“Damn woman, I almost got jealous of myself.” Micale snapped his strong white teeth at me.
Micale might try and act the all powerful warlock, but I knew better. He’d rather cut out his own heart than ever lay a finger on me.
Anyone else…
Watch. Your. Back.
This warlock could be as ruthless as a demon from hell. Which, I might add he had said on many occasions he’d been spawn from.
These days, my unconditional love had changed him into a warlock who only fought against the evil lurking within the dark recesses of the different realms that existed here on Earth.
Believe it or not, when not kicking malevolent butt, Micale ran a conglomerate of businesses under the name… Wait for it… Khilz Corporation. I just loved a man/warlock with a wicked sense of humor.
“By the way, the log cabin was a nice touch.” I gave him a naughty wink. I had always dreamed of having a little cozy cabin in the mountains.
“I am glad you like it because I had it built just for you. I would have built you a castle if I’d had my druthers, but I know you like the simple life, as it would be.”
Okay, here’s the deal. Micale was born to privilege and wealth in the eighteenth century. It must be nice to be immortal.
I, on the other hand, had been born in a very small country bumpkin town thirty-five years ago in the Midwest. I like things simple and comfy. Being fed by a silver spoon did, in no way, interest me.
Micale’s unfailing generosity toward me would boggle the minds of most, yet the love we shared would lighten the halls of hell.
What threw me for a loop? My warlock who had caused chaos and destruction over the centuries had grown a moral conscious…go figure... Micale wouldn’t live in sin anymore. He demanded we had to get married. This one time, I let him have his way. I had no regrets whatsoever.
He’s still trying to talk me into becoming immortal and I might take the deal one of these days, especially since we’d gotten married last summer. But, I liked playing hard ball.
“Little Girl, are you ignoring me?” Micale playfully barked, then reached up and tweaked my nipple.
“You are so arrogant. How can any woman ever ignore a man like you, you handsome devil,” I teased. God I loved this man.
“I don’t care about any other women. I only care about my woman.” He leaned down and nipped the sensitive skin of my earlobe.
I had learned to give as good as I got and I shot back at him, “Talk’s cheap and it’s Christmas morning. I think I owe you a present of my own.” I buried my lips against his neck and nibbled a path downward to his light chocolate brown nipple. In an erotic dance of my tongue, I brought first one than the other nipple to a hard, stiff peak. The sound of his harsh breathing aroused the hell out of me.
To think, I had that kind of control over this mighty warlock got me all hot and bothered.
Out of nowhere, the bells along the fireplace downstairs once again sounded off. I looked up from my sensual exploration of his heavenly chest. I arched an eyebrow and narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s funny. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on you.”
Micale cast his head over his shoulder and sent a green eyed glare toward the bedroom door before gazing back down at me. “This time it isn’t me.” Up flew his hand. His palm faced the door of the bedroom. Micale’s imposing voice made me jump from its intensity. I felt the power thickening the air and the hairs on my body stood on end. “Christmas day I so command no spirits welcome on my land. Take your worthless hide away to come another day.”
A loud wail pierced the chill of the morning and then faded into nothing. I laughed until my side burned.
“Are you mocking me Little One?” Micale looked so damn fierce, yet without a doubt this man adored me.
I sweet talked him with my little girl voice. “I think some one needs some special attention.”
“You’re damn right, woman.”
I mentally rolled my eyes. With a mischievous smile on my face, I’d show him.
Slowly, I descended his rock-hard abdomen, torturing him with my lips and the wet heat of my tongue all the way to his harder than steel cock. My mouth closed around the large mushroom head of his sex and took him all the way to the back of my throat—I could only take his cock part way at that—as I worked my mouth up and down his responsive shaft. I used my mouth and tongue and throat on him, lightly scraped my teeth across his ram-hard length. Then I added my secret weapon. I hummed.
Micale loved it when I hummed while I gave him a blowjob. And, I only felt it fitting to hum a very Merry Christmas tune.
