A Vampire Turns My Wife and Stepdaughter

Grant Hale was forty-two, a man who had built a shipping concern from nothing and then bought an isolated limestone manor an hour beyond the last paved road so that the world could not reach him after dark. He lived there with Chloe, thirty-eight, whose laugh still undid him in doorways, and with Gwen, twenty-one, Chloe's stepdaughter from a marriage that had ended years before any of them had shared this house. None of them shared blood. That fact sat in Grant like a quiet, unexamined permission.

The first night Lilith came, the frost on the lawn had already begun to glitter. Grant saw her from the study window: a woman who looked no older than twenty-nine, black hair falling in a single sheet, a mouth the color of crushed cherries. She did not knock. She stood in the moon-strip between the oaks and looked up at the glass as if she had been invited. Chloe, coming in with two glasses of wine, stopped so abruptly the stems chimed.

"Do you see her?" Chloe whispered.

Grant did. Gwen came down the stairs in a sleep shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs, twenty-one and barefoot, and the three of them watched the woman on the lawn smile as if she could taste the air they were breathing.

Lilith visited for seven nights. She never asked to enter. She did not need to. Her voice arrived first, a low velvet thread that seemed to move along the banisters and pool in the bedrooms. She promised nothing crude. She promised duration. Eternal heat. A hunger that would never again have to stop at the edge of a body. Chloe began leaving the casement in the master suite unlatched. Gwen started sleeping without a sheet. Grant found himself awake at three in the morning with an erection that hurt, listening to two women breathe too fast in the dark.

On the eighth night Chloe met Lilith at the garden door in a silk robe and nothing else. Grant followed at a distance, the businessman in him cataloguing risk, the husband in him already lost. Lilith's fingers were cold when they slid the robe from Chloe's shoulders. Chloe's nipples tightened in the night air. She did not flinch.

"You understand what you are asking," Lilith said. Her accent was nowhere. "I will drink. You will want more. You will want me inside the wanting."

"I'm thirty-eight years old," Chloe said, voice steady, eyes blown wide. "I am sober. I am awake. I want your mouth on my throat and I want whatever comes after. I have wanted it since the second night. Do it."

Lilith smiled with a hint of fang. She bent. The puncture was two clean points above Chloe's collarbone. Chloe's knees buckled; Lilith held her up by the waist and drank in slow, shallow pulls, not enough to take her under, just enough to send a hot, filthy current straight to Chloe's cunt. Chloe came standing up, a broken sound punched out of her, thighs shaking, one hand fisted in Lilith's hair. When Lilith lifted her head, a thin line of blood ran down between Chloe's breasts. Lilith licked it as if it were cream.

Gwen had come out onto the flagstones without anyone hearing her. She stood in the doorway in a tank top and pale cotton panties, twenty-one, lips parted, watching her stepmother's orgasm with an expression Grant had never seen on her: naked, adult hunger.

"I felt it," Gwen said. "From upstairs. I felt her come."

Chloe, still trembling, reached back without looking and found Gwen's wrist. "Come here. Taste this. I can't—Gwen, I can't keep it to myself."

Gwen stepped into the circle of cold air and warm skin. She put her mouth to the two small wounds and sucked, gently, and the sound she made was not a daughter's sound, not anything familial; it was a grown woman discovering a flavor she would ruin herself for. Lilith watched them, pleased.

"Tell me," Lilith said.

Gwen pulled back, mouth stained. "I want you to turn me. I want you to turn her. I have not had a drink. I have not taken anything. I am choosing this. Bite me. Make it last forever. Please."

Chloe nodded hard, eyes wet not from fear. "Both of us. We talked. We want the bite and we want each other while you do it. No one is forcing anyone. Grant—" She looked past Lilith to where he stood in the shadow of the lintel, cock already a thick ridge in his trousers. "He can watch. He can join. I want him to see what we become."

Lilith's laugh was smoke. "Then we go upstairs. Candles. A bed that can take four. And you will say yes again when my teeth are in you, because I like to hear it."

They said yes in the hallway. They said yes on the stairs. In the candlelit bedroom Chloe kissed Gwen first, a deep, wet, searching kiss that had nothing of hesitation left in it. Gwen's hands went under Chloe's robe and found her soaked. Lilith undressed with unhurried grace: a body made for taking, high breasts, a dark thatch, legs that looked as if they had been carved to lock around a waist. Grant shut the door. He did not speak. He watched.

