by Mina Carter
Oh, god, is he going to kiss me? Her breathing shortened in anticipation, her lips aching for the touch of his as he lifted his hand. His touch was gentle as he tucked a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear.
His smile transfixed her, transforming his features from merely handsome to devastating, as his eyes, a shade of blue she'd never seen before, darkened. His fingers played with the lock of hair he'd tucked behind her ear, the tips transferring their attention from it to the skin of her neck. His thumb whispered across her collarbone before his hand ghosted down her arm.
He pulled her close and all her attention was diverted to the feel of the solid male body pressed against hers. The hard, very aroused male body.
Startled, her eyes shot up and found his. An amused, intense stare looked back at her, obviously watching the surprised expression on her face. She swallowed. Like he knew she could feel the hardness of his erection pressed into her stomach, he smiled at her, the glitter of his eyes hardening as she glimpsed the arousal in their depths.
“I don't even know your name,” she pointed out, a fascinated smile playing over her lips. She'd never allowed a guy to touch her this way before. Certainly not without a few months and many dates between them. But this was different. He was different from the guys she usually dated. Try as she might, she couldn't imagine him as an accountant. Perhaps an actor or something…
“Daelas, my name is Daelas, little pixie,” he murmured as the music changed, the beat slowing down to something softer and altogether more sensual. Then, he pulled her back onto the dance floor.
Awareness arced between them, his hand smoothing over her nearly naked back, lingering along the line of her spine as they danced. Less a dance and more a form of vertical lovemaking.
Sage closed her eyes for a moment, her head whirling. She couldn't believe this. Men who looked like Daelas didn't come onto women like her. They went for the leggy, supermodel types.
“You're just perfect as you are,” he breathed into her ear, his lips just brushing the tender lobe. Sage started, bright banners of colour forming on her cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud.
“You didn't.” His lips feathered down her neck. “You think you're the only nonhuman in here?” He pulled back and looked down at her. The blaze of desire in his eyes made Sage's breath catch in her throat, heat pooling in her abdomen at the sensual promise as he bent his head to claim her lips.
The kiss started slow and soft, his mouth feathering over hers. Exploring and caressing. His tongue flicked out, brushed along the seam of her lips as he tempted her to open her mouth for him, to allow him in. She sucked in a breath, tremors running hot and cold along her arms, which had somehow wound themselves around his neck.
Her lips relaxed and his tongue swept in, destroying what remained of her defenses as he deepened the kiss into something dark and deeply dominant. Her knees turned to jelly as she clung to him. She moaned when he broke away, a soft sound which brought a quirk to the corners of his lips.
He kissed her again, quick and hard. “Shall we go somewhere a little more…private?”
Her chin came up as she met his eyes, a sense of mischief running through her.
“You got somewhere in mind?” she asked, flicking loose strands of hair off her shoulders, naked apart from the thin straps holding up her sequined top.
“I just might have.”
Daelas smiled, drawing her to the side of the dance floor as the music changed again. He opened his mind and probed hers, casting his lures to get her where he wanted her. Which was in his office, naked. But he met a resistance, a glass wall behind her eyes that his probes slid off. She stopped talking, shaking her head as though to clear it.
Shit, she'd felt his touch.
Wary, Daelas stopped, hiding his surprised look as he watched her. She shouldn't have felt a thing then, nothing at all. He was either losing his touch or she was something special; something more than a human with a smattering of paranormal blood.
She swayed again, just a little, but his hands snaked out, ready to catch her in case she fell. She grasped his wrist, steadying herself and looking up at him.
“What was I saying?” Her voice was light, puzzled but accepting, as though losing her train of thought was nothing new. He realised with a start that she had been affected by his mental touch, just not in the way he’d expected. From the look in her eyes, she was recovering fast.
He moved in, taking advantage of the small window of suggestibility his instincts were telling him was the only chance he was going to get. He smiled, crowding closer as though they were already lovers. His smile was intimate, teasing.
“You, little pixie, are drunk!”
She took the prompt, blinking at him owlishly for a moment before her body relaxed and she leaned against him, tipping her small, heart-shaped face up to argue. “Am not!”
“You bloody well are. You're not even standing up straight on your own,” he pointed out, motioning to her death-grip on his arms. She stared back at him, her lips pursed, concentration written on her face as if she thought about framing her next words.
Daelas hid a smile. She was as drunk as a skunk and very cute with it.
“Pffft, of course I'm bloody drunk! How else do you think I got the courage to chat up a guy who looks like you?” She waved her arm in an all-encompassing gesture which could’ve been meant to indicate Daelas' tall, suited figure.
Instead, she knocked someone's drink off the ledge surrounding the dance floor. Stifling a chuckle, Daelas’ hand shot out with nonchalant ease and half caught it, half righted it.
“You said, 'Am not' though, which usually means you're disagreeing with something,” he replied, eyebrow raised. By now he was entranced; she was far more than she'd appeared to be, his subtle tests of her mental defences revealing a slippery wall he couldn't break through.
For a man used to getting what he wanted with a thought, having to work for it was a new experience. One that, to his surprise, he was finding enjoyable.