Soon my big, demanding warlock was shaking and moaning, and then his body stiffened. His cock swelled ever bigger and he released a hoarse cry. His creamy cum filled my mouth and I swallowed until I sucked him dry. I always found the taste of his semen rich and sweet.
What a great Christmas I had. I got my secret desire of a fantasy Santa and my dream of having a cabin in the mountains. Damn, I am a lucky woman. But, love was the most important thing and there, I am one damn fortunate woman.
Needless to say, this was one Christmas I will not forget, and if I have my way, neither will the man I love beyond words…
The End
The Christmas Fae
Copyright © 2010 Emma Shortt
Chapter One
Isadora threaded her way carefully through the noisy crowd. The party was far livelier than she’d expected it to be. Drinks flowed freely and the mess on the tables attested to a magnificent feast earlier in the night. She wished she’d arrived earlier before all the lovely food and conversation had been consumed. But the timing was not her choice—she went only where and when she was sent.
She edged past a group of men, busy cheering over a group of scantily-clad dancing women. One chose that moment to divest herself of her vest and fling it into the crowd. It would have landed directly on Isadora’s left wing, had they been visible, instead it glanced off her shoulder. Now is not the time to let your Fae temper get the better of you.
Her glamour would only hold if she felt relaxed. Extreme emotions would strip it from her and Isadora could well imagine what the sudden appearance of wings, pointed ears and sparkling skin would do to such a crowd.
“Get ‘em off, get ‘em off!”
Isadora grinned, her anger at the vest-flinger forgotten. Human men could be so rowdy. She had long since been aware of the fact, and like the dancing women she didn’t have a problem with it, c’est la vie and all that.
“Get up there, darling!” One of the men took it upon himself to encourage her onto the stage and Isadora laughed in delight. It probably wasn’t the right response for a Fae but if she was truly honest with herself, she would have to admit the rowdiness surrounding her was preferable to the constant placidness of the Fae. Her kind rarely became angry or over-emotional and for someone as free-spirited as Isadora it could be difficult. It’s more than difficult, Izzy, it’s suffocating!
She waved the man and the errant thought away with a smile and continued her path to the bar. He should be waiting there and she wondered now if he was likely to be as challenging as the rest of the men around her. His choice of bar would suggest as much. Still, her job tonight was to bring joy and she was going to make sure she brought plenty, no matter how difficult a task it might be.
Making her way around a large, fake Christmas tree, she bit her lip as she was treated to a shower of equally fake snow. The blasted bar owner had strung them up in a totally random manner and Isadora shivered as the polystyrene balls rolled down her back. It’s better than underwear.
She shook herself and made her way over to the row of stools next to the bar. Garlands of holly and ivy were strung around them and Isadora smiled. This was more her sort of thing. The holly made her think of home and was a vast improvement over the fakery of the tree. Isadora loathed fake trees—they were an affront to her Fae sensibilities.
Sitting down on a stool, she considered the night ahead
. Christmas was not her favourite holiday and she wasn’t totally thrilled with her new promotion to Christmas Fairy. She’d hoped for the Valentine Fae’s job. Sure Valentine’s was as fake as Christmas these days, but at least it was in the name of love. Unfortunately, Amelia, the previous Christmas Fae bagged the job, which was ridiculous seeing as how Amelia didn’t even want it. Regardless of the politics, Isadora was left, metaphorically, holding the tinsel.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Isadora swivelled in her seat and smiled at the young man in front of her. “A drink?”
“Yes, anything you want.”
His hair was blonde, his eyes green—almost like a Fae—and he couldn’t have been much older than eighteen human years. She shook her head regretfully. “I’m waiting for someone.” And it’s not you.
“I don’t mind filling in until he arrives.”
