Grace by Mina Carter

Hot, open-mouthed and passionate kisses. Kisses that reminded her of how long it had been since they’d last made love. Right at this moment, last night seemed a lifetime ago.
    Her fantasy of making love in a box whilst everyone around them was unawares came back to tempt her, playing over and over in her mind. She nibbled along his jaw, her eyes closed. A rumble of pleasure came from deep in the back of her throat as his hands smoothed up under her skirt. Just the touch of his skin against her bare legs, his fingers stroking up over her ass, bared by her thong underwear, was enough to set her off. The deep need she couldn’t seem to control when he was around came to the fore.
    Pulling at his shirt, she tried to undo the buttons and kiss him at the same time. He laughed, stilling her hands.
    “Whoa there, Gracie. Anticipation …” he told her, reaching up lazily to undo the buttons along his shirt.
    “Screw anticipation,” she whispered against his lips, desperate to get her hands on him. “In fact, screw screwing anticipation, I want to screw you .”
    He shuddered and his eyes closed for a moment. When they opened, the longing look was gone, replaced by pure heat. He smiled, opening the last button, the fabric of his shirt falling open and revealing his smooth chest and washboard stomach.
    “If you want me, Gracie, take me.”
    She didn’t need his soft order. She pushed his shirt over his shoulders and halfway down his arms. With a wicked grin, she left it there, the fabric pinning his arms in place. It was a trick he’d pulled on her the other night, pinning her arms with her own top. Then he’d spread her legs and used his delightfully talented tongue on her until she’d screamed his name in pleasure, her climax so intense she nearly passed out.
    “Grace.” Her name came out sounding more like a warning. She grinned unrepentantly as she slid from his lap, her hands going for his belt buckle.
    “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” She replied with a wink.
    ***
    Jaron’s mind still reeled as he slid behind the wheel to drive them home. Home. He almost smiled at the thought. He’d not considered any place home for years. He moved around a lot, a new city every ten or so years, to stop people from realising he wasn’t actually ageing. Eventually, he’d even had to go through the elaborate charade and pretend he was his own son. He already had the paperwork in his safe for his next identity, Dragomir Conrad.
    His lips quirked slightly as he twisted the key and the engine roared to life. Yet another change Grace had wrought in him. Along with his indecisiveness. Normally he made a decision and stuck to it. Normally he would have already left. But Grace kept throwing him curveballs, things like the little scene in the box earlier, and he was sticking around like a bad penny.
    Next to him, Grace strapped herself in. Dragomir. He hadn’t used that one in a while. It was, in fact, his name. Jaron Conrad Dragomir. Very dark and Carpathian-sounding. Which was exactly why he hadn’t used it for centuries. But people these days were less suspicious of eastern European-sounding names, their fear of vampires and werewolves replaced by a fear of serial killers and a spot-inspection by the tax office.
    Whilst it gave his kind a bit of a break, the change was sad to see. Along with their fear, humanity had lost something else. A sense of the wondrous, the belief that sometimes magic could happen. Like tonight.
    Magic had happened tonight, clichéd as that sounded. When he’d drawn Grace into his lap he’d intended to seduce her, take the fantasy on the surface of her mind and make it real. However, Grace had had other ideas. She’d taken over and seduced him .
    He pulled out into traffic, the powerful car responding to his every movement. Deep in thought, he focused on driving and getting them home safely. He was used to being the aggressor, the one in charge. So when Grace had pinned his arms in the shirt, he’d