Vampyre

He didn’t care about the ripped stockings, the bourbon or the fair face with the plump lips. She was coming at him with her version of a Colt. 45: her laced-up chest dripping with sweat, her fangs fully loaded, fierce for his blood, for the killing…

© kym darkly

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s