Chapter 22: This Life & The Next

“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned.
“I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.”
He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped.
“Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.”
“I’m doing it.”
“You ain’t.”
Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.”
“Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?”
An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back.
Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike.
“And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed.
“I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!”
“Nasty mouth.”
They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more.
“Darlin’,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?”
“Uhhhm. No.”
“She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.”
“Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.”
“I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.”
“Hm. Weirrrd.”
Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky.
“Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?”
“Why do I gotta do something?”
“‘Cause you did.”
“You don’t know shit.”
She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment.
“Nieema.”
The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.”
“You did not.”
“Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.”
Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick.
True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready.
“Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.”
“Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.”
He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down.
Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand.
“I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.”
“And we ain’t bringing none to her.”
“Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.”
“I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.”
“That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!”
“Well, that’s what I thought.”
“Of course you did, freaky.”
Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything.
Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds.
“Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow.
“I know he does.”
“That was a love tap! Pussy.”
“I doubt it.”
“Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.”
“That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.”
“Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.”
“The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.”
“We ain’t either.”
“I know that’s right.”
After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again.
“I gave her a job at the shop.”
“I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.”
“I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.”
“That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!”
“Aren’t I always?”
Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.”
“I know you better hush.”
“What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!”
“Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.”
“Damn skippy!”
As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life.
The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again.
After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday.
Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile.
“Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!”
Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her.
After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap.
“Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.”
She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall.
Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve.
Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed.
“Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.”
Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen.
Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world.
Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls.
Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away.
“Hands off my goods, old woman.”
She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer.
Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour.
Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance.
Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit.
“Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.”
“You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.”
“You know what you gotta do.”
He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation.
Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side.
Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke.
“Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?”
He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp.
It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes.
Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled.
Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed.
“You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!”
He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass.
Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge.
Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep.
Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount.
Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“
Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat.
He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured.
Claimed and choked.
“Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm.
“I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush.
Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted.
She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples.
Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone.
It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil.
Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing.
His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay.
The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second.
When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle.
“You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.”
“And I will be right there with you, old dog.”
They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul. .

“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned.
“I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.”
He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped.
“Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.”
“I’m doing it.”
“You ain’t.”
Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.”
“Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?”
An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back.
Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike.
“And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed.
“I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!”
“Nasty mouth.”
They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more.
“Darlin,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?”
“Uhhhm. No.”
“She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.”
“Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.”
“I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.”
“Hm. Weirrrd.”
Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky.
“Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?”
“Why do I gotta do something?”
“‘Cause you did.”
“You don’t know shit.”
She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment.
“Nieema.”
The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.”
“You did not.”
“Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.”
Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick.
True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready.
“Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.”
“Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.”
He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down.
Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand.
“I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.”
“And we ain’t bringing none to her.”
“Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.”
“I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.”
“That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!”
“Well, that’s what I thought.”
“Of course you did, freaky.”
Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything.
Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds.
“Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow.
“I know he does.”
“That was a love tap! Pussy.”
“I doubt it.”
“Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.”
“That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.”
“Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.”
“The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.”
“We ain’t either.”
“I know that’s right.”
After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again.
“I gave her a job at the shop.”
“I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.”
“I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.”
“That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!”
“Aren’t I always?”
Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.”
“I know you better hush.”
“What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!”
“Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.”
“Damn skippy!”
As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life.
The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again.
After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday.
Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile.
“Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!”
Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her.
After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap.
“Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.”
She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall.
Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve.
Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed.
“Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.”
Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen.
Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world.
Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls.
Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away.
“Hands off my goods, old woman.”
She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer.
Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour.
Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance.
Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit.
“Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.”
“You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.”
“You know what you gotta do.”
He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation.
Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side.
Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke.
“Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?”
He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp.
It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes.
Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled.
Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed.
“You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!”
He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass.
Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge.
Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep.
Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount.
Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“
Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat.
He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured.
Claimed and choked.
“Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm.
“I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush.
Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted.
She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples.
Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone.
It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil.
Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing.
His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay.
The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second.
When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle.
“You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.”
“And I will be right there with you, old dog.”
They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul.

Neon Red: Chapter 5

CW” Tree ransactiojn and use.

Low climbed a short flight of stairs, stopped at 7b, and banged on the screen door. Time was ticking, and at 4:15 am, sunrise was due in roughly forty-five minutes. Sliding to his house took thirty-five, no traffic. On a Tuesday, though, that morning commute was on its way.
“Fuck.” Low pounded on the steel mesh again and thanked god he answered.
“What’s up Low, c’mon on in.”
Paul pushed on the screen and allowed Low entry, peeking outside for a hot second. The boy was cagey and kept to himself.
Paul was against technology; he owned one cellphone. A flip burner. No email or social media presence. He was three hundred years old with soulful eyes to tell it, but physically remained a lanky seventeen-year-old.
“The boys are out tonight,” Low’s plug stated as three bolts clacked into place. “What you want, youngsta?”
“Half, and some wax, like usual.”
The white boy, er, man, sighed and marched through a compact kitchen. His joint was a tiny linoleum haven with coral walls and tiled counters.