Daelas was a connoisseur of women. As an incubus, it was coded into his genes. Even so, he put a lot of time and effort into the study of women, and yet, this woman was turning the tables on him, weaving her web around and drawing him in with an ease only the most experienced succubi would manage. She wasn’t a succubus though, so he didn't struggle to get away.
“I am not a pixie!” Her voice was forceful, her button nose wrinkled as she pronounced the word in a manner reserved for a word like “cockroach.” “I'm a fae. A sidhe,” she added, her tone proud as she met his eyes.
She was lying through her teeth. Oh, she was a fae of some description, but if that fae was a sidhe, he'd eat his hat. Daelas hid his ever increasing smile as his eyebrow winged up again. “Aren't you a little…short for a sidhe?”
She sniffed and ignored him. “Are you a sex demon? Sherri said there were sex demons here, but all we've seen so far have been humans pretending to be sex demons. I demand there be sex demons!” she announced, nearly stamping her little foot as she glared at him.
He lost the battle. His deep, rich laughter surrounded them as he led her through the club, shortening his stride to match hers, despite the haste gnawing at him. “Demand is it, little fae? Well, we'll have to see what we can do.”
Minutes later he breathed a sigh of relief as he ushered his diminutive and very tempting companion into the office he'd recently vacated, closing the door behind them. Leaning back against the cool wood for a long second, he watched her.
Hell, even her walk turned him on. The subtle sway of her hips, not overdone like some of the man-eaters down in the club, held his eyes riveted. In fact, she wasn't like their usual clientele at all.
Deep chestnut hair with hints of red, it seemed untouched by a dye bottle. Her makeup appeared to be applied with a delicate touch, looking as natural as if she were wearing none at all. And her figure was built with the curves of a real woman, rather than the starved lines of the fashionable waif. Surrounding it
all was a haunting impression which marked her as a fae, but mixed with enough humanity to make it unique.
So tiny and delicate, he virtually shook with the need to touch and kiss her. The quick kiss in the club had whetted his appetite, but now he wanted more. Much, much more.
“Nice office,” Sage commented in a quiet tone, smiling over her shoulder. He hadn't moved from the door, still leaning against it nonchalantly. His pose was relaxed but he watched her like a hawk, glittering with intent. Like a panther about to strike.
She reached the desk, a large expanse of dark wood. Her small hand trailed along the smooth surface. Pushing some files out the way, she leaned back, her hands bracing either side of her hips and ankles crossed. Her small tongue flicked out and wet her lips, her gaze steady on his.
She felt wild and wanton. It was so unlike her usual self. She was a bookkeeper for heaven’s sake. She didn't go around picking up random men in bars, no matter what her ex had thought. Even if they were as hot as Daelas.
It must be the wild fae blood her father had always warned her about. About time too, she decided, tilting her head to one side. “You planning on standing there all night or what?”
He pushed away from the door, stalking toward her. Sage's breath caught in her throat, attention riveted by the predatory grace in his movements. Even his walk oozed masculinity.
“Or what?” He towered over her, his larger body crowding her against the desk. So close she could feel the heat of his skin against hers. The scent of his aftershave surrounded her, carried on the warmth of his skin, teasing her senses.
“What or what?” she asked, not paying much attention to the conversation as his hand slid onto the nape of her neck. With gentle pressure, he tilted her head up. She sucked in a breath at the darkly feral expression on his face and the heat swirling in his eyes as he bent his head.
She sighed as his lips covered hers. Warm and firm, they coaxed her to open up for him. His free hand slid around her back, fanning over her hips as he pulled her hard against him. A moan broke from her as his tongue stroked along hers; the kiss turning hot and wild in a heartbeat.
Her back arched in response as she ran her hands up his arms. Her skin was too hot, felt too tight, her breasts heavy and full as heat pooled between her thighs. She needed to touch him rather than the suit she had ahold of. Her hands slid under the jacket, pushing at the fabric in silent demand.
He chuckled low in his chest and rolled his shoulders. The jacket dropped unheeded to the carpet. Sage sighed in satisfaction. Her hands roved over his broad chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, surprisingly heavy for his lean frame.
She shivered as he nipped her lower lip. If he could make her feel like this with just a kiss, what would happen if they were to get naked? Anticipation coursed through her, feeding the maelstrom swirling inside.
He moved from her lips, leaving a trail of fire down her neck. Her teeth caught her lower lip in an effort to contain the moan welling in the back of her throat. The soft brush of his lips across her skin, the heat of his hard body against hers, was utter torture. Especially with the thick erection pressing insistently against her soft abdomen; a hardness she ached to feel between her thighs, sliding into her, filling her.
God, she felt so good. Daelas groaned and dragged her into his arms, all but crushing her to his heavy chest. She wrapped herself around him, her arms sliding around his neck. Her small hands delved into the short hair at the nape of his neck.
He forced himself to relax his hold. His hand swept down her back in a long caress, revelling in the sensation as he felt a shiver—of pleasure, he hoped—run through her. His lips curved in a smile as he explored the satiny skin of her throat. She wasn't wearing anything under the strappy top. Candy from a baby, he thought as he urged her back onto the desk.
