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Botanist Henri Muller will do almost anything for a flower—even brave a forest fire. Scarred and heartbroken, he journeys to a greenhouse run by a reclusive proprietor with a mysterious green thumb and a potent sexuality. Henri’s startled by their passionate encounter, but when he discovers the vampire’s bite soothes his tormented body and soul he longs to stay though the cure is deadly.
Ambrose is a shy monster with a lonely heart. Will Henri choose to become his mate or will he let Ambrose wilt and die like a neglected flower? With each passing day, Ambrose grows weaker…
Ambrose took him by the hand and led him to the side of the greenhouse near the door he’d entered. From there they went into a special section that felt almost like a shrine. Inside was a single corpse flower. The largest Henri had ever laid eyes upon. Ambrose let go of his hand and the two stood side by side, studying the bloom. “It’s magnificent.”
“I come here sometimes in the evenings, just to be in its presence.” Ambrose sighed and stroked his cock, leaving Henri no doubt what Ambrose did here. Both sights sent a rush of illicit desire through him. The petals of the flower had pulled open, exposing the spadix, which stood approximately eight feet tall. The large cock-like structure before him and the sound of Ambrose’s quickened breathing beside him had his own hardened length aching for a good stroking. “Don’t you find it very…pleasing?”
“Oh, yes.” Especially since the flower must have bloomed the day before and most of the rotten meat smell had evaporated. Right now, all Henri smelled was pre-cum, man and flowers. Impossibly, his member hardened even more. He stifled a groan.
“I love to come here. It’s my favorite spot.” Ambrose spoke softly as he pressed his front to Henri’s backside and reached around to grasp his leaking shaft with his delicate hand. Henri shivered from a sudden chill.
“My God. You’re so c-cold.” A tremor wracked him from head to toe.
“I’ll be warmer soon. I promise.” Ambrose’s frozen prick settled into the dip between Henri’s ass cheeks.
He gasped at the hard cylinder of ice pressing into him, unrelenting in its length, impossibly firm, promising punishing satisfaction his body craved. Henri whimpered and opened himself, arching his head back and thrusting his cock forward into Ambrose’s freezing hand.
“Yes, my love. You feel the heat between us as well. Let me slake your thirst.”
Ambrose’s touch was chilly, but his hot words were almost a growled command in Henri’s ear. Henri shuddered with pleasure as Ambrose’s tongue flicked along his neck, then was replaced by a scrape of his teeth. He reached back and grabbed the man’s hip, not wanting to part from even one small inch of him. God, the coldness felt good. “Yes, Ambrose. God, please. It’s been so long and I need to come.”
“And you shall.” Ambrose kept up a maddening slow pace with his hand. The other reached around to tease Henri’s right nipple. Henri didn’t have time to explain how the fire had left his skin curiously sensitive on that side, before the almost painful caress pulled him to the edge.
“Ambrose,” he panted. “I’m going to come.” The greenhouse spun, heady scents enveloping him just as surely as the man at his back held him inescapably in his tender grasp.
“Yes.” Ambrose’s tongue snaked between Henri’s parted lips. The organ was so long it filled Henri’s mouth and made its way to the back of his throat and he quivered imaging the tongue inside his ass.
Captured in Ambrose’s firm grip, overtaken with lustful need, Henri surrendered to the burning ache. He screamed around Ambrose’s tongue and spread his trembling thighs. From between them, hot cum surged up and out his shaft so forcefully it hurt. He hadn’t been this raw, this overwhelmed by sex in years. As jet after jet coated Ambrose’s hand, he convulsed against him like a rag doll.
“Watch the flower,” Ambrose whispered in his ear.
It took effort to drag his attention from the last spasms of his orgasm to the enormous flower, but when he did, he gasped. The spadix seemed to lengthen before his eyes and quiver in time to Henri’s contractions. Suddenly the beads of sweat stuck to his chest, the fecund air around him, and Ambrose’s touch all merged into one. A primal connection formed between man, flower and sex. All thoughts of scientific study fled his mind. This wasn’t about botany. This was pure, unadulterated sexuality as he’d never experienced it before.
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Author Bio and Contact:
Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers.