Demons are Forever

by Wynne Hayworth

  “You booked me at a sex club?”

  Gripping the cell phone so hard she feared it might break, Sydney shook with rage. A sex club? What the hell were her friends thinking? She felt like a bitch who’d been shipped off to a breeding farm because she was in heat. Sure, she’d been in an anti-relationship funk the past year, but it was no one else’s damned business.

  “It’ll be fun.” Genny’s gloating voice shrieked though the earpiece. “You know what they say…‘what happens in the Caribbean, stays in the Caribbean’.”

  “This isn’t Vegas, Gen. It’s a sex club.”

  “A world-famous sex club, I might add. You can’t imagine the kind of favors we had to pull just to get you a reservation.”

  “There’s no way I can stay here, Gen.”

  “Sure you can. You haven’t been out on a date since you moved back from LA. If you were a guy, I’d wonder if your dick hadn’t shriveled up and fallen off.”

  “Damn it, Genny.” She shoved her hand through her hair. If she’d been within arm’s distance, she’d have strangled her long-time friend.

  “Come on. When’s the last time you got laid?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Genny’s laugh sounded like something that belonged to a hyena. “Don’t remember, do ya?”

  Sydney let out an exasperated breath. She remembered all too well when she’d last had sex—she just didn’t want to remember the office escapade that had ended her aspiring legal career. “I can’t believe you did this to me. Sending me here is like sending a recovering alcoholic to a party with an open bar.”

  “Oh, stop being such a prude. It’s not like you’re going to fuck every man on the island…just a couple of them.”

  “I’m not fucking anyone.” Sydney turned her back on the box of sexual goodies and walked onto the balcony to get some fresh air.

  Didn’t her friends understand? Sex got her into trouble. Bad trouble. It always had. It was the reason she’d sworn off men. She needed to get a handle on her libido. Her sex drive couldn’t be the driving force in everything she did.

  “Come ooooon. Get lucky with at least one guy. I’m sure you’ll remember how good it feels. Hell, get lucky with a woman. I know how much you’ve always wanted a little taste of the lesbian lifestyle…”

  “I do not!” Surrendering to the muggy heat, Sydney peeled off her top shirt and used the cotton material to swipe at the sweat beads popping up on her forehead and neck.

  “I just wanna see you have a little fun. You were party-girl extraordinaire in college, and after graduation, you were the up-and-coming lawyer every woman would have given her right breast implant to be. Now, let’s face it…my grandma gets more action than you.”

  Genny’s laughter bubbled through the phone’s earpiece, and Sydney clenched her fists. Strangulation sounded like a better idea with each passing moment.

  “Tell me I don’t need to remind you how to have sex. Okay, first you—”

  “Fuck off, Genny. I remember all the mechanics.” Not even the blissful brilliance of the rolling hillside in the distance or the lapping waves put a damper on her anger. “But it doesn’t matter because I’m boarding the next flight out.”

  “That’s fine,” Genny agreed easily, a smile in her voice. “There’s not another plane scheduled to leave until Saturday, so like it or not, you’re stuck there. You might as well make the most of it.”

  “Shit.” She closed her eyes. What was she going to do? Locking herself in the closet sounded like a good alternative.

  “Just accept your fate, get drunk, find yourself some good-looking guy—or woman—and let your imagination and hormones run rampant.”

  A knock at the door preempted Sydney’s rebuttal. “I gotta go.” She ground out each word with deliberation. “But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

  “Wait. Is it a guy? Is it—”

  She clicked off before her friend got another word in. The conversation had gone on too long anyway. She tossed her shirt and iPhone onto the bed.

  Rolling her eyes, she ripped the door open and almost fell on her ass.

  The man she’d seen earlier—the one who’d set off a slideshow of X-rated pictures in her mind—relaxed against the doorframe, one foot crossed over the other. He was gripping a laptop-sized box. White linen pants encased his legs and tanned skin peeked through his unbuttoned shirt, revealing a chiseled chest and a sprinkling of dark hair. A restraint tied wet, jet-black locks at the nape of his neck, and a smile hot enough to heat the entire southern hemisphere decorated his face.

  Sydney leaned against the door to alleviate some of the pressure from her suddenly shaking knees. “M-may I help y-you?”

  “I sure hope so.” He thrust the box toward her. “My name is Damien Blake. I’m the owner of Club Carnal.”

  “I-I…”

  And just like it had happened in the lobby, a wave of lust annihilated her senses. Her grip on the door tightened and her legs started to buckle. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to resist the impulse to rip off his linen pants, throw him down in the middle of the hallway and ride his cock until she screamed.

  Whoa. She shook her head, sucked in a deep breath. Where the hell did that thought come from?

