A Fashionably Dead Christmas: Hot Damned Series, Book 5 (11 page)

“I love you,” I said as tremors shot through me.

“Love you more,” he said huskily as he started to move.

I held the wall for purchase and let him have me any way he wanted. His thickness and the way he drove himself into my body was perfection with no flaws.

His speed increased and I gave back as good as I was getting.

I was whole. I was complete with this man inside me.

“Oh god, Ethan,” I cried out as my entire body tingled like a live wire.

“You make me crazy,” he growled as he slammed his body into mine. “Can’t get enough.”

The intensity escalated and I held on for dear life. A sensual heat coiled low in my belly and I knew I was about to go over again.

“Come,” Ethan demanded as he fucked me like he owned me.

I did.

With no problem whatsoever.

Colors blazed across my vision and I screamed. His shout of ecstasy was music to my ears as we came together. I felt his release and clenched my body around him. I wanted to stay locked together like this forever.

The light kisses down my spine slowly brought me back to reality. I hissed with displeasure as he pulled out. His laugh of pure masculine satisfaction made me giggle-groan.

“No worries, baby. We’re going to do it again as soon as we hit the bed,” he promised.

“You can get it up again?” I teased as I held onto him.

My legs were fairly worthless at the moment. And I felt like a child as he wrapped me in a fluffy towel, scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom.

“I’m a Vampyre, my sexy little mate,” he purred with an amused glint in his eyes. “I can get it up and keep it up.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed, pressed my hands to my non-beating heart and batted my eyelashes like a good Southern gal knew how to do from birth. “I’m a lucky girl.”

“Actually,” he replied as he tossed my naked body on the bed, fell down beside me and then took me in his arms like I was delicate and breakable. “I’m the lucky one.”

“How about this?” I suggested as I cuddled as close as I could without literally crawling inside him. “We’re both lucky and we have to promise never to take it for granted, no matter what life… or… um… death throws at us.”

“I can live with that,” he said as he planted a really good one on my lips. “Till real death do us part and not even then.”

“Speaking of that… are you ready to be with my whole family again at the wedding?” I asked with a shudder.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready to endure my entire family in one room again for the rest of my long life.

“No,” he replied. “However, I will do anything for you. Always.”

“Back at ya, sexy,” I said with everything I felt for him shining out of my eyes. “Merry Christmas, Ethan.”

“Merry Christmas, Astrid.”

And then he proved that he could indeed keep it up all night.

It was awesome—the best Christmas of my life.

# # # The End… for now # # #

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KEEP READING in this ebook to read an excerpt from
FASHIONABLY HOTTER THAN HELL
, Book 6 of
The Hot Damned
Series

I’ve also included some information about other releases and plans for 2016.

Excerpt from
FASHIONABLY HOTTER THAN HELL

Prologue

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it and decapitate you," she said casually as she pulled her panties on.

"Noted," I replied as I watched her through hooded lids and pondered what it would take to get her to remove the offending scrap of material and go for another round. Was I insane? Yep. Did I have a death wish? Absolutely.

"I just said I would remove your head and that's all you have to say?" she demanded.

"Depends on which head you're talking about."

"Oh my God. I cannot believe you just said that," she yelled and hurled a lamp at my head.

Ducking the light fixture, I rolled off the bed and donned my jeans. I winked as I caught her ogling my backside. "I heard you and I raise you one. I will deflower, deny, and decapitate. Damn." I shook my head sadly while grinning from ear to ear. "Already deflowered...two hundred years ago."

"You're an ass," she hissed as she yanked on the rest of her clothes, covering a body that was made for sin. However, the mouth left much to be desired. Well, not when it was wrapped around my...

"This was a mistake that will not be repeated," she informed me haughtily as she twisted her red curls into some kind of sexy looking bird’s nest on the top of her head. "Never going to happen again."

Who was she trying to convince? Herself? Me? We'd been playing this game for quite a while. I was tempted to make a wager with her since she had a hard time passing up a bet or a dare, but that could backfire on me in a large way.

"Heard that one before, Red." I slid my shirt over my head and quickly sidestepped a left hook from the insane woman I'd just given eight consecutive orgasms to.

"My name is not
Red
. If you value your jewels you will remember that," she snapped as she strapped a dagger to the sexiest thigh I'd ever seen.

Why were the hot ones certifiable? I slid my katana into its sheath and waited patiently for the next insult. Was I a glutton for punishment? You bet, but it was worth every damned second.

"You know," she purred, "you're not really that good."

"Interesting," I commented as I slipped a knife into my boot. "That's not what you screamed ten minutes ago."

The look on her face was priceless. The next words from her mouth...not so much.

