Christmas Connection

Last post before Christmas, but hopefully not my last post of the year. A small gift, for newbies who haven't read it before, Christmas Connection.

Christmas Connection© by Billy London

If one more person asks me why I haven’t got a boyfriend, there will be a turkey fork in their eye, Christina thought, smiling with gritted teeth. She really should have skipped Christmas this year, but her lame-as-hell twin sister had begged for her support.

“It’s my first one serving the masses as a vicar’s wife,” Caroline had said. “It needs to be perfect.”

“You’re married to God’s servant on earth, why wouldn’t it be?” Christina had drawled, distracted by the game of elf bowling.

“Chris, help.”

The one word that never emerged from her sister’s mouth had convinced her that this would be a good idea. It was not a good idea. Caroline was supposedly shackled to the kitchen, but Christina caught her mid-kiss with her husband. “Stop it,” Christina fumed at them both, Caroline hiding behind her husband like a child. “You, get out there and start preaching the benefits of silence to your relatives,” she pointed at her brother-in-law. “And you, hurry up and cook so I can go home.”

Brendan beamed at her. “You can’t go home. I’ve got your present coming.”

“It’s Christmas day. If I haven’t got it now, it’s not turning up.”

For a vicar, Brendan had the most devilish of smiles. “Yes it will.”

“Door!” Caroline yelled, turning back to the oven. “Quick, I think we’re ready to sit down.”

“Now I’m God’s servant on earth?”

Caroline grinned. “Think a little lower.”

With a huff, Christina stomped to the front door and opened it to her mother. “Hello spinster daughter.”

“Oh my God, get out. Just turn around, get back in your cab, and get out.”

“What? It’s true. I thought this year you may sort yourself out, but still nothing. Not even a boyfriend at the least. What are you doing? Where is he?”

“If Brendan has his way, that would be me.”

Christina looked for the owner of that voice and saw a bulky chest. She looked a little higher and saw beard. Farther up and her gaze slammed into a bright green-eyed one. Her whole body did a little internal explosion at the full realisation that lust at first sight was not a complete and utter myth. Jaw. Meet. Floor.

“And you are?” her mother said, all girlish excitement.

“Cole. I’m Brendan’s friend. We studied theology together at Cambridge.” That Cole? The one who travelled all over the world, like the Littlest Hobo, helping people wherever he went? He was divine!

“Are you a vicar too?”

“Good lord, no.” Those green eyes turned on Christina. “Hello, Christina.”

“Hi,” Christina squeaked before clearing her throat and lowering her tone. “Hey. Come in.”

He shuffled past her, making the large corridor seem like a mouse hole. “Brendan could have put a little bow on you at least,” he murmured. “Oh no, wait, there’s one on your bra.”

Christina slapped a hand over what she thought was a modest amount of cleavage—but hell, at that height, he could probably see what colour her panties were. “I’m not that desperate for a man,” she retorted, slamming the door after him.

Cole gave her a very slow smile. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

Help.

Caroline came into the corridor. “Who needs help? Cole, hi!”

During the flurry of hellos and drinks, Christina sat down in the corner and tried to pull herself together. Brendan and Cole chatted away and over one another, glancing in Christina’s direction every so often, before Caroline announced that dinner was served. Unsurprisingly, Brendan made a show of seating Cole with his sister-in-law as he topped up glasses with the veritable off-licence of booze Brendan and Caroline had bought for the day. Cole, bold as brass, caught her little finger with one of his huge digits and didn’t let go. The roughness of his fingers started to turn her on to the point where she really could have dunked her head in a bucket of ice.

I’m overreacting, Christina told herself. Calm down. Her mother, obviously delighted by the idea of having another Cambridge graduate as a potential son-in-law, furiously argued religion with him and everyone else. “I’m saying there should be women priests because it was women who discovered the empty tomb first. Not men. Who spread the word then?”

“No religion at the table!” Caroline demanded, much to her husband’s amusement.

