Page 37 of The HalloQueen

I pulled him into my mouth, relaxing my jaw, and ran my nails up the back of his legs, pressing him into me. It matched his body exquisitely, long and strong without being overly intimidating or ostentatious. Thomas was beautiful.

“Shit, Annabel…mon coeur…” He began losing control of his movements, thrusting irregularly into my mouth, clearly fighting the desire to throw his head back while also not wanting to miss a moment of my lips being sealed over his length. I looked up at him through my lashes and he lost it. A low, deep groan was the last warning I got before ropes of cum shot down my throat that I was swallowing on reflex.

He shuddered, holding my head in place through his climax, and then his grip let up and he smoothed my hair again, leaning down to kiss my forehead while removing his softening length.

“Bels…”

I fell back onto my bed with him taking deep, desperate breaths while trying to slow my heart, and stared at the black ceiling fan spinning slowly above us. The quiet of my home returned and only amplified the fact that we had been so loud.

“Holy shit,” I laughed in disbelief.

He tilted his head, his chin-length hair flipping over his scalp, “I… wow.” Thomas shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it either.

“That was intense.”

“Oui.”

“Is vampire sex always that intense?”

“Non.”

I pushed up on my elbows, “hey, if you’re dead why does your cum taste normal?”

He stared at me for a moment and narrowed his brows, laughter erupting from him, “we just had the most mind-blowing sex of my existence and you’re asking about my ejaculate?”

“Ew, not if you’re going to use words like ejaculate,” I giggled and reached for the soft throw blanket at the bottom of my bed to pull over my body, trying to soothe the goosebumps that were creeping over my skin in a confusing mixture of blazing heat and freezing cold. I laid back down onto my far-too-expensive pillows, delighting in the sound of the feathers compressing under me and smiled when Thomas’ face filled the pillow next to mine. “I haven’t had anyone in this bed yet. You’re the first.”

His mischievous smirk creased his cheeks, placing his large hand over mine, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. “I’m honored. It is a very nice bed.”

I shrugged, “I have no boyfriend and no kids. I buy myself all the nice shit I want when I want it. I don’t have to answer to anyone and I like it that way.”

He tightened a bit, “You won’t have to answer to me, Bels. I just want to be with you.”

Shit, I hadn’t meant to make the conversation take such a heavy turn, so I removed my hand from his and lightly ran my fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest. “That was amazing.”

“I wasn’t lying, Annabel, it was the best sex of my life.”

“How is that possible? You’re like 2000 years old.”

He barked a laugh, “I am not.”

“Well you didn’t answer me when I asked which of my grandparents would have been your peers, so…” I thought for a moment, “how did you die?”

He snuggled down into the bed and I opened the blanket for him which he accepted and moved closer to me. “I don’t remember.”

I arched my brow, “you don’t remember, or you don’t want to tell me?”

“I don’t remember,” he reached up to fiddle with a lock of my hair, “I think I’m in my late twenties, maybe early thirties, but people lived much shorter lives then - we aged differently.”

“When?”

“Well, I remember that my entire life that a monarch lived at Versailles. I remember being in Paris and it being positively disgusting.”

I laughed at that description of the City of Love.

“There wasn’t plumbing so everyone stunk of perfume and shit. It was horrible.” He paused, “I remember the revolution being after I changed, and I know America had already rebelled and was independent since that event is much clearer.” With a shrug he twirled the piece of hair, “I remember very very little of my life before. I do not remember my parents, my family, friends… I used to, but it all blurred together at some point and now I don’t. Things from before are almost behind a sheer curtain, I know they’re there but they’re distorted just enough that I can’t decipher one thing from another. Facts and fiction are blurry.”

“Does that bother you?” I couldn’t imagine not knowing my mothers. The thought alone made my heart hurt.

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