Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The Horseman
What shining star sits before me, illuminating my world of hell with her strange light?
She’s beautiful. Without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Her hair falls down to her hips in waves as yellow as the ripest ear of summer corn and as shiny as a meadow of ribbon grass beneath the midday sun.
Wide, fretful eyes that are a mix of honeyed brown and spring green have me mesmerized.
The need to move closer, to discover the exact ratio of green to brown as her pupils blow wide, has me toeing my boots to the edge of the summoning circle.
Her beauty slices like a sword through the veil of darkness that has trapped me for so many years.
Awe spills from between my ribs like a spool of poetic wonder that wraps me up and has me near weeping amongst the fallen leaves.
A womanly figure with lush curves and velvety-looking skin begs for my touch. The imprints of my hands along her hips and neck are the missing pieces to her near perfection.
Naked. This dove, this starry mortal with the voice of a nightingale, kneels bare before me. Magic seeps from her pores, the essence pure and bright. She’s not yet been tainted by corruption or greed.
I wonder, is this her first spell? First intentional spell, maybe.
Magic has a habit of finding its way out.
Even if she did not know she was gifted, she’s likely released her powers a few times.
At twenty years or more, it’s unlikely those abilities remained hidden her whole life.
Now that she’s performed such a spell as the one required to summon me, there’s no going back to pretending.
The still-weeping gash on her palm makes me desire her all the more.
I’ve been deprived of human contact for longer than I know.
Time loses all meaning when you’re locked in a dark box without sun nor moon.
The isolation, the scent of putrefaction on the air, the endless screaming.
It would have driven me mad but for Horace by my side.
He does not deserve to suffer my fate, though I’m glad to have him with me.
The woman has not responded since I laid out my terms. Her golden hair falls over the front of her body as she shifts forward on her knees, shielding most of her form from my sight. She has her bottom lip worried between her teeth.
“What is your name, nightingale?”
She sighs, eyes sparkling. “I’m Emeline.”
Emeline. How desperate I must be to feel such rapturous delight as the word bounces through my thoughts. I can already hear myself screaming it to the heavens as she rides my cock beneath the All Hallow’s moon. The veil is thin, I can feel it. Samhain must be close.
“Do you agree to my terms, Emeline?”
A blush spreads across her cheeks when I say her name. I nearly rip off my gloves just to press my fingers against that heated pink flesh.
“You will help me? If I give you those three things, you will help to banish Itrimort, punish those who have helped him, and rescue the women of Sleepy Hollow?”
“Indeed. That is the agreement. For my help tonight, I desire only to taste you.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m afraid you will forget yourself and devour me. Leave me in the woods disfigured and bloodless.”
I chuckle, and she frowns. What exactly does she think I have planned? I am no vampire thirsting for blood. No undead thing seeking to stuff my mouth with bits of muscle and fat.
“Just a taste. I assure you.”
She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “How will you taste me with no mouth to do so?”
I cluck my tongue. “What leads you to believe I have no mouth?”
She looks at the book, then back to me, uncertainty filtering through her hazel eyes. “No tongue or teeth. No head.” She swallows. I track the movement. ”You’re headless.”
I grin. She can’t see it of course. “Do you or do you not agree to grant me a taste in exchange for my help tonight?”
“You’ll get rid of the…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “…Itrimort?”
“I need time to rebuild my strength in this world. I will rid you of several pests this evening. It will give you a glimpse of what’s to come. Then you will give me what was stolen when my curse was cast.”
“What?”
“A body and head, both visible to the world. You will cast the spell and grant me what I desire. Once my strength has returned and a head has been given, I will rid your town of its monster.”
“What makes you think I know how to do that?”
I sigh. Have humans forgotten how to use their brains since I last walked the earth? “I told you, you have a spell book and some manner of magic in your blood if you were able to bring me here.”
“I’m still not sure that’s true.”
“I do not desire to argue with you further. For now, my taste.” Her bare body has been calling me forth like a beacon of unfed sin. I’m starved for touch. Her soft thighs beckon me. The need to venture between them gives a new purpose to my life.
“You will drink my blood?” Her voice cracks. She’s afraid. That’s just fine. The scent of fear is rather intoxicating.
“Not exactly. Lie back.”