“That’s my job, darling.”

“It’s just too fractious. Like politics. Talk about something else.”

Cole rolled his big shoulders, “Fine by me. Christina, what were you saying about how many babies you want us to have?”

Christina sprayed wine across her plate. Everyone stared at her. Grabbing a napkin and explaining through coughs, she got to her feet. “Just going to clean up.”

“I’ll help,” Cole offered, following her into the kitchen.

“You. Cut. It. Out.”

He smiled at her, and hell, she felt it right to her toes. “No. This would have happened much earlier if I’d been at your sister’s wedding. I was committed to a water project in Cambodia. Sorry.”

Christina frowned at him, excited and horrified that he could be playing with her. “You can’t go around saying things like that.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know me, so you obviously can’t mean it.”

He gave a shrug, humour sparkling in his eyes, “Brendan told me you’re a more mental version of his wife, so I’m game if you are.”

“I hate that man,” she muttered. “And look, I’m not just for Christmas. Like that puppy appeal. It’s not all for show—I need proper taking care of.”

“And what makes you think I can’t handle that?” he asked softly, catching her chin on the edge of his hand.

Help.

Caroline called from the table, “Oi! Stop sucking face. Get back in here and eat!”

“Good point,” Cole agreed, resting a hefty arm over her shoulders. “The faster we eat, the faster I can find out if that little bow comes undone or not.”

God, help me.

“He’s busy!” Caroline yelled.

“Stupid twin,” Christina muttered, heaving Cole’s arm from her shoulders. “Stop encouraging her.”

He gave her hair a childish tug before passing her on his way back into the dining room. “It’s not for her benefit at all, Christina.”

She let him leave the kitchen. Looking toward the ceiling, she sighed “It’s because I made threats about the turkey fork, isn’t it?”

A burst of laughter from the table was more than enough of a sign that this was just one big heavenly joke.

***

Everyone had the itis. Too much turkey, too many potatoes, too much damn stuffing—and Caroline had made four different types. Show-off. Cole, or “new bro” as Caroline was now referring to him, had gone for a shower to wake himself up.

“Is he staying with you guys?” Christina demanded of her sister when he and Brendan were washing the huge tins and pans that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

“No, he’s staying with you.”

“What?”

“Well, Mum’s staying here. How are you going to jump on that ride without some alone time?”

“You could have asked me!”

Caroline closed her eyes. “I’m doing you a favour. You’ll thank me somewhere around orgasm number fifteen. Now go away. I’m tired. Damn Christmas, I feel like I’ve done a full day’s work.”

Stepping over the various bodies scattered across the living room, on easy chairs, tucked up in blankets, as Wallace and Gromit blasted across the screen, Christina went up to the spare room. Normally, usually, all right, every time she went to her sister’s house, she’d end up in the spare room, in a t-shirt, wishing she hadn’t found that last glass of wine so necessary. She opened the door, hoping for alone time before she had to sacrifice what little sanity she had left to Cole inside her home. Good. God. On. Earth. She was aurally assaulted by her mother’s snores.

“God’s sake,” she muttered, closing the door.

“Christina, can you grab me a towel?” a voice rumbled in the corridor. Whipping around, she saw Cole, all dripping wet, one shoulder of muscle upon muscle steaming with heat as he leaned on the doorway.

“What now?”

“A towel,” he repeated, rubbing a hand over his face. Oh lord, he’d shaved off the beard. He looked less Bear Grylls and more… Good God, he was just beautiful.

“Um, yeah.” She reached for the airing cupboard and handed over two. He caught her arm and pulled her inside the steamed room. Waving away white fog, she caught the barest glimpse of what made Cole walk like he was straddling a log.

“What do you think?” he asked as he shrouded all that gloriousness in towelled mystery. “Beard or no beard?”

“You’ve already done it, so why ask me?”

He smiled, all white teeth and impure intentions. “Because as you’ll be spending a lot of time in close proximity to my face, you should get a say.”

