Molly and the Vampire: A sensible woman learns about Love, Lust, and Things That Go Bump in the Night

By LindaLaaksonen

Molly calls herself a sensible woman. She has a happy, sensible life. At only thirty she has built herself a successful business, a lovely home friends who love and support her, and Murphy, her Bassett Hound.and the love of her life for fifteen years.
What she doesn’t have in her life is a man and that’s just fine with her. She doesn’t, need, or want one messing up her sensible life. If she could only get her pushy sister June to stop trying to find her one, life would be perfect.
But Molly doesn’t see the storm on the horizon and when hurricane Bran blows into her peaceful world, nothing will ever be the same again

Bran knows exactly what he wants, and what he wants is Molly. She is everything he has ever desired in a mate and he isn’t going to let a little thing like Molly’s attitude or beliefs stop him from claiming her. Or even slow him down. He has been waiting a long time to find her; 300 years to be precise.

You see, Molly's destiny has arrived, and her destiny has blue eyes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LindaLaaksonen
• Release date: Jul 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466134287

LindaLaaksonen

I am an almost old (well, at least I'm getting there) fat, single lady.I've never had children except for 21 dogs and cats. And no, I didn't have them ALL at once and I'm not a serial dog murderer. But I have almost always had more than one at a time. I have volunteered at my local SPCA and am a strong supporter of spaying and neutering.Now, the important stuff. I am probably crazy because I am madly in love with all of my heroes.Watch for my next guys coming soon in:Claire and the Egotistical Rat BastardHaven't we all known a few of those?And latter: Molly and the Demon Contractor.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Molly crossed her arms beneath her breasts and frowned at the love of her life sprawled across the center of her bed; snoring. She was tired, sure that her day had been at least 40 hours long, and wanted nothing more than to climb into her cozy bed and fall into a deep slumber. Only one thing stopped her; Murphy. Once she had deluded herself into believing that getting a king, size bed would solve this little problem. He disabused her of that notion the very first night when she once again found him stretched across the center. Looking at him, that night she knew that he had managed to grow at least a foot longer just to fill the space.

In a loud cheery voice she announced, Come on old boy, time to move. It didn’t work, it never did and he continued to snore. Sighing she walked around to the other side of her bed where she bent down and gentle dragged her boy until he was laying length wise on his side. Murphy’s only response was a deep grumble rolling up from his chest. He never even opened his eyes. After some 3 or 4 minutes sitting on her side of the bed, she realized that she had stopped moving. Why was she just sitting there when all she wanted was sleep, beautiful, restful, slumber? She had to lie down. It sounded like a good idea, but it required effort; she’d have to actually lift her legs onto the bed and pull her comforter up. She sat another couple of minutes building her determination before she finally forced the move. Once again she sighed, but this time it spoke of complete contentment. Molly loved her big puffy pillows; she loved her big puffy comforter… At being jostled, Murphy gave a belated groan And she loved her big puffy Bassett Hound most of all.

I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Reaching across she stroked his head and rubbed one over long silky ear. With her other hand she turned off the bedside lamp.

In the dark her body quickly fell into that deep stillness that comes before sleep, it took only seconds for her mind to follow.

______________________

Now what in the holy heck had induced her to climb out of bed to stand in front of this window? Drat! It was cold; she wrapped her arms around herself; the silk robe she had thrown on did nothing to protect her from the arctic blast coming through the leaky window frame. For a sensible woman it was a stupid thing to do. What did she think she was going to acomplish? She sure as heck wasn’t going to stop the storm by staring at it. Of all the silly things to do, really, it was definitely time to crawl back under her covers and try to ignore the storm. On the way back to her warm nest she stopped, suddenly frozen in place. Knowledge flooded her mind like a; well, like a flood. It was wrong, all of it was deeply, deeply wrong. If she were going to be standing around looking out the window in the middle of the night, she would wear her grey fleece robe that was snugly warm and covered her sleep sweats in a very practical way. Molly was proud of being a practical sort. But she wasn’t wearing her sweats; she wasn’t wearing anything at all except the short robe. Why in the heck was she naked? Okay, so she wasn’t altogether naked, but she wasn’t even wearing her fuzzy socks. She would never go to bed in February without them. Never.

