The band broke into Auld Lang Syne. We danced as balloons, streamers and sparkles rained down from the ceiling, if swaying as we held each other could be called dancing.

At one point, we were next to Gethin, and I let go of Teddy and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up from the girl he was dancing with, a truly stunning blonde in a silver strapless dress. I reached up to him, ignoring her completely, kissing him on the mouth. "Happy New Year, Gethin Wren," I said quietly, with a smile.

"Happy New Year, poppet," he returned with another kiss and a smile of his own.

I turned back to Teddy and continued dancing as Geth turned back to the blonde. I heard her ask, "Who was that?" And I smiled. Teddy saw my smile and gave me a little squeeze. "You can be such a bitch sometimes."

I looked up at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You enjoyed that, don't deny it," he laughed. "You enjoyed kissing him in front of that girl and making her jealous, you know you did." He shook me. "You little minx."

I shrugged. "Maybe a little," I said with a smile. "I can't help it. I still think of all of you guys as mine. I don't like to share you with casual flings. None of these girls are good enough for them.

"So how long do we have to stay down here now?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know, before we can go upstairs and go to bed and fuck?" I asked.

He laughed. "You surely do know how to get to the point." He looked around. "Well, usually there's food now, good food, and sweets, and dancing. Don't you want any of that?"

"Food?" I asked. "Where? I could eat."

"I knew that would get you," he laughed. "Come on, let's go find some."

It turned out that one whole side of the ballroom had been turned into a huge buffet, with tables and everything, and Geth had secured two tables for us. We filled our plates with the most amazing food, and we sat down to salmon, finger sandwiches, trifle, pie, cakes, french desserts, cheese plates, saté sticks, sushi; it was a veritable United Nations of cuisine. And of course, more liquor. All kinds of wine. Janelle and I put away close to one bottle between the two of us.

Many music bigwigs stopped by our table to talk to the boys. The women (Geth's girl's name was Marie, while Ronan's brunette turned out to be Julia) and I made desultory small talk while they talked business: Allie, of course, was an actress, Marie was a model, as anyone could see, and Julia turned out to be an assistant to a record label executive. I guess Janelle had decided to hook up with Paolo of the arms from Florence, because he passed our table several times, giving her significant looks every time.

Teddy kept his hand on my leg under the table the entire time, rubbing his thumb up and down the suspender of my garter, keeping me in a constant state of distraction, and we excused ourselves as soon as it was decent, saying we were tired. Everyone called good night, and we hit the elevator. He kept his hands to himself, just putting an arm around me and talking to me as we rode up to the top floor.

We opened the door to the presidential suite, and I gasped. It was massive. It looked like the inside of a mansion. It was one huge room, with hallways leading off it in four different directions. Everyone's luggage sat at the entrance to a different hallway, so we found ours and took it to a suite comprised of a bedroom, sitting room, dressing room, and bathroom. Wow.

I opened my suitcase and turned to Teddy, holding something up. "I brought this, just in case. You want me to wear it, or will you rip it off me so fast that I shouldn't bother, hmm?" I shook it. It was pale lavender, sheer to the point of being see-through, lace accents, and were those crotchless panties? They were. Wow.

He looked at it and smiled. "Yeah, why not? I'm not particularly tired, are you?"

I shook my head. "And I'm feeling sort of drinky and exhibitionist and horny, so what the fuck? I'll be right back." I took the nightie and went into the bathroom to change. I stuck my head out. "I could use some more champagne, maybe?"

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "Okay, whatever you say."

I heard the sound of a cork being popped.

I put on the outrageous garment and looked at myself. And felt sexy. Which surprised me. I thought I might feel silly, but I felt like I wanted Teddy to see me. Interesting. My breasts filled the sheer cups perfectly, accentuating their roundness, their fullness. The material which covered the torso pulled diagonally with each step I took, creating tautness across the hips. The crotchless panties framed my sex, drawing attention to the pink softness that peeked out.

I finally left the bathroom, looking for Teddy. He'd turned out most of the lights, and was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, where he'd built a fire. He had changed into pajama bottoms, leaving his top bare. The champagne was open, a glass already poured for me. He had his own glass, half full, which he put aside when I came out.

His pupils were dilated, making his eyes look black, as I approached him, eyes roaming my body. I sat in his lap, legs straddling him, and he put his hands between my legs, thumbs on my sex, pushing in, making me exhale deeply and lean into him. He leaned forward latching on to my breast, sucking through the sheer material, using his straight front teeth to tease my nipple. I tilted my head back, exhaling deeply and long, holding his head by his hair. A murmured "Oh, fuck," fell from my lips.

He lowered his pants and lifted me onto him, and I moaned as I felt the thickness of him fill me. "Don't want to wait, all right?" he whispered, looking at me.

I nodded, biting my lip. God, how I loved his eyes, wide-set, slightly tilted, unblinking. He kept them on me, gauging what to do by my reactions. He pushed me down harder, pressing my hips with his hands.

I exhaled sharply, feeling a shimmer of an orgasm, putting my hands on his shoulders and lowering my head. Jesus, this was quick, even for me.

"I'm going to come right now, Teddy," I gasped, feeling it roll over me. I tensed on top of him, preparing.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss me. I lifted my head so our lips could meet, and this act brought the shimmer to fruition. He pushed me down even harder, feeling the spasms in my sex and in my legs, feeling me tighten around him.