Christina quirked a brow, more at herself than him. It wasn’t wise by any stretch of the imagination to be in a hot room, with a hot guy when she was producing enough heat to power the whole city. “I was worried you’d be able to serve a second Christmas dinner from that hairy plate.”

He caught her by both arms, bracing her against the wall of fragranced, steamy male. The tingle between her thighs that had started when she’d opened the front door to him now turned into a three-act Stomp performance. “Beardless, yes or no?” Lightly, he kissed her mouth, his tongue brushing just the tip of her own, before his mouth traversed a path to her neck. “I thought you’d be ticklish here,” he murmured, stroking his smooth jaw over her collarbone.

Christina shuddered. “All the same smug face to me,” she retorted.

He lifted his head. “Why are you being mean to me? You’re my present.”

“I am not. You’re mine!”

His grin was triumph defined. “See? Isn’t it much better when you agree with me?”

Her top was soaking up the droplets of water on his bare chest, and his towel was beginning to smuggle a rising tree trunk. “Um,” she said intelligently. “Look, is this a bet with Brendan?”

“Don’t talk about him when I’ve got a hard-on,” he warned her, lifting her up to his height and pressing her against the door. “You’ll scare it away.”

Her giggle danced in his mouth just as his tongue slipped between her lips. God, this man had not spent all those years travelling around the world. He’d stayed in some sex school studying how to make a woman do exactly what he wanted. Her skirt had gravitated to her waist, and despite the kisses that were inducing a complete haze of lust, she was very aware that his towel was slipping, leaving one tiny piece of silk between her and sexual Armageddon.

He growled. It made her laugh. Anything that was like kissing the ground in the middle of an earthquake had to be amusing. She felt his lashes lift.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s like kissing a Ferrari.”

He kept her pressed to the door with his thigh, and then began flicking the buttons of her top. Her breath quickened as each one popped open. “How’d you know?”

“I own one.”

“Oh God,” he moaned, pressing his mouth to her cleavage, “did you really have to make yourself more fucking sexy?”

She wanted to start fanning the steam away and look for the cameras. Was this guy absolutely for real? “Because I own a Ferrari?”

“Because you’re a woman with impeccable taste. Right down to your underwear. Buy that yourself?”

“I like having nice things.” Her voice trailed off when that huge, hot palm of his cupped one lace-covered breast.

“I’m a very,” he pressed his mouth to her neck, “nice,” he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra, “thing. Have me.”

He had far too much control over her body. How was that even possible? What the hell had Caroline and Brendan told him? “And you’re fucking up my hair!” she added out loud. Cole allowed her breast to slip from his mouth. He didn’t bother looking at her hair, just in her eyes.

“Are you truly that upset, or do you want me to really fuck it up?”

“Big words,” she challenged. Those green eyes darkened briefly in acceptance. The towel completely fell to the floor, and Christina realised his words weren’t the only big thing in the room. Bracing himself on the edge of the bathtub with her legs on either side of his waist, he cupped her completely in one huge hand, from pussy to arse, rubbing her clit with the heel of his palm. Fine, she thought. You’re not the only one who can do this dance. His hair was still silky wet to the touch, making it near impossible to keep a grip on. Her mouth not leaving his for a second, she ground herself against his hand, only to immediately regret such wantonness. One thick finger slipped under the silk of her panties and deep into the equally silky heat of her pussy. She gave a groan under his lips that could have been heard in the Sahara.

“Hold onto me,” he demanded. Not even waiting for an answer, his finger was replaced by an even thicker thumb, her arse filled with a slick finger at the same time. No. Man. Had. Ever. Dared. To touch her there. She was burning from the frizzing tips of her hair to her curling toes. Oh God, they’d never be the same again. She’d have to wrap her feet like a geisha. Her brain didn’t obey the command to scream about her feet. If her feet were named Cole, however...

“Too loud,” he warned her. A knock sounded on the bathroom door.