“So listen, my supplier ain’t supplied, Low.”
“Is you for real?”
“Said they had a hiccup.” Paul opened the cabinet under the sink and yanked free Cali Kush, not even a half.
“This all I got. I can’t hit you with half right now. I got tourists I need to hustle, you feel me. I’ll give you an eighth, though. And throw in some edibles my old lady made.”
Low smacked his lips, but accepted the offer. “Aight, shit. I don’t got no choice.” Digging for cash, he knew there were others to call. A brotha needed that half. A muh’fucka smoked too much for a punk ass eighth.
At least there were some cookies for Max. Shorty didn’t smoke, but she liked edibles on occasion. With the sale finalized, they clapped palms and Low said, “I’mma hit you, stay up, blood.”
“Right, right.”
Low hit the exit and rushed downstairs. He slid behind the wheel and swapped goods for the forty-five, tucking it back under the seat.
“Ooooo cookies.”
“That shit potent, knowing Ulinda, so don’t go crazy.”
She laughed and shoved chips in her mouth. “Can we go now? I wanna relax.”
“We on the way.”
A thirty-minute journey was whittled down to twenty. He was ready to get in the house, smoke, and make Max holler. Plus, the pinkish horizon concerned him.
They were in the home stretch and zoomin’ down SW66th when Max tapped his shoulder.
“Low, ain’t that Teddie?”
“Where?!”
He slowed and peered through her window. Low didn’t have much of a view from where he lived. Directly across the street from his house was a soccer field. It belonged to the Korean church and was private property. But sure enough, Teddie was on the lawn doing flips.
Low punched the horn and swerved into his driveway. “I’ma kill him.”
“Be nice.”
“Hell nah.”
Without turning the car off, he slipped out and ran across the narrow avenue. “Have you lost your mind?! Get your hard-headed ass—it’s three in the morning and you flipping and shit. The neighbors finna call CPS!”
Teddie grimaced and jogged to the fence. “You told me to practice. That’s what I’m doi—“
“Booyyy, you lef—” Low fumed, pointing at the house. “You left Ashton alone?”
“No…” Teddie nibbled on his bottom lip and looked at the tree Ashton stood behind, peeking.
“Get the hell over here!” The boy smiled, mouth full of high-priced braces. They cost more than Low’s golds. “What’s wrong with you? Bring your behind on. Both y’all in it.”
Teddie snickered. “How do we get out?”
Low clapped his hands. “Don’t play with me. Theodore!”
They thought this shit was funny, and he didn’t find a ‘nere thing humorous. After they cleared the short chain link, Low shoved them across the street.
“Get in bed, now! And wash up too!”
Knucklehead one and two rushed for the door, grinning like they weren’t in trouble.
Teddie stopped and waved. “Hi, Max.”
“Hay, love,” she said, daring to be nice. “You stuck that last one, boy.”
“I did, huh?”
“Go’on,” Low shouted. It got them moving, and the moment they disappeared, he killed the engine. “You get everything?”
“Yeah. And you don’t have to yell.”
“Girl, I’ve been raising those boys for eight years, I’ma yell at they ass. And that little one, he gon’ give me a stroke.”
Max shook with mirth as he slammed the door and remotely closed the gate. They paced for the house, and she tried to show him the bright side.
“They’re growing young boys who will turn into men. Y’all will be inseparable.”
“Shit, we already are.” Low scrubbed Vapormaxx soles on the welcome mat and stepped over the threshold with his lady in tow.
Keeping it a hunnit, Max wasn’t his. Matter fact, he didn’t have a lady. No relationship to speak of. Just how he liked it. What they had, was a situationship. Mutual as fuck. Both parties carried baggage and neither wanted to unpack that shit. For various reasons.
“God, I love the way your house smells. It never gets old.”
Max recited the same line every. Single. Time. Low figured it was a compliment, and he could never receive too many of those. When it came to his home, yeah, he deserved some recognition. For time and money spent. Vaulted ceilings dressed in polished cherry planks and beams. Mid-century modern decor and foliage were his vibe of choice.
From the door, house plants greeted them, and as they trudged along the terracotta floor, he jotted mental notes. Pruning and watering were in order.
Low watched Max bank left and dash through a pair of doors leading to the master suite. He loved the privacy and sheer size of his room.
She hurried onward, hit a final louie, tossed goodies on his bed and ran for the bathroom. “I gotta peee.”
Low dropped his keys, phone, and lighters on the highboy dresser. His place smelled so good ‘cause he kept incense smoking. And not them cheap ass Wallyworld sticks, nah, his came from an online independent Afro shop.
Black Butter, Pattie Labelle, and Somili Rose stayed in rotation. The latter was his go-to at the moment. After Low sparked a roach, he slipped off his shoes.
“Whew, my bladder was full. Oooo that’s the Somali Rose.”
Max cleared the bed and dove into her purse. He knew she was about to spout some spiritual mess. In an effort to stop it, he stood on a grunt and aimed for the stereo system beside his dresser.
The master wasn’t small, by any means. But he packed it tight with more plants, a cal king, and a heavy oak number.