Understanding crashed into her when the warm body pushed against her back. The intensity of the storm threatening to blow away her safety, the robe that failed to protect and left her exposed, everything was explained; this was one of those dreams. She wanted to whimper, but wouldn’t allow such weakness to show.

Over the past several weeks, she had started experiencing intensely erotic dreams for the first time in her thirty years. Molly wasn’t happy with the disturbance they created in both her sleeping and waking thoughts, nor had she slept soundly since their start and her nerves were beginning to fray around the edges. Well, at least as much as she ever allowed her nerves to fray. She liked to think she had a choice.

Strong hands came down on her shoulders, hands she recognized, hands that burned through the silk of the robe while causing shivers to skate down her spine. Those fingers brought fire as they slid down her arms, then caressed their way back up. She knew steam must be rising from her flesh as his breath whispered across her neck before settling next to her ear.

Molly my love; he purred. She locked her knees to stop their buckling at the sound. Have you been waiting for me? Soft, hot lips captured her ear lobe, sharp teeth gently bit. She tried fighting it, but Molly’s body was awash in liquid heat that swept away her will along with the cool touch of sanity. I’ve come for you my love. At last, I‘ve come for you. It was that voice again, the one that made her think of dark chocolate, whiskey and a touch of wood smoke. Molly realized that was weird, when she thought about it she couldn’t imagine what chocolate sounded like; or wood smoke. I have been waiting to make you mine for longer than you can imagine. For 300 years, I have waited for you. My love, I’ll be with you soon but waiting even these last few hours, being so close, it’s making me mad, I need to touch you, to lay my hands on your sweet flesh. He did touch her then; she could feel his hands at the base of her neck, pulling open the silk to let it slide off her shoulders. He left it hanging over the belt secured at her waist, her lower arms still trapped in the sleeves. Molly shivered feeling goose flesh rise over her exposed skin. I’m come to claim you my love, I am going to wake the passion that you’ve allowed to sleep all these years. I know it‘s there just waiting for me; because your mine. From your birth and before I‘ve been your destiny. Woe to any man who tries to take you from me my love. He buried his face in her hair breathing deeply. God Molly, your scent, I love your scent, it’s a heady liquor that clouds my senses. She felt his mouth on her throat; his lips were warm and soft but demanded her response. Regardless what her mind whispered to her, it was losing ground, and drat her body, it was too willing to give him what he wanted. He took a gentle nip at her ear lobe again, and then sucked it into his mouth to sooth it with a swipe of a velvet tongue. She felt her head spinning her heart beating double time. Just when had her ears become so sensitive.

How could this be happening? It wasn’t real, was it? Of course not, Molly was asleep. It couldn’t be real if she was asleep. But oh god, it felt real. He said he’d been waiting three hundred years. That was just crazy,wasn’t it? But so was her body’s betrayal.

A fire was at war with the chill. Her breasts had become a completely new body part, heavy and sensitive, her nipples were alive with sensation as phantom hands stroked over them. That wasn’t the only part of her body coming to life for much lower she was beginning to burn and a tremble that only these dreams could produce, built through her body.

Oh love, your body is rousing for me. I can feel your nipples; see how they grow plump and hard like pearls, and all for me my love.

When she looked, she found her arousal obvious and turned red. At least he didn’t sound smug about it.

He laughed a deep throaty sound that vibrated in her bones. How could that sound make her want nothing more than to jump on this man and surrender everything? Or perhaps make him surrender?

I love the ripe fullness of your breasts, how heavy they are, how they are more than my hands can hold. Large hands cupped them; Thank god he didn’t mention how they were begining to sag. No matter what he said his hands were fully capable of capturing them completely; she could feel it. I can’t wait until I can taste them. The thought of his mouth on her flesh nearly caused her to faint. His hands teased her nipples, he brushed her throat with his lips.