“Occupied!” Christina yelled. She blinked away steam, still shaking, her fingernails deep into both of his bulky biceps now.

“Sorry!” her mother blustered. They heard her steps move away from the door.

“I am loud. Get used to it, or get out.”

He smiled against her neck. “I need to fuck you. But I looked in the cabinets. The good reverend has nothing to help.”

She was going to hell anyway. “I’m assuming you did all your tests before fingering me?”

“Clean hands,” he promised. “As such.”

“It would shut my mum up if I got pregnant before Caroline.”

“Game on.” He shrugged, ripping the gusset of the panties and shoving his dick deep inside her. She strained against him, almost lifting away from that monster, he filled her so completely. Her legs were straining from the width of his body.

“Oh God, hurry,” she moaned, hardly able to take any of it. She was half surprised her head hadn’t exploded in joy.

Without moving an inch from inside her, he lifted her up, anchored her against the door once more and rattled it. That door shook as if he was going to fuck her right through it, and carry on when they landed on the floor. It trembled just like Christina to feel him powering inside her pussy, raging a bonfire in her that wouldn’t go out until the next Christmas even if she didn’t ever see him again.

“No, not letting you out of my sight.” Her voice increased in volume each time his balls pressed tightly against her swollen pussy lips.

“You’re coming around.”

“No, just coming,” she sighed, losing her breath to the climb of another orgasm. He was so good. Too good. Just the best present she had ever been given in her life, including the time Caroline had dropped over emergency batteries. He started to withdraw from her and she gave a growl of protest, wrapping her legs under his tight buttocks, keeping him inside.

The heat around her was nothing compared to the heat within her pussy as Cole came and came. She collapsed against him, limp between the rock of his body and the seemingly indestructible door.

Again knocking ruined what was a perfectly sated mood. “You’ve been in there for ages, Christina, now come out.”

“Occupied!” Cole drawled.

Christina’s mouth dropped open when she heard her mother gasp and exclaim, “My daughter’s a slut.”

“If you weren’t so desperate for me to get a boyfriend!”

“This is your sister’s house!”

“This was her idea!”

“You come out right now!”

Christina untangled herself from Cole’s body. “But I look like a slut. I can’t go out there.”

He exhaled deeply, washing his hands in the sink before picking up the discarded towel. Wrapping it around his lower half once more, he opened the bathroom door at a crack. She pressed herself to his warm bare back, peeking around him. “Mrs. Lowe? Christina and I are just talking about our future. Would you mind leaving us alone for five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” her mother responded. Had it been anyone else but a half-naked Cole, there would have been an acrylic nail in each eye. Luckily, her mother was swayed by a pretty body. Cole closed the door and slid the lock across. Reaching around his own body to catch her arm and pull her in front of him, he pressed her to the door once again and pushed her frizzed hair from her forehead.

“Mmm, you smell like me now. By the way, Brendan and Caroline can have your mum next year as well.”

“You’re rushing ahead of me. What’s happening next year?”

“Preferably we’ll have a three-month-old, a house near a park and a second set of keys to the Ferrari.”

“You’re saying that like it’s a joint asset.”

“Come on. I’ll make it worth your while...”

Help. Cole wasn’t anywhere near her mouth when a thunderous banging on the door made him jerk his head up. “Christina Lowe, you put your clothes on, get out of that bathroom and go and bang your man at home. Don’t defile my Christmas with sinful behaviour.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Enough with the slander.”

“It’s all right, Caroline,” Cole said soothingly. “We’re going home.”

“You’re the slut,” she muttered at Cole. He simply pressed a kiss to her neck, and then picked up her left hand and did the same to her ring finger.

“I’m not sure Brendan would be happy saying that as a vow. But we’ll blackmail him.”

“Actually, yeah. Setting me up and expecting me to take it lying down.”

He made a face. “Well. You weren’t really lying down as much as you were just screaming for…”

“Finish that sentence and there will be no next year. Not for you.”

