A Sprite's Tale (novella) (2 page)

The answer, well,
an
answer, came mere seconds after the thought formed in my head. Hands I visualised being long-fingered and delicate skimmed down the length of my torso, over the plane of my stomach, which tightened with reflex interest, down past my navel to the waist of my jeans (a pair of button-fly Levis my uncle had surprised me with last December 25th). Before I could react, the first button popped open. Followed by the second. And the third.

A soft breath tickled my ear, filled with mist and cool breezes and a promise beyond words. My body responded. Immediately.

Hot blood flooded into my cock. I should have been looking for the four-legged propulsion units, I should have been repacking the sleigh — shit, I
know
what havoc sprites can create, I
should
have been running for the hills — but instead I stood there, growing hornier with each second, as that earthy, mysterious scent consumed me and invisible hands slid past the waistline of my jeans to close around my rapidly growing shaft.

Oh yeah
...

The very dirty thought filtered through my mind — seconds before I felt even but still sharp teeth nip at my right earlobe. Soft pleasure-pain shot a rapid and direct path through my body — straight to my cock.

I jolted. For two reasons. One, every fibre of my being felt charged with carnal electricity at the sprite’s teasing touch, and two, I knew I was in trouble. I had to get away from her. I had a job to do. My uncle’s job to do. And the clock was ticking.

It’s actually not easy to get away from a determined sprite. I’ve had a few…shall I
call them entanglements?…with the winged creatures. When they want something, they get it.
This
sprite it seemed, wanted me.

Before I could take a step, those fingers that had been caressing my cock in gentle pulses squeezed harder. More pleasure-pain. Like an explosion of hot, wet tension in both my cock and balls. Oh, by the gods, she was good.

I bit back a groan. Either I was as easy as they came, or this sprite had a power beyond the normal control of nature. Forcing my muscles into action, I pulled away from her and ran. Up the beach. Away from the sleigh. I knew I couldn’t fight the sprite while she was invisible, but if I could provoke her enough to take corporeal form I had a chance. Besides, some sprites are pretty damn ugly. Maybe this one…

The humid air folded around me as I ran, the midnight heat sucking the sweat from my skin before it could cool me. Sand flicked up and peppered my back in a fine spray. To my right, obviously highly entertained by the show, the kookaburra laughed again. Long. Hard. Wild. What is it with Australians and their sense of humour? Even their wildlife find the oddest things funny.

Anyways, I’m sprinting up the beach, hoping to infuriate the sprite enough she’ll show herself (not sure what my plan was after that) when, with a soft rustle, a vine whips out from the rainforest’s dense undergrowth and wraps around my ankle. Just like that.

Shit
.

I pitched forward and hit the soft sand in an entirely unmanly and undignified face-first thud, with the sound of the kookaburra laughing its feathered head off ringing in my ears.

It didn’t take a mouthful of sand to discover there and then what type of sprite I was dealing with. The vine said it all. My gut clenched and my blood grew hot. Bushland sprite. The worst — and sexiest — of them all.

Had I said I was in trouble earlier?

I was flung through the air for the second time today, although this time my trajectory was governed by a paranormally controlled species of vegetation wrapped around my right ankle. The world spun around me in a crazy whirl: surf, sand, rainforest, sand, surf, sand and rainforest again. I lost my grip on my shirt, the sweat-soaked garment floating to the ground as I was yanked — with growing speed — toward the dense tree line.

Another vine lashed out and snared my left wrist. Another my right. With an ignominious jolt, my arcing flight snapped to an abrupt left and suddenly I found myself slammed up against the thick smooth trunk of a eucalypt, my wrists bound in soft but steely vines keeping my arms extended above my head, my feet just touching the moss-covered ground beneath me. A prisoner.

As I said earlier. Trouble. Capital T trouble.

Trouble that doubled as, with hands still invisible, the sprite released the last button on my fly and rolled my jeans down my thighs and over my boots, throwing them into the dark rainforest behind me.

I hung there. Exposed. Detained. And, I’m ashamed to admit, horny. Furious and indignant, but horny all the same. ‘I haven’t got time for this.’ I growled, glaring at the
empty bush before me. ‘Give me 24 hours and I’ll be back. You have my word, but I have an important job to complete before sunrise.’

A soft giggle danced on the air.

I squinted, hoping to see a shimmer of movement. Iridescent wings, bare limbs…something,
anything
to focus my indignation on.

Nothing. Just the lush, shadow-shrouded vegetation.

A feather-light touch caressed my chest, sending a zing of cool tension through my body. My nipples responded, tightening into rock-hard points of flesh that ached for attention.

And attention they received. Those invisible fingers found them. Traced them. Circled each one with languid care, flicked at each one with mischievous pressure. I moaned, enjoying the warm shards of pleasure darting through my body, down to my cock, even as anger and impatience gnawed at my gut. ‘Please,’ I ground out through teeth clenched tight. ‘You have to let me go. I have to…’

Warm lips closed around one nipple and I lost my train of thought.
I have to
…
what
?

I stared out at the pounding surf framed by dense, deep green foliage. Foliage keeping me bound to the tree. It was as if I wore an invisible blindfold — I could see everything but the creature teasing me. The creature currently laving my nipple with a tongue warm and wet and too talented to ignore.

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.

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.