A four-bedroom with dual vanities, a sauna, and a sit-in shower would cost close to five million nowadays. Low was big-headed, even though he hadn’t paid for it. He was also proud of an enormous vinyl collection. Years’ worth of long-forgotten music followed him through the decades and filled four shelves.
As Low lifted the lid on an HMV stereogram—purchased in 1972—sage wafted.
“Annnnnd here she go.”
“Your energy is off, love. We gotta cleanse all this mess. I told you to get you some lavender and sage incense.”
She swirled that shit all in his face.
“I don’t believe in any of your new-age garbage, and you know this.”
“Don’t talk like that. See, and you wonder why all those bad spirits won’t get off you.” The scent was okay, but not better than his incense. “A daily smudge would do you good.”
“Break that down for me, baby.”
“Yup.”
He pulled free a winner and chuckled. Vinyl records almost died when compact discs emerged. Luckily, the former prevailed and made a hard comeback. Everybody and they mama released an album on vinyl. Which was good, ‘cause he liked the analog sound better. Low was a hip-hop head, and even Kendrick had ‘em. Though, sometimes, them oldies came in handy right on time.
After carefully pulling the record from its jacket, he placed it on the platter and dropped the needle. Teddy was a classic album, and Mr. Pendergrass set the mood quickly.
“Freak nasty!” Max yelled mid-giggle. “Mister penherass dowwwwwn… senior.”
Low crawled on the bed, observing Max bust down the weed and backwood. She dumped tobacco into an abalone shell and used her magical hands. The woman could roll. Her shit was tight and dry.
How she did it with those sexy nails was beyond him. Max ain’t even partake, then again, she had been rolling his blunts for ten years.
Irritated, Low reached and snatched her shades off. A rumbling growl was to be expected.
“You know damn well you can’t wear them up in here.”
Max scoffed, sealing with a pierced, pink devil. It was his personal hell on earth. “What is this? Cali Kush?”
“Yup.”
“I can taste it.”
Max was an old hippie type with weird habits. Face tattoos and piercings fit her personality. Come to find, she acquired most of it as an act of rebellion.
“Can you hurry up?” Low snarled.
He got nothing but her usual side-eye. “I will flush this down the toilet.”
“I’ll put you out, keep fucking with me.”
She laughed, pressing his nerves. “Here, damn! Rushing me.” Max frowned and threw the blunt at him. “I’ll be in the shower.”
Her little ass scooted off the mattress as Low lit the tip. The first drag did his soul right. Holding smoke, he slid on down to his back and attempted to unwind. Ten minutes and four hits later, he yearned for sweeter offerings.
Low snuffed his blunt in the ashtray and popped up. On his way towards heaven, he lost the durag and clothes. Her favorite soap and scent, which heavily resembled gardenia, ignited a violent brand of lust. Airy and floral, it drove him to madness many a night.
He needed it on his skin and in his lungs, helping the kush along.
With desire coiling in his gut, Low wrenched open the shower door.
“I’m tryin’ to wash up, now. Move!”
“Don’t be yelling at me,” Low snapped. “You in my house.”
“Ugh, your wound is still bruised.”
Headscarf on and body soaking wet, she was divinity in motion. The vision moved him forward until she slapped his shoulder.
“Ow! What you do that for?”
Max scrunched her nose. “Did it hurt?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She slapped it again and laughed. Low was over her shit. As water streamed and steam billowed, he fell upon her. Supple and buoyant, her lips woke his shit right up.
He shivered, and she jumped, locking legs around him. Home was right here. Body to body, their tongues worked in sensual duality as Low gripped her ass.
Hands full, his dick jutted in anticipation, but their kisses never lasted long enough. Separation caused a pinprick of pain.
He dropped onto the tiled bench and kneaded her behind. “You finna sit on this dick?”
“Yeahhhh.” Max moaned and whined.
“You gonna be nice?”
“Mhmmm.” She nodded and grabbed his face. Her kiss traveled, leaving fire in its wake.
Cheek, jaw, and neck.
“I wanna taste, too. Can I have it, baby?” she whispered against the sensitive spot, just under his jawline. Low grunted in agreement, losing wits and sense.
Two hundred and sumn’ years was a long while to live and more than enough time to lie with any and everybody. Low wasn’t an amateur; he knew how this game was played and had been at it for generations.
He’d had countless companions, but not one had claimed his vein. Until he’d met Maxine.
Low never turned her down, never said no, but it wasn’t a thing.
In truth, vampires biting each other wasn’t normal unless mated.
Low didn’t care ‘bout none of that, ‘cause the shit was addicting. Fangs deep in his throat as her pussy hugged him close set a muh’fucka on the straight and narrow!
“Let me have it,” Max demanded, straddling him. She gripped his stiff shaft and positioned his blunt head right where he needed to be.
Low’s eyes slammed shut the moment her heat licked the tip. Max’s pink, silken walls teased, flexed, and soaked him good.
Lowering and sliding, she mewled.