She had never wanted the touch of a man, but she craved his. God in heaven that scared her witless, but when he licked over her pulse, a jolt ran through her body right to the secret spot that no man had ever touched. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out as a wonderful, mind altering, electric blast launched from his mouth to the apex of her legs, only his arm slipping around her waist kept her from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. He chuckled in her ear. Ah love, how sweet ye are, so ready for me. The scent of your arousal is going to send me over the edge of sanity.

Ye? Did he say ye? Who in the heck said ye in this day? And did he say that he was going over the edge? Molly felt like she must have taken several long strides into la la land and lost her way. Then he licked her; why did that sound so... icky yet feel sooo good? She was acutely aware of his body pressed tightly against her back. It was a wall of solid male muscle caressing her, filling every space with heat. His erection pressed into her flesh. Oh good lord; she had to be imagining it, Molly was certain that none of the models from her life drawing classes would have felt that big. Drat! The thought made her blush again for even thinking such a thing, and wasn’t that just like her; blushing in her dream because of some stray thought about the size of a fantasy man’s erect penis. She was such an idiot sometimes; and WHY was she still so aroused when this crazy monologue was going on in her brain?

Was it because one of his hands had moved south and was stroking her in a very intimate way? Through the silk of the robe he cupped her, his fingers began moving over her, then pushing deeper, between the lips and into her. She was going to die; he was killing her. Oh, but it was going to be a wonderful death. She had to stop him; the tension he was building in her was intolerable. She wanted him to stop; didn’t she? After all this was insane, she must want it to stop. Oh no. No, she didn’t! Only he could break this unbearable pressure and release her, yes please….. No, no, no, stop. He stopped! Oh god; don’t stop, not now. Please!

The blessed torture continued; for how long she couldn’t say but the dreams always came to the same end, and always just a little too soon. Though it made her tremble and melt, and feel like she was going to explode, always when she reached the point that she knew her body was about to shatter…It was over.

___________________

When she woke, it was with a start that caused her to gasp and begin choking. It was the same each time; her body could only take so much before kicking her awake and always before the finish. That just wasn’t fair at all. If she was going mad, couldn’t she at least enjoy the trip? Instead, she was confined to constant stimulation without any hope of release. And yes, she had attempted to help things along; but without the man the desire was gone, she felt nothing.

Murphy was not happy about being disturbed and grumbling, lifted his head to give Molly a look. He had a very good wounded look and knew how to use it. A basset trait, it came with those big, sad brown eyes and was helped along with having three times more skin than any one dog needed. I’m sorry baby; your mommy appears to be going bonkers. Yep, I’m headed for the rubber room, I’m around the bend, off the track, I’m loony toones, crackers, and downright pixilated; but everything is alright. Just put your head back down and go back to sleep. He did, and was almost instantly snoring.

Molly scooted back up her bed until she was resting her spine against the headboard and turned on her tiny bedside lamp. Everything was all right? Just whom was she kidding with that statement. Something was wrong, she didn’t know what yet, but something had to be very wrong. It wasn’t like her to have that kind of dream. It never had been, and she was content with the way things were. She knew that she wasn’t normal. To be so completely disinterested in sex was at the very least at one extreme end of the human spectrum. Yet she believed there were others like herself, rare people who had virtually no sex drive at all. She remembered seeing some talk show all about it a few years back; she thought it was Montel, but maybe not. It didn’t really matter to Molly. It could be that she was unique in the world. Whatever it was she had accepted her feelings without regret of any sort. She didn’t miss what had never been, and she was certainly more at peace than any of her friends who had found the one. The one always turned out to be very different from what those other women expected.

Looking around at her bedroom, she could feel a smile lift her lips and her heart. She loved her little house. She had put herself into every aspect of its design and furnishing, and it reflected the care taken. She was proud of her gallery. Molly had built The Fauve from nothing but a dream, into a very successful concern. She loved working with the artists; most of them anyway, and giving them a chance to share their view of the world. She was close to her Sister June, even if said sister did try to boss Molly around, that was just her way; June, the human steamroller. Most of the time Molly allowed her rants before ignoring her advice and doing just as she pleased. Then there was June’s husband Max, he was truly a sweetheart. She had her secret art; she didn’t think it good enough to show, but special to her and a very private pleasure. She had many friends, together they had woven a titanium net of support for each other, and she had Murphy, her protector, confidant, and the center off her world for fifteen years.

