Page 48 of Halloween Town

Did he have a condom down here? It took Thom a few seconds to remember whether he had one in his wallet and how old it was. It was good. And his wallet was on top of the fridge, just a few steps away. “Are you okay with our first time being on your grandma’s dining table?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he cursed himself. Who wanted to be reminded of their grandmother in the middle of a hot encounter? Again, unexpectedly, Poppy laughed. “I have a feeling she’d approve.”

She linked her arms around his neck and deepened their kiss, taking it from soft and sexy to wild and passionate, and Thom decided it was like being caught up in a hot, frantic, whippy storm. One that was about to blow them both away. But he needed to give Poppy one more chance, to make sure, so he lightly held her chin and waited for her to meet his eyes. God, her eyes, so blue…

“Are you sure you want this, Poppy? Are you sure you want me?”

There was no doubt in her eyes, and he released the air he’d been holding. “I’m sure,” she murmured.

Thom wrapped one strong arm around her bottom and claimed her mouth again. Their kiss bypassed heated and went straight to molten. Her legs hooked around his waist, and she scooted closer to him to plaster her mound against his straining, steel-hard cock.

Nothing else was important but to be naked, to have her hands on him, knowing him. He pushed his sleeping shorts down, but Poppy slapped his hands away and slipped them down his hips, then his legs, herself. He stepped out of them as she lifted one hip to try to remove her thong. She looked at him, frustrated. “I can live without these, too,” she told him.

Excellent news. With one quick twist, he snapped the whisper-thin cords and pulled the thong out from under her. This was happening, here and now.

There was most definitely a God.

Thom, thinking about the condom in his wallet, tried to step away, but Poppy slapped a hand against the back of his neck and dragged him into a kiss that caused his toes to curl. The kiss went on forever, accompanied by her rubbing her folds against his cock, and he was rapidly losing the ability to think.

Thom, with difficulty, stepped away and held up his hands. “Poppy … condom.”

Poppy bounced on the dining room table, obviously frustrated. She pushed her fingers between her legs, and he smiled at her eagerness. He couldn’t wait to get back to her, to give her what she needed. He snatched his wallet from the fridge, flipped it open, and scattered cards and cash to the floor. “Where the fuck is it? Yeah, sweet.”

He held it up in his fingers as he stood between her legs again. “You going to do the honors, or must I?”

Poppy smiled slowly as she pulled the little packet from his fingers. “Oh, I think I will.” She released a happy sigh as her fingers whispered the latex over him, him in her fist. Then she looked up at him with her big, blue, grown-up eyes, and his world flipped over. “Make love to me, Thom. I need you to.”

It was an offer he’d never, not in this life, or any that came after, refuse.

Chapter Eleven

Poppy

A week later, Poppy, Thom, and Felony wandered down from Solstice Deep to Blackweather Green. It was Friday night, and they’d agreed to meet up with Wren, Dane, and Hayes, to join them on the green for a mini version of H-Town’s famous Moonlight Night market. Instead of the craziness that was the real Christmas market, there was just a sprinkling of activity: Cilla, the tarot card reader was working, and the Boozy Broomstick, a drinks truck she recognized from past events, was peddling cocktails and homemade cider. Other stalls sold charms, homemade soaps and slices of cake and pie. Old Mrs. Reynolds was wondering around, offering blocks of her chocolate-brownie cookies. An incident from years ago reminded Poppy to check whether these were dope-enhanced or not. With Mrs. Reynolds, as old as God and an original hippie, you couldn’t always be sure, or that she’d tell the truth.

“If we don’t want to be absolutely lit, it’s best we avoid Mrs. Reynolds and her brownies,” Poppy told Thom.

Thom looked around. “Who’s that again?”

Poppy pointed to the old lady, who’d swapped her summer bikini for skinny jeans, leopard-print boots and a bright pink, fake-fur jacket. “Got it,” he said, unfazed.

“It’s a pity, because they are damn good cookies.”

Poppy returned her attention to the activity on the green, thinking that tonight the town was flirting more than trading. People, both residents and tourists, paused to chat, lingered, breathed. Some people sat on blankets chilling, others stood in groups, catching up. Madame Calliope, Luna, wearing a—Poppy squinted—Witching Rest Face T-shirt, and Andrea, the head witch from her coven, were sitting on a bench discussing weighty H-Town matters. Or plotting world domination.

Or complaining about the menopause. You never knew.

Poppy hummed along with music coming from the band playing in the iron bandstand. She didn’t know the tune, but what did that matter? She felt lighter than she had in months, relishing the freedom to enjoy being with Thom, this crazy, vibey town, and being in the moment without having to perform, free from expectation. She wasn’t used to feeling calm and grounded. And safe.

Poppy winced as Felony darted off, chasing what he thought was a rabbit and nearly jerking Thom’s arm out of its socket. Her week-long lover sent her a dark look, and she winced. He’d told her that bringing Fel to this event was a really bad, terrible, awful idea, but she’d insisted. She knew how much Fel hated to be alone, and she was also worried about leaving him unsupervised with her shoes. So far, he’d nibbled away at one pair of leather boots and her favorite Vans.

“I hate you, McMaster,” Thom said, as Felony barked at a massive pumpkin with foot-long eyes and a sinister mouth. Thom wrapped the leash around his wrist to keep Felony at his side. “I’m not going to be able to use my arm tomorrow.”

She shrugged and sent him a naughty smile. “As long as you can use your mouth, I’m golden,” she said, referring to the very steamy, in more ways than one, shower they’d shared earlier.

Thom groaned. “I don’t need you misbehaving too, either.”

Poppy grinned and looked down at his half-demented dog. He was turning circles, and his leash was a lot shorter than it was before. Okay, enough was enough. Dropping to her haunches in front of him, she waited until Felony locked eyes with her and lifted her index finger. “Felony, enough. Sit.”