A Sprite's Tale (novella) Read online

  A moan rumbled in my chest and slipped past my lips. Not very manly, I know, but I couldn’t stop it. One mouth on one nipple and I was turning into a sexual prisoner. If it wasn’t for the bloody sleigh, nine missing reindeer and a shitload of presents, I’d be a willing sexual —

  The sprite slid her lips to my other nipple, nipped it between even teeth and thought went out the window again.

  Window? Well, out the gap between thick, vine-covered eucalypts.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I moaned, my skin now completely slicked with sweat, my cock a hard throbbing shaft of unashamed interest. ‘I give in. But you’ve gotta help me round up the reindeer at least. Just give me that.’

  She giggled again…a naughty, delighted sound that sent a fresh surge of hot blood to my groin. My cock twitched and, with a sudden burst of carnal energy, stood ramrod straight, pointing straight up at the rainforest canopy — as if it were an indecent reminder of the sky above the leaves I should be soaring through.

  Fingers feathered the bulbous head (which if I’d dared to look, was probably purple with engorged hunger by now), smearing the bead of pre-cum there across my burning, taut skin.

  A very traitorous, very enticing thought flittered through my head: Surely Christmas can be late this year?

  I knew the answer. It couldn’t. But I couldn’t convince my body of that. Not when unseen hands and lips moved over it so thoroughly — and I mean thoroughly. One hand continued to tease my left nipple, the other had found my sac, cupping my swollen balls in a gentle but still forceful grip, massaging them with confident fingers.

  The lips stayed on task — first nibbling my right nipple, then scoring a wet path down over my stomach. I’ve got a good stomach, hard and well muscled. I love my uncle to bits, but I wasn’t going the way of the family gene pool when it came to physical formation. No massive girth here that wobbles when I laugh. What my stomach was doing at that very moment was rising and falling in hitching motion as lips that felt like cool velvet worked their way to my navel.

  A tongue flicked out and explored the shallow dip, and I clenched my fists. Damn. It felt good.

  Something very soft tickled my face, like the brush of gossamer, and without seeing them I knew I’d been struck by wings. My already thumping heartbeat quickened. If the sprite’s mouth was at my navel and her wings were near my face, then that could only mean…

  The action beat the prediction.

  Without preamble, my cock was enveloped by a hot, sucking mouth and the very traitorous thought — to hell with Christmas — screamed through my head.

  Chrissie

  Now I know this isn’t the diversion-slash-distraction Old Man Claus had in mind. I’m pretty certain when he called me up for this mission he didn’t envision me hovering — invisible — barely inches from the ground with my lips wrapped around his nephew’s cock. His nephew’s very impressive cock, I have to say.

  But here’s the thing. Being a bushland sprite is all well and good and wonderful if you love nothing but lantana, wattle, wombats, possums and kangaroos for company, but I’ve always longed for…well, I guess you’d call it ‘people’ company. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I am but there’s only so much you can discuss with a eucalypt, and yearning for a deep soul-to-soul connection doesn’t translate to a tree.

  True, I hadn’t had a soul-to-soul with Nick Saint Nicholas yet, but I was definitely communicating with ‘wood’ in a way I’d never wanted to with a tree. Who knew where it would lead us?

  His cock felt wonderful in my mouth. Long, thick and solid. Warm like a freshly unearthed tree root. I slid my tongue around its base, marvelling at its girth even as I felt the distended head of his cock nudge the back of my throat. By the Elf Lord, he was well equipped.

  I felt a soft jolt rock through his body and sent out a whispered command to the lantana vines holding his wrists to lash tighter. I didn’t want him getting away, not when I was enjoying the job given to me so much.

  I ‘felt’ the vines slither like snakes on his wrists, the action followed immediately by a swift intake of breath. I smiled around Nick’s throbbing shaft and gave it a soft suck. Despite his protests, he was enjoying himself.

  His cock twitched and lengthened in my mouth. Enjoying himself immensely.

