Bozena and Sveta (Neuripra) by Poppet Page B

off on pain. The last thing I want to do is turn this dude on. The thought almost makes me laugh. “You should learn to offer to buy a girl a drink before you corner her in a dark place.”
    “ This isn't cornered angel, this is the gentle approach. You're so skittish you're like a new foal lost in the cheetah enclosure.”
    “ Angel?” I ask, quirking a sarcastic eyebrow.
    Planting hands on either side of my head, he presses closer, bending so he is staring those anthracite eyes straight into mine, “It's the perfume you wear. It's called Ange Ou Demon. It suits you.”
    His smile softens, curling hot seduction at me as he whispers into my head, One half angel, the other half demon. It's definitely your perfect perfume. I'm looking at the angel, when what I really want to play with is the demon.
    His observation is so astute it's like soul rape. My perfume is personal and I'm damn shocked he knows what it is.
    Crikey, it was so tough to find a perfume I even liked. I wanted it to be clean, but girly at the same time. Ange Ou Demon somehow worked on both levels with the freshness of thyme and the soft floral of orchid, but when it settles into my skin and warms up, the hints of oak and mandarin come through.
    To me it smells like a childhood summer's day, and fuck it, I fell in love with it.
    If what Akae says is true, I don't mind being all demon either.
    You think a lot. For the record... Angel ... Your perfume smells like spring. It's fresh and flowery without the hay-fever. You smell like a lily after a shower and the sun comes out to heat the stamen.
    “ Ha! You are such a romantic sap. Next you'll be writing me poetry and stalking me.”
    Either that or you are into some blatant in-your-face innuendo. 'Heat the stamen'.
    Cocking his head, his dangerous smile pouts smooth luscious lips at me, glossing them with the barest light filtering into this depth of the passageway.
    “ Well, angel? Would you like to be cornered?”
    Enticing as he is, and even though my heartbeat is hopscotching around my body with his proximity and clean cologne, I am cautious.
    “I think your social skills could use some work,” I whisper.
    He's so close I'm afraid to breathe.
    “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ What if I don't want to leave you alone? What if the only thing I want is to shove you up against this wall and fuck you into the grouting?”
    Swallowing thickly, I'm frozen, my pulse accelerating. “What's your weakness tough guy?”
    “You are.”
    He says it without hesitation.
    “So I can break you?” It's so absurd I am tempted to laugh.
    “ Angel, you've broken me in so severely I've forgotten what the wild tastes like.”
    Releasing my smile, I reach out to trace the determined jaw poised in front of me, “But I am wild. All you have to do is taste me and you won't forget the scent of freedom, or the thrill of reckless galloping.”
    He growls in a half laugh, rushing me with arms and strength, lifting me up and burying my body between the wall and his weight.
    Desire runs rampant through my bloodstream when he sinks his teeth into my earlobe and runs a hot tongue into my neck.
    Holding tight, I close my eyes, savoring the neuri who plays games with me.
    This is our thing. We always pretend we don't know each other, and it's endless fun to see what approach he'll try next.
    So he noticed my perfume. I think I like being called angel.
    Pulped in his crushing strength, his hug is enough to smear me over his body like war paint.
    Inching my face closer, I hickey his neck, sucking and tasting like the vampyre I once was, clinging to the only light in this endless darkness.
    Safe, horny, happy, I let him lead me back to the bar and my wine. Retrieving his beer after getting me reseated, he returns to sit in front of me, his legs on either side of mine, holding to my knees in a silent touch of romance and ownership.
    He stares for a while, and I just fidget with my wine knowing I've already had too