Dark Desires - Love That's Out of This World (Xcite Bestselling Collections)

by K D Grace

  ‘You have very pretty eyes,’ he murmured, his voice rippling over my skin, stealing away every last ounce of fear and worry as I felt it find each place on my body that I most liked touched.

  I shuddered, but in a very, very good way. ‘Who ... who are you?’

  ‘You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my real name, so just call me Adrian.’ He smiled at me, a smile that seemed full of things yet to come – and I do mean “come” because it was the most sexual smile I’d seen in my life.

  ‘Where did you ... what ...?’ Apparently words were still having a hard time getting from my brain to my mouth. Not only was he completely gorgeous, but I’d dreamed about him. This was all too weird. And too hot, my libido stupidly added. Yum.

  ‘I’m from I & S Cleaning Services. I’m an, um, incubus.’

  ‘Right, and I’m the Queen of England,’ I said, eyes wide.

  ‘I don’t think she’s ever felt the amount of pleasure an incubus could bring to a woman,’ Adrian said, his words finding their way beyond my outer layers of skin and causing pleasure in places I hadn’t even known I’d had until that point. ‘Normally, our services just include cleaning in a sexy get-up, and we aren’t allowed to feed off our clients, except in their dreams, but I can tell that you would be a feast, one to keep me full for an impressive amount of time,’ he said, the word “impressive” wrapping itself around my clit and squeezing just a little.

  ‘Uhng,’ was all I could say, and I found I could barely stand as his voice’s caress of my clit became more and more intense. Finally, finally I found my way back to the English language. ‘You ... I’m still dreaming, aren’t I? That has to be it. Pinch me, please, dream-incubus-man.’ Then I realised I was having trouble standing, my knees wobbling, and Adrian caught me just as I started to fall.

  ‘You’re not dreaming, my dear, although I do take that as a compliment, if it’s intended as one.’

  ‘Yes, a compliment, to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.’ Then everything went black.

  When I came to, I was laid out on my couch, and he was sitting in the chair across from it. And finally, reality was actually registering as reality. ‘You ... thank you for catching me,’ I said groggily. ‘And for, um, doing my dishes.’

  ‘You’re welcome. It’s Nell, right? I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but your friend Lynne hired I & S as an early birthday gift, and she’s covering for you at work today. You have me all...day ... long,’ Adrian said, his final three words making me happier than anything anyone had said to me in a long time. Maybe I should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth, I found myself thinking, and maybe I should be kissing Adrian’s mouth, while I’m at it, my thoughts continued, a decidedly mischievous grin finding its way on to my face. ‘So, you don’t usually actually do anything besides enter the women’s dreams? The women whose houses you clean?’

  ‘Nope. But when I entered yours, I could sense how...how hungry you were, for human contact, for sex, to put it bluntly.’

  For once I didn’t mind someone putting something bluntly. I did find myself blushing, though, a little embarrassed – or maybe more than a little – that this complete stranger knew I hadn’t had sex in a very long time. I hadn’t even had a date since I broke up with my last boyfriend, a fact that a few friends had tried to change, since it’d been at least five months since we parted for good. And we hadn’t had sex for ages before the break-up, part of the reason for it. Not a fault on my part, but on his – he was too busy screwing our roommate to care whether I was getting my itches scratched. So I’d moved out and given up sex for the interim. And now here was this absolutely gorgeous man, offering himself to me, and I was half-worried I wouldn’t even be able to remember what to do.

  ‘Oh, you’ll remember, I can tell you’ll be a little firecracker in bed.’

  ‘You ... you can read my thoughts?’ I started at this realisation.

  ‘Only the ones pertaining to sex, and usually only if they’re related to me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’ A gentler look passed across his face for a moment, a flash of kindness, perhaps, and I found myself feeling a little less sexual towards him for a few moments, a little intrigued, surprisingly, as to what else there was to him besides his enormous sexual presence. The word “enormous” led to other thoughts, and I averted my eyes.

  Adrian chuckled. ‘Well, you’re wondering what’s under my apron now, are you?’