  I shifted positions a little, wanting to take him deeper. My pussy clenched with hunger, growing wetter each second from not only the very responsive cock in my mouth, but the moans, grunts and soft whimpers of pleasure slipping from Nick’s mouth. I smoothed my hands up his tensed legs, enjoying the feel of his bunched calf muscles, his coiled thighs. I brushed the knuckles of my fingers against the heavy curve of his balls and he bucked, biting off a raw curse.

  If his uncle heard him say such things he’d be struck from the ‘good’ list immediately. I chuckled softly at the thought, sending pulsing vibrations through Nick’s shaft and he moaned, shoving his hips forward. I took the invitation and cupped his sac in one hand.

  The contact had the desired effect. He shoved his hips forward again, with more force and urgency. His muscles tensed, radiating a heat born from pleasure. I twirled my tongue over his cock, let my molars graze its turgid length and gently kneaded and tugged on his balls.

  He groaned, a deep low rumble starting in the pit of his flat stomach. The sound — the very definition of rapture — made my sex squeeze and flood with wet need. I couldn’t release him of his bounds and I didn’t want to, but my pussy demanded attention. My swollen clit ached with hot blood. I wanted to feel Nick’s mouth there, sucking on the soft lips of my sodden sex. I wanted to feel his tongue plunge between those lips. I wanted to feel his teeth nip the throbbing nub of flesh my clit had become.

  Wanted it so much.

  My wings beat a rapid tattoo and, still invisible, I inverted, aligning my sex with Nick’s panting mouth.

  ‘Gods, I can smell you.’ Nick’s exclamation fanned the dampness of my sex. Sprites do not wear clothes — mainly because we spend so much of our existence unseen. And really (or at least in my case — I can’t speak for some of those big-city European sprites) when you don’t own a washing machine, or a house for that matter, who wants to spend hours whacking cotton underwear on rocks by the side of the closest stream?

  ‘You smell so fucking good.’ Nick moaned, his body quivering against the tree. ‘Like musk and rain and sugar plums.’

  The description stabbed into my core, flooding my body with damp lust. I sucked harder on his cock, my wings flapping like crazy, my hair brushing over his booted feet. I squeezed his balls again, their heavy weight in my palm a tactile aphrodisiac. The salty sweetness of pre-cum slicked over my tongue and I moaned, letting my thighs part slightly.

  The cool rainforest air and Nick’s rapid breath caressed my pussy. ‘Let me taste you.’ he ground out. ‘I want to taste you.’

  A thrill — no, more than that, a rapture — rolled through me. Straightening my legs, spreading them a little more, I flew higher up his body. My sodden sex brushed his chin, I heard him groan again, and then his mouth covered my pussy lips and he drove his tongue into my sex.

  A wave of exquisite energy surged through me. By the Elf Lord, I swear I’d never felt anything like it. Nick’s mouth felt like cold, fresh snow and hot, summer storm rain. The second his lips claimed my wanton sex I felt transported — thrust into a pleasure-clouded realm of sensory overload.

  I’ve… ‘enjoyed’ myself with more than one human, male and female, and really enjoyed myself with more than one sprite. Let me tell you, paranormal creatures know how to rock your casbah, but Nick Saint Nicholas’s touch was unlike any I’d experienced. There was something magical about it.

  His tongue parted my pussy-lips and delved into the wetness beyond, plunging deep and forcefully before slipping free to flick at my clit. Each little stab of his tongue made my sex clench and my wings flutter. I was inverted, remember, which meant my wings wanted to propel me headfirst into the moss-covered soil at Nick’s feet. I didn’t want
that. There was no way I wanted his mouth to leave my sex, and I’m pretty certain — based on the eager way Nick’s tongue explored my pussy — he didn’t want it to either.

  I curled my fingers around his ankles, gripping him hard in an effort to stay exactly where I was. My thighs parted farther, opening my drenched sex more to his mouth. I heard him groan as he lapped at my juices, a sound low, raw and hungry. I knew how he felt. His cock filled my mouth with such perfection. I took it as deep as I could, wanting to feel its entire length and girth with my tongue. Pre-cum oozed from its tip, salty and sweet at once, and for some reason images of snow crystals flittered through my pleasure-fuzzy mind. I moaned and plunged my mouth farther down his shaft, tracing the engorged veins ribboning its length with my tongue until I came to his balls.

