A Christmas Demon for Clara

by Chloe Alice Balkin

  He'd made that clear several times already, had called her every name in the book, had gotten way too rough, had yelled at her to do it. She wouldn't use her ability on him. She refused to let any man control her like that, even a demon who had a bite that made her come, supposedly.

  He bit her.

  She came.

  Her brain wiped to a euphoric white. She lost all sense of her body, went limp between him and the shelves. She was vaguely aware of the tremors that shook through her, and she heard the faintest rumbling of pleasure from Killian, but she was silent.

  Killian strapped his arm over her thighs, forcing her to take his entire length within her. His cock kicked within her, flooding her, before he went still, too.

  His lips didn't leave the spot where he'd bitten her, not even when he dropped to his knees, curling over her in the dark pantry, disengaging nothing. His breath was the softest, calmest breeze warming her chest through her dress.

  She was still dressed. They both were.

  A door farther down the hall closed.

  Killian stood and fastened his pants. "I gotta get to work. You better go before your sisters come back out."

  He left the door open, and for the first time that evening, Eloise considered zapping him.

  But then he'd win.

  Chapter 23

  Locke was smart about the white elephant, choosing the box wrapped in the paper he'd brought to Hell that morning, knowing full well that it was going to contain a variety of baked goods. Clara had complained enough about it in her good-natured way. She'd had some far loftier plans for what to bring to the blind swap, but there was literally nothing in the world that would have made Locke happier.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her when he settled back down next to her, hugging the box. "You've had every one of those already," she murmured under the oohs and ahhs and laughs over the next boxes being opened.

  "And I went them again…later."

  She gave him a curious look, and he hated that it had a twinge of concern to it. "What is it, sugarplum?"

  "You should want it now. You're a…" She leaned in and glanced about to make sure no one was listening in. "A glut demon. Are you unwell?"

  "I'm fine."

  "You're wringing your hands."

  She didn't know how sweaty they were, either. The box in his lap had a shelf life. He wouldn't be able to keep it forever any more than he'd be able to keep Clara, and it sent slimy shivers down his flesh knowing what would happen if he held onto her much longer.

  "The angel," he said, not so much lying as diverting. "I should be on watch since Killian's gone—ah, shit," he hissed as Eloise finally returned to the party. If she'd been anyone else, she'd have looked perfectly fine, but Locke had spent too much time with her recently. He could tell the difference between five hours in and still flawless and just had to redo everything and scrub a stain off the hem of the dress.

  "What is it?" Clara said, her back stiffening up, fear rumbling through her.

  "It's not angels," Locke said quickly. "It's…" He gestured to Eloise. He wasn't going to try to convince himself it wasn't Killian, not with the slightly dazed look in Eloise's eyes and the caked-on concealer on her shoulder.

  "What? It's just—oh!" She laughed sweetly, taking Locke's pulse several notches back down to something close to what it should have been. "Oh, she and Killian had sex in the pantry. Sorry, I thought you knew."

  "You're…you're okay with that?"

  "Why wouldn't I be? My issues are my own, Locke. I never wanted my sisters to be like me. We're a very sex-positive household."

  Locke distracted her with a kiss on her knuckles, because even the mention of sex, even in a statement so guileless in a crowded room, was enough to stir him up again.

  Locke was awful at Christmas Carol Charades, but he had the winning team of the Jubilee sisters to cover up the fact that he literally knew not a single Christmas carol, and he was surprising willing and talented at covering up this fact despite his inability to lie.

  For the other, more physical games, his demon senses and strength gave them the advantage. They were the first team to have their 'tree'—a very grumbly Hazel—wrapped in green crepe paper streamers and topped with a gold gift bow. He was also able to balance a ridiculous amount of candy canes hooked over a single one jutting out of his mouth, so many that the other teams stopped and watched in awe as he held on while the sisters hooked over fifty to the original.

  "If only you were horny," Clara giggled, leading to the demise of Locke's balance and the ire of her sisters. "Oh! I meant your horns! The ones that…darn it. The important thing is that we won."

  They won the next challenge, too. A chaotic, Christmas-themed Hungry Hungry Hippos, in which each team had a table of ornaments for other teams to steal, and anyone could steal those ornaments as long as they could carry them across the room on a teaspoon. The ornaments were too big, the room too small, the contestants too willing to slam into each other, and Locke was no less willing. He was just incredibly good at keeping the ornaments on his spoon as he did so.

  And somehow, he perfectly engineered it so that he didn't run into Clara until the timer went off, when he pushed her under a mistletoe-draped doorway.

  They both looked up at it. Clara hadn't looked down yet when Locke's lips descended on hers. "You're driving me crazy," he moaned between kisses.

  "I'm not doing anything!"

  "Seriously? You're jumping up and down in that low-cut dress, you're laughing and singing, you're flushed all over. How can you not be trying to seduce me?"

  "I'm having a good time," she chuckled, taking advantage of his distraction to rub his chest. She thought she might have been the one guiding herself to the door frame, too, although Locke certainly followed with the weight of his body. Her voice went breathless as she said, "You're having a good time, too, Locke. Admit it."

