No Rest for the Wicked (The Q Collection, #1)

by Jennie Kew

“Why didn’t you?”

  I remove her other boot and bid her stand. “I didn’t want to be a cliché. The sleazy boss hitting on his secretary. And I didn’t want you to quit.”

  “You thought I’d quit if you fucked me? That doesn’t bode well for the rest of the evening.” She’s teasing me. I’m a seven-foot-tall, blood-red monster from the depths of hell, and she’s teasing me.

  My chest swells with pride and my cock twitches with anticipation.

  I make short work of her jeans and panties, sliding them down her long legs and adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. I skim my hands over her voluptuous hips, and she trembles under my touch, but before I can stand, she tunnels her fingers through my hair. I look up at her, at the heated expression lighting her face.

  “Please.”

  She speaks so softly I barely hear the word, but I am compelled to obey. I slide my hands down her thighs and lift one leg, supporting her weight and opening her up to my touch. I smile. She’s so wet. I slip my fingers between her legs and press deeper between her folds. She quivers with every slow, calculated thrust. Her ragged breaths match my rhythm. The heat of her sex rivals that of my own skin, and the strength of her pussy as she clamps down on my fingers excites me. Imagining how she will feel wrapped around my thick cock makes my balls tighten.

  I want to fuck her. Here. Now. But the look of need in her eyes as she stares down at me stills the thought. I will fuck her. Hard. But first I will earn that right. First I will pleasure her in every way she desires.

  I allow her to guide my head forward until my face is so close to her pussy I can almost taste her. And then I turn my head and press my lips to her leg. It’s my turn to tease. Her skin twitches with every kiss, every nip of my teeth, every lash of my tongue. I work my way down her soft, fleshy inner thigh, away from where she wants me. She whimpers. I grin. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I take mercy, running my tongue the length of her leg, from the sensitive spot at the back of her knee to the bundle of nerves above her pussy. I latch my lips around her clit and suck. Hard. Bianca moans loudly. She releases my hair and grabs my horns, pulling me tighter against her.

  She fucks my face.

  I devour her cunt like a starving man at a banquet.

  She cries out as she succumbs to her passion. Her hips jerk and her thighs twitch, and I taste her liquid heat pour across my tongue, feel it drip down my hand.

  “Fuck me, Ryan. Please.”

  “My name isn’t Ryan.” I stand and stare down at her, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, proud of my incubi heritage. “I am Rugaal, third son of Somaal and his beloved, Amelia.”

  “Rugaal.” My name slips off her tongue like honey. She slides her hands over my chest and presses her body to mine. “Fuck me, Rugaal.”

  I move her back until she bumps against my desk, so her ass teeters on the edge and her toes barely touch the floor. I spread her thighs and settle myself between them. My cock juts up between us, hard and proud and ready. Bianca rakes her fingernails along its length, and I shudder with need. I want to plunge deep inside her, to seal our bond, but I must wait and give her the choice. If she wants me, I’m hers. If not....

  I shove the thought away.

  I begin removing her blouse, focusing on each button and resisting the urge to rip the pale pink cotton from her body. “I want you, Bianca. I want to fuck you every way I know how and believe me when I tell you I know. Every. Way. How. And contrary to what you may believe, sleep isn’t my only reason for wanting you.”

  “It’s not?” She brushes her fingertips over my nipples, gently tugs at them.

  “No, it’s not.” I slip her blouse from her shoulders and reveal her big, soft breasts. Her bra is made of the same white lace as her panties. Her hardened nipples strain against the fabric, and I stroke my thumbs over the mountains of flesh exposed above the cups. A pearl of moisture leaks from my cock. “I want to bond with you.”

  She gazes up at me, a slight frown pulling at her features. “Bond?”

  I swallow hard. “It is similar to a human marriage, only once it is done, it cannot be undone.”

  She leans forward and licks the valley between my pecs, then continues up, up to the hollow of my throat. She’s driving me crazy, every flick of her tongue pushing my need for her higher. She stares at my chest. “Why would you want to bond with me?”

  I lift her chin so she can’t look away. “Because I've loved you from the moment we first met.”

  Her eyes widen, her pupils dilate. She looks unsure. “How do we bond?”

  “We fuck. As human and incubus.”

  I hold very still, my jaw tight and my chin lifted, readying myself for rejection. Sex is one thing, bonding another. It’s a lot to ask of a woman who until tonight thought she meant nothing to me.

  She reaches up and cups my cheek. Her head is tilted to one side, her eyes narrowed slightly. “What if I want to fuck but don’t want to bond? I mean, I did promise to help you get some sleep, after all. And the thought of walking away now seems like a wasted opportunity.”