  Another groan rumbled in Nick’s chest. I felt it in my belly and sex. The vibrations rippled through me, set every fibre of my being on fire. Wet pulses of tension claimed my pussy, radiating deep into my core — a wanton centre Nick’s tongue seemed determined to plunder.

  By the Elf Lord, I’d never had my sex fucked so thoroughly with just a mouth. The realisation made me quiver and my wings beat like mad. If this feeling of absolute rapture was the result of just his mouth, how would the massive organ in my mouth make me feel?

  I had to know. Now.

  I made to move to disengage from the inverted sixty-niner, but Nick’s teeth stopped me. They nipped my clit. Pain exploded in my sex. Sweet, glorious, exquisite pain. Ribbons of pain that made me cry out and flooded my sex with cream. Oh, yes.

  There is a very fine line between pleasure and pain but it is rarely crossed with such delicious intent. Nick’s teeth claimed my clit with the absolute correct amount of pressure and purpose. My body reacted — explosively. A gush of hot tension surged through my core and I arched backward, my spine bowing into a severe U that thrust my hips and sex harder to Nick’s face.

  The brutal — and utterly unexpected — orgasm consumed me. I screamed, the sound ripping through the rainforest, silencing all but one lone kookaburra. My wings had never beat so hard, my sex had never constricted so forcefully. Pure currents of unadulterated pleasure possessed me and my body didn’t know what to do.

  So it did this…it shimmered into visibility.

  At the exact moment, my fevered, sensation-overloaded mind stopped communicating with the lantana and released Nick’s wrists and ankles.

  Nick Saint Nicholas

  The vines holding me prisoner whipped away, retracting back into the dense undergrowth of the surrounding bush. I was free. But I didn’t care, because hovering before me — her wonderfully sweet sex still pressed to my mouth, iridescent wings a blur of color — was my captor. My bushland sprite.

  My bushland sprite?

  The possessive pronoun barely registered in my brain. I was totally and utterly fixated on the creature before me, the female who’d made my body feel like it was a thrumming charge of raw electricity.

  Luminous copper-red hair tumbled about her head, spilled down her bowed back, almost a living entity in itself. Her pale flesh seemed to glow, highlighting the perfect structure of her lithe body, a body still at right angles to mine.

  I grabbed her hips with my now free hands, holding her. Imprisoning her. I was free of her vines, but I wasn’t free of her. Not at all. I should have pushed her away and returned to the beach, but I didn’t.

  I did not want to round-up reindeer and deliver presents. Not even close.

  I wanted to see her face, her eyes, as I plunged my cock into her sex.

  I wanted to make her scream that melodic, musical scream of release again as I fucked her like I’d never fucked a being in my life.

  Wanted to and was going to.

  With a savage action, I flipped her over. It was a risky move. Her wings were still beating. She could shoot away from me the moment my hands lost contact with her warm, smooth flesh, but something told me she wouldn’t.

  And she didn’t. Instead, bare feet mere inches from the ground, wings a rainbow blur, hair a fire-red halo about her delicate heart-shaped face, she stared at me with eyes the color of new holly leaves…and captured my mouth with hers.

  I tasted myself on her lips and tongue. I knew she tasted her own pleasure on mine. The small whimper in the back of her throat when her tongue met mine told me so. As did the way she pressed her sublimely naked body to mine, her small but exquisite breasts crushing against my sweat-slicked chest, her smooth mon grinding against my throbbing, pulsing, aching cock.

  Her arms slid around my neck and she buried her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer into her ravenous kiss. Our teeth clicked, our tongues mated and fresh hot blood surged into my already rigid shaft.

  I lifted my hands — my free hands — from her hips. Cupped one over her left breast and squeezed her perfectly formed ass with the other. Her nipples puckered and I pinched the left one between my knuckles, reveling in its rock-hard response. The desire to close my lips and teeth around that nub of eager flesh almost stopped my heart and I groaned into her mouth.

  As if she knew what I so hungered for, she broke the kiss, staring deeply into my eyes. ‘Please,’ she murmured. Her fingers knotted in my hair and she tugged my head to her chest, arching her back so her breasts thrust up to meet my mouth.