Low’s fingers sank into her soft, plush hips. “Shi—”
“Fuuuucck,” Max cried. Tight and soul snatching, her pussy arrested him. His female sat on it from head to base and undulated.
His eyes sprang open, and he damn near came from the view. Shorty woulda been madddd pissed if he nutted, but she was a masterpiece. Head thrown back and sharp fangs running a hard line.
Her buttery skin adorned with art, shimmered under a dim blue glow.
“On me, baby, keep them eyes on me,” Low pleaded. She complied instantly. Unnatural, yet alluring, her gaze matched his.
Perfectly arched brows, thick lips, and high cheekbones came in second to her stunning stare. There was something dark behind the innocence. Max hated them, but he’d never see her point. Mismatched and dazzling, they drove him to want without ceasing.
One red and the other quicksilver.
“Damn,” he barked as she started moving like a starving succubus. “Come on now!”
Low smacked that ass, and Max yelped while her pussy bit back. It encased him and forced a motha fucka to beg. She wound and bound him. On fire for it, heaving and cussing, he held firm.
“You so pretty, Maxi. Look at you…all on this dick.” Low latched onto her luscious form and gritted his teeth, watching her body bounce nearly took him out. “Damn, you wet as fuck, shorty.”
“Oooo, shit, Low!”
Her head lulled forward, and motion grew vicious. Ass meeting pelvis and clapping, she put their natural-born speed to good use.
At her mercy, Low might as well be a toy. Perfect pussy, soft curves, large brown nipples, and a hammering pulse set him off.
He was about to nut.
“Ooooooo I’m ‘bouta squ—” Cutthroat and ruthless, skin glistening, Max danced on the dick, her scent thickened with the steam. Breathing clipped and belly jiggling as he loved, she whined. “Lowww! Right—oh dammmnn babyyyy!”
She hooked her claws into his arms, but he registered nothing as her mouth locked onto his jugular.
Fangs penetrated, knocking bones loose. She touched the depths of his cold, aching soul and set him free. Low erupted. From crown to sole, he quaked and drenched her beloved walls.
Truth be told, Max ran the show when they fucked. Whatever she say go. And as his toes curled, ass clenched, and eyes rolled yet again, she ruptured.
Squirting on his lap, Max drank her fill and screamed. Nut number two battered his senses. Low gasped for air and looped arms around her.
This here wasn’t planned, and they had no business sharing sheets. Her daddy would never approve, but god forbid Low let their situation go. Not for a second, an hour, or a day. This was worth the risk. Max was worth it. Maybe it was fucked up, but Low had long ago become reliant on these secret, stolen moments and refused to live without them.

Heeello. I hope y’all have had a good week and aren’t too stressed out, but I know how it is. Sometimes it can be hard to enjoy the little things like reading, writing, hiking, meditating, or gaming with everything the way it is, but we try, don’t we?
Y’all have taken those tiny moments and used them to read my stories. For that, I thank you. It means a lot. Y’all are the reason why I keep at it, cause you’re still here!
So, with that, let’s move on to the goods. SMUT. And yeah, this was a little taste of what Low and Max have. They are creeping, sneaking, and freaking, you hear me! Max got the heart of a lion, cause babbbyyyy, what? I ain’t set up like that. Ten years? A whole decade and some change? Hell to the nah nah nahhhh. They cute, though, and I adore them. They’re staying true to the game, and I can’t blame them.
Oh, one last tiny tidbit, the word female is used loosely in my vampire universe because they aren’t human. And some, not all, prefer male-female terms instead of woman-man. Anyhoooo, that’s it for now and please, as always, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, let me know! Have a great day, y’all. Stay well, stay hydrated, and STOP DOOM SCROLLING!

Neon Red: Chapter 4

Pronounced Ay-bee

“Break, break, me open with your all-seeing eye. Crunch, crunch. My bones. Bite me down to the, the, the core.” AB hissed and clapped his hands. “That’s heat. It’s my best yet.” He never considered himself a Huges type, but shit, he was close—something like him for sure. Langston would probably have nothing negative to say. Feedback from the poets’ group chat was all positive. “Now for a title.” He ruminated for a second. “Fiery cry.” AB saved the document as Brittany interrupted, her voice singing through the intercom.
“Mr. Aubrey, a gentleman would like to speak with you, but he doesn’t have an appointment.”
AB swiped his tablet, tapped on the calendar, and scrolled. He had forty minutes to spare before the next appointment.
“Alright, I’ve got time. Bring him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mmmhhm.” He loved that, sir shit, it never got old. Especially when she uttered the words. Brit was a vivacious sixty-year-old halfbreed with a pert ass and soft lips. “Buuuuut that’s totally unprofessional, bro.”
AB cleared his desk of candy wrappers and Coke cans. He pushed everything over the side and into a tiny trash bin near his desk. With practiced ease, he opened the drawer, retrieved a mirror, and checked for imperfections. “Not a speck.”
A small knock alerted him to their arrival. He stashed the looking glass, jumped to it, and buttoned his Dior vest. Britney appeared first and held the door. A male of decent stature sauntered in, confident and friendly.
