It's snowing hard outside, but you pay no mind. You're too busy courting a young boy over the phone. Ah, such fascinating devises! They've made your work so much easier.
A loud crash from the living room makes you jump, and then growl. That damn phantom is back. And on Christmas Eve, no less! What a pain...
Stepping into the living room, you find the ghost rubbing his head through his beanie and looking around. He smirks when he sees you, making no effort to hide his wondering eyes.
Because of the holiday, and your kill coming up, you'd dressed like one of Santa's sexy helpers. The boy you've been coercing is seventeen. With high stockings clipped to red panties, white lace around each hem, and a red corset pushing you breasts up, of course you look like a hooker, but hot nonetheless.
And Jon doesn't waste time noticing. "Expecting company, little vampire?" He coos, walking over.
You snarl at him, wishing you could sink your fangs into his skin. Which he doesn't actually have, unfortunately. "I was going to find some, but you crashed my party."
He leans on a forearm, bending to your level with that devilishly hot smirk of his. Damn it, why does he have to suck the life from his victims as your parallel! "The pig can wait, can't they? I only wanted to spend the night with someone friendly."
You cross your arms just under your breasts, pushing them up more. "I'm friendly company? Jonathon, you've lost your touch."
You turn and head for your room, only to be stopped by his arms fastened around your waist and his body pressed to yours. Your surprised momentarily that he's not cold, as a ghost would be, before remembering that you yourself are as chilled as a freezer.
"Come on, aren't you Santa's little helper?" His voice is honey in your ears, but you keep yourself together. One of his hands slides across your leather-covered navel and hip before disappearing. In another moment, he spins you and slams you into the wall on your back, looking at you with glowing golden eyes. On his head is an old Santa hat, mistletoe clenched between his teeth. His intensity and hunger makes you heat up, though you don't let it show. "Help this Santa out, why don't ya?"
"You cocky bastard." You growl, taking the plant from his mouth and putting it between your boosted bosom.
His smirk widens before kissing you, pressing you flush against the wall. His lips hold a burning fervour, an endless hunger for your feast. Against all your reservations, fighting for the scraps of dignity you have left, you hate yourself for pulling him into you. His body is already pressed tightly to yours, yet you still pull, wanting to be so close there's little telling where he ends and you begin.
He bites your glossed lip and slips his tongue inside, playing with your fangs as they lengthen in anticipation. Your blood only gets this hot when you're about to feed, and your body is reacting to his touch in ways you'd forgotten for centuries.
His hand guides your leg around his waist, letting him press his hips deeper to yours. You can already feel him through his pants, making you groan and grind into him.
Air compresses and you're on your back in your bed, taking his coat off and kissing him until your lips are bruised. His mouth has your head spinning, his touching making you shiver, your core already hot with need.
He peels off his shirt and presses down onto you, your breasts flush against his chest as his stomach warms yours. He grinds, slow and hard, into your dripping core. You groan and bite his tongue, his golden blood filling your mouth and- oh god, he's delicious!
His hands are untying your corset from the back, ripping it and exposing white, flawless skin to the chilled night air. The cold doesn't bother you, though, because as soon as that's gone his hands are heating you up again. Moving over your skin, he maps out every inch of your chest, squeezing your perked mounds and flicking your buds in a mesmerizing pattern.
You legs wrap around his waist, keeping the pressure between your wet flower and his hard stem tight.
He moves from your mouth down your neck, nipping a spot that makes you buck into him and groan. He grins that infuriating smirk against your spot and bites hard, drawing blood and taking his time to lick it away.
Your hands set to work on his pants, your core starting to ache from being empty. You hate yourself for wanting him so badly, for letting lust drive you to begging him to fuck you senseless. And you hate both of your immortality, forbidding you to sleep or need rest.
He gets your message when his belt is off and his zipper is undone, kicking them off so his tented boxers are grinding against your clit. You groan deep in your throat, swearing your heart has started beating again and is breaking your chest with desire.
"Damn you, Jonathon, fuck me already!" You whine as he digs into you again, his teeth sinking deeper into your frozen flesh.
He grunts and strokes your core, your juices lubricating his finger through the cloth. It makes him chuckle, sending shivers and a whimper through your body.
He pushes your panties aside and shoves three fingers up your drowning pussy, his thumb pressing into your clit as he fingers you hard. His reach brushes your g-spot, making you buck into his hand and moan. He groans, hitting it again.
Needing something to do, you reach into his boxers and grip the base of his dick and pump, his own grunts adding to your pants makes your vision black out. You clench around his hand when he twitches into yours, pre-cum dripping onto your wrist.
When he pulls away from your core, he rips your underwear off and licks his hand. You whimper, left empty and aching, until he pulls your hand away and rams his dick into you. Your brain explodes with sensations, your thoughts scattering into a fog as he grinds deeper into your cunt. Your legs clench around his waist, moaning when he rubs against your g-spot. The bubble pops in your core at the single brush, making your body tense and shiver as you cum hard onto his length.
His mouth clamps onto your shoulder in an effort to hide the moan coming from his delicious lips when he feels your juice spread onto him. He rams into you hard, making the bed rock over and over until it's slamming into the wall and his teeth are deep in your skin and your hands are clinging to his hair and hanging on for dear life. You curse him and beg him to never stop and praise him until you can barely manage his name because the knot is back and he can barely move inside you and your brain is somewhere between heaven and hell.
He groans when you tighten more, cursing into your shoulder until he trusts deep and hits your spot. Your high becomes pure bliss as you shriek his name, his teeth still deep in your skin, and you're letting go with his dick deep inside you. It sets him off, letting him push deeper and cuming hard until his gutteral moans die to whimpers and pants and he can let go of your shoulder, licking it clean to ride out his high.
You're panting when he pushes himself onto his forearms, his head resting next to yours. "Damn phantom." You rasp. "You weren't supposed to be my party."
His chuckle turns to a laugh, a light kiss planted on your jaw. "Merry Christmas, little vampire." He retorts with a hard grind.
You whimper, clenching your legs again. "I think we can ride this high all the way through New Years." You challenge.
He bites your neck gently and grinds again. "I like that idea. But food first. I'm running near empty right now."
You groan, pushing him up, out and off of the bed. He wraps you in his strings and pulls you with him, landing on top. You don't move, liking his strings wrapped around your thighs and his arms around your waist. Even if he is a dumb ghost, it's kinda nice.