He grinned, hustling her out of the bathroom. “Course there will be. You don’t know that I can cook.”

The heavens opened and the angels did sing. He cooks. Thank you God.

“What about me?” Caroline asked as Cole shut the door behind them. “Don’t I get any thanks?”

Caroline had enough thanks for one year. Christina had turned up, helped cook, played nice and had respectfully not kicked the turkey to the floor and ridden Cole on the dining-room table. Her sisterly obligation was all square.

They exchanged looks, Cole reading her mind perfectly. Let’s go to yours and do this some more. Looking back at Caroline, they said in gleeful unison, “No.”

At Midnight

It's almost Christmas! You can sense the panic coming from me can't you? Since I haven't had the opportunity to do a new story, I thought I'd make an old one free for you here:

At Midnight by Billy London©

Before Christmas was hijacked by the Romans in the name of Christianity, vampires had already claimed the twenty-fifth day of December as their own, as a vital, sacrificial ceremony for all vampires who came of age. The irony of the day becoming known by humans as an occasion to exchange gifts was not lost on vampires. Oliver really wished he’d been told that a lot goddamn earlier.

“You’ve got till midnight,” his father warned him. “No feeding the week leading up to the twenty-fifth.”

On the stroke of midnight, just as Eve became Day, Oliver would need the blood of a mate on his tongue or risk sacrificing his immortality. It sucked. Literally sucked. He was a solitary person. Mateless. Utterly inconvenienced in finding someone willing to become like him, when up until recently, he really preferred his own company. His condition didn’t particularly lend itself to social situations. There was no chance he was off to the nearest chain coffee shop to pick up a woman. But here he was, at a ridiculous costume party trying to find someone who would do for now, because he had run out of options and his father had run out of patience. The theme for the party was Christmas movies, and so many lazy asses had turned up as Jimmy Stewart’s character from It’s A Wonderful Life in a suit and tie. His intended mate-for-now was dressed as Tinker Bell. Very apt. Shallow but easy.

A small thing dressed as a pig nudged his side. “Easy there!”

It was Tamsin. She was insanely sweet. How could she not be—she had freckles on her nose! They were dark spots amidst smooth chocolate skin. She’d organised this party and let him know he was more than welcome to come along. He’d met her three months ago at an underground gig for Massive Attack and hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight since that moment. If only, he’d thought, repeatedly. But he wouldn’t dare take such a girl from her family. Never at this time of year. They’d be devastated, and the little humanity Oliver had left would be extinguished. Tinker Bell had no ties, no family, and would be the type of vampire who would easily find distractions for the rest of her existence, or until she got herself staked.

He felt the pull at his heart, the aorta squeezing whenever he saw Tamsin. But she was human. There was such life in her. Finding a true mate was the same sensation as a heart attack. It was terrifying, but the organ needed to adjust to being controlled by another. Tamsin had no idea of the power she had over him.

“You know Phantom of the Opera isn’t a Christmas movie,” Tamsin scolded, lifting the pig snout from her face to the top of her head.

“Neither’s Babe.”

“Hey, it’s all good family fun, and that is the sum of Christmas. Well, that and eggnog. I wish I could get more of that over here—I’m obsessed!”

He breathed out slowly, thinking that he didn’t necessarily want to live forever with someone vapid and pointless for the sake of honouring tradition. It wouldn’t be that bad to get to know Tamsin and age disgracefully with her instead. Sometimes he caught a glint in her eye that belied the good girl image everyone believed her to be. There was danger in her. In another life, he’d have dedicated everything to bringing that to the surface.

“Are you okay, Ollie?” Her eyebrows snapped together, concern in the very depths of her liquid brown eyes. At that very moment, he changed his mind. He wasn’t going to commit himself to someone, only to live forever in misery. Whatever life he had left, he’d spend it convincing Tamsin that he was right for her.

“Not really,” he admitted. “But you’re smiling, so it can’t be that bad.”

She blushed. “What are you talking about?”