  “W-what’s that?” She pointed to the box he held toward her and, unable to control her shaking hands, grabbed the container and quickly pulled it to her chest.

  His smile grew. So did the fire nipping at her clit. “A gift.”

  God, even his deep voice seduced her sanity into relaxing its rigid control and, as his gaze skimmed over her body, an elixir of heat under her flesh erupted into a boiling frenzy.

  “Mind if I come in?”

  “N-no,” she lied, taking an unsteady step to the side.

  As he walked past, his shoulder brushed hers. A potent cocktail of sun and sex teased her nose, and she shook her head, tried to beat back the sudden rush of hormones his accidental touch unleashed.

  “I hope your accommodations are to your liking, Ms. James.”

  “They’re perfect.” She turned as slowly as possible, needing the time to soothe her frenzied wits. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Blake?”

  “Wrong?” His face split into another dazzling smile. “No, nothing’s wrong. And please, call me Damien.”

  “Okay.” She crossed her arms and clutched the box against her breasts. Was it the Caribbean heat or something more potent stirring her senses to new heights? Never before had a man’s simple presence caused such a fierce reaction in her body. “Is there something I can help you with then?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  He planted his hands on his waist and the edges of his unbuttoned shirt split apart, revealing even more tanned, toned skin. Like a toddler ogling a cookie jar, her gaze caressed every muscular rise and fall. The thought of tracing each of those defined lines with her tongue scattered gasoline on the simmering fire in her loins.

  “I was hoping you’d join me for dinner, Ms. James.”

  Her brow shot up. A strange, gorgeous man—the owner of an entire island—wanted to take her to dinner? Seems more than people’s clothes were off down here.

  “The chefs have a wonderful lineup this evening,” he tempted her further.

  “Dinner? Me?”

  “Yes.” His laughter fanned the flames of lust. “What do you say?

  “I, uh…”

  She scrubbed a palm over the side of her neck. How was she supposed to think about anything when her clit burned with the intensity of an out-of-control wildfire?

  Shit, none of her reactions made sense. Before, she’d never accept gifts or agree to dinner with someone she’d met less than five minutes earlier, but as carnal thoughts tripped up the logic centers of her brain, the words just came out.

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “Wonderful.” He pointed to the package clutched to her chest. “While there’s no dress code per se, I took the liberty of bringi
ng you a little something for the occasion.”

  “You brought me…clothes?” Confusion wrinkled her brow and she looked at the box. He didn’t even know her, and he was bringing her gifts? Something wasn’t just off, it was alternate-universe off.

  “Yes.” He lifted his right hand and stroked his middle finger down the side of her neck. Her eyes drifted shut. “It’s just something to accentuate the beauty of your body.” His other hand settled on her waist, drew her closer. “The contours of your curves. The brilliance of your breasts.”

  On the verge of going supernova from his boldness, Sydney went limp and the box fell to the tiled floor. The only thing keeping her from joining it were the masculine arms that banded her.

  “I’ve got you, Sydney.”

  He sure did.

  Rational thought dissolved. Her hands inched up his muscular forearms. The heat of his skin kick-started a chain reaction of lust cascading through her blood, boiling the fluid with fantasies and desires long denied.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, losing herself in the sensual fantasy he spun with a single touch.

  “Whoever you want me to be…”

  He slipped the strap of her tank from her left shoulder and tugged the thin cotton until he exposed her breast to his hungry gaze. A thick spell of erotic mojo dampened reality, and the thought to stop him, to demand an explanation, never occurred to her.

  When you tempt a dragon, be prepared for the fire…

  Dance of the Dragon

  © 2009 Cathryn Fox

  Zoologist Chloe Stevens is certain she’s on a wild-goose chase. There are worse things than being forced to travel to a remote South Pacific island, but to search for a dragon? She’s sure the real reason she’s been sent to find a creature that doesn’t exist is that her boss—and ex-lover—wants her out of the way while he properly initiates a new team member.

  Whatever. Might as well relax and enjoy her all-expense-paid “assignment”, aka vacation on Ryuu Mountain. The secluded resort is the perfect place to indulge in a little carefree, hedonistic sex. Especially with Jared, the drop-dead-gorgeous bartender.

  Their hot fling quickly melts into something deeper. When Jared reveals he is more than he seems, Chloe has a decision to make. Whether to take her discovery public and make her mark in the scientific world. Or keep his secret to herself—and surrender body and soul to the only man who sets the woman in her on fire.

  Warning: This book contains frank language, hot, hedonistic sex on a tropical island and big, scary, shapeshifting dragons who wouldn’t think twice about “gobbling” you up (in more ways than one).