Lilith crooked a finger at him. "Clothes off. I am going to use that cock while I open her vein. You will stay hard. You will not come until I allow it."

He stripped. At forty-two he was still thick through the chest, still heavy between the legs. Lilith pushed him onto his back at the foot of the bed and swung astride him, guiding him into her with one sure hand. She was cold inside, slick, impossibly tight, and she seated herself to the root with a satisfied hiss. Then she reached for Chloe.

Chloe crawled in, presenting her throat. Lilith fucked down onto Grant in slow rolls and sank her fangs deep this time, truly feeding, and Chloe's cry went high and animal. Blood welled, ran, painted Lilith's chin and Chloe's chest. Chloe's hips jerked; she came again, clenching around nothing, while Lilith's cunt fluttered around Grant's shaft in time with each swallow.

"Gwen," Lilith said, mouth red. "On her face. Now. Let her eat you while I finish what I started."

Gwen, panting, stripped the tank and the panties and swung a knee over Chloe's head. Chloe's tongue found her at once, greedy, and Gwen's head fell back. Lilith's free hand slid between Gwen's spread thighs from behind, two fingers pushing into her, thumb working her clit, and then Lilith bent and bit high on the inside of Gwen's thigh, a messy, intimate puncture that made Gwen shout and grind down on Chloe's mouth. Blood ran over Chloe's lips. Chloe licked it up and kept licking, and Gwen came with her fists in the sheets, a long, wrecked groan, pussy pulsing around Lilith's fingers.

Lilith drank from both of them in turns, shallow then deep, fucking Grant the whole time, her own orgasm arriving like a tide, cold walls milking him while she growled against Gwen's skin. Grant held himself at the edge by sheer spite, watching his wife's blood shine on a vampire's mouth, watching Gwen—twenty-one, eager, dripping—shake apart.

The change came in waves. Chloe's eyes flared a dull garnet. Gwen's did the same a minute later. Their skin took on a porcelain undertone. When they looked at each other they laughed, a new sound, hungry and delighted, and then they looked at Grant still buried in Lilith.

"Our turn," Chloe said, voice lower. "You heard us. We asked for this. We are taking it."

They moved him like furniture. Lilith slid off him, glistening, and the two newly made women pinned his wrists above his head with a strength that had not been there an hour ago. Chloe mounted him first, cowgirl, dropping onto his cock with a wet slap, her blood-smeared breasts swinging as she rode. Gwen knelt beside them and kissed Chloe with open, biting hunger, their tongues sliding, fangs nicking lips, a thin fresh well of red they shared. Chloe came on him fast, vicious, nails in his chest, and before he could recover Gwen shoved her forward and took her place in reverse, facing his feet, that tight young ass bouncing as she slammed herself down, the bite on her thigh still seeping. Chloe got behind her, reached around, rubbed Gwen's clit, and bit the nape of Gwen's neck just to hear her howl. They switched again. And again. They kissed over his body. They smeared his mouth with their blood and made him swallow. They used him until his hips locked and he spilled in brutal jerks into Gwen, then into Chloe when she sank back onto him still twitching, and they did not stop riding out the aftershocks, cunts greedy, mouths on each other's throats.

Lilith watched from the headboard, stroking herself, and when they finally let Grant's cock slip free she crawled in and licked him clean, then licked them clean, three women passing the taste of him and of blood between their mouths.

Dawn did not kill them. It gilded them. Chloe and Gwen rose from the wrecked bed with eyes like banked coals, Lilith between them, three predators stretching. Grant lay spent, marked, human, his pulse a loud stupid drum.

They dressed in whatever silk was nearest. They did not look back with softness. Chloe paused only long enough to straddle Grant once more, still dripping his cum, and drag her fangs along his throat without quite breaking the skin.

"We are going to hunt," she said. "We are going to fuck in alleys and on gravestones and in other people's marriages. You can remember the way we used you. That is all you get."

They left the manor as the sun cleared the oaks, an eternal erotic triad, already laughing about the next throat, the next cock, the next wet hole the night would offer. Behind them Grant's spent cock twitched once against his belly, glazed with their mixed slick, and the last thing the house held was the smell of sex and iron.

They spent the following dusk on their knees in a ditch off the county road, taking a trucker's load down their throats in turns while Lilith held his hair, then left him empty in the weeds so they could find a fresh cunt to ruin before moonrise.