The Vampire Who Stole Christmas by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Making love with Drystan was no simple physical act. Body parts touching, nerve endings reacting, it was all there—but there was more. Aimee ran her hands down Drystan’s chest, let her warmth flow into his body, breathed in as he blew out, devoured the darkness inside him. It wouldn’t change who he was or have a lasting effect. She wouldn’t lie to herself and say that it would, but for now it felt good, fed the bit of daimon still inside her, made her want more. And Drystan had more, was a never-ending pit of darkness, longing—a truly lost soul who needed Aimee as much as she needed him. She wanted to change to pure spirit and seep inside him, be inside him—closer than two humans ever could be.

But only a daimon who accepted her powers could do that, and Aimee didn’t, wouldn’t. But she would make do with the next best thing. She kicked her dress to the side and slipped her thumbs under the elastic of her bra. It was time to get closer—past time. Her body tingled with the need, outside; inside all of her screamed for Drystan’s touch, for the feel of his bare skin against hers.

His hands clasped her face, pulled her mouth back to his. The sting of something sharp piercing her lip almost jerked her from the moment, but then his tongue lapped away the pain, and she could think of nothing but Drystan, his scent, his touch—she pulled her mouth from his, ran her tongue down his neck—his taste. She had never felt so alive, so in the human body she normally only occupied.

She wanted to experience more, to feel more.

She grasped his pants and shoved them out of her way. Drystan moved with her, as if he could read her mind, as if they shared the same thoughts. He stepped forward, while she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breasts pressed to his chest. The backs of her knees hit the couch and he slipped an arm behind her, lowered her onto the cushions.

The leather clung to her heated skin, the smell of it mingling with Drystan’s scent, forming a masculine mix that Aimee pulled into her lungs, wished she could bottle and keep forever.

She ran her hands up and down Drystan’s now bare back. He leaned down, skimmed her neck with his lips, his palms finding her breasts. She arched into his touch. Her breasts were heavy, and his touch cool—nothing could feel better.

Except…he lay atop her, his weight pressing her deeper into the cushion. Her legs inched apart, his thigh falling between hers.

Anticipation coiled inside her. Then his erection pressed against her. She tilted her hips, parted her thighs until the tip edged inside.

Her breath caught in her throat. Then Drystan murmured against her ear and guided his erection inside her.

Aimee’s back curved again, this time angling her pelvis toward Drystan, urging him to go deeper, faster inside her, but despite her almost frantic need, he moved slowly, letting her body stretch, letting her feel every inch as he edged inside her.

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