Emeline visibly trembles as she lies on the ground. Her arms hug her middle. “Remember, if you drain me of too much blood and accidentally kill me, I will not be able to help you with your head.”
My laugh startles her. She jumps, body tensing. “Tell me, where in that spell book of yours does it mention my being a vampire?”
She purses her lips, eyebrows furrowing as she thinks. “It doesn’t.”
“Correct. Because blood is not what I desire to taste.”
Her eyes shimmer. Confusion, fear, and finally, resolve.
Emeline surprises me when she pushes to her feet and runs in the opposite direction. She thinks she can flee? Run back to town and forget about the demon she’s conjured into her world? Not going to happen, nightingale.
In her haste to escape me, her foot slides through the salt lining the summoning circle. I can feel the instant the binding spell breaks. Freedom.
I don’t bother to mount my horse. I’ll catch her on foot.
Emeline is faster than I expected. Fear has a way of lending new skills to the body. Her soft figure does not indicate athleticism. Which means she’s high on adrenaline. So am I.
My longer strides overtake her just as she enters a field of vining pumpkins. Grabbing her by the hair, I halt her escape. She screams, but my hand is over her mouth, muffling the sound before it can reach the ears of any others.
She fights me, curves on full display as she grabs at my hand in her hair and kicks her legs out.
I drag her toward a nearby scarecrow, ripping loose some of the rope tying the sack of straw to its post. I bind her wrists with barely any effort.
Emeline struggles, seated upright, her back against the pole, arms raised above her head.
She looks like a Samhain goddess, wearing only the amulet, tied up in the middle of the pumpkin patch.
She opens her mouth to scream. I drop down, lowering my mouth to her ear. “If you scream again, I’ll carve up your pretty lips and feed them to the crows.”
That stops the sound before it leaves her throat. In actuality, I would never deprive her of her lips. How will she suck my shaft, swirl her tongue up and down my hard cock, if I remove any part of her mouth? Yes, she will taste me. But first, it is my turn.
“Spread your legs.”
She jumps as my gloved hands press her knees apart. “Whoa, what are you—”
“Don’t disobey me,” my voice booms. The scent of her fear becomes overpowering.
She’s frozen, petrified as I pry her legs open. Her fear is temporary. I’ll soon have her squirming, in a whole new way. I’m certain of that.
After the first swipe of my tongue between her supple thighs, a feral growl rumbles out of me.
Emeline cries out. “What…what was that?”
I lick her again, dragging my tongue up the center of her pussy. Her back bows, hips thrusting off the ground before she freezes again.
“What was that?”
“Have you never had a tongue in your cunt before?”
She gasps. “You have a tongue? No. No, you have no head. You have no mouth.”
I lick her again. This time she whimpers. Goosebumps rise along every inch of exposed skin. “Wrong, sweet nightingale. I have a tongue. I have a mouth. I have a head. My curse? That my body, face, identity were shrouded from sight.”
Her voice is heavy with confusion and need. “You’re saying, you have a head. But it’s invisible?”
“Not just my head.” I raise a hand up high and remove a single glove.
“You have no hands either?”
“You’re not listening.”
“Wha—” she cuts off. I press two fingers between her now-wet folds. She moans, a throaty, lust-filled, desperate sound.
“Does it feel like I have no hands?” My fingers work her pussy, stroking and teasing. When her mouth falls open again, I return my own mouth between her thighs to steal another taste. Her clit throbs subtly beneath the tip of my tongue.
“Ah!” she cries out. “Your tongue? You would put your tongue down there? That’s lewd, demon. It’s, I’ve never, you shouldn’t, oh…” Her objections become long, breathy moans as I drag the tip over her sensitive nub in a serpentine motion. My fingers curl, seeking Emeline’s sweet spot.
So, I am the first to eat my sweet nightingale’s cunt. I very much like that revelation.
As she edges closer to climax, her body writhes, moving wildly. My other arm pins her hips to the ground. She releases quick, repetitive whimpers, some of them soft cries of ecstasy, others literal sobs as I work every inch of her.
The sounds culminate into a single scream of pleasure as she orgasms. Her walls squeeze my fingers, muscles taut with release. If she’s this tight around my fingers… The blood already rushing to my cock intensifies, making it throb mercilessly.