  ‘Um, yeah, I guess I am,’ I said, surprising myself. I wasn’t usually that honest – or forward – but hell, he already knew what I was thinking. For all I knew he also knew how turned on I was, how I just wanted to climb into that lap of his and get things started. He must’ve heard that thought too, because as I sat up, he got up from the chair, and walked over to me, with a very visible hint that I wasn’t the only one getting turned on tenting the front of his apron. Suddenly I was feeling shyer than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  ‘I don’t usually, I mean, I never ...’ I was trying to tell him that I didn’t usually bed down with people I’d just met, but I trailed off, as he slowly laid me back down again and straddled my legs.

  ‘I don’t usually either. Being an incubus doesn’t mean I seduce women day and night, you know,’ he said, voice low, his face coming closer and closer to mine. ‘But I can tell you this much – I don’t think either of us will regret it.’ And then I found myself closing the last few inches between our lips, his mouth meeting mine, and it felt like no kiss ever had before.

  I got lost in his lips, in the steady pressure of them against mine, so lost that it could have been hours we kissed for, or days, even. His mouth was skilled beyond all belief, his plush lips wet and forceful, and I could feel my desire flowing from me to him, my mouth to his, and I knew that he was feeding on me, and I didn’t care. Thoughts flitted across my mind, thoughts of all the things I wanted to do with him, in this time we had together, and I felt his lips twitch into a smile at them occasionally, a sure sign that he liked whatever I was picturing.

  His hands, just as skilled as his lips, slowly stripped me of my clothing, piece by piece, until the only thing either of us was wearing was his apron, just the barest hint of fabric stopped him from sliding the incredibly firm cock I felt pressing against my stomach into my willing pussy – it had never felt so empty in my entire life, and I had never been as hungry for a man to enter me as I was in that moment.

  ‘Please ...’ I moaned into his parted lips, ‘Please ...’

  ‘Wait just a second,’ Adrian said, and he reached behind my ear, pulling a condom out from behind it. I’d never seen that magic trick result in a condom before – I guess they were the grown-up version of a quarter. I certainly wouldn’t have traded it for even a hundred dollar bill in that moment.

  Adrian stood up, stripped off the apron, and finally I could see him in all his glory. I stifled a “hallelujah”, but just barely. Instead, out came, ‘Oh my God ...’

  ‘You approve. Good. I would have hated to have you turn me down once we reached this point.’

  ‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t turn you down after seeing that,’ I said, my lips flowing into a grin. His body was possibly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I’d been to the Louvre when I was sixteen, the Sistine Chapel on the same trip. Even Michelangelo couldn’t have created something that beautiful, that perfect. And his perfectly shaped, just-the-right-length cock was just icing on the cake.

  ‘Here,’ Adrian said, handing me the condom, ‘I want you to put it on me.’

  I took it from him, tore open the package (my favourite package I’d ever opened), and pulled out the condom. Then I got down on my knees, my face right in front of his cock, and I slowly, slowly slid it onto him, a sigh coming from his lips, and one from mine as well. Once he was completely encased, I did what came naturally – I parted my lips and placed them around the head of his cock, swirling my tongue around it. I didn’t know where incubi got their condoms, but the flavour was mouth-watering, rich and sweet, like hone
y and cream, and its taste did nothing to quell the shudders that taking him in my mouth caused, each one coursing down my body in lovely, sensual waves.

  I looked up at his face, my mouth still surrounding his hardness, and his eyes were rich with promise, the green in them darker, a slight glow coming from each of them. ‘You are a feast, indeed, Nell,’ he said, his voice thick, his words flowing over me and touching each part of my body in a strong rush of heat and pressure. I couldn’t take it any longer – I got up from the floor, took his hands, pulled him back to the couch, pulled him on top of me.