"I faked it."

Rolling my eyes, I wondered for a sickening moment if that was true and immediately decided it was bullshit. I was over two hundred years old. I knew when a woman faked it. Didn't I?

I shrugged and chuckled. "Well, that's too bad because I enjoyed the Hell out of it. Especially when you screamed my name and your body clamped itself around my..."

"Enough," she shouted as she practically sprinted to the door. "You're an arrogant son of a bitch and I can't stand the sight of you. You will never touch me again. I will no longer slum it with lowlife asscranks like you and your big mouth and your big ego and your big..."

"Dick?" I asked politely.

"In your dreams," she informed me over her shoulder as she hightailed it out of my suite like the Devil was on her heels.

I flopped back down on my bed and smiled. Now I
knew
she was lying...

Score one for me.

Chapter 1

Later that afternoon...

All Hell had broken loose. I hadn't had so much fun in ages. Literally.

"Bet you can't nail my head," I challenged with a smirk. Riling her up was my favorite pastime.

"Bet this, jackass," she shouted as she hurled something colorful and large.

The object flew through the air like a speeding bullet. I couldn't even make out what it was.

"Shrew," I shot back with a laugh as I ducked. The crash was loud. I winced as I realized she'd just annihilated an ancient Ming vase.

"Moor dweller," she hissed as she flung another irreplaceable artifact at my head.

"Very clever," I replied as I dodged the incoming projectile.

"I thought so...
Heathcliff
," she purred.

Her smile was infuriating and lamentably hot. The room was decimated. There was very little else to break except for her...

It would be far easier to be in a room with the abomination if I didn't want to kill her or bed her. I was torn between which one would give me more satisfaction...tearing her arm off or losing myself inside of her body. Unfortunately neither was a viable option at the present time. Her fiery red curls had fallen out of the mess on her head and fell loosely down her back. Her creamy skin tempted me to distraction. She was every man's fantasy and my personal nightmare. Even the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which she usually disguised with glamour were making my pants tight and uncomfortable at the moment.

Working as a team had been a tremendously bad idea, evidenced by the rubble that used to be Prince Ethan's study--my dearest friend and brother to the nightmare that was staring daggers at me from five feet away. Thankfully Ethan's son, young Samuel, our one and only student, had not been present for the latest showdown between his teacher,
her
and his fight coach,
me.

I'd simply leave the room. That was far more mature than throwing her over my knee and spanking her. Or, God forbid, stripping her down and fucking her into submission on the couch we had destroyed in our melee. Leaving would ensure that she lived another day in her long immortal life and that I wouldn't be brought up on charges for killing a Princess—no matter how much she deserved it.

I stiffly turned to go and was shoved right back into the room by my cousin Astrid, the mother of the child we were supposed to be teaching.

"What in Satan's slightly misguided obsession with Journey happened to this office?" Astrid demanded as she stormed into the room and plopped down on what used to be a priceless antique settee. "Motherfucker, this chair just stabbed me in the ass."

"Ask Wuthering Heights," the flame haired viper snapped as she pointed at me with her middle finger—definitely not an accident on her part.

I glanced up at the ceiling hoping against hope it would give me the strength not to rip an appendage from her body. I'd had enough of the
Wuthering Heights
slams. Yes, I was named after a literary character. And yes, my sister was named Cathy. However, my mother had been friends with Emily Brontë...hence the names. I'd come to terms with it hundreds of years ago...or so I'd thought.

"So Cousin Heathcliff..." Astrid said as she grinned at me. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Not particularly," I told her. "Why don't you ask the
lady
?"

My nightmare blushed in fury. Her delicate hands fisted at her sides and her eyes blazed green, which delighted me to no end and made the erection in my pants even more painful. Vampyres didn't blush, but this one did—an anomaly that fascinated me.

"Raquel?" Astrid questioned as her head bobbed back and forth between us like a spectator at a tennis match.

"He has anger issues," Raquel spat.

"Pot, kettle, black," I muttered.

"Plus he keeps daring me," she said as if it were all my fault.

"Well, I can certainly understand that," Astrid said. She gave me the stink eye while acting as if the bullshit Raquel just spouted made sense. "However, do you think you guys could take this outside instead of destroying my house?"

"Ask him," Raquel said without looking at me.

"You're buying this crap from her?" I demanded of my cousin.

Astrid shrugged and grinned.

Raquel completely ignored me and went on. "Anyway, he's a chauvinistic pig who clearly comes from a line of pigs. I can't be expected to work with him."

Astrid was enjoying herself far too much. She found a clutter free spot on the floor and got comfortable. My cousin, too many times removed to remember the number, loved drama—especially drama that she didn't create.