Her mind turned back to the dreams. She couldn’t avoid the subject for long; she had tried too, repeatedly. They had only recently become sexually arousing; and she supposed that it could be the stress of closing the gallery for a major remodel that was playing with her mind; but she didn’t really think so. She had learned to trust her instincts in all matters. When her heart said yes, it was time to act. Her heart had never been wrong, and her heart was happy about this decision. She had made very careful plans; Molly always made careful plans, and she was extremely excited about the project. Once Molly committed to something, she did it with her whole heart and did not look back or second-guess; that was just a waste of her time and energy.

If the dreams weren’t brought on by worry over the gallery, and she was now certain the gallery wasn’t the problem, perhaps she was looking at it the wrong way. What if the cause was; something physical? Had something gone whonkey in her body? She considered the idea, and the more she did, the more sense it made. She could be going through some massive hormone explosion; she understood that it could affect your thinking. Molly had seen a couple of her older friends go through odd things when they went into menopause. Wasn‘t that idea just wonderful, it would be great, thrilling; she could hardly wait for the hot flashes to start. At least it was temporary, and it would mean that she wasn’t going stark raving bonkers as she had told Murphy she was. Molly didn’t think that there had been a large number of lunatics hanging from her family tree and didn’t want to be the stand out. Well okay, that had to be it, she needed to call her doctor and get her body fixed. When the doctor got her back on track, the dreams staring that man would surly go back to normal.

True, he was in her normal dreams. She had known the man as far back as her memory reached. He had been a presence in all of the vivid ones she remembered. Those dreams were still with her, permanently etched into her memories. He, and his warm voice, had been a comforting constant. She had long ago accepted him as a friend created by her imagination. He had been her angel when she was little, listening to her woes about schoolyard bullies, helping her face all the scary things like monsters under the bed, lima beans, and spelling tests. He had mourned with her when her mother became ill, she had cried on his shoulder when her mother died. Then again later when her father had turned on her, he was there to comfort and support her. He and Murphy were the only ones who knew just how bad it had been as June had already gone away to school. He was the one who listened to her dreams for her gallery, and laughed at her silly stories about the disastrous dates her sister sent her on. In fact, he did in her sleeping world what Murphy did for her in the waking one. Or rather, he had until he turned into Mr. Sexy Yummy man. Of course, he would be the one her mind picked out for these fantasies; he was her own creation after all and she had made him perfect. Because he wasn’t real, he was safe to have a relationship with, even a strictly imaginary one. Well, wasn’t that all a great big old laugh? He sure as heck wasn’t safe anymore. The only thing that could make him more dangerous to her happy little life was if he showed up in flesh and blood. Ha! Now that really was a crazy thought.

With the dream thing settled to her satisfaction, at least until she got to the doctor, she let her mind drift to the imagined beauty that was going to be her gallery when she reopened. There hadn’t been anything wrong with the gallery. However, when she opened, it had been on a shoestring as they say; Molly hadn’t been able to do what she really wanted. Now it would be all that she had dreamed it could be. She had acquired the newly empty store next door and would have nearly three times the space. Enough room to feature two artists at once and still maintain the normal display. With such pleasant thoughts, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She imagined the grand party she would have when she finally reopened; there would be carefully selected art, beautifully hung and lighted, everyone would be in evening clothes; not something she looked forward to for herself, but was willing to do for such an occasion. June would cater it of course and maybe she could get that Celtic trio to provide background music.

Molly liked that idea, but it had a small flaw. After letting herself be talked into attending the judging of the wines she hadn’t been in any condition to remember something like the group’s name. Grant and Bobby had neglected to tell her that along with watching, a good deal of tasting would be involved.