He closed his eyes. "Feels amazing," he muttered. "Like thousands of feathers." He was silent, just breathing. He relaxed the pressure on my hips and I pulled back a little, continuing to undulate slightly. I was definitely finished, at least for now, but I'd been too fast for him.

"You want my mouth on you?" I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "You just sit and relax for a bit, I'll do everything, you want that? Put your hand on the back of my head and push..."

He nodded, smiling. "Fuck yeah," he murmured.

I got down off him, on my knees, and took him in my mouth, all the way in, relaxing my throat, keeping up the suction all the way, down and back. I could taste myself on him. He let his head fall back against the chair, his hips rising and falling. He put his hand on my head, tangling his fingers in my hair, pushing and pulling in a rhythm he chose. He moaned and gasped, the sexiest noises, as I worked just on the tip of him for a bit, tasting the saltiness, spreading it with my tongue.

"Dear Jesus, never seen anything so goddamned sexy in my entire fucking life," he said in a low voice, looking down at me. "Look at you, look at you, so gorgeous, god--" He let his head roll back again, giving in to sensation. "Mmmm, fuck—" he took my hair in a firmer grip as I worked my way around him, feeling him hit the back of my throat again and again. My eyes began to water.

I could feel his thrusts getting faster, jerkier, as he got close. His breathing, too, sped up, the quick, harsh sound filling the room along with the wet sounds I was making. "Fuckfuckfuck—" he muttered in a soft voice.

"Going to come," I heard him murmur. "Oh my god here I come—" he said forcefully as he grasped my hair harder and bucked up into my mouth, eyes closed. I braced myself, opening my throat all the way up, swallowing what came while keeping up the suction, not an easy maneuver. His body tensed, hips rising out of the chair, as he thrust deep, hot ropes flying into my throat, stomach muscles clenching under my hand.

When he was finished, he relaxed, both his body and his grip, and pulled me up to kiss me.

"Wouldn't you rather I at least have a drink of champagne or something before you did that?" I asked as he settled me on his lap.

"No," he said, kissing me again, very thoroughly, as if to make his point. "That wouldn't be very sporting of me, would it?"

"Sporting?" I repeated, laughing, kissing his cheek. "What on earth does that mean?"

"You know, in the spirit of fair play," he said, laughing himself. "I don't know. It just doesn't seem right that I expect you to not only taste but swallow something that I myself am unwilling to have on my lips or in my mouth for a moment." He gave me a squeeze. "You know?"

"I suppose." I looked at him. "You, Mr. Shelley, are a spectacularly handsome man. It's incredible that you don't have an ego the size of Brazil."

"What's with you and Brazil?" he asked. "Why do you think it's so large? Whenever you need a word to describe something big, you always come up with Brazil. Have you ever been there? I mean, why not China? I believe it covers more area."

"I think you're right," I said, rubbing the top of his head affectionately. "It's just a line from Bridget Jones. The movie, not the book. She compares her ass to Brazil, and it always struck me as funny.

"I did love the book though. The book is where I first learned the word 'fuckwit'," I said with a laugh.

"Isn't Bridget Jones a little old for you?" he asked. "I seem to recall my mum enjoying that book."

"Yeah, so? A good book is still a good book," I responded. "Lolita was written sixty years ago, but it's still one of my top five favorite books ever. You can't let time define what you like."

"Lolita's about an old man who had the hots for a little girl, right? A pedophile?" I smiled at his British pronunciation of the word; it reminded me of a particularly hysterical episode of The IT Crowd. "That's one of your favorite books?" he questioned, rubbing my leg as I pulled it up into his lap.

I sighed. "Yes, but no. I mean, that's what it's about, but it's so, so much more. The author, Nabokov, was so amazing. He grew up speaking three languages, and had a better grasp of English as a second or third language than I could ever hope to have of it as my native language, so Lolita is the most gorgeously written book. The language is just, oh, sublime." I turned to him. "You want to seriously turn me on, read to me from Lolita for a little bit, oh my god, the language will make me melt into a little puddle of goo."

"Really? Good to know." He kissed my temple, rubbing my leg. "I'll keep that little tidbit tucked away for a rainy day."

"Yeah, and even though Nabokov hated things like symbolism and themes and stuff, the whole book is filled with the most amazing anagrams and hidden meanings, in tapestries, names, everything. I mean, I've never actually studied the book under anyone, though I'd love to, wow, that would be so cool.

"The main character, Humbert Humbert, is a pedophile who's in love with Lolita, who is a pre-teen child, a 'nymphet', she's called. Anyway, there's way too much to get into, but the names, the places, the plot points, everything means something, and means something else, and it's written so beautifully that it wouldn't have to mean anything other than what it actually means to be perfect, you know?" I took a deep breath.

Teddy was looking at me. "Do you know that your eyes are actually glowing?" he asked me softly. He sat up, holding me so I wouldn't slide off his lap. "They are glowing in the firelight," he said again, kissing me. I kissed him back, arms around his neck. There was no end to my horniness tonight.

I heard a shout and Ronan's huge laugh from down the hall and I sat up, automatically looking around for some way to cover myself.

Teddy laughed at me, stroking my hair. "Don't worry, no one's coming," he said. "I've locked the door." He looked into my eyes and nodded reassuringly.

I relaxed and settled back into him. He rubbed my arm, gazing into the fire. I leaned my head back, kissing his neck, getting way back into his hair line, whispering "I love you," over and over.

He finally picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, where the covers had been pulled back. He lay down on the bed with me next to him, wrapping his legs around me and pulling the bedclothes over us.