by Kimber Lee
More than anything, I was scared. Scared that something this unnatural could feel so good, especially this fast. Scared that his grip on me was more than sexual attraction but something deeper, something I could never hope to understand. I was scared shitless of becoming Lauren.
I unbuckled his belt and unzipped him, letting his cock spring free. Sinking to my knees between the V of his long legs, I looked up into his blood-spattered face. “Under no circumstances do you get loose.” And I curled my fingers around his rigid shaft, moving my hand up and down the swollen flesh, entranced by its thickness, and stiffness. “I hate owing people.”
The tip of his cock was glistening and I rubbed the pad of my finger over it, lowering my tongue to catch the tiny, transparent bead of moisture that had already seeped out of the tiny hole on the head. As always, he tasted of hot, animal masculinity. I licked the throbbing veins of his shaft and I sucked on him, wanting to draw out more of his seed. This was the first time I’d ever put him in my mouth and the salty taste of him was indescribable.
Andrei made a low groan in his throat, his breathing becoming ragged. My fingers moved to weigh the heavy sac of his balls, feeling them tighten in my hand as I gently stroked them. The product of his arousal was in there, just waiting to spatter into my mouth and finally, inside my cunt.
“Fuck, Rae,” Andrei breathed out, jerking his hips. “Suck me dry… with that little mouth… of yours.”
I took as much of his curved length into said little mouth as I could, my own desire swirling in the pit of my belly and making it difficult to focus. Andrei jerked into me, ravaging my mouth and growling when my teeth lightly grazed his girth. My cheeks hollowed and my strokes quickened in determination to make him explode in my mouth.
When he finally did, roaring in a language that was foreign to me, I swallowed his cum, raising my head to look at him when I was done. His face was astonishingly blood-and-gash free and I figured he couldn’t help healing if he was in the throes of passion. I stood up and pulled my T-shirt off—the motion was torture for my painful, pebbled nipples—and tugged my pants down, stepping out of them completely naked.
I moved to sit astride Andrei, my hands on his shoulders, and slowly lowered myself onto his manhood. A sharp moan left my lips as my aroused opening welcomed the entrance of his slick hardness. Holding onto him, I lifted myself off his cock and lowered myself again, purring contentedly as he filled me. He thrust upward and my nails dug into his bare skin as I bucked against him, wanting him deeper.
Somewhere along the line, the rope came undone—or disappeared, and his hands greedily tormented my skin as he held onto me. Our mouths connected—mine greedy, his tantalizingly domineering—and we came in unison, my cries of pleasure filling the night and drowning out his animal-like, guttural moans.
For a long while after, we sat like that and then he picked me up and lay me on the carpet, semi-hard inside me.
“Feel better?” he asked, slanting his mouth to capture the hard tip of my breast.
I mewed, spearing my fingers into his now unruly hair. He was twisting my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger and an oh-so-sweet pain ricocheted through my breast when he pulled, elongating the hardened nub.
“No,” I gasped, feeling him move inside me.
His cock was coming to life again and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take it another time.
“Fucking listen to… me,” he growled.
Even as my mouth protested, my body gave silent acquiescence, wet and throbbing and oh-so-ready for him. I allowed him to kiss me again, our lips brushing briefly before his tongue flickered inside, mimicking the slow, lazy strokes of his cock.
My hands were in the silk of his long, unruly hair, gathering it to me, and my hips bucked, meeting his every searching thrust as desire overwhelmed me. He took my hand in his, lowering it to the jigsaw puzzle of our groins.
“Feel us,” he groaned into my neck, and my hand came between us to the place where we met… felt the moistened length of his cock as he gradually retreated… felt the dripping heat of my pussy as it gratefully received him again.
I whimpered, arching my back, completely surrendering to Andrei’s dominance over my body this time. His strokes quickened, became more frantic as he drove even deeper inside me, nudging my womb. He bit down into my neck as a long, violent orgasm overtook him and the feel of him emptying himself in hot, thick spurts pushed me to yet another earth-shattering climax. Tightening my core around him, I came, blinded by the almost painful ecstasy and quivering in the aftershocks.
Andrei rolled me over so that I was on top and our hot, sweaty bodies remained conjoined. I heard his heart beat beneath my ear—so normal, so human. Yet why did that make me hate what he was doing to me even more?
“Tell me about yourself,” I asked, secure in his embrace not for the first time.
“Rae…” he started, ready to shut me down.
I raised my head, looking down into his cerulean eyes. “Every time I want to know more about you, about your kind, you disappear, bite my head off, or distract me with sex.”
He was doing it right now, his hands slowly kneading the curve of my rear.
“I have the right to ask.”
He swept a long wisp of hair out of his face with annoyance. “Your father was a demon hunter, wasn’t he? A very unsuccessful one, of course. But didn’t he tell you these things?”
“He tried to,” I replied candidly, my hands threading his hair, “but I wasn’t interested. I like my life supernatural-free.”
“I noticed,” Andrei remarked dryly. His fingers bit into the globes of my ass and he thrust upward. I gave a sharp intake of breath. “You want to know about incubi?”