  My fingers tighten on her hips. I swallow down my disappointment. Of course she’d come at this as a problem to be solved. That’s what she does, my ever-proficient assistant. My throat constricts. My voice dulls. “My human façade prevents the bonding.”

  One brow shoots up and her lips twist. “What, like a supernatural condom?”

  There is humour in her tone. My eyes narrow. “You’re teasing me again.”

  Bianca bursts out laughing and taps my cheek. “After what you’ve put us through, you deserve a little teasing. And if we’re to be married, you’re going to have to get used to my twisted sense of humour.”

  A wave of relief washes over me. “You accept the bond?”

  She strokes her hand down my chest. “Of course, I do. You weren’t the only one suffering restless nights over this, you know?” At my frown, she adds, “I love you, you dolt.”

  My heart stutters in my chest. “And the fact I’m not human really doesn’t bother you?”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “You should know me better than that by now. And you’re still you, aren’t you? A bigger, redder, hornier version of you, but still you?”

  I lean my forehead against hers. “Yes. I am still me.”

  She walks her fingers up my chest, tangles them in my hair again. “Still the man I have wildly inappropriate thoughts about.”

  I grin. “How inappropriate?”

  Her teeth sink into that lush bottom lip. “A lot more inappropriate now I know you have a tail.”

  My grin widens. “Is that so?” I pull back slightly, just enough to feel the air brush across the fronts of my thighs. Enough to fit the tip of my tail. I thread it through the gap and tease her with it, stroke it over her belly, her clit, lower. And then I watch as inch after inch disappears inside her wet and willing pussy, marvel at the length she’s able to take with seeming ease, revel in the unabashedly wanton sounds spilling from her pretty mouth. A mouth I am yet to taste. “Was this what you had in mind, beloved?”

  A stream of nearly unintelligible babble escapes her, but somewhere in there I hear her say, “Yes,” and, “Oh my fucking God.” Her hands grip the edge of my desk, and her pelvis flexes, working my tail deep with every thrust. I pull her forward just enough so I can reach behind her and unfasten her bra. The instant the clasp releases, the straps pull free of her shoulders, the weight of her breasts dragging her bra down her body. She grabs the clothing and tugs it free, tossing it away and revealing her beautiful tits in all their magnificence.

  I take my erection in one hand, her breast in the other. My tail keeps working her pussy. I rub my thumb over the head of my cock, can't wait to be enveloped by her slick heat. My balls tighten. It won’t take much to make me come, not after such abstinence.

  Her breast feels heavy in my hand. Heavy and warm and soft. She covers my hand with her own, encouraging me to squeeze her harder. She takes her other breas
t in hand and matches my rhythm, tugs at her nipple, moans. I stroke my cock more vigorously. Watching Bianca getting off on my demonic body arouses me like nothing ever has.

  She comes.

  She screams.

  Spasm after spasm, her pussy is gripping my tail, squeezing it, sending shockwaves of sensation shooting along its length and back up my spine, making my cock jerk in my hand. Her hand tightens over mine, squashing her breast. My hand strangles my cock, and I can’t hold back. I come, shooting my load all over her breasts. She draws her fingers through my cream and sucks them into her mouth. My nostrils flare, and I growl my approval at the salacious display, my cock remaining erect, eager.

  Sleep feathers the edge of my reality, but just like every other time I jerk off, it’s the difference between a light snack and a full meal, teasing me with what could be, and I am nowhere near satisfied.

  Tonight I’m going to eat my fill.

  I’m horny as hell, and I’m just getting started.

  I pull her into my arms and crush her lips under mine. She melts in my embrace and presses her body close. I push my tongue inside her mouth—she tastes like coffee and cherry Danish. She moans and snakes her tongue along mine, then pulls away, breathing hard. She groans, a guttural, desperate sound, and charges back into the fray. Our kiss is like a sparring match between two rivals. Only we’re not rivals. Our end goal is the same—sex and love and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Waking up tomorrow and doing it all over again.

  Sharing an unbreakable bond.

  I end the kiss. “Bend over the desk.” She sucks my bottom lip between her teeth, nipping me sharply before obeying. I take a moment to enjoy the sight of her smooth back, her curtain of long, dark hair and the way it frames her pale skin. Her luscious ass pushes toward me, her juices coating her inner thighs. I lay my hands on her ass and savour the feel of her softness, and then I take my cock in hand and slowly feed it inside her gloriously tight pussy.

  The moment I enter her, our bond begins to form. She groans as I push deeper, a dark, primal noise, and I know she feels it, too: a total and overwhelming sense of belonging to one another. The bond heightens our senses, our responses to each other. She meets me thrust for thrust, pushing back as I ram forward, perfect synchronicity, sinking so deep inside her my demon cock is buried to the hilt.

  She cries out. “More. I want more.”

