Nectar (Nectar 1)

As she was walking through the final minute of the cool-off period she yanked the ear buds out of her ears and reached for her water and that was when heard a vacuum cleaner behind her. She was filled with panic as she glanced over her shoulder and saw the woman dressed in a white blouse and gray skirt with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun. It was Esther; she was in the bedroom vacuuming the carpet, her back to Kyla at that moment as she was going in the other direction. Kyla felt like a zillion pine needles were trying to bore their way out of her skin. She almost fell off the treadmill from the shock. She didn’t know what to do so she trotted quickly into the bathroom. She leaned against the closed bathroom door and tried to catch her breath. She twisted the lock.

A moment later the vacuum cleaner switched off and there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Kyla was frantic but tried not to sound it.

“Sorry, Miss. I had knocked on the door several times but your earphones… they must have blocked the sound. I’m just going to change the bedding and I’ll be done.”

“Okay, thank you,” Kyla called out. She knew her voice must have been about 3 octaves higher than usual. She jumped into the shower and took the longest shower she had taken in eons, or maybe ever, hoping that by the time she was done, the woman would be gone. Kyla had no idea how to behave in front of Esther. Wait, maybe I am in a functional trance? She pushed the thought away.

Esther had already done the bathroom while Kyla was running, oblivious to her presence. A new stack of plush red and black towels were on a shelf and a bouquet of fresh roses was on the vanity in a tall black vase. Kyla’s gaze lingered on it, thinking back to her first day here. It was almost identical, in style, to the vase she had thumped Joe with.

She started to towel dry her hair and then the doorknob jiggled but didn’t budge as she’d locked it. Then she heard the lock click and the door swung open, hard. She gasped. But it was Tristan.

He was heaving, out of breath, and sweat-drenched. He looked like he had been running, too. His eyes didn’t meet hers. His jaw was tight. He stripped out of grey jersey shorts then turned the shower back on and then she felt his eyes land on her. There was an intensity emanating from him that made her anxiety levels spike.

She looked at the floor, not wanting to meet his gaze. Was he running because he was upset and frustrated, too? She took one step toward the door to vacate but he took a side step and blocked the door, then grabbed the hair towel from her hand and threw it on the vanity, still heaving. She stood still and squeezed her eyes shut and chewed her bottom lip. She could feel his eyes burning into her but didn’t want to look at them.

He reached for the towel she had around herself and snatched it off and then pulled her into the shower, under the stream, and against himself.

“Tristan…” she muttered, annoyed.

He let out a little growl as she slammed into him and then started to nibble on the side of her jaw, “Never,” he breathed, “Never ever tell me no like that again.” He caught her mouth with his and started to hungrily kiss her. He pushed her against the tiled wall and his hands slid up her sides. He pinned her and within an instant, he was inside of her. She gasped. There had been no foreplay so of course she was bone dry down there. He moaned and pushed deeper. She winced and pushed hard against his chest to get away but he had a firm hold of her.

He pierced her throat with his teeth and began drinking. As soon as he did that she let out a gasp and was instantly lubricated with a gush down below and suddenly the rawness inside of her was replaced by hot and fluid sensation. She felt his emotions surge forward as he drank. She felt urgency, anxiety, arousal; they all rushed at her at once and it was so intense it almost knocked her over.

Her eyes widened, her knees weakened, and all she could do was hang on tight as he guzzled from her throat and drove repeatedly into her, slamming her against the wet tiled wall with every forward jerk of his hips. She groaned at the fullness of him inside of her and grabbed his shoulders and just held on tight, watching the water dribble down his wet skin.