She was still wondering who she should ask about the name when her alarm went off. Startled, she let out a yelp, and flailed out sending the clock across the room where it slammed against the wall and landed with a broken sounding jangle.

Murphy once again raised his head to give her a look intended to instill guilt in his mistress. Oh baby I’m sorry about the noise. Your mommy is going ever so slightly silly in her old age. But don’t worry, the doctor will fix mommy all up. If he doesn’t; well I hope they let you visit me in my nice cozy padded room. Just now, we had better get moving. We have a very full day ahead of us don‘t we baby boy. But after today we’ll have three months of vacation; sort of. Molly popped out of bed and opened the French doors that led to the back yard, then went back and lifted Murphy to the floor. The routine was one of long standing, developed over years. Murphy went out for his morning duty, and by the time he had finished and started for the kitchen, Molly had showered, picked through her damp hair, then shook it into place, put on lip-gloss, she pretended it was lipstick, and stopped to check herself in the mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Only a few years ago her boy would have taken no time at all and he would be in the kitchen waiting for his breakfast, pretending to be patient and giving an occasional woof; but now he was just strolling out of her room when she got to the mirror. She checked her hair; it was as good as she could have hoped considering its state of perpetual frenzy. Molly was rethinking the reason she had chopped it off only two weeks before. Her hope had been that the new length would let her escape her constant need to drag her wild curls into submission by means of clips, bands, or other assorted hair controlling devices, and it might even dry between shampoos. What actually happened was although it did dry; stray curls were always doping down on to her face and irritating the heck out of her. Her face was clean and she had no bags under her eyes, she was flexible on the bags; her top was clean, neat, a quiet beige, and hanging loose from her shoulders to mid hip; her matching skirt, neat, clean and ending at mid-calf…where there was an eight-inch section of hem that had come loose and was hanging.

Drat. She didn’t bother checking the closet; she knew that she didn’t have another suitable thing clean. What with all there was to do to get the gallery ready for today, she had let things like laundry get away from her, a little. O.K.; a lot, in fact the only thing she had stayed current with, was Murphy’s diet and care. She checked the clock, which turned out to be no help at all because she had broken it earlier; then followed Murphy down the hall to the kitchen.

It took only a minute to warm Murphy’s breakfast in the microwave; his vet had him on a very strict diet because of his ability to get treats from anyone by merely looking at them with those sad eyes of his. Once he was happy with his face in his bowl and his waging tail making his butt sway, Molly checked her junk drawer.

She was hoping that she remembered correctly; and yes, there it was amongst all the things that she would never use again, but were too precious to throw out, a roll of lime green duct tape. She stopped to stare at the mess and to the growing list added another mental note to do something about the weird collection of stuff. Looking at it, Molly couldn’t even remember what half of it was, or why she had saved the other half.

She pulled enough off the roll of tape to repair her errant hem.

The clock on the stove told her that she was running late. Well Murphy old man, it looks like I’m out of luck on breakfast. I must need to replace the batteries in the bedroom clock it’s slow; of course, it doesn’t really matter now does it. Remind me to buy a new clock Murph. I’ll just have to settle for coffee at the office, maybe I have some of those nice biscotti left. Or maybe The Hot Shot won‘t be too busy and we can stop for goodies. She continued her conversation with Murphy as she settled him into his little red wagon and hauled him out to be loaded into her car. Murphy could have walked the eighty feet, but he liked to stop for a rest every ten feet or so and it was easier and faster to use the wagon. Molly could have carried him; she had to stay strong for those times she had to lug around 47 lbs. of solid Bassett bones wrapped up in skin and muscle. The real trouble was; along with all the rest of him came a whole lot of hair that she preferred to keep off her clothes until after work. She loaded him into his place; and only when secured in his doggy harness and she was sure he was safe did she start the car.

Her hope for something from her favorite coffee shop/bakery crumbled when they proved as busy as ever. At the gallery, she reversed the process of Murphy and the wagon and she pulled him down to her office. While Murphy curled up on his heated cushion, Molly went about setting up the cappuccino machine and scrounging around for the tin of biscotti she had hidden somewhere in her office. It was hidden so that she didn’t gobble them all down; a good plan, except now she was hungry and couldn’t remember where she’d put it.