“First, I want to know about you.” I bit my bottom lip as the sensation of him circling his cock inside me sent a surge of need through my core. “Where are you from?”
“In this realm,…” He let out a low groan when I clenched my sex around him. “Romania. In the realms of the Underworld, I am lord of the incubi, demons of moral depravation. My personal Hell has no name.”
“Anghelescu is Romanian, then?”
“Yes. It means son of Anghel, angel.” His lips curved into a devious smile. “I have a dry sense of humor.”
“I… don’t know what to say. Is this your… real form?”
He gave me a pointed look that told me all I needed to know. “This is my mortal form. My true form… Well, let’s just say I’d fit right into a Stephen King horror novel.”
I swallowed, unconsciously tensing around Andrei’s cock.
“You want to make me come again?” he said gruffly, his eyes clouding over.
“Andrei, why are you here?” I asked. “I don’t mean here with me. I mean here… on Earth.”
“To feed,” was his immediate response. “To harvest more individuals like your mother. To take souls.” He grimaced when he saw the expression on my face. “Eventually, that’s what it all boils down to, Rae. What did you think we were here for, to host the Oscars?”
My father had said something about his type of demon, how they’d brought the destruction of many races—the Mayans, the Incas, and the Sodomites of Sodom and Gomorrah—with their intense hunger for sexual energy. Immoral acts—especially between married men or women and incubi—had often driven many to suicide. But then, if one’s soul wasn’t all that pure, it really didn’t take much to be seduced by a demon.
“Am I morally depraved?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Is that what you see when you look at me? Is that why you like fucking me?”
Andrei’s eyes briefly turned red. “Nobody’s perfect.” He flipped me over, keeping his upper body off mine. “Your essence, Rae, is filled with pent-up rage. You give off a heat—a passionate heat—that burns me when I’m inside you. There’s sadness, there’s guilt and there’s a flicker of vulnerability, too.” He brushed his hair out his face. “That anger, it rivals mine. And it feels so fucking good when I consume it.”
And I was angry at Andrei, for tempting me to the dark side, for awakening a primal hunger inside me for something more carnal, more dangerous than sex with a human. There were still so many things I wanted to know, like why I couldn’t be seduced by an incubus when the average human could be. But I was tired and I was quickly coming down from my high.
Andrei placed a tender kiss on my forehead before withdrawing from me. I felt his exit painfully and a gaping void where he used to be. I allowed him to effortlessly scoop me up into his arms and carry me to my bed.
He pulled the covers down and arranged me under them. I resisted the urge to ask him to stay—he never did—and shut my eyes instead. Then his lips brushed against mine.
When I opened my eyes again, he was gone and my bedroom had been plunged into total darkness.
JP Fontaine was angry. This was obvious because he’d just punched a guy in the face and, from my vantage point in my rental car across the street, I could see that his intent had been to squash the guy’s eye into its socket.
JP had an anger problem.
Over the past four days, I watched him slap, punch, kick, and throw things like a spoilt child. I was never close enough to hear much of anything but I was sure he punctuated these attacks by shouting French obscenities. These disagreements mostly occurred outside Club Nicolette—which, coincidentally, turned out to be Ivanov’s club, and happened in broad daylight. Yet no one so much as batted an eyelid at a guy hurling a liquor bottle at another guy.
“The perks of being a tool,” I said aloud, taking a big bite out of my club sandwich before I snapped a shot of the dark-haired man with my camera.
Looking in from the outside wasn’t going to help. If I wanted to find out what JP was involved in, I needed to get into the club. Andrei’s livid voice reverberated in my head, telling me not to have anything to do with Ivanov. I shook it away. Even if I didn’t want to do this, Ana Fontaine had wired me a ridiculous sum of money—so ridiculous I almost rang her up to ask if she’d meant to add the two zeros, which made me irreversibly bound to this assignment.
Clubbing time, I thought resignedly, starting the car up again and pressing the button that rolled the window down.
Andrei wasn’t going to be pleased. But then again, he could go right back to hell, for all I cared.
Chapter 7
I sensed him before I saw him, except that “him” turned out to be a “her”.
This radar thing should come with a gender-identification thingy, I thought, annoyed.
“You’ve been fucking Andrei,” her heavily-accented husky voice rang from behind me.
Despite the loud dance music the Nicolette’s resident DJ seemed to favor, I heard the succubus loud and clear. Since she was so close, I also felt the strong pull of sexual energy she radiated and it was all directed at me. I could feel it around me, like a helicopter hovering above my head, but it wasn’t tugging at me.
So I guess this immunity thing has its perks.
Refusing to relinquish the barstool I’d fought tooth and nail for, I turned at the waist, still holding my half-empty glass of Coke. “Who are you and what do you want?”
She licked her lips, her voice loud and clear as she replied, “Selene. And all I want to know is how you… came to belong to my lord.”
Selene was a tall, curvy knockout dressed in a ridiculously tiny strapless red dress. Her honey-colored hair fell in a stylish bob that framed her heart-shaped face. Her blue eyes were rimmed with kohl and her full lips painted blood-red. And those lips curved into a sly smile as she returned my once-over with one of her own.
