Chapter 18
EDWIN
Trace’s eyes went wide with surprise, but his pupils dilated as I tugged my hand free of his to stand, then pulled my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor.
He watched me, anticipation dusting his cheekbones with a ridge of pink while I fumbled with my belt buckle, then undid my trouser button.
“Edwin, we’re in the kitchen,” he sputtered as I made to lower my zip.
“I never took you for a prude.” I strode to the cabinet next to the door and located the key I knew was hidden inside a small dish.
With one satisfying click, I turned back to him.
“Better?” I smirked as his gaze dropped to my groin, so I deliberately palmed my crotch to see his reaction. “Like what you see, Mr Dempsey?”
“You know I do. Get over here.” He beckoned me closer, his tone low and needy.
As soon as I was within reach, he got to his feet and grabbed me all in one fluid movement, his limbs almost a blur as they swept me up, then pinned me with my arms above my head against the nearest wall.
“I have to know this won’t mess up what you have with James.” His hot breath fanned my cheek as he kicked my feet apart then stepped into the gap between my thighs. The mouthwatering bulge in his slacks brushed against my erection and I gasped with need.
“I have to trust him.” I could feel my supernaturally-charged blood pumping through every vein. “He told us to fuck. He doesn’t want to; we do. If you still want me...?” I had to be sure. “This isn’t some kind of sympathy shag?” It had better not be.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t do those. Now shut up so I can kiss you.”
Jesus, the way he kissed went through me like ten thousand volts.
Every lick, every nibble, seemed wired into my nervous system, lighting fires along my spine and down into my toes.
I moaned, because I couldn’t help myself.
With my hands pinned, although I could have easily broken free, I felt small, helpless, almost fragile with the careful way he positioned me, and so, so wanted.
I allowed Trace to turn me this way and that, giving him access to my neck, one of my favourite erogenous zones.
The bastard stayed maddeningly out of humping range though.
He denied all my attempts to join our bodies at the one place I needed to feel him.
Finally, he took pity on me and drew me against him, releasing my arms. I instantly wrapped them around him, then whimpered into his mouth as he slid his strong fingers down the back of my trousers.
“Further,” I urged him, shamelessly rutting against him. “Please, more…” My dick was ramrod stiff in my underwear, clamouring to be free from its confines. “Trace…” I whined impatiently. “I told you, I’m not good at waiting.”
“You’ll get what you need,” he promised me. I saw him glance at the door. “Will we really not be interrupted?”
“It’s locked, your modesty is safe. As is the back door. We don’t take chances with security, not with so many humans in the area.” I tried to slip a hand between us to take some of the pressure off my cock, but Trace was too quick for me.
“Nuh uh, that’s mine to play with. Behave yourself, or I’ll tie your hands behind your back.”
“That really doesn’t help,” I protested, my flies close to bursting.
He glanced down then smirked at me. “So I see. Right, come with me.” He towed me across to the far end of the table where the surface was bare. “I don’t suppose there is anything in this room that would properly restrain you, is there?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I can pretend really well.”
“Good. Over you go then.” He gave me a push in the small of my back, clamping his other hand around the back of my neck, which felt incredibly dirty, then lowered me face down over the table.
I let out an oof as my cock got squished, and wriggled backwards a fraction.
Trace caressed me through the fabric and muttered an apologetic noise for roughing up my manhood.
“Don’t want you damaged,” he soothed. “Just a bit needy.”
I could do needy. I was happy to beg if it meant feeling Trace’s cock inside me. He dropped to his haunches and drew my trousers and underwear down to puddle at my feet. He tapped my left leg. “Lift.”
With my shoes on the floor, my clothes hanging over a chair, and me feeling gloriously, wildly exposed, he took his time stroking my naked skin, the calluses on his fingertips sparking sensation in every one of my nerve endings.
He scraped blunt fingernails up and down my inner thighs, across the back of my knees, and even along the edges of my socked feet.
He found parts of me I didn’t know could be sensitive and turned me inside out with want.
When he deemed me satisfactorily pliant, the press of his thumbs on my arse cheeks was the only warning I had before a hot wet lick of his tongue across my hole nearly had me coming on the spot.
“Jesus fuck, Trace,” I groaned. I could feel my orgasm building, slow and deliberate like his attention to me. My cock was a pulsing entity, pressed against the table and bordering on painful, but the pain was so good. I just needed…
“I really won’t last much longer,” I warned him. I bit off a scream as he pushed his tongue inside me. “Fuck, Trace, I’m serious.”
He sat back. “I’ll get you off, don’t worry. Shame we don’t have any lube. I want to fuck you so badl—”
“Table drawer. Other side.” I might have sounded impatient.
He came back behind me, standing this time, and I heard the snick of the lid.
“Should I even ask why Baxter has lube in her kitchen? Actually, no, don’t tell me.
That’s a level of friendship I don’t want to dwell on right now.
” His amusement was evident as he leant over me, bracketing me with the warmth of his slender chest as he circled my hole with a gelled finger.
“Do I take it you’re not bothered about condoms due to your supernatural resistance to ill health?
” He pushed the finger inside before I could reply, punching the breath I didn’t need from my lungs. God, he wasn’t going to go easy on me.
“No…condoms…” I managed. “No need.” I followed him as he withdrew, chasing more, and was immediately rewarded when he began opening me up swiftly and competently, adding fingers to stretch me.
I’d known he was pansexual, bisexual, whatever he called himself, but it was comforting to know he wasn’t a novice around the male body.