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Dance of the Dragon:

  Chloe added a dash of lime and a pinch of sugar to the two ounces of rum already in the blender. As her entire body quaked in a way it had never quaked before, she worked to keep her voice steady when speaking. “Now you need to drop in the strawberries one at a time, slowly, carefully, adding just the right amount at just the precise moment until you get the perfect creamy texture.” Her own suggestive words began to heat her up and she could hardly believe how naughty she was acting.

  She glanced over her shoulders and watched Jared’s powerful muscles bunch. His nostrils flared, his throat worked as he swallowed and he seemed like he was in pure agony. Her gaze traveled to his eyes, taking note of the rich amber ring, which seemed to grow, intensify and overshadow the green. He looked so passionate, so feral. Lord, it thrilled her to know that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It bolstered her confidence and made her feel powerful, sexy…wild.

  “Creamy is good,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. When she turned back around he took one predatory step closer and looked over her shoulder. As he leaned into her, his breath felt hot and seductive on her neck. A shiver prowled through her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop her body from shaking.

  He burrowed closer. Sensual overload nearly fried her brain and, she suspected, the sexually scented gush of moisture between her legs hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. His hard cock pressed against the small of her back, alerting her to his arousal. Moisture pooled on her tongue, and she itched to take every inch of this luscious man into her mouth. She added one strawberry to the mix and blended the concoction together, noting the way it had already begun to thicken.

  His fingers closed over her hips and burned her flesh. He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered in a low tone, “Is it creamy yet, Chloe?”

  Good Lord, it was creamy all right. Or rather, she was creamy. Hot, wet, creamy and aching for a rock-hard cock. Just like the one pressing into her back. She reached for another berry, but her hands were so damn shaky it slipped from her fingers and rolled onto the sandy floor, ruined.

  She stepped back, her body bumping against Jared’s. She made an attempt to retrieve the berry, but Jared stopped her. “Here, let me get that for you.” In one fluid moment, Jared moved in front of her—a suggestive look in his eyes. With his chest crushed to hers, he slowly sank to his knees, his body never breaking contact with hers. He wet his lips, and Chloe nearly orgasmed then and there.

  His hands trailed urgently over her curves, his thumb pressing into her flesh before he cupped the hem of her dress and cast her a smoldering look. She swallowed, hard, as passionate eyes captured hers.

  Oh, boy!

  He tossed the ruined berry into the trash and grabbed another from the bowl on the counter. After tucking himself beneath the high countertop, out of sight from any patrons should they happen by, he tapped on her thighs. Feeling wild and wicked, she gave in to impulse and widened her legs as she glanced out over the beachside bar. Dear God, what would she do if someone sauntered up to the hut for a drink? They might not be able to see Jared beneath the teak counter, but the color blooming on her cheeks and her rapid breathing would surely raise their suspicions. Despite that, she couldn’t stop if she’d wanted to. Truthfully, she’d never done anything so sinful before—so deliciously, excitingly sinful.

  Without preamble, he pressed the cool berry to her thighs and trailed it upward, coming perilously close to her damp panties. He sensuously brushed the fruit over her flesh, then placed it between his teeth. With one quick thrust, he ripped the lace from her hips. She gasped and gripped the counter, but that gasp turned into a heated moan when Jared leaned forward and swiped the cool strawberry tip against her clit. “Oh. Sweet. Lord,” she cried out in heavenly bliss. Buried between her legs, Jared spent a long moment running the berry over her swollen clit, then pulled it from his mouth and squeezed until the cool, sweet nectar dripped over her pussy.

  “How many strawberries until it gets really creamy?” he asked from deep between her thighs.

  She was holding the counter so tightly, her knuckles began to turn white. “Just one, Jared. Just one,” she managed to get out.

  “Maybe I’d better check.” He inserted one finger. “Mmmm, you’re right. Very creamy indeed.”

  Oh, bloody hell. Someone was coming. As she wrapped her mind around that very important fact, she whispered, “Jared…coming…”

  He chuckled. “That’s the point, sweetheart.”

  Breathing hampered, she rushed out, “No, Jared. Someone coming…counter.” She inched back, dipped her head and spared him a quick glance.

  He moved his finger inside her. “I’m a little buried in something, babe. You’ll have to cover for me,” he murmured and scraped his thumb over her clit.

  She was so turned on, moisture broke out on her body. A small bead ran between her breasts, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Heck, she needed him to ease the ache inside her more than she needed her next breath, but someone was approaching quickly, and she was hovering on the brink of an orgasm, barely able to form a coherent thought. “Jared…” she whimpered, not sure she could actually pull it off.

  Ignoring her protest, he ran the berry over her drenched cunt, teasing her engorged clit one last time before plopping the fruit into his mouth. He took a bite, letting the jui
ce drip over his chin. “I must say there’s nothing I like better than strawberries and cream.”

  Oh sweet mother of God. Breathe, Chloe, breathe…

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