Joy to the World playing softly in the background, Christmas was definitely in the air in this small corner of sunny Florida. A large, finely adorned Christmas tree blinked its lights from the corner of the Italian café despite the soft morning light of Boxing Day. Traditional holiday and Italian flavors mixed and floated from the kitchen and caused mouths to water and tummies to grumble as so many indulged in the breakfast menu described as a guilty pleasure that went straight to the hips.
Nick Jonas Claus bit into the last of the cookie and a groan vibrated through his chest as he barely controlled the urge that compelled his fangs to drop. Moist and rich, the chocolate chip goodness melted on his tongue and excited his palate as he swallowed. His sweet tooth was the only male one that rivaled a female's according to his mother.
His sound of pleasure drew many appreciative female glances including that of the baker who shared the small round table with him. She slid the to-go bag closer to him and he captured her tiny hand. Feathering a kiss over her knuckle, he said, "Run away with me."
Laying on the charm, he flashed straight, white teeth and allowed the twinkle in his eyes to show. The female blushed a rosy color at the attention, a look of delighted amusement on her near seventy year old face. She giggled like a school girl. "Oh dear, I don't think Mr. Rossi would appreciate that," she replied and indicated her husband who stood a few feet away, watching the show with the lazy indulgence of a man secure in his marriage.
Used to Nick's flirtation, he agreed, "Certainly not, Rosa. I am not too old to wipe the floor with you, young one."
A regular to the family owned café for more than a year, Nick enjoyed the easy camaraderie he had with these two. He especially enjoyed watching the love between them. The way even after almost half a century of marriage, their hearts still beat a little faster at the sight of each other.
He sighed sadly at Alessandro's reply and conceded gracefully, "Ah, well, I know when I've been beat." He leaned closer to Rosa and whispered conspiringly, "But if you ever decide to run off into the sunset with me, all you have to do is call, my dear."
The old woman patted his hand affectionately before letting go. "You need to find a nice young woman to settle down with, sì. Not flirt with an old lady like me." Even after more than three decades of living in the United Sates, her Italian accent was as heavy as ever despite her great grasp of English. Knotted up into her bun, her salt n' pepper hair gave her a wise air.
He almost laughed at her comparing their ages. What would she say if she knew he was more than seven hundred years old? "But no woman can compare to you, my sweet Rosa. You have ruined me for all others."
"That's your stomach talking, young man," she huffed laughingly.
He grabbed his chest. "Oh, you wound me. Do not make light of my feelings."
She laughed and went to her husband who placed a kiss on her cheek, his hand discreetly caressing her back. Together they walked back to the counter sharing a whispered joke. Nick's sensitive ears picked up the dirty undertone of it and he bit his lip against the bark of laughter eager to escape.
Nick loved woman.
It was fact that he was neither ashamed nor hesitant to admit. He loved everything about them no matter the age, shape or size. He loved the way tenderness lit the eyes of a grandmother at her grandkids shenanigans, or a little girl's pleasure at a simple gesture. He especially loved the way fire blazed through a woman's eyes as she orgasmed around his cock. He even liked their weird moods and temper. Not that a woman in a fit of pique was not a terrifying thing but it made life interesting. It kept him on his toes and there was nothing he loved more than a challenge.
When he becomes romantically involved with a woman, he committed to making her feel special. He liked to learn what stimulated her mind, what heated her body, her dreams, her hopes. The complication that most males found frustrating, he looked forward to exploring, trying to solve the puzzle of the female heart and mind. He had no luck so far but he figured he had plenty of time to figure it out.
Picking up his spiced coffee, he looked up to catch the amused half smile of the woman two tables opposite him. With a brazen sensuality her green gaze held his, her pink lips closing over the edge of her steaming cup. Her heart pumped just a little faster before resuming its leisurely pattern. The rich scent of the red ambrosia that raced through her veins reached him, laced with a subtle hint of her natural aroma, a surprising light scent of fresh cherries.
He knew he did not appear to but his eyes slithered over her body, from the top of her flaming red head to the tips of her black metallic biker boots. Sun light bounced off her lightly perspiring skin mimicking tiny sparkling diamonds and her cheeks shined with health. Her eyes were a mixture of light flames of brown, silver and gold, all wrapped in a ribbon of green. She seemed out of place in this tiny café, its quaint, peaceful setting a direct contrast to the aura of steamy sex in the rain this woman gave off.
The waitress brought her check. She gave him a bold once over before dropping her gaze with a dismissive gesture that widened him smile.
