Pleasure Me, My Catharsis

First

"Hold it in." I told the girl beneath me as I held her down.

"But it's been too long." She whined. "We've been at this for two hours." I couldn't stop the shit eating grin that climbed up my face.

"I know you like it." I replied, slowly pressing our bodies closer than they already were. "It'll be over soon." I murmured against her neck. She wasn't the most attractive – scent wise – but she was easy.

No one ever told me not to play with my food.

A scream later, the girl beneath me was cold with two deep puncture wounds on her shoulder and a silent pulse. I quickly redressed myself and threw a sheet over her pale lifeless form on the bed. I walked out the room and tossed the keys to the owner of the inn.

"Clean up?" The man behind the desk asked as he caught the keys without bothering to look up from the book his nose was in.

"As usual." I said and exited the building, slipping on my shades in the process.

If you're wondering why I'm not running for the hills after I killed that girl, don't bother. I'll tell you why but listen well. I won't be repeating myself.

I'm not human. I look like a ridiculously attractive one but who's really complaining? The looks have a lot of advantages especially when it comes to hunting food. Guilt doesn't crawl its way up my consciousness after I kill during feeding or if I just feel like it.

I have no idea why others of my kind actually go through the trouble of coercing their meals to forget they ever met. Hell, they even guilt trip themselves the first hundred years about the whole feeding thing. Emotional control comes with the years and I can kill without even batting an eye after the first three decades since my turn.

You see, coercing is like compelling, the former being the formal term. My kind has that unique ability to forcefully alter a person's thought process and memories. When we're aged and skilled enough, we can use it on other beings who don't have strong mental barriers. I've done it plenty of times to non-humans and I've gotten away of a lot of things.

 And I had fun doing it. 

Regret slips your mind after a while.

Being a four hundred year old vampire does that to you.

Let me guess. We're not supposed to exist and we're the devil's spawn. We should be staked and dried out under the sun.

News flash, I am under the sun and I'm not even on fire. The only thing I feel is an annoying itch on the back of my neck where my dark dirty blonde hair doesn't cover enough.

Walking around the European streets, I couldn't help but scrunch up my nose. The different scents were irritating. I hated this part of being inhuman. Sure it helps but with all these humans using too strong perfume mixed with their laundry soap's smell, it makes me nauseous despite me having plenty of time to get use to it. Vampires don't use perfume. Our noses are far too sensitive.

Once I reached my destination, I entered the skyscraper without a second thought. People greeted me left and right and I was satisfied enough from my meal to be sociable to them. I'm not always this nice. I admit I could be a total asshole. Especially when thirsty.

"You're late again, sir." My secretary, Donna, said. Today, she was dressed in a too tight blouse and a skirt that was too small for her. She had so much make up on her face that it made her look unattrative. Unlike her, I wasn't dressed for office. In fact, I was only in a pair of fitted dark jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket.

"I had business to do." I replied, taking the folder from her outstretched arm and locking myself in my office. I have a day job even though I have centuries worth of more that sufficient funds. This is just something to keep me busy whenever I'm not sleeping or feeding.