  ‘I want you inside me,’ I said, surer of that than I had ever been of anything in my life. It wasn’t a want, it was a need, and so I found myself growling at him when he didn’t enter me instantly, when he just teased my opening with the tip of his cock, rubbing it against my clit, almost sending me over the edge. Then, after what seemed like an eternity of almosts, he slowly slid it in, and nothing up until that moment had felt even close to the amount of pleasure that coursed through each and every inch of me, merely from him entering me. I hadn’t realised up until then that even the tips of my hair were capable of feeling orgasmic. I’d heard of full body orgasms, and maybe that’s what this was, but words alone didn’t seem like enough to express exactly how it felt. If I’d been capable of thought, I would have been thankful for my apartment’s thick walls and ceiling, because I was incapable of silencing myself as well, incapable of tampering back the sounds I was making in response to the feeling of Adrian fucking me.

  ‘Yes, yes, Nell, don’t quiet down, don’t hold back,’ Adrian murmured into my ear, his lips brushing against it, and then, when he began sucking my earlobe into his mouth, I came again. I was lost in the sea of sensation, only knowing how each touch of his, each thrust felt, nothing more. The orgasms didn’t lessen in their intensity, either, they cascaded over me, rippled under my skin, in building intensity. I just let myself feel, and so it was a complete shock when I realised that Adrian was no longer inside me – he wasn’t even on top of me any more.

  Once I realised that, I snapped back to reality. Instead of being on top of me, he was sitting against the couch, holding what looked to be a very ornate, silver flask. It was open, and I watched as he took a deep swallow from it. My skin was still humming from my last orgasm, and words were very hard to come by, but I managed to get out, ‘What ... what are you drinking?’

  ‘Ah, well, I was so spent after our first session that I figured I could use some refuelling. This is the drink of my people, and we drink it to keep up our virility. I’ve never felt that spent after sex before, you should know. I was certainly right about you being a firecracker.’

  ‘Li’l ole me?’ I joked. ‘A firecracker? Thanks. I would guess that’s high praise coming from an incubus.’

  ‘Mighty high praise, actually. I could shower you with compliments, but I’d rather just get inside you again.’

  ‘I think that could be arranged,’ I said, smirking.

  ‘First, though, as much as it pains me to say this – I need to finish cleaning your apartment. I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but it’s a disaster!’

  ‘I, um, yeah, you’re right, it is,’ I said, and laughed. I hated to admit what a slob I was, but there was no getting around it.

  ‘Tell you what – let’s make a deal. For each and every dish you clean after I leave, I’ll give you an orgasm next time I come by. And next time it’ll be free of charge, you little firecracker you.’ Adrian grinned and ruffled my hair.

  During the rest of the week, I cleaned each and every dish, just as he’d asked. And when he showed up that Friday night, I didn’t regret cleaning a single one. Especially after the 20 or so orgasms I received over the next few nights.

  Adrian helped me put together a plan for keeping my place a little tidier when we weren’t busy being naked, sweaty, and entangled, and admittedly, I was a little sad when he said he had to get back to work on Sunday morning. But when I got out of bed after he left, surveying my spotless bedroom, and went out to my spotless kitchen and made some coffee, there was a note on the counter – a sheet of pale pink paper with a heart drawn on it, inside of which was written,

  Call Adrian at 1 (696) 555-6969 for a good time (any time you want one, sexy).

  I laughed and put the paper on the front of my fridge. All day, I enjoyed looking around my sparkling rooms, and that night, smelling the slight remaining scent Adrian had left behind in the bed, I decided I had to do something really special for my friend, Lynne. Like send her some flowers and a thank you card. Or buy her a yacht.

  Just after I fell asleep that night, I started having the same dream I’d had that Monday. Only this time, the dream didn’t get interrupted by an annoying alarm clock. And this time, Adrian handed me a rose, and said, in that amazing voice of his, how happy he was to see me again, before he took me in his arms. Right before he entered me, he smirked, and said, ‘You washed all your dishes tonight, right?’

  ‘Yes, of course!’ And then he slid his delicious length into me, and I said ‘yes’ again. And again. And again.

  Skyggen

  by Giselle Renarde

  As dusk came on like a gentle dew, Mirjam sat on the upper terrace of her rustic vacation villa. Sipping local berry wine, she gazed down at the villagers sauntering up the steep incline outside her door. The distance she’d put between herself and urban anxieties made Mirjam feel as though she’d stepped into the past. She could certainly get used to this life.