Spreading her thighs with a hard hand, he stepped between them and ran his hands over the flare of her hips. He held her gaze as he pulled her to him, letting her feel the raging hard-on he had for her.
“However pretty I think this is,” he slid a finger under the thin strap on her shoulder, “I think it needs to come off now, don't you?”
He arched his eyebrow as he gave her the option. Much as he wanted her, he was done with taking choices away from women. He wanted her to want him for him, not because he was manipulating her.
He waited in silence, his finger hooked under the fabric as she looked at him. Her violet eyes were wide and dark. He still couldn't sense the thoughts behind them, the little bit of mystery turning him on more than he could ever recall being turned on before. This must be a little like having a soul-mate, he thought absently. No incubus was able to read their mate’s thoughts; a failsafe to stop them from weaving their particular brand of magic around them and controlling the relationship. Was she his soul-mate? No, she couldn’t be, she wasn’t a demon, he’d stake his life on it.
She nodded. Triumph filled him, a grin spreading over his face as he drew the strap down her arm, inch by slow inch. His lips followed, a trail of butterfly kisses down the side of her neck, and then across. His hand slid around her back, nimble fingers making short work of the tie over her spine.
The cool draft of the air conditioned office whispered over her skin. Her breasts, free of their confinement, firmed, their peaks tightening as though begging for his attention. He pulled the top away, discarding it to join his jacket on the floor.
“Beautiful.” The word was uttered in an awed breath as he gazed down on her half-naked figure. She leaned back a little, resting on her palms and arching her spine. The movement thrust her breasts higher, drawing his gaze downward. The dusky pinks of her nipples puckered tighter as the AC unit above them drew cold air down across her chest.
"You like?”
She shifted her position on the desk, arching her back and skimming a hand over her stomach. Her intense gaze held his as she trailed fingers up the centre of her ribcage, getting ever closer to the full curve of her breast. Her hand reaching its destination, her eyes half-lidded as she cupped the full weight and swept a thumb over the peaked nipple.
"Ohh, I like. I like a lot.”
He leaned down to replace her hand with his larger one, his lips closing around her nipple, pulling the sensitive flesh into the warm cavern of his mouth. Pleasure shot through her as he suckled, sensation drawing a direct line from breast to the hot, heavy ache between her thighs, setting her on fire.
Her head dropped back, her back arching even more, offering the rounded curves of her breasts to his wicked mouth. He didn't disappoint, taking his time as he kissed and licked. Moving from one to the other, until Sage was almost out of her mind with pleasure.
His hands drifted to her thighs, pushing up the short skirt. His fingertips flirted with the tops of her stockings, a sound of appreciation low in his throat. “I wasn't sure women still wore these,” he commented, kissing her neck as his hand moved higher.
Sage flushed, turning her head to the side to allow him better access. “Umm…I like pretty underwear,” she admitted, hoping the lacy stockings and suspenders didn't make her seem like a slut. They were more pretty than racy, but she winced internally, worried what he thought.
"They are pretty, very pretty.” His hand smoothed over her hip and found the little ties holding the satin thong together at the sides. "Now these I love,” he whispered, pulling on the ribbons as his sharp teeth nipped her ear.
She sucked in a breath, her insides turning to jelly as his hand slid down between her thighs. His fingers, blunter and larger than hers, pressed against the folds of her body. They parted the soft lips of her labia gently, seeking the hard nub of her clit with an easy stroke.
"Oh!" Her hips bucked as he touched her, sliding a finger down into the wet heat that had already gathered, spreading it over her sensitized skin as he stroked.
"You're so hot and wet. Just perfect,” he said in a low voice as he lowered her to lay on the desk. She shivered as the cool wood met the skin of her back.
Just when she didn't think she could take more, he slid two fingers deep inside her. She whimpered, lifting her hands above her head to hold on to the edge of the desk. Her hips bucked as he thrust, pressing against the walls of her pussy in just the right place. She writhed, a familiar tension starting to build, until she was pushing against him, desperate for the relief her climax would bring.
"Oh, no, not just yet, little fae. I have more in mind for you,” he whispered, sliding to his knees between her thighs. Sage half-lifted her head, a pout of frustration on her lips until she felt his warm breath on her thigh. A moan was all she could manage as he parted the folds of her lower body with his thumbs.
Her pussy clenched as the cool air from above blew over her warm, wet flesh. Then his tongue was there, in a long, slow lick over her until he found her clit. She cried out as he flicked the sensitive nub, circling and teasing relentlessly.
Her back arched, hips bucking against him as she writhed on the desk. His large hands gripped her, holding her still as he lifted his head for a second. "I'm going to make you come, then I'm going to fuck you senseless, little fae. And you’re going to love every minute of it,” he told her, his voice strained in the silence of the office.
Sage’s reply was a moan, his crude words arousing her as much as the flicks of his tongue over her body. His fingers found her slit again, sliding deep before curling back to rub against the sensitive spot along her inner walls. She sobbed as her body contracted, ecstasy exploding within her as she tumbled over the edge.
Panting and shuddering with the force of it, she opened her eyes to watch him as he stood, towering over her. A feral grin spread across his face.