A slight laugh burst from her lips. Her would-be seducer was young and confident and she was almost tempted to let him stay a-while. The one part of her new job that excited her was the prospect of mixing with humans. The idea of drinking in their exuberance and their vitality was wondrous. Fae were fed by the happiness of others and Isadora guessed it wouldn’t take much to make the young man in front of her happy. Unfortunately, she had a job to do and a quick glance to her left was enough to remind her of that fact.
“I’m afraid not, my date’s arrived.”
The young man shrugged and moved away good-naturedly. Isadora took a moment to reinforce her glamour, before approaching the man now sitting at the end of the bar. He was recognizable to her by the slight glow of Fae dust still lingering on him, dust that marked him as her job for the night. Ready and waiting, time to for you to get to work, Izzy!
“Can I buy you a drink?” It nearly worked on her, so Isadora saw no reason why it shouldn’t work on him.
He turned, as she had, and Isadora felt both her hearts begin to race. Great Titania he was handsome, she hadn’t expected that. His hair was dark—almost black, a colour that the Fae coveted constantly. His eyes were equally as dark and his skin was the most fabulous shade Isadora had ever seen. She felt her nipples harden and took a deep breath. Now is not the time to be eyeing up a human. Think about your job!
“A drink?”
She smiled. It was like a reverse conversation. “Yes, anything you want.”
He frowned slightly and her eyes followed his hand as he ran it through his locks. Her ears twitched and she was tempted to reach out and follow his path. Would his dark hair feel differently to the generic fairness of the Fae? She was shocked to realize how badly she wanted to find out.
“I appreciate the offer but I’m pretty sure I can get my own drink.”
Her wings ruffled in surprise. He’s refusing me? She hadn’t expected that either. Looks like it’s a night for surprises.
Slowly, and purposefully, she sat herself down on the stool next to her dark haired would-not-be seducer. She was Fae, and Fae did not give up on their targets. It was unthinkable to return home without completing the assigned task. The shame would be immense and she’d be demoted faster than she could say twitch my wings. She might have preferred the Valentine’s gig but Christmas was a darn sight better than being demoted to a generic fairy job. She shuddered as she remembered the last decade of boredom, the lack of excitement and emotion, she’d worked hard to get one of the few holiday jobs and she was damned if she’d fail. “Great you can grab me one, too.”
He frowned, his eyes darkening. “You’re persistent.”
“Always, it’s one of my most endearing characteristics.” She reached out and ran a finger lightly across his hand. His skin was surprisingly soft and she felt a shiver snake down her spine. The things I do for my job.
“Do you always get your own way?” he asked.
“I always try to,” she replied and he laughed. Relief flooded her. A little charm, a little flirting and she’d get what she needed.
“I’m Isadora, by the way.”
The hand she was stroking took hers, and pleasure tingled through her body by the gentleness of his grip. There was, in Isadora’s opinion, nothing worse than a man who tried to impress by crushing hands.
“An unusual name. I’m Lucas. So tell me, what is it you’re after, sweetheart?”
Isadora smiled and let her glamour slip. She was in her Fae form for barely more than a moment, barely long enough for human eyes to comprehend, but it was enough for him to see something. To see and to wonder, even if it was just subconsciously.
“The lights are pretty bright in here,” he said, shaking his head and Isadora grinned. It never failed to surprise her how humans could dismiss so much, so easily. She’d never heard anyone say, oh, did you just sparkle or are those wings I can see? They always imagined the simplest, least strange explanation for any of her glamour malfunctions.
“Bright, indeed.”
He smiled and Isadora felt a second shiver race down her spine. Why had no one warned her just how gorgeous some humans could be? Or how they could make a fairy feel?
She fluttered her wings, which he couldn’t see, and her eyelashes, which he could. “It’s Christmas and I believe you are owed a wish.”
Chapter Two
Lucas clenched his fist and gave himself an inward shake. He couldn’t believe he was seriously being hit on by such a beauty, Isadora. It would make sense that she’d have a pretty name.
