Jasper is mourning his lost love when he stumbles upon a woman dancing alone on a crowded dance floor, and is intrigued. He struggles to help her the only way he knows how, and hopes to help himself. Not a JxB love story. One-Shot. Roaring 20s Contest.

Jasper felt the venom drip from his teeth as her tongue flicked out over his lips, licking up drops of liquor that may have spilled. His body tensed for a moment, the urge to consume heavy on him, but he fought it back, and he swallowed his venom, then tilted his head and opened his lips wide enough to cover hers and sucked her tongue into his own mouth. His cold tongue rolled over hers and her arousal let loose in the air, encouraging his own.

He watched his hand ascend under her dress, until he could longer see it, but he stared as though he could wear a hole right through the fabric. Isabel shuddered and he looked up at her face, seeing a tear drip from one eye, and hating himself a little more in that moment. His hand didn’t care, however, and didn’t stop until it hit a damp fortress. He stroked back and forth over her panties and soon she had them soaked through. Jasper withdrew his hand quickly and licked down his fingers, the taste faint but enough. Isabel gasped and watched him, thinking he seemed animalistic all of a sudden, which contradicted his easy, gentlemanly demeanor. She didn’t know whether to fear or give in, part of her wanting to not soil her body with his hands, and the other part of her wanting to be taken, ripped into, satisfied yet numb.