responded, his fingers were inside me again, tickling that magic spot, whilst his tongue licked another part of me, I thought I was going to start floating. Then I remembered his penis in my hand. I went about licking and sucking with a ferocity that mirrored his actions on my body. The panting was hard, growls and moans escaping the other, as our bodies writhed together. Then it stopped. Before I could ask why, I was under him, my legs on his shoulders, as he slowly pushed his member in. “Oh” was all I could manage to say.

He started slowly, looking down at me with what can only be described as loving in his deep scarlet eyes. I could only close my eyes, and moan with pleasure. My legs were moved to his waist, as he lifted me up with such an ease, that it were as if I was a feather to him and led me off the bed, walked to the wall and pushed me against it. It seemed that his every move was so contrived as if he were trying is hardest to let his inhibitions go, but to do so without hurting me in the process.

The penetration grew faster and harder, the cold fighting the ever increasing heat. His hands on my breasts, his mouth kissing and biting my neck… I could feel climax coming, as could he, my legs tightened around him as I squealed. Just as I screamed in delight, I felt pain in my neck; turned on even more I ground my hips into him harder, he pushed in to me, then I felt the burning. I screamed in pain, a completely different type of burning to before, this one wasn’t nice. I cried to Dairmuid for help, as I closed my eyes, and writhed against the white hot glass shooting through my body.

I felt him place me back on to what I can only assume was the bed, and leave. I didn’t hear the door close, but I was too busy concentrating on my battle with the fire. It was like being stabbed with a million hot pokers, all over my skin and body. I tried to convince myself that this would end, but every time I thought the burning was fading it would intensify all over again.

As soon as my every cell was on fire, it went black. Everything burned, but in blackness. I screamed Dairmuid’s name, screamed for my father, screamed for my soul! I don’t know how long I was like this for, but when I noticed the burning was receding to just my throat, I tried to open my eyes.

The world I saw was to amaze me…

To be Continued.