Shoes, Chanel.
Rolex.
A gold signet ring of some sort.
Fresh line and a tailored goatee.
AB smelled greenbacks as they shook hands.
“Hello, I’m Jaxon Aubrey.”
“Tracy Bisset,” the male said, releasing his strong grip. “I apologize, it’s uncommon for me to show up without an appointment, but I am in quite a bind.”
“Oh no, I take walk-ins. Have a seat, and we can talk. Britney, get our friend here some refreshments.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiled and walked her fine ass out as AB marched behind his long desk, cut from the finest of pine.
“You have a magnificent office.” Mr. Bisset spared a moment to examine the expansive space before taking a load off across from him. “Quite welcoming.”
“Thank you.” He appreciated small talk, but time was money. “I take decor very seriously, seeing as I spend most of my time here. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Bissette?”
Tracy crossed his legs and frowned. “I would like to retain your services.”
Those words gave AB a back rub with baby oil; however, Tracy here needed to be informed. AB wasn’t trying to swindle a paying customer. Yet. “Is this a referral?”
“Yes.”
“Great, can you tell me who, so I can give them a discount?”
“Oh yes, uhm Stan—”
“Connors, Stan Connors, ohhhh yeah.” Jaxon nodded and wondered where Britney was with the perishables. “He’s a regular client. Are you two friends? Not to assu-”
“Acquaintance. I run a construction firm, and he’s also one of my clients.” Hallelujah. “I asked several colleagues for advice, and you were named three times. I was given human recommendations as well, but I…” Tracy cleared his throat and corrected an immaculate silk knot at his throat. “I’d rather not fraternize with the horde.”
“Ah, understandable. Okay, well, I can and will help you after you look over my portfolio.”
“I’ve done that already.”
“Excellent.” Leaning forward, Jaxon linked fingers atop his blotter and smiled. “First, I will need a compiled checklist of what it is you require of me and a three-thousand-dollar retainer. After which, my rate is 110 dollars per hour.”
“Done.”
What a gorgeous mix of letters. He might just come in his slacks.
“Beauuuutiful.” AB reached and snapped a matte black premium embossed business card. “Take this, and call me when you have what I need. My fax and email are listed as well. Send it however you like.” Jaxon rose, offering his palm once more. “I can’t wait to do business.”
“I’ll call you in a day or two.”
“Terrific.” Wearing a warm smile, he escorted Mr. Bisset out of his office, watched him leave, and looked down at his doe-eyed secretary. “What happened to the water and cookies?”
She gasped. “Oh my god, I forgot. I was sorting brochures.”
“Wow. You know…” Towering, he stared at the woman, AB inhaled her precious perfume in a greedy gulp. She smelled like cherries and a simple syrup, batting her long, thick lashes.
Peering into her big eyes, he remembered Brit was an employee. Saying what he wanted was grounds for a lawsuit. So AB stuffed hands in his pockets and sighed. “It’d be great if next time, you could remember.”
“I will, I swear.” The cutie bit her bottom lip. On that note, AB went about his business.
“When our twelve o’clock shows, send them right in. I wanna breeze through tonight.”
“Got it.”
Rushing into his ‘welcoming’ office, AB grunted at the thought of what was to come. He didn’t want to work tonight, oddly enough. At least, not as an accountant. But work was work. Thanks to an impending dreary summer, he only had five hours on the clock.
Though short and sweet became long and grueling, fast. Especially with perusers and clients who had other, more pertinent issues. AB worked out of his office mostly, but traveled often.
Minutes ticked by, and the twelve left, then two arrived. She was a sassy silver-haired familiar who wanted a free ride; he might oblige after checking her books. By the time AB stashed his laptop and tablet in a 1976 Bottega, it was 3 am, and he was done. Numbers were so much fun, but a bastard needed unwinding.
Willing lights off, he and the bag marched out with the key Fob in hand. Britney vanished ten minutes before and always had. He thought, would it still be unprofessional even if they were off the clock? AB laughed like a creep and strolled across glossy hardwood.
His unit was seven thousand square feet. He had an entire floor in the heart of the Brickell financial district with panoramic views. Stuck-up rich people loved it here. His slice of the pie sported minimalistic vibes with bright woods and gray suede.
Muted tones, a comfy break room, and even a balcony for smoking. There was a second executive office that served no real purpose other than to store boxes and records.
AB had no intention of ever taking on a partner. He liked to work alone and stick to himself. After turning everything else off, he engaged the alarm, stepped out, and secured the locks. Without keys.
He strutted down the long, echoing hall and hopped in the waiting elevator. Stabbing the B-level button, he made a point not to look at—there were forty-three— AB closed his eyes and poked at random. “Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit… I am sooooo sorry, Jerry.”
Cracking a lid, AB took a deep breath and felt better since it was over. All those precious buttons glowed bright, setting the world right. He glanced at the camera and whistled along to a dumb ass elevator tune that never changed.
The box stopped six times before reaching the garage.