  "I love you," he groaned as he pinned her body in place.

  "You're all I want," she whispered, holding his cheeks in her hands so that she could look him in the eyes so he'd know she meant it.

  "For Christmas?" The glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly how terrible his joke was, so she nipped his bottom lip for it. That had his hands on her again, just like she wanted. Her body hummed for a repeat of last night, even if Locke went no further.

  In the far-off distance of the room they stood in the doorway of, Eloise called out, "Team Jubilee, thirty-four ornaments! Three-time undefeated champions of Shiny Shiny Ornaments! Hey, Clara we should play…ohh…we should go play Pin The Tail On The Reindeer in the other room."

  "We should go somewhere else," Clara told Locke even though the room cleared out. "I want to show you something."

  Locke attempted to separate from her, but she could feel in his muscles how unwilling his body was. "Clara," he groaned, struggling to even catch his breath. "I don't think—"

  "I just want to show you my favorite spot in the house."

  He nodded and allowed her to lead him through some secret doors and hallways, servants' passages from older times, when a house of this size would have had a whole staff tucked away from sight. They came back out next to the stairway near her room, and although he hesitated there, a coaxing hand and a promising smile got him up into her room.

  They hadn't been there long enough that first night for Locke to notice all its quirks, and Clara took him to the best one: a door in her closet, so short he had to duck to clear it, that led to a small landing outside.

  The moon was full enough that the she could see the valley her house sat atop and the mountains beyond, rising and dipping, illuminated in rare spots where others had settled on this beautiful mountain range. They were blurs to her, splotches to let her know there were others out there appreciating the view along with her. Locke's arms across her chest, his chest against her back, his calm breaths, let her know he was appreciating it, too.

  "Is
n't it beautiful?" she asked.

  "You love it here, don't you?"

  She nodded. "My entire life has been here. I can't imagine…" She frowned, wondering if he'd deliberately pointed out how hopeless their situation was.

  "I'm glad I got to show you what it's like somewhere else, even if it was Hell."

  "I'm not done there yet," she reminded him as she wrapped her arms across his, loving the feel of his strength at her fingertips.

  "Not too much longer, though. I hope not, at least. I want you to have your life back."

  "I want you in it."

  He kissed the top of her head. "I'll be here when I can. You know I will."

  A single snowflake drifted down, landing on her arm. More soon followed, and the silence that came with it, drowning out the sounds of the festivities continuing below. Not a soul was around, not even her ghosts. They were ever-present in the house, but not here. Here, it was only her and Locke and the pristine, white-capped forever stretching before them.

  "You're wrong, you know," she said quietly, afraid to disturb the peace by raising her voice.

  "I'm sure I am," Locke said with a gentle laugh, "but about what?"

  "About us not being together. It's too late. It doesn't matter if we go further or not, because we've already gone too far."

  She expected an argument, but instead she got, "I know. I think that's the worst part. I want to do right by you, but that can't happen now. There is no right. No matter what I do, it's going to be wrong."

  She twisted in his grip so she could stroke his cheek, roughened by the late hour. She loved how he felt there, too. She loved how he felt everywhere. She knew there were things about him she should have been disgusted by, but she couldn't think of any of that. Not when her heart was telling her that she had to take what she could. There'd never be another Locke for her, never another man. Even if she lost her ghosts, she couldn't imagine anyone fitting her as well as Locke did.

  "There's only one thing that's going to be right, and you know it."

  Locke closed his eyes as his body sank against hers. "I can't push you away anymore. You win."

  Chapter 24

  Locke put the dolls on the doorstep, commanding the ghosts who rushed to keep up with their dolls to stay out there. None of them argued. Just like her sisters, her ghosts wanted her to be happy.

  Her happiness was with Locke. Everyone knew that, too. Locke was the only one interfering in that.

  She watched with nothing more than a lazy, affectionate smile on her lips. When he returned to her, he detected no fear from her. Last night, she'd been scared but ready. Tonight, she was only ready.

  And beautiful. Locke couldn't help thinking how fucking lucky he was that this amazing creature had fallen for him. After all, she wasn't a demon. There wasn't the bonding on her end that had snapped him up so thoroughly. She just…loved him anyway.

  "Can you get my zipper?" she asked with a playful grin that had him remembering that first night when she'd gotten tangled up in her dress in her closet. He'd wanted her the same way then, he just hadn't known it at the time. He was already fully ensnared by her by the time he'd walked out of Sweet Memories by Jubilee. No way he would have been so obsessed with her lemon bars otherwise.

  She spun for him, her breathing growing heavy as he inched the zipper down her back, savoring the slow reveal of her lovely spine, enjoying the way she bent as he touched her. The zipper was long enough that once it was all the way down—and he caught the top of her pink panties, as innocent and delectable as all her underclothes were—he only had to slide the dress off her shoulders for it to pool at her feet. He took her hand as she stepped out of it and spun her around to gaze upon her body.

  Her curves, her soft stomach, her thick thighs and rounded breasts. He didn't even need to touch. He would, he would touch her everywhere, but this was enough for him.

  "Undress me," he said, his voice gravelly with lust.