  A yellow bird tore across Mirjam’s line of vision, drawing her gaze to the terrace across the street. Her heart jumped in her chest as she jumped out of her wicker chair, splashing wine down the front of her sundress. After a stunned moment of concentrating on the sight that had brought her to her feet, she laughed. It wasn’t at all what she thought. She could have sworn she’d caught a glimpse of a dark ghostly woman on the terrace across the street. Feeling rather sheepish, she realised the form was in fact her own shadow cast outward by the firelight illuminating her villa. In fact, when she looked very hard, she could see the neighbouring villa was entirely uninhabited. No furnishings, no people, no life. With an intoxicated chuckle, she shook the wine from her dress and stepped inside to change.

  When Mirjam took coffee the next morning, she was stunned to find the villa across the way bustling with activity. Movers brought in the kind of gaudy, overpriced furnishings so often purchased by rich people with no taste. Friends brought baskets of fruits and confectionaries. All activity seemed centred around one woman, who coasted from room to room like a shadow.

  After Mirjam’s vacation ended, she returned to her life in the city. At first, she thought it was the readjustment to urbanity that had her feeling out of sorts. But, as time passed and her system seemed never to conform to the old way of doing things, she wondered precisely what had happened in that holiday villa to change her personality so drastically.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the career that had keenly held her interest for so many years. She gave up gambling for charity work and alcohol for spiritual involvement. She took up yoga and meditation, took on a vegetarian diet, and still she felt in some sense incomplete. Though her body was healthier than ever, her conscience grew heavier by the day. She became pale and thin. The evil career was killing her, she decided, and so she quit.

  She’d seen every doctor, who’d attributed her condition to ennui and a whole host of other intangible diseases. They prescribed every medication imaginable, but Mirjam no longer believed in the usefulness of pills. She knew her health had deteriorated for some mysterious internal reason, and could not be restored until she knew the cause. In the meantime, her cheeks grew gaunt and her muscles weakened. As her physical condition deteriorated, Mirjam’s mind brought her back to the daytime heat of her provincial villa and the firelight at dusk. She smiled as she recollected spilling wine across her dress that day she was spooked by her own shadow. Her stomach quaked.

  As Mirjam lay her head t
o rest one evening, a commotion in the hallway outside her apartment jolted her awake. She couldn’t make out the words spoken, but one of the voices seemed particularly familiar. Perhaps she’d steal a peek through the peephole, to find out what the ruckus was all about.

  The very moment Mirjam crept out of bed, her front door burst open. Her heart stopped. She tried to scream, but her voice lodged itself so deep in her throat she nearly choked. The figure in the doorway didn’t look much like a cat burglar, but Mirjam knew in her toes this woman was something else. Her skirt suit was accented with ruffles and patterned in every shade of Gauguin’s palette. Her platinum blonde hair was almost entirely covered by a hat so flamboyant she had to duck her head under the doorframe to pass inside the apartment. In that ridiculous get-up, she looked like a cross between Carmen Miranda and a gangster’s moll. The costume quality of her clothing somehow soothed Mirjam. In comparison, the eyelets in her white cotton nightgown seemed considerably less risqué.

  With a look of considerable annoyance, the blonde rolled her eyes and set hands on hips. ‘Do you know how long it took me to find this place?’ Was her voice always so nasal, or only when she was irritated? ‘I’ve been tearing all over this damn city looking for you! I went to your house, but you’d sold it, so I went to your office, but they told me you quit your job! And now here you are, living in a bachelor apartment on the wrong side of the tracks? Mirjam, darling, what’s got into you?’

  Mirjam clung to the housecoat she hadn’t managed to throw over her shoulders. ‘Who … who are you?’ She tried to place the woman from school days or work days, but how could she have forgotten a woman so brash and buxom?

  The woman crossed her arms in front of her big breasts and tapped her toe against the vinyl flooring. ‘You really don’t know me?’ she asked, slamming the door closed with her rear. When Mirjam shook her head, the woman took a step closer and said, ‘It’s me – Skyggen!’