He caught her cheek with his palm, stroking a thumb over velvet-soft skin. “I want you to be with me.”

She took an awkward stumble backwards, eyes round with shock. A Jimmy Stewart fell over, glass breaking in his hand. The sight and smell of rich if not alcohol-laced blood tore his fangs from his gums, hunger making him lose control, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes went to Tamsin, who would be the type of person to help, but she had the same expression of shock and hunger on her face, a hand over her lips. Realisation froze him to the marrow. Vampire. She’s like me!

“Sorry,” she mumbled, stumbling away from him as others bent down to help the Jimmy Stewart. Oliver followed her little pigtail to the balcony of the ballroom.

Vampire-human hybrids were rare, but like any creature, they had evolved to protect themselves. Unless the hybrid showed itself, another vampire would never be able to scent it as one would a full vampire.

“Tam,” he said softly. She had her back to him.

“No, don’t look at me, or I’ll do something I’ll regret.”

His surprise made him laugh, fangs and all. “Tam, turn around.”

She did as he asked, her eyes a burning orange colour as she tried to glamour him into believing he’d imagined her fangs.

“Tam, that’s not going to work on me.” He bared his teeth and she gave a little jump.

“Oh,” she breathed in understanding. “You’re half, like me, so I couldn’t scent you. But that’s amazing!”

The very thought of having her forever started to cloud his mind. “Hold on a minute—you love Christmas. How can you love Christmas with those little fangs?”

“Because it’s the only time my family is all in one place at the same time. Pretending to be normal and human and such.” She gazed up at him, taking the mask from his face. Even in a pig costume, she had the most beautiful skin, luminous against the pearl white of her fangs. “What do you need, Ollie?”

“Just you,” he breathed, curling his arms around her and lifting her to his height. Burying his face in her neck, he could now scent her. Like warm rain on roses, she smelled absolutely delicious. His fangs almost hurt, they ached so badly with the need to taste her. “Always.”

“Do you really want to stay this way with me?”

Oliver heard the doubt in her voice and thought about the elders who controlled time. Maybe he could go back and rip apart everyone who had ever made her doubt herself.

“Yes,” he said firmly, catching the shoulder of the costume and ripping it free. His body throbbed in anticipation of marking her as his own.

“Just making sure,” she said quietly. “You can’t change me, but this is still forever.”

“It’s just you.”

“Ollie,” she sighed, and something at the back of his head warned him she was hesitant about this. No. He wouldn’t let her keep herself from him out of whatever misguided belief she had. She belonged with him.

“Later.” He watched the pulse of her neck for a still moment before sinking his teeth into his future.

***

Tamsin gasped at the pinch of Oliver’s teeth in her neck, crying out when he went deep. The costume had been a double-edged sword. While most people couldn’t help stroking the velour, being dressed as a pig was hardly equivalent to the sexual creature she wanted to be in front of Oliver, who was simply Brad Pitt circa Meet Joe Black.

 She knew she was playing with fire around him and making it impossible for her to find a true mate, but she’d ignored her rationalisations, all of them. And now, she couldn’t help but feel she was being rewarded with him. The pull of his lips on her neck was just like a caress across the entirety of her body, and she gave a low moan that sounded like a prelude to an orgasm. She was the perennial good girl to everyone who met her, and she was relieved to find that, rather than being shocked by her reaction to him, Oliver wanted more. A pulse beat in her body. To the same rhythm, she wrapped her legs around Oliver’s waist and rubbed herself against him. His erection pressed between her legs, and she pressed back harder.

He lifted his head, eyes burnished orange, her blood staining his lips. “Do you always do that?”

“What?” she moaned, mesmerised by the colour on his mouth. How would her blood taste on him?

“Do this.” He echoed her movements, catching both her buttocks in his hand and stroking her over the length of his covered dick. Tamsin couldn’t breathe for a minute, let alone answer him. “If someone feeds on you?”

“No.”