AB made haste, ran from the lift, and stopped at a modest Hyundai. It was a good car and had tons of legroom. No matter how long he spent in Florida the humidity always strangled him. Before getting in, AB quickly removed his tie and vest. 2.5 seconds and his knees would start sweating.
“Yuck.” There was something in the air; it smelled different here. Moist, stuffy, and ripe with vegetation. Everywhere he went, swamp water, brine, nocturnal vagabonds. And the fucking Iguanas, Jesus Christ. “Move to Miami, it’ll be fun. Girls and beaches. Ass and Margaritas. Bitch!”
Once seated in the full-size sedan, he threw on a goody. Keep It On the Real. Decades, plural, could pass, and Stackin Chips would still be fire.
Backing out, he opened the middle compartment, plucked a waiting preroll and a lighter. With one hand on the wheel, he put lips to the blunt and sparked. AB threw the Zippo, smashed the gas, and made a hard right. Damn one-way streets. After turning onto SW 9th, he found himself jumping onto the I-95.
Now, why was he heading straight for Miami Beach? Curiosity, maybe. With lungs loaded with Purple Haze, he held that shit and found a parking space in front of the shop ten minutes later. It being Monday and close to four am, not a soul lurked on the sidewalk.
As AB exhaled thick cream, he stared at the shop’s comings and goings. In truth, he was mildly curious about that mouthy little woman with the weird hair. Apparently, he was interested and laughed at her corny ass joke. So, at the very least, he wanted to suck a tiddie. Whenever AB spotted a potential smash and pass, he went for it.
After a final hit, he pinched the glowing cherry and stashed it behind his ear. AB then snatched his shirt tails free, unbuttoned, and let the tank work some heavy overtime.
Emerging from the vehicle, he noted a blonde out front who stiffened at the very sight of him.
“Sup?”
She smiled. “Hi.”
The tattoo shop was packed with vampires. Miss Mini Skirt looked like an employee. Music was loud as he entered goth heaven. Black on black. Everything, save for the counter space and a white POS.
“Oh wow, you’re back, uhm…” The tall brunette with a short cut squinted. “Jaxon.”
“Nice memory.”
She smirked and nodded. “Come for one yourself this time?”
“Nah, nah. I was wondering if the other…” Lifting a hand to his torso, she snickered. “Short one, is around.”
“Yeah, actually. She’s in the back, getting her stuff.” Pixie Cut turned, then looked back at him. “We’re about to close up.”
“I feel you. Uhm, I’ll wait here.”
The female on his radar returned from wherever she had been, and have mercy, hips and thighs were on deck. God damn! He didn’t know what she was looking for in that bag, but hopefully it was her number.
“Ndari, baby, have you seen my phone?”
“In the POS.”
“Shit, right.” She halted and glanced at her buddy. He couldn’t tell for sure, behind the frames. She had a Corey Hart, Sunglasses At Night, fetish. “Look who it is, Ginger Snaps. I’d love to offer a session, but we are done for the night.”
She marched forward and he observed the slight limp. Rummaging through the register, she snorted. “You know wh—giiiiirrl, I don’t remember putting it in there.”
Scatterbrained? Unattractive.
Slamming it shut, she said, “So anyway, feel free to make an appointment Lucky—”
“I fucking dare you to finish that sentence. My Mama doesn’t even call me Lucky Charms.”
Eyes darted as the blonde swayed behind the counter and the tall one shook her head.
But Shorty, recoiled. “You, are a customer in my establishment, and I can refuse service at any time, Irish Cream. I will tase yo big ass. I got one in my purse, run up.”
Unclear on how to respond, AB laughed, cause the Napoleon complex was strong as fuck with this one.
“Damn, I didn’t come to get tased shit, all I wanted was your number.”
She made an odd croaking sound, looked at her employee, then dove into her purse again.
“Why you want my number?”
“So I can text you. Or FaceTime.”
“Fuck FaceTime, I hate Apple…” she paused with the digging and looked up again. “You wanna call me?”
“If that’s okay, I guess. Or not.”
“I, uhhhh…” She sought her girls again, shrugged, and giggled. Ah, insecure as well. Strike two. She was racking them up quick, but Miss Ma’am didn’t have a thigh gap, and that was his weakness.
Smash and dash. Lick and flip, etc.
“You know what, I—”
Being rude as hell, a male with no sense of personal space leaned on the counter and smiled at Shorty.
“Wus up, baby? You ready?”
“Yeah, yeah. Uhm…”
“Ohhh, you have a boyfriend.” AB sniffed and threw up his hands. “My fault, you coulda just said that.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I ain’t,” the male blurted, eyes tracing AB’s frame. “You wanna holla, feel free. Let me mind my business, over here.”
He slid to the sitting area, and Jaxon looked back at… “Like I was saying, name and number.”
“I think I’ll pass. Oh shit, my Monster.” She scoffed. “I’ll be right back.”
As the female ran away after rejecting him like a trick, AB admired the wagon. God!
“Damn, bruh, she curved the hell outta you.”
“You’re all up in my space.”
It seemed the male had crept in beside him once again.