He knew what she saw. He was dressed in a red Santa's suit which was wrinkled from hours of delivering presents. The jacket was unbuttoned to reveal the black tank top beneath and there was a tear in the right pant leg courtesy of a feisty Shih Tzu. His hair was a windblown mess and stubble darkened his jawline. He looked like a down on his luck Santa imitation who worked late at the local mall.
Only, he was the real deal.
He took up the responsibility fifty years ago when his father, the original man in red, retired. Just hours before he left Rudolf throwing a fit of the lack of his favorite sweet baby carrots while his mother, Marine Claus, tried to placate the spoiled beast.
That was not the kicker in his bag of secrets though.
He was a vampire.
And he hadn't had a proper feeding in a week.
Though his taste buds still tingled with the sweet treat they received, they swelled at the woman's scent. Aware of his gaze, the musky tang of her pussy mixed with the metallic smell of her blood. His fangs length just that little bit and pricked his tongue, releasing a drop of the liquid he craved. All his senses buzzed and his cock pushed at the thankfully large pants.
A low growl rumbled through his throat and the slight disruption in her heartbeat made him wonder if she heard the sound. She controlled herself quickly though. The discipline she exerted over her body made him want to rattle her, made him want to push her until she lost control.
His smile turned predatory. Santa just found his treat for being such a good boy this year. Not kicking Jack Frost in the face after the mischievous imp dropped a foot of snow on him deserved a reward, didn't it?
The focus of his attention paid her bill, gathered her belongings and stood. Embroidered with the bent over figure of a woman wearing only a Santa's hat and the words I've Been A Naughty Girl, Fuck me Santa, the thin white tank top she wore hugged her figure to perfection. The full cups of her lace-covered breasts pushed at the material and showed a hint of erect nipple. The top ended just above her belly button, showing off a simple belly button ring.
She walked by his table and he closed his eyes as her scent intensified. Precum leaked from the head of his cock as a fine shudder graced his spine and pulled on the hair at the back of his neck.
His eyes opened quickly though and he followed her progress out of the building. Her distressed jeans showcased her knees and teasing portions of her thighs. She was not very tall, only reaching his collar in her boots he guessed but those jeans molded her legs in a way that made them look a mile long. He was visually stimulated just like the next guy and damn, was he ever stimulated by the way the jeans hugged her ass so adoringly. Her crimson ponytail swung with each step, brushing her lower back, briefly revealing a small black and red spider tattoo where her shoulder met her neck. Light refracted off the strands and gave the illusion of a live flame.
He wanted her.
Desire was like slow boiling syrup in his veins and thick on his tongue. He did not just yearn for her blood, he wanted to sink his body as far into her heat as he could go and not come out for days, weeks. The intensity of his body's demand was surprising but not unwelcomed even though he knew there was more to this woman than met the eye.
Grabbing his bag of goodies, he rose from his table with a purposeful movement. Sending a wave Rosa's way, he followed her out onto the sidewalk. She stopped at a powerful motorcycle parked at the curb. Recognizing the expensive brand, he was not surprised by her choice of vehicle. Black and red, the bike resembled its owner, slick and muscled yet undeniably female. Grabbing her helmet, she turned to him and, looking him up and down, asked, "Is there something I can help you with?"
Husky, like she had the beginnings for a cold, her voice was just like the rest of her; sex personified. His cock twitched with every decibel.
"Come home with me," he said.
Heels clicking, hips swinging, she closed the distance between them until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. It was all he could not to groan. Brushing imaginary lint from just above his heart, she licked her lips. His gaze followed the motion like a man possessed. Boldly she met his stare, her voice lowering to a pitch only lovers shared. "And why would I do something like that?"
He leaned over and pressed his nose against her pulse before meeting her gaze. "Because you want to. Because you're curious why your heart flutters at the sound of my voice. Why your pussy is wet and ready for a cock you've never seen. Because you need to fuck just as badly as I do."
Her pupils dilated and she stilled before her eyelids lowered to hide her thoughts. It couldn't hide the reaction of her body though. Her skin flushed pink and her hips squirmed in a barely visible movement before she lifted her eyes back to his.
"Follow me," she said and moved away with graceful efficiency with a swish of red hair. Her body straddled the powerful machine and unbridled the image of her riding his body instead came up.
Helmet on, she roared down the street, not waiting to see if he did as she instructed. Rubber burning in his wake, he was on her tail in seconds.