He traced his tongue over her bites. She shuddered from the alternating heat and cold of him. “If you’re sure? Because it sounds like you want to be fucked.”

“We’re on your timetable, Ollie,” she murmured, tilting her head back as he grazed his fangs over delicate skin. “What do you want?”

“You,” he breathed, ripping the costume with one hand.

“Stop that!” she protested, “I need to give this back.”

“I’ll pay for it,” he promised, tilting his head to catch her in a kiss. One bite and a kiss and she was shaking like she was about to come. Thank you Massive Attack, she thought with glee. Her tongue caught the edge of one of his canines, a moan vibrating to his mouth. Though she was always wary of the damage that could be caused by her teeth, her head, her body, even her pussy throbbed with ideas of him putting his teeth anywhere and everywhere.

Gently, he allowed her feet to touch the ground and he untied his cape. He paused for a moment to cup her cheek. “You know you and that little snout stopped me from making a huge mistake?”

“That’s nice. Get undressed now.”

He gave a chuckle, shucking off the rest of his clothes. Not wanting to delay anything else, Tamsin removed her bra and carefully stepped out of her panties. Kicking them to the side, she let her arms drop. Something cool trickled over her collarbone. Dark red liquid trailed from her bite to pearl at her nipple.  

Just as she went to swipe at it with a finger, Oliver’s head was there, taking the blood and her breast into his mouth. The graze of sharp teeth forced her back into an arch, thrusting her hips against his fully nude ones.

With two fists in his hair, she pulled him away. “I want to touch you. But…” She tapped her tongue against her fangs. “They won’t go away.”

He went on his knees before her and blew gently on her damp pussy, leaning forward to press a kiss to her stomach even as his fingers slid along the lips of her sex. “I’ll let you try that another time. It doesn’t matter right now. You’ve given me so much tonight.”

Nothing could have prevented the sheer scream of delight she gave when his teeth grazed on either side of her pussy lips, his tongue delving in between. I’m branded, she thought, no man will ever be able to touch me again. Well, that would sort of make things easier.

Slowly stretching to his full height, Oliver turned her around and pulled her back against his naked front. “Let me take you this way,” he whispered, pressing himself hard to her bottom. It was definitely a command, despite being framed as a persuasive suggestion. She obeyed, bracing her hands on the railing, not at all phased by the idea that anyone could look up and see her completely naked, spread and ready to take Oliver inside her. His cock nestled between her lips, nudging gently at her opening. He carefully turned her head to look at him, the irises still that violent shade of orange. “There can’t be any barriers between us.”

“I know,” she whispered, pulling his arms around her before she gripped the railing. “I just didn’t think you’d want me this way.”

“Oh, Tamsin.” He gave a laugh that sounded pained even to her ears. “My sweet, deluded Tamsin. Watch.” As they looked over the crowd of people below, his dick pushed deep into her. A beastly growl emerged from his throat, a sound that recalled their ancestors before they evolved. The same sound came from Tamsin as he pushed further than any man had before. She felt a trail of cream snake along her thigh, teased from her depths. Oliver smoothed his palms along her back up into her hair.

“No one else will ever know you this way,” he whispered into her ear, nipping the flesh. “Just me. You think if any of them looked up and saw you right now they wouldn’t be touching themselves? Wanting to feel you, taste you, fuck you like I am?”

Every stroke of his dick back and forth was driving her crazy, and with his words, he was weaving a spell she couldn’t break away from. Coming right to the edge of that precipice, she cried out and gripped the railing so tight, the metal gave way. A squeal escaped her throat, nearly toppling her onto the floor of the balcony, but Oliver’s strength caught them both. He pulled back with an arm about her waist and she landed on top of him with a giggle.

“That would have been slightly embarrassing.”

“Why? Everyone should know what you look like when you need my dick inside you.”

She gave a violent shudder, turning onto her front, straddling his waist. She should have guessed he’d have the touch of a dom about him. “I’ll be wearing that expression permanently if you don’t hurry up and make me come.”