The good news about my body was that it healed quickly.
The bad news? It healed quickly, so my hole was always tight.
But regardless of my physiology, I was an impatient man.
“I’m good to go,” I encouraged him. “Seriously, before I beat you to it.”
“You’d have thought a century would have taught you some patience,” he chuckled. He wiped his sticky digits on my thigh, then I heard the blissful sound of him pumping his cock. “Do you ever come hands free, or d’you like some manual assistance?”
“Both, either, sometimes. I dunno.” I was losing my ability to form sentences, and now I could feel the blunt press of his cock against my rim, I was gabbling.
“Oh gods…” Trace hissed, his breath hot on my back as he inched his way in. “Damn, you feel good.”
“Don’t hold back,” I grunted. “I won’t break.” Although, truth be told, I wasn’t sure about that. If anyone was going to be the ruin of me, this unassuming-looking man with his ability to make me feel things I’d not felt in a hundred years might be the one.
Once I felt the telltale scrape of pubes against my bum cheeks, Trace grabbed my hips.
“I want to really fuck you,” he muttered, his breathing choppy.
“But I’m trying not to be an animal about it.
” His fingers dug in and I suddenly regretted that no matter how hard he pounded me, they wouldn’t leave bruises.
“Just go for it,” I begged. “I’m a total fairy but I’m also a vamp. I’m unbreakable. Use me like you want.”
He laughed softly. “You’re what? Oh, hang on, I get it. That’s very old-fashioned language, but I hear you.” He kissed me then, soft and sweet on the back of my neck. “Hold on, gorgeous.”
When he withdrew, I protested. When he slammed back in, I yelped.
Without missing a beat, he set a punishing pace, leaving me gasping as he pummelled my arse like a porn star who’d been told he’d get a cash bonus as long as the studio didn’t roll into overtime.
I wasn’t complaining. Ha! I didn’t have the puff to complain.
I clung to the table top by my fingertips and moaned with every amazing thrust. I wanted it to last forever and simultaneously needed to come. I was flying…
“Oh fuck, gonna come—” Trace grunted a bitten-off curse.
His rhythm faltered, then he gripped me harder as he gave a guttural groan and slammed into me raggedly.
The slight change of angle hammered my prostate and I cried out, caught on a knife edge of too much and not quite enough. “Trace, pleaase…”
“I’ve got you.” He somehow found my cock with his warm hand and worked me furiously. I erupted over his fingers moments later with a strangled sob, my head emptying as my orgasm drained me of speech, thought, sight…
“By the Goddess.” Trace was slumped fully over my back, leaning his entire weight on me.
His shaky exhales tickled my ear. I thought perhaps the only reason I wasn’t currently on the floor was his strong body holding me upright, although upright was pushing it considering how we were sprawled across the scrubbed pine.
“Fuck me,” I breathed when I could form words.
“You saying you slept through all that just now?” Oh, how I loved that teasing note in his voice.
“You’re a comedian now? How come you have the energy to joke?
” No kidding, I knew I’d be fine in minutes, but bloody hell, even vampires have their limits and sexually I’d just been pushed to mine.
I groped behind me, settling my hand on his side, unwilling to admit even to myself I craved touching him.
“Can I keep you? You’re a spectacular fuck. ”
“Edwin, you have the sweetest tongue this side of the—” He shuddered as if he’d been electrocuted, then tried again.
“…this side of the equator. Remind me to never expect a sonnet.” Again, his teasing tone, but I felt it was tinged with a wistful acceptance that there would never be any love poems in his future.
I didn’t know how to deal with that sad thought or the emotions attached to it, so I opted for snark as usual.
“No sonnets, but I’ll suck your cock any time, mister.” I effected an exaggerated form of my usual Cockney accent, aiming to sound like an older, pervy Artful Dodger. Judging by his surprised snort of laughter, I succeeded.
“You’re some man, Edwin Marsh,” he said quietly as he eased out of me. “I think I’d better find some paper towels or tissues or—”
“Use the kitchen towel by the sink. Baxter doesn’t cook,” I sniggered.
“Much less get a runny nose,” he agreed affably. “I know you’re vamps, but knowing this and believing the way your bodies work are two different things.” He wiped me clean, then slapped my arse playfully. “What shall I do with this?”
I smirked. “We could hang it back up…” His eyebrows shot up.
“Joking, dude. There’s a washing machine in the scullery.
Fling it in there.” I wriggled back into my clothes and followed him out.
“Let me wash my hands, then I’ll dig out a clean towel.
” The scullery was old-fashioned like most of the house, but the hot water pressure definitely wasn’t.
Clean and refreshed, I lobbed a towel at Trace for him to do the same, then bundled everything into the machine for later and found replacements in a cupboard.
“You really know your way about.”
“Baxter’s my best friend in the world. I practically live here some months. I know everything about her and this house.” I smiled at him. “D’you want a drink?”
He tugged me closer and instead of answering me, kissed me again, slow and deep.
When I felt the renewed stirrings of my greedy dick, I reluctantly pulled away.
His eyes were bright, open, and so pretty, I had to blink and look away.
Fuck, I could fall for this man. I wasn’t sure I should even be considering the idea, not when I had a whole bunch of feelings for James I barely had a handle on.
I wrapped a hand around Trace’s long hair and gave it a considered tug.
“Maybe we should check on James.”
He took my hand. “We should. And yes, I would like a drink, but upstairs.”
In the doorway to the ballroom I squeezed his fingers. “I’d like you to call me Eddie.”