“You don’t own me or the shop.” He chuckled. “The fuck.”
“If y’all aren’t together, what’s the problem?”
The rude gent smiled and checked him for the second time. AB snarled. “You got one more time, halfbreed.”
“Aye, bruh, relax. I was just looking, and she ain’t gon’ let you hit…” Licking his lips, the male met AB in the eyes. “But, if it’s back shots you want, I can ease that pain, you feel me.”
Jaxon side-stepped and recoiled. “Excuse me?”
“Damn, thought I got one. You old as shit from the smell of it. I assumed you was good with it.”
“It’s your lack of tact that has me floored, not you hitting on me.”
“I didn’t hit on you, Red. I asked if you wanted to fuck. Different shit.”
“Okay, I’m ready.” The woman AB came to see, briefly considered him, then the other vampire, who cackled and pushed off the glass.
“Let’s go, baby, we gotta buss some corners before sunrise.”
As she came around, AB stared her down.
Blushing and grinning were good signs.
“So you’re gonna give me nothing?” he asked, as her friend exited.
“No. N.O., damn. I know you heard me the first time. Bye, girls, be sure to lock up. You have ten minutes, Jack, or whatever your name is. Shit or get off the pot.”
Her ass and attitude left. With it, Jaxon’s patience. Humiliation and rejection were uncomfortable. It happened, but maybe three times in his whole life. Yeeeeah, she was gonna regret this, but for now, he’d find a bitch who’d crawl through broken glass to suck his dick.

As Max ran for the ‘88 Monte Carlo she couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t the heavy summer humidity. No, it was the thing that followed them outside.
“Get in, get innnn.”
The asshole cackled and nodded at the trailing redhead.
“You like the view, boy?”
“I am ‘bouta kill you.” Max squealed and dropped into the passenger seat. Slamming the door, she ducked. “Get in the fucking car!”
“Don’t rush me!” he yelled while sliding behind the wheel.
“Is he still there?”
“Hell yeah. He got them eyes, baby.”
“I knoooowww.”
“But he high as fuck too.”
“Shut up and let’s go. Pleaaaase,” Max begged.
The bastard laughed again, and being high himself, he thought everything was funny. But thank god the engine turned over. Jacking upright, Max did the job of hitting switches. The bounce on its rise was always her favorite part.
“Why do you gotta play this song every night?!” She groaned as What These Bitches Want came on loud as hell, thanks to them fifteens in the trunk.
“’Cause I like it. You can walk, fuckin’ with me.”
“I wish you would,” Max said with hard eye roll.
“I’ma make you act right, keep on.”
After busting an illegal ass u-turn on Arthur Godfrey, they ran a red light. This man often threw caution to the wind and stayed twenty above the speed limit. That’s why he had a glove box full of speeding tickets.
Max giggled and reclined, as if there was a choice in his ‘cruising car’, the bench seat was stuck in recline. This particular vehicle only got action on his nights off, or after work…maybe. Candy apple red, loud, and sitting on old school Dayton’s. His Donk was ghetto excellence with coke white interior.
She’d love to see it sparkle during the day, buuuut burning to death was a waste of time.
Max minded her business and scrolled various social media sites until a thunder clap came down on her thigh.
“Owwwww!” she whined, glaring at the driver. “That hurt, Low!”
“Shut up.” Focused on the road and biting his bottom lip, he massaged and groped. Kneading and squeezing. “You never texted me back last night. What happened?”
“I fell asleep.”
“Lying ass.” His big hand slithered in between, and she shivered. Low’s touch worked like magic. Tingly and warm, Max slumped. She spread her thighs, allowing better access. This didn’t make a lick of sense. She was too old to be sneaking around with some boy! Low was a grown-ass man, but still.
“I’m serious,” she said under duress. “I forgot and fell asleep.”
“You always forgetting something. What you say to that man?”
“Who?” Max hissed through her teeth as he clutched her purring kitty.
“Red.”
“Oh, nothing. I said nothing. In fact, I was pretty mean to him.”
Low smiled, and good god, gold fronts suited him just fine. Shame he only wore them when ‘off-duty’. She liked those slugs. And you know, Low gave Travonte a run for his money. He was that handsome.
Using his face as a chair was unavoidable; Max moisturized his exceptionally tailored beard whenever possible.
Low was a big-bodied, single male vampire, and Max was unmarried, unbound. Free to mingle. They were never exclusive but had shared a bed for ten years.
“You mean to everybody, Maxi.”
“Not true.”
“It is. And why you not gon’ let him smash?”
Glancing at her chauffeur, she said, “Are you kidding? He’s a Pureblood.”
“He is. Old too.”
“Can’t wait ‘til I can pick up on that stuff.”
“Give it fifty more years.”
Max was about to unbutton her jeans when the car stopped at the nearest gas station. “Can you get me some hot fries?”
“No,” Low bit back.
She hissed at him and said, “Please, I’m craving them.”
He slid on out and snickered. “I been craving some pussy, you don’t see me begging.”
