this is the first paragraph of a vampire story i'm writing.

He comes at night. I'll be in my bed, pretending to be asleep. I'll hear the slight creak of the window opening and then the rustle of the curtains. Then, his cold breath on my neck. His lips touch me lightly. They are wet and smooth. Blood from his latest kill trickles down my throat and stains the blanket. He sinks his teeth into me and I feel ecstasy. It's better than sex, better than touching, maybe even better than love. Or maybe it is love. I never know his name. I just wake up every morning to find two holes in my neck where his fangs punctured the night before.