“Belong to him?” I spluttered, despite my previous stance of not communicating with supernatural creatures. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t be here, ma petite. I sniffed you out the second you walked in. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.”
I hopped off the barstool, annoyed to see that she dwarfed me by a few inches, even in my pumps. “I can handle myself.”
She cocked her head, the crafty smile still pasted on her face. “I can see why he’d like you. You are… feisty. However, there are some out here who would love nothing more than to challenge Andrei and what better way than to take away his… plaything?”
I glared at her, ignoring the spike of fear in my gut. “I’m not his plaything. He has no claim on me, nor I on him. This conversation is over.” I tried to move past her but she reached out and grabbed my arm, her inhuman strength keeping me there.
“Get your sticky hands off me, you little bitch!”
“Because you are his, I will watch over you,” Selene murmured into my ear, her lips slightly brushing my lobe. “And you are very wrong. You are his now and, as such, are bonded to him because you have exchanged more than essence. Be careful tonight, chérie.”
“Fuck off,” I retorted, and she released me, allowing me to dive right into the sea of bodies, sweat beginning to trickle down my back. “Bonded” to Andrei. “Belonging” to him. How ludicrous was that?! I had never heard anything more stupid or more insulting.
It was painfully obvious that dousing myself in Jennifer Lopez’s Blue Glow did zilch to disguise the fact that I’d been having repeated sex with the king of the incubi. Just how long would his… “smell” last on me? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?!
“Deep breaths, Rae,” I told myself, bumping into a grinding twosome and receiving heavy-lidded glares in return.
I had to find JP quickly. The fact that I’d scoped the club out the last time I’d been here following Karr was of little help. There were far too many people in my way, making it extremely difficult to locate my left hand, let alone the one person I was looking for.
After being bumped, grabbed and shoved, I finally gave up and returned to the bar to order a Pellegrino. My throat was dry and I was revoltingly sweaty. There was nothing worse than being sober and icky at the same time.
“Baby Phat! Fancy seeing you here.”
I groaned, rethinking my decision to remain teetotal. “Don’t talk to me,” I muttered, positive he could hear me over the thumping sound of Sia trying to compete with a she-wolf. “Don’t even fucking look at me.”
“Come on, Baby Phat,” Temp said loudly, sounding miffed. “We’re kin!”
I turned to glare at him and did a double-take. Dressed in a teal golf shirt and dark jeans, he looked ridiculously good-looking. If I hadn’t recognized his annoyingly sarcastic voice, I wouldn’t have known he was the same guy I met two months ago.
“What did you do to your hair?” I choked out as I saw the bartender set a bottle of sparkling water in front of me out of my periphery.
“You like?” Temp grinned, running a hand through his thick jet-black curls.
It was completely ridiculous to think that someone’s hair color could make you see that person in a totally different light but I was completely taken aback by how it transformed him into someone who looked… well, related to me. We’d both inherited Lauren’s high cheekbones, her ever-so-slightly pointed ears that I’d always despised, and the curves of her pouty lips. I could see it all now. It was made clear by the shade of his hair, which was as inky as mine. Seeing him in this new light made it too real for me.
“You dyed your hair?”
“I don’t have to dye anything,” he stated mildly. “I visualized it, it happened.”
“Visualized it?” I was having trouble visualizing that. I was still stuck on our stark resemblanc
e to each other.
Temp’s chocolate brown eyes danced. “Don’t tell me? You had no idea I could do that, did you?”
“I… Well, yes, I did. It’s just… you look… like me.”
“Hey, Vince! We look alike?” Temp called to the bartender.
Vince raised a puzzled eyebrow before his attention was captured by a woman raising an empty glass in his direction. Temp returned his gaze to me.
I glared at him. “Very mature of you.” I jabbed a finger in his chest, hitting a wall of muscle. “So are you following me? Did she send you here? Does she want us to… to bond?”
He grabbed my hand. “If by ‘she’, you mean our mother, no. She did not send me to Paris to fuck, get shitfaced, and fuck some more. What is your problem?”
Good question. I was probably PMS-ing or some bullshit because even to my own ears, I sounded like an irrational nutjob.
I wrenched my hand away from his and threaded my fingers in my hair, which was getting messier by the second anyway. “My problem is that I thought I was rid of you both!”
“Rae…” His voice trailed off and he was giving me a look that clearly said he wished he were anywhere but here.
“What?”
“You’re… sort of crying.” And he looked away, embarrassed.
“What?” I repeated, angrily scraping the pads of my fingers across one cheek. Sure enough, they came back black with running mascara. “Shit. What is wrong with me?! I can’t be drunk, can I?”
“I swear, Rae, this…” he said as he gestured around him, “… is purely coincidental. I’ve been coming here for years. Got a friend who moonlights as a DJ, so… I’m not stalking you.”
“I know. Forget about it. This is stupid. I have allergies. It’s probably all the noxious fumes in the air that pass for perfume.”
Temp gave out a weak laugh. “You probably want to, you know, fix your make-up. Know where the restroom is?”