She shimmied on down and blushed. “Ooooh my god, say it louder, why don’t you? And Bet!”
She giggled at his filthy mouth. He had no filter, unless at work. Low never cared about what came spouting from his mouth. To a certain extent, neither did Max. They understood each other in that way. Their pairing was highly flammable, but he was her best friend.
Wasn’t nobody listening to rap for the duration. She poked the screen and connected her phone. Deciding quickly, Max smiled. “Ayyye, that’s more like it.” The Isley Brothers were her go-to. That Lady was a certified jam. Or was it banger? Slang was getting harder to keep up with.
“Man, come on, baby, damn. You lucky I like this song.”
Low returned, tossing a bag of hot fries and a bottle of E&J into her lap.
“C’mon na’! Thank youuuu.” She kissed the glass and hugged it tight.
“You drink like somebody grandma. A damn shame.”
“Shut your mouth, you still drink Alize.”
Low barked in laughter, started the Chevy, and whipped that hoe out of the parking lot. “You right. Why mess with a good thing?”
“See, that’s exactly why I keep to my brandy.”
Heading up 41st, she knew they were going to his weedman’s house. He had several in Florida and two in Miami Beach. Low picked her up a lot, so it was best to have one close by the shop. Especially when sunrise was due in an hour and racing them home.
Max checked on her tattoo shop as they drove past and was happy to see the place empty. Her small, yet lucrative business was flanked by a kosher market and a Chase bank. It wasn’t South Beach, but being only four blocks away from the tourist trap meant she was in a prime opportunity zone. There were barbershops, eateries, and retail stores on every corner. Traffic flow was substantial, even when she operated after hours.
At 3 a.m., however, pedestrians dwindled. Besides the unhoused, she was on a first-name basis with the streets, which were quiet at the moment.
When they hit a left on Collins Avenue, Low slowed his ass down because the boys were surely lurking.
This place was a dream for spring breakers and yacht enthusiasts. Fun in the sun, beaches, and cocktails. Cuban cuisine, Bossa Nova nights, and salsa dancing. Little Havana and coked-out weekends.
“I fuckin’ hate palm trees, bruh.” Max deflated and groaned. “I love the ocean, but I hate humidity, sand in my ass, and entitled outta-towners.”
“I know, Maxi.” Low sighed, offering comfort by rubbing her thigh. “I know.”
She cringed. “This street makes me feel claustrophobic.”
Condominiums and hotels rode the edge of either side like impenetrable prison walls.
“I wanna move to like, Montana. See snow-covered pine trees. Live by a lake or something. Ninety-eight years I’ve been here. Goddd! Am I gonna have yet another existential crisis?”
Low hummed, keeping eyes on Collins. “You’ll have at least ten before reaching a hundred.”
“Great. Love that for me.”
The moment Collins Ave turned into Dickens, she took a deep, relieved breath. From towering structures to squat buildings.
Tom and Jane from Nebraska would go no further. Tourists didn’t like reality. They wanted ocean views and expensive seafood. Where Max and Low were headed reminded everyone that this was a concrete jungle.
Granted, Montana had similar streets loaded with corner stores, pawn and smoke shops. The homeless, however, were sometimes better off on this side.
“You remember when Florida was fun?” Max asked.
“Hell yeah, before the money came through.”
“Right. They turned our home into a shopping mall. And made it harder for everyone. I’ve been saving for five years. It’s bullshit.”
“I already told you, Max, you can stay with me.”
She arched a brow and said, “Yeah, right. So you can irk my nerves all damn day. Boy, please.”
He giggled as the car stopped in front of Paul’s apartment complex.
“I’ma be right back, huh.” Low reached under the seat and revealed his favorite Glock. He handed it off and Max cradled the cold weight. “You know what to do wit’ it.”
“Bust some caps.”
His expression flattened. “Don’t nobody say that no more.”
“Well what they say then?”
“Air it out? Nah, it’s spray it up.” They shared a bout of heavy laughter as he opened the door. “Whatever them kids be saying. I don’t know, hell.”
She watched him hop the gate and jog that heavy, bubble on upstairs. Damn, he had a fat ass. Max was forever telling this man to pull up his britches. Why did everybody have to know the color of his boxers? It wasn’t cute, but she sho’ ‘nough stared at that moving picture every damn time.

Hello, you wonderful people. I hope y’all had a good week and have an even better weekend. I’ve been tweaking, revising, drafting, and promoting a book, so my plate is full as hell.
I’m talking ham, yams, turkey, dressing, and greens. I’m gonna need another plate for the macaroni and cheese, chile! My gods. Anyway, we are moving forward in Neon Red, and let me just say, you’ll see a lot of focus on music. It carries me through each book and plays a huge part in Low’s life. If you don’t like name drops, I am sorry. One last thing, don’t forget, this is dark romance. And baby, it’s going to get darker. AB is morally gray, not black, but gray. He’s an ancient Pureblood with a past.
Anyway, thank you for reading yet another chapter and as always, I wish you a lovely day! If you have any questions, please DM. Don’t be scared, I swear I don’t bite…all the time.