He could still feel the warmth from her hand—a hand he’d pretty much engulfed in his own—and he was shocked at the response that small contact produced in him. He’d had his fair share of women over the years, maybe more than his share if he was totally honest, but she was something else. Something else entirely.
“A wish?”
It was the first time he’d heard that particular chat-up line and he was intrigued.
“Yes, let’s have a drink together and then you can tell me your wish.”
Bloody hell, she was stunning. Too stunning. For a moment there she’d sparkled? No, he was imaging things. People don’t sparkle, it’s just the lights.
“I’m here for a quiet drink and you want to pump me for wishes?” He’d come to the bar on an impulse, nothing more. He had no interest in picking up a woman, or at least he’d had no interest, yet the beauty in front of him was fast changing that.
“Hardly the place to come for a quiet drink,” she said, waving a hand toward the dancing girls and still cheering men.
Lucas smiled. “It’s not usually like this. Must be the time of year.”
“Oh, come now,” she said, and Lucas was shocked to feel himself harden instantly. “When in Rome…”
He clenched his fists again and tried to ignore the ache in his trousers. It had been so long since he’d spent a night with a woman, too bloody long. It wasn’t purposeful; he hadn’t made a decision to keep away from women it just kind of happened. One night stands were all good and well and Lucas enjoyed plenty over the years, but recently something had changed. He’d found himself wanting something more, something, dare he admit, a bit more permanent, and one night stands were not the way to find that.
You’re thirty-four now, time to settle down. You’ll know her when you see her, Lucas, you’ll just know... he could almost hear his mom’s voice echoing in his ear. He’d doubted her proclamations of instant lust or love—despite the fact it had been that way for his parents and his sisters— but now, now he was starting to wonder.
“Look, sweetheart...”
She smiled and, involuntarily, Lucas felt his own lips begin to curve in response. She had an amazing smile, sultry and mischievous at the same time—Lucas suspected that few managed to resist it.
“I’ve been looking for a while, I can assure you.”
She’s enchanting; there’s no other word for it. Lucas was sure he’d never seen hair quite so blonde, or eyes that shade of green. There was something else as well, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The only way to find out what it might be
was to keep her talking, something Lucas was finding more appealing by the second.
“You want to hear my wish?”
“Exactly.” She smiled again and Lucas was transfixed by the way her hair swayed. It had to reach all the way to her ass, and would probably feel silken beneath his fingers. It really has been too long.
“And it can be anything, can it?”
“Anything that relates directly to your life,” she replied. “You can’t ask for world peace or anything like that and you can’t request anything malevolent. I only grant good wishes.”
“So you’re a good fairy?” he asked, playing along with her silliness.
“Always.”
She looked so earnest that Lucas found himself pulled into her fantasy and actually considering what he would wish for. If this blonde haired beauty really did have the power to grant him a wish what would he request?
Isadora leaned forward, waiting for his answer, and his gaze fell upon the shadowy hint of her cleavage. She was petite, but her curves—outlined in her tight silver dress—were amazing, outrageous even. All breasts and bum, he knew she would be soft to his touch. He couldn’t help but imagine burying his face in those breasts, curving his hands around her ass and pulling her against him. He leant forward a little, breathed in deeply and her scent fill him. She smelled of flowers and grass and summer.
Summer in the middle of winter, I bet she’d taste just as sweet.
He swallowed dryly as images filled his mind.
“Your wish?” she asked again, breaking him from his fantasy. “What would make this Christmas perfect for you?”
He reached forward without even thinking and brushed his finger over her ear, it felt...pointed? He looked but could see only a curve.
“What—”
She shivered and pulled back. Her eyes widened and her rosy lips parted. Lucas ached to reach out and capture those lips in his, to suckle them and bite them, and leave them even rosier. Her tongue darted out and lightly dabbed her upper lip, and he groaned inwardly, the mystery of her ear forgotten.
'Twas a Dark and Delicious Christmas Page 23
