Free My Vampire Cover Model by Karyn Gerrard

from any of it. Everything tasted of ash and smelled of sulfur.
    Stopping in front of the door of her little house, he turned toward Dean and cupped her cheeks for one last kiss before he said good-bye. He leaned down and kissed her with every last vestige of his love and desire. She threw her arms around his neck and returned it. She tasted of forgiveness and regret, but it was far too late.
    He lingered. The kiss was heartbreaking. Burney ended it and leaned his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes, he concentrated. He had not done this in decades. The silver threads of memory began to form, and he pulled them from her mind. All remembrances of their meeting—the intense emotions, their afternoons together, and the lovemaking—would be gone. Burney could sense her overwhelming feelings while he extracted the memories. She’d never experienced such heights with any man, except for him. While part of him was proud he was the man to make her passion soar to a never-before-reached otherworldly plane, another part regretted he would never be able to take her there again. By the time Dean walked into her tiny home and closed the door, Burn the Cover God would start to fade from memory.
    However, he would be doomed for eternity to relive the last three days—and nights. Served him right. Burney had avoided deep attachments his whole existence for this very reason. As the last threads were lost to mist, he stepped back.
    “Good-bye, my love.”
    Dean looked perplexed. “You’ll call me tomorrow, Burn?”
    “Yes,” he lied, his voice heavy with sadness.
    Burney backed away as he watched her enter her house and close the door. What few shards were left of his heart blew apart into fine powder. He turned, his head down, his shoulders stooped, and walked toward the Lincoln. It was better not to feel. Time now for Burn the Cover Model to snuff out the flame and retire once again into shadow.

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Seven months later
     
    Deanna had a hold of his cock, her hand stroking the velvety strength. She leaned down and closed her mouth over the broad head. Her hand, at the base, twisted in time with her oral sensual assault. He tasted of dangerous and mysterious nights, and something unearthly she couldn’t quite place. He moaned. Long and lusty animal groans of utter satisfaction rumbled deep in his sculpted, muscular chest. She took his cock deeper, hollowing her cheeks for greater suction. His long, elegant fingers splayed at the back of her head, and he pumped his hips, encouraging her to take him all.
    His low, sexy growls urged her on until his body drew taut and his hot release shot down her throat. She looked up at him, licked her lips, and smiled. “Ready for more?”
     
     
    Deanna snapped awake. The sheets and blankets were half on the floor and her body was covered in sweat. Her hand pumped between her legs, plunging into the wetness. She cried out and bit on her fist to muffle the orgasmic scream.
    Not again . These erotic dreams were overtaking her life. Last night, the scene had been a Jacuzzi, and she was riding the man like he was Seabiscuit. Swinging her legs, she sat upright and reached for the bottle of water on her night table. She took a long pull, replaced the cap, and set the bottle on the table. Deanna stood. Her legs shook like jelly. She made her way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, she took in deep gulps of breath. There it was again. The scent was spicy, woodsy, and masculine. Where was it coming from? It happened every time she awoke from one of these hot, wet, nocturnal episodes. The aroma slowly dissipated and disappeared.
    Glancing up in the mirror, Deanna began to doubt her sanity. What started as a few sporadic imaginings had grown into an almost nightly erotic feast, all starring the same guy. Who was he? She’d never seen him before, but apparently she’d conjured the man up from somewhere. A porn movie she’d seen late one night channel surfing? He hardly looked like a