  I took her nipple between my lips, drew it deeply past my teeth. Laved it with my tongue. She arched against me, her wings beating against my hand on her ass like gossamer whips. The sensation was wild. Erotic. I suckled harder on her nipple and mauled her butt, kneading the toned muscles until my fingers brushed the tight hole between each cheek. She whimpered again and writhed in my hold. ‘By the Elf Lord.’

  Her cry sent my pulse flying. Sprites never utter their deity’s name. She’d committed something akin to blasphemy and it was because of my touch. Her nails scored lines of fire down my neck and across my shoulders, her moans growing louder with every pull, suck and bite I gave her nipple. She ground her hips harder to mine, her mons punishing my turgid cock. The torture — for that was what it was, torture for making her wait — made my body thrum with need. My balls felt ready to burst, swollen and heavy with want. I shifted slightly, using the tree trunk behind me as a vertical support, until the distended head of my cock nudged between her thighs.

  Her soft, sodden pussy-lips slid along its length, a creamy kiss that turned my blood to molten desire. I moved again, rolling my hips, dragging the length of my cock over her velvet-soft sex. Her heat branded my flesh and I closed my teeth down on her nipple, fighting for control, knowing if I didn’t bury myself in the damp tightness of her pussy soon I would come on her inner thighs. Gods, I’d never — never — felt so aroused. Was she bewitching me? I didn’t think it possible.

  There are many paranormal creatures in this world, but my uncle and his bloodline are the rarest — we cannot be psychologically affected by the magic of others. A safety precaution to make sure no malevolent being chose to disrupt Christmas by turning the Claus family to catatonic vegetables or something. But how could she be making me so…so…so fucking hers in such a short space of time?

  I would be yours forever…

  The soft voice floated through my mind, a whisper as incredulous as it was adamant. Gods, I didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

  A swift gasp burst from her lips and suddenly her sublime body tensed. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up, staring into my eyes with a feverish intensity. ‘I heard you. In my head.’ We stared at each other for a long moment, her sex and thighs pressed to my straining cock, her hands in my hair, my hands on her body. ‘I heard you,’ she repeated in a whisper. In my head.

  My heart hammered. My blood roared in my ears. I heard her too. In my head. But what did it mean?

  Behind us, faint and distant, a soft jingle of bells sounded. I should have turned to see what it was. Bells? On a deserted beach? But I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the incredible creature so intimately connected to me. Her
green eyes glowed with passion and wonderment. Her breasts rose and fell with shallow pants, causing her pinched nipples to brush against mine.

  I inhaled, smelt her pleasure on the heavy rainforest air — musky, fresh, clean and sweet at once — and didn’t care anymore. Staring into her face, I slid my hands to her ass, took a step away from the tree, pulled her thighs up over my hips and thrust my cock into the creamy channel of her sex.

  Filled her. Took her. Claimed her.

  It was Christmas Eve. And she was mine.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She cried out, throwing her head back. She bucked into my thrusts. Meeting each one with a force that made me reel. My cock slid in and out of her sex, the wet sounds of penetration echoing through the dense vegetation. My balls smacked her ass, each painful impact like the rapture of heaven. I wanted it all. I dug my fingers into the back of her thighs, tugging her into my ramming cock, punching deeper and deeper into her sex. I felt the muscles of her pussy grip my length and squeeze it in intoxicating pulses. I moaned, the tingle in my spine, my gut, my balls telling me I was close, so close, to erupting.

  I was going to pump my load into her sex and I still didn’t know —

  ‘Who I am?’ The words fell from her parted lips and she dug her nails into my shoulders. ‘Chrissie.’

  Her name caressed my ears. Chrissie…

  My balls rose up, my gut clenched. I thrust into her. Again. Again. Again. Behind me, the bells jingled. A reindeer snuffled.

  I stared into Chrissie’s eyes, felt her sex squeeze my cock. ‘Oh, Nick. I’ve never…’ She came, hot cream gushing from her sex, slicking my balls, our thighs. Her sex clamped down on my shaft, the muscles of her core sucking its length. Taking me completely to the edge of sexual oblivion. ‘Oh, Nick, oh, Nick, oh, Nick.’