  My tail rubs her clit. Her back arches, lifting her off the desk. She supports her weight on her arms and looks over her shoulder at me. The heat banked in her eyes is scorching.

  I pull out and flip her over, perch her on the edge of my desk and slide back into her tight embrace. She pulls her knees up, and I sink in deeper. I hook my forearms under her legs, and she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck. Our eyes meet, and I can’t look away. She is beauty and wit and passion, my beloved.

  The pressure builds inside me again, and I know it won’t be long until I blow. She tugs me down to meet her lips, our kiss more desperate than our need to breathe. Her body tightens, stiffens. She jerks against me as her orgasm washes over her, breaking our kiss to scream obscenities at the ceiling.

  I can’t hold out much longer. She’s caught me in the vice-like grip of her cunt as she comes and comes and comes. I fuck her like my life depends on it, harder, faster. Only when I feel her body begin to relax, do I finally let go, my own orgasm more intense for the waiting. I cry her name and hold her close. My body shatters apart and reforms, only to shatter again.

  I am spent.

  Our breath mingles in the aftermath of our passion. My knees feel weak. It’s an effort to stand, and I stumble back and fall into a chair. Bianca slips from the desk and crawls into my lap, sweaty, sticky and sated.

  “Your skin feels cooler.”

  In my exhaustion, all I can say is “Uh-huh.” I’ll explain it to her later.

  She nestles her head against my neck, her hair tickling my chest. My human façade slides effortlessly back into place. She pouts at the change and makes me laugh.

  Blessed sleep drags at my eyelids. Finally.

  Bianca kisses my cheek, stands and gathers her clothing and tumbles back into my lap when I tug on her hand. “And where do you think you’re going?”

  She pushes a lock of sweat-soaked hair off her face. “Someone has to run this joint.” At my frown, she adds, “I’m just going to go downstairs, check there aren’t any problems, and then I’ll be back.”

  It’s my turn to pout. “Promise?”

  She laughs and then lays the slowest, hottest kiss of my life on my mouth. “I promise.” She dresses quickly and fixes her hair, pausing before she unlocks the door. “Oh, and, Rugaal, if you’re not asleep by the time I get back, I’m going to fuck you into a coma.”

  My cock twitches with renewed life. “Yes, beloved.”

  She leaves the room, and I know in my heart that not once in all my two hundred–plus years of living have I ever fought so hard to stay awake.

  **

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  The End.

  Acknowledgements

  A few years ago I scribbled down an idea for a number of quick and quirky erotic stories. It was nothing particularly grand or important, just something that tickled my fancy at the time. That idea sat on the shelf until I rediscovered it a few months ago, and decided the time was right to make The Q Collection a reality.

  A huge thanks to all the people who helped me make this project come to life. To the team at Hot Tree Editing for their help tidying up my weird writing style, and to Shea at Addendum Designs for the hot cover!

  A special thank you to my beta-readers, Bec McMaster and Kylie Griffin, and all the ELE girls for their continued love and support. I really couldn’t do this without you. And to my family for all their encouragement, their love and understanding, thank you for being you and for putting up with me being me, especially my husband, Dan, who supplies me with writing fuel (coffee and pastry), and when needed, resets my equilibrium by making me laugh so hard I snort (usually the coffee).

  Meet the Author

  Jennie Kew is the author of The Q Collection, a series of quick and quirky erotica, as well as the upcoming Bennett’s Bastards series and Sons of Einar trilogy. She is a member of the Romance Writers of Australia and writes contemporary, historical and occasionally paranormal erotic romances.

  Jennie has always enjoyed reading but is a relative late-comer to writing. She never had aspirations of becoming a published author until a dance with death made her ask herself what she really wanted out of life, and she’s been writing ever since.

  When not sitting in front of her computer, Jennie can usually be found reading a book, watching a movie or building stuff out of Lego. She lives in regional New South Wales, a stone’s throw from the nation’s capital, Canberra, with her husband, her husband’s magnificent beard, a teenage giant and their feline overlords, Max and Tallulah.

  For updates on new releases, cover reveals and giveaways, you can sign up to her newsletter over at her website, follow her on Twitter, or check out her page on Facebook.

  What's Next

  I hope you enjoyed No Rest for the Wicked because the next instalment of The Q Collection is coming soon!

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  I Saw, I Conquered, I Came

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  Don't get mad. Get laid. And don't forget the ice-cream...

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  What are you supposed to do after you discover your boyfriend is cheating on you with the leggy blonde from accounting? Besides kick his sorry ass to the curb? Well, I don't know about you, but I went out with an urge to splurge. And by splurge I mean on the good ice-cream, not the cheap crap my ex used to buy. But it's surprising what else you can pick up at your local deli, especially when he's not even on your shopping list.

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