  She did so slowly, working from his chest down. His tie, his jacket, his dress shirt. She untucked his undershirt and slid her hands up his chest to lift it, and he growled his pleasure at the dance of her fingertips, followed by her lips as she trailed kisses up to his sternum. "Oh, Clara," he whispered. "You honor me so."

  He bent over to help her pull the shirt over his head and arms, and before he straightened, she had her arms around his neck, her teeth on his earlobe. "This is going to be incredible, isn't it?"

  He nodded, afraid to speak. Even more afraid when she unbuttoned his pants and let them fall. And she was so amazing, she didn't hesitate at all in pulling his boxers down.

  Her eyes lingered for some time on his erection. Long enough he was worried that her eyes were big because some fear had nipped her. "Am I…am I acceptable to you?"

  She reached down and ran her palm up his shaft. "Yes, absolutely."

  He took care of his shoes and socks, leaving himself completely bare. Then he pulled her to him, simply savoring the feel of skin on skin, now without the concerns that dwelled between them the night before. This was as they were meant to be, their natural state.

  She held him back, sighing happily as she nestled into his chest. "This feels right," she murmured, putting voice to his thoughts. Then she took his hand and stepped back to the bed, pausing there to take off her panties.

  "I'll do that. Sit down for me."

  She did so, and he grabbed her panties at her hips and shimmied them under her, savoring the time it took to slide them down. Then he kissed his way back up her shins and thighs, massaging her calves and nudging her on her back so he could part her legs.

  Cheering erupted downstairs, no doubt over whatever game the drunken revelers were on to now.

  Locke braced himself for some panic from Clara at the reminder that they weren't entirely alone, but she was the one who said, "Ignore them. It's only you and me here. This is our world alone."

  "You are my entire world," Locke murmured against the lush inner thigh his lips were stroking. "I don't think I can live without you, Clara."

  That sweet little laugh of hers warmed him right up. "Don't be so moody right now, Locke. You're, like, two inches from the happy spot. You're going to make me think it's not nice enough to keep your spirits up."

  Whether it was an innocent comment or a ploy to urge him on, it worked. He butted his shoulders up under her thighs, forcing her to spread wide for him as her legs flopped over his back. She released a high keening sound and her back arched as he ran his tongue up the length of her happy spot, as she so gracefully called it, licking up every bit of the dew that had already pooled there.

  She was delicious. She was divine. "Nectar," he whispered before curling his tongue around her clit and working her rim with his fingers. She needed to be ready for him, but he'd take his time getting her there. He'd take all night if he needed to. He didn't want to give her the briefest second of discomfort.

  "What, ahh, what did you call me?" Clara asked as she propped herself up on her shoulders, in no way timid or embarrassed as she watched Locke suck on her.

  He replaced his tongue with his thumb, refusing to give her a second's worth of calm. "Nectar. The wine of the gods. I'm drunk on you, sugarplum."

  She giggled and grabbed him by the chin, struggling to kiss him in the awkward position. He didn't want to leave his treasure, but if she wanted to kiss, he'd kiss her forever. He got up on the bed and folded her up so he could bring their lips together without losing his position.

  This clever siren, he thought as her pelvis tightened and managed to envelop his cock with her folds. She bathed him in her wet heat, stroking him into a frenzy with only a clench and release of her core.

  She was going to be the death of him, but what a way to go.

  "You're not ready," he groaned against her mouth when her concentration focused and her movements became more deliberately, no longer stroking but guiding.

  "I am so ready for you, Locke."

 
"No, I mean…I don't want to hurt you. It will be better for you if you give me some time to—"

  "It would be better for me if you were inside me right now, Locke. It would make me happier than you've ever made me before."

  There was a twinkle in her eye, a glimmer of full awareness that she knew exactly what those words would do to him. And she was right, because the only thing Locke could do right now was make her happier than she'd ever had before.

  It wasn't unpleasant, Clara decided of the stretch sensation as she accommodated Locke's girth. She'd already been warned by her sisters—over a decade ago, the other two having been early bloomers—that she couldn't expect anything amazing, either, and it wasn't.

  It was perfect. In that way making a deadline was perfect. That closing the shop for the day and hitting the finish line were perfect. Now that they'd finally made it, they could relax and bask in their intimate connection.

  Clara relaxed her legs, letting them slide down Locke's arms until they were gripping him at the waist and Locke was free to place his hands on her. He stroked her hair and her cheeks as he stared at her and she stared back.

  "This is nice," she murmured.

  "Just nice?"

  "Very nice."

  He chuckled, his voice low and smoky. "I'm sorry we didn't do this yesterday."

  His hips nudged at her smoothly and gently, sending the most satisfying tingle through her. "I…am, too. I'm not going to say you were right, because you weren't. But you gave me a day to really think about how important this was to me, how willing I was to give myself to you—not sexually, mind you, but all of me—and I am. I don't care what we'll have after this, I want it. I want to be with you forever, however I can."

  Her eyelids fluttered as he moved over her, sliding himself in and out so incredibly slowly and deeply, loving her thoroughly as his head lowered down so he could kiss her reverently.

  "I love you, Locke," she whispered as her body clenched around him, driving him even deeper.