Bother, she thought, she would just have to settle for coffee; at least she would have time to relax before the start of her day. Molly had no sooner formed the thought than the phone rang.

Hello, this is Molly Erickson at the Fauve gallery. How may I help you?

You must listen to me! You have no choice now but to listen to me! The old god has come! He speaks to me; he has given me a vision! I must see you today, now! You will pose for me, the god says you must; now, we have to start today! I can see them! He demands that I paint your body, that you are perfect! You are the one I have to paint now! You will help me show the beauty in the pain, the glory in the dark! The pain, all the pain will haunt the blood. The old god tells me!

If she hadn’t recognized the voice, there was only one person who spoke in exclamations like that. If this nonexistent ‘god’ thought she was going to pose for Evergreen, he was as crazy as his disciple was. Hello Evergreen, I really can’t see you today; but if you will call back next week we can discuss your work. But we have spoken about my mod…

You don’t understand at all! We don’t have a choice! I don’t have a choice; I must paint you like in my vision, YOU CAN’T SAY NO! You have to…

Evergreen I just explained to you that I cannot talk to…

But I have to paint you! I must capture your perfection! I have never had a choice. They are always in my ears, talking at me, always so much noise. You have to…

Evergreen, please stop. I can’t see you today; and I have told you before that I wouldn’t pose for…

But you don’t see! The god is with me, he won’t stop until I do as he tells me! I have to…

Good bye Evergreen. Molly put the receiver on the cradle and started counting. She hoped his rant would be over, but doubted it. She got to twenty-nine when the phone rang, what took him so long?

Hello, this is Molly Erickson….

Don’t try to put me off again! You cannot stop me! The god must be obeyed! We have to obey him! I must see you now; I must start NOW! I

Evergreen stop; I don’t know about you, but I was raised Lutheran and my God has demanded nothing of the kind; so… I will not see you today, period, now if you would like to talk; call me back next week and …

You’re not listening to me! I want

EVERGREEN NO! She sighed, only Evergreen could make her this crazy. I’m sorry I yelled, but you aren’t listening. I will not see you today, I can’t, I will not pose for you, and I’m sorry but I will not keep talking to you. Good bye. She hung up the phone, and started counting. The phone began to ring when she got to nine; he must be using redial.

I

No, Evergreen. And once again, no Evergreen, and if you didn’t hear me; no, no, no, no, and no. Again, she hung the phone up, but this time she turned off the ringer. It was clear it would be her only chance of stopping his calls. Oh, double drat that man anyway. She had been on the receiving end of his tirade against the use of ’evil machines’ too many times not to be sure of his reluctance to use the answering machine, but anyone else who needed to speak to her would.

Evergreen had done something like his current rant at least three times a year since Molly had opened her gallery and started selling his work. She didn’t appreciate it herself; he was talented, but his subject matter was far too gruesome for her taste; however a surprising number of people were huge fans.

Drat, my coffee is getting cold. At that, Murphy lifted his head to give her a sweet look and then thumped his tail. Murphy; what horrid thing have I done to bring that down on my head? I try to be a good person; I’m considerate to others, I’m kind to the elderly and animals, I give to charity. I’ve even been gentle with Evergreen. Her boy tilted his head to one side considering what she was saying. Well Murph; only one thing to do, we’ll watch out for some Goth girl fan of his. Goodness knows there are enough of them who would be thrilled to become his muse. Don’t give me that look, it worked last time. Her best friend looked skeptical. You know Murphy old boy; if I were the sort to swear, I would be tempted too every time I talk to that man. If ever there was a good reason to let loose with a little profanity; Evergreen is it.

Evergreen was; quirky. O.K., that wasn’t true; she liked quirky, quirky people were usually fun. The man was just creepy and a mystery to Molly, and everyone else she knew. She did feel a little sorry for him, his mother hadn’t been exactly average and was rumored to have raised him with the help of assorted drugs both the legal