“Patience.”

Gripping both thighs in his hands, he rolled her onto her back and slipped back inside her. He curled one leg onto his shoulder, opening her completely to him. His dick felt relentless inside her, so demanding. She reached out for him, gripping his arms, to pull him closer.

“Take me,” he growled, “all of me.”

She’d never felt more like a complete woman than at that moment, her body accepting him entirely, obeying him completely. The build-up of her orgasm started in her chest, while the white heat at her pussy came later. Shaking with the onslaught, she slipped her leg from Oliver’s shoulder and wrapped it around his waist instead. Her eyes focused on the sweat beading at his neck; her mouth dried at the sight of the veins straining against his skin. Her sight magnified in her desire, she watched the blood cells dancing close to the surface, taunting her to taste.

“Go on,” he challenged, as if sensing her gaze. She was so hungry, his dick doing nothing but stoking the need to taste him. When she struck before he could take the challenge back, blood as rich as the oldest and most expensive of wines flowed onto her tongue, bubbling through her own veins as she drank. She groaned, her hunger sated as her orgasm started to tear through her. He curved his hand around the back of her head, forcing her to release him. Then he brought her into a kiss so deep, she felt the echoes of his convulsions when he came too. They were in the taste of his tongue, the groan on his lips, the tremble in his body and in his very essence, pouring into her.

He held her tightly for a long time, just sighing her name over and over again. As no sensible thought was forthcoming, Tamsin said the first thing that popped into her head. “I’m not an exhibitionist. I swear.”

He gave her another kiss instead of replying, reaching for his cloak and tucking it underneath her head. She settled herself against him, waiting for her breathing to turn normal. But then she’d been waiting for that around Oliver since she’d met him. Now that the ability to think had been restored, certain important details started falling into place. Vampires matured in threes. Three years after a vampire was first changed or the first three decades of a born vampire’s existence. They became stronger, faster, they could manipulate their appearance. However, immortality was granted to pairs, regardless of their sexuality, a relic of their creator, the original vampire wandering the earth alone. Oliver had turned thirty two months ago. He was a single male of age on the twenty-fifth. Given the way he’d completely fucked anyone else out of her mind, she doubted he had the same contingency plan as she did. He hadn’t even known what she was and he had been willing to give up his immortality. For her. So he really needed to know.

“Ollie,” she said into the sated silence.

“Yes, Tam?”

“I have to tell you something.”

He lifted his head. “What is it?”

“Don’t hate me.”

Oliver pressed kisses all over her face. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because my parents have sort of arranged for my maturity next year.” She said it all in a rush and winced, bracing herself for his fury.

He blinked very slowly. “You have a mate?”

“Sort of like a standby,” she explained.

“Yeah. I don’t care,” he replied shortly.

“But…”

They heard the screech of a microphone clashing with the stereo system and the voice of the other organiser boomed across the space. “Sixty seconds to Christmas Day, folks! I don’t know where Tam has got to, but on behalf of all of us, I hope you have a fantastic Christmas!”

Everyone below cheered. Tamsin looked back to Oliver. “About this standby...”

He exhaled deeply. “All right. Where does he live?”

Tamsin started. “What? Why do you want to know?”

“Because if you carry on the way you are, I’m going to assume there’s only enough room for one of us in this life. As I don’t plan on handing you over to anyone, he’s got to go.” He manoeuvred her beneath him once more so smoothly, settling between her thighs. “You belong to me now. You chose me as much as I chose you.” He was hard against her, the tip of his dick pressing her open. “No more buts. We can explain the whole thing to your family. Now give yourself to me.”

Oliver bit into her shoulder, bursting her veins open. With a gasp she arched into him and he surged back inside her. Too lightheaded to take much note of the bells chiming for the arrival of Christmas Day, any thoughts of just how she’d explain herself to her parents or to poor Max went completely out of her head. Right now, the whole world was simply Oliver.