Succubs on Top gk-2

by Richelle Mead

  He straightened back up, and this time I was the one who went down—literally. On my knees, I tugged on his boxers and released the erection that had been straining at the fabric.

  I ran my tongue along its tip, tasting the few salty drops that had already seeped out. Then, without further hesitation, I took the whole thing into my mouth, letting my tongue roll over it as my lips moved back and forth along the length of the shaft. He groaned and laced his fingers across the back of my neck, trying to push more of him inside. The first tendrils of his energy began flowing into me, sweet and delicious. He was a good one, full of strength. I sucked harder, teasing him for a couple more minutes, then broke away and stood up. The look on his face when I stopped became almost comically desperate. Like he couldn't believe I had just done that to him. Like I had just gone and hit his shins with a baseball bat.

  I licked my lips and smiled. "You want more? You're going to have to come and get it. "

  This was the clincher. If I was going to go to the trouble of bagging a guy with a strong life force, I might as well hit my quota with Jerome and do some corrupting as well. A guy with a serious girlfriend might feel guilty about fooling around with another woman, but he'd feel guiltier still if he was the one who took serious steps toward initiating it. It was too easy to say she made me do it. My part was done; he had to take over now.

  This guy might not have realized my ulterior motives here, but he seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. He stood on the edge now, the edge of a decision that could affect his eternal soul. Did he or didn't he? Did he give in to his lust and betray a woman he cared about? Did he take a chance with me he might never get again? Or did he reject me and walk away? Did he stay faithful?

  My smile grew, slow and languid, as he debated. I paced around the room like I had all the time in the world, like I didn't care what he decided to do. The click of my heels sounded loudly on the hard floor. I turned away from him, trying to make out some old framed picture on the wall. It was mostly a dark blur in the dim lighting.

  Then, I felt him behind me. His hands slid from my waist down to my hips, then lower to cradle my ass. He pushed up what little of the skirt there was and pulled down the strappy black thong I had underneath. Slowly, his hands traced every curve, feeling and exploring. One hand moved around the outside of my leg toward the front, between my thighs. The movement forced him to move closer to me, and I could feel him—still hard, still ready—press against my flesh.

  The exploring hand pushed farther between my thighs, and his breath was hard and hot on my neck. His fingers brushed the small, neatly trimmed patch of hair between my legs, then moved lower, dancing at the edges of my lips, teasing them. A small, urgent moan left my mouth, and I ground against him, hoping to get a response.

  He slid his fingers in a smooth rhythm, stoking my already raging desire. A minute later, those urgent fingers moved into me, probing and exploring. I was wet and slippery, but it still caught me by surprise, and I exclaimed loudly. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me even closer, and continued driving those fingers in and out. His life poured into me again. A purely physical burning welled inside of me too, growing stronger each time he moved in. But before that feeling could reach completion, he pulled his fingers out and left them out. My turn to feel unfulfilled. Gripping my shoulders, he turned me around, and I braced myself to be shoved on top of the table or up against the wall.

  To my astonishment, he pushed me onto my knees instead, his breathing frantic now, his eyes burning with hunger and lust. "Your mouth," he gasped out. "I want your mouth again."

  Unexpected—and perhaps a little disappointing—but it all worked the same for me. Before I could even act, he thrust himself back between my lips. A surprised sound lodged in my throat, and it seemed to turn him on even more. I no longer had to worry about who was taking the initiative here; it was all him. His hands held my head and neck in place as he pumped away, pushing into me over and over.

  The life-force transfer started in earnest, his energy flooding into me with his thoughts and feelings. Finally, finally, finally, he thought, aching desire crackling through him. Feeling his mind and soul, I realized then he might not have been so easy a tag as I originally thought.

  He loved his girlfriend. Loved her passionately. But she didn't like oral sex, and one of the biggest fantasies of this guy's life was to—bluntly—fuck her face. Had I started foreplay in some other way tonight, he might very well have been strong enough to decline. But I had given him the one thing he couldn't refuse. It overpowered the guilt lurking in the back of his mind.

  I'll never get this chance again. Allison doesn't have to know.

  I knew that rationalization well. It was just about the oldest in the book.

  He thrust more urgently, that long shaft filling my mouth as his eyes watched me eagerly, and unintelligible, primal noises sounded in his throat. And for me, who had been denied an orgasm, pleasure was building in a different way. Life-force transfer doesn't occur at the point of a physical contact or even orgasm. It's bigger than that, more holistic. Soul to soul. His energy washed over me now in waves, and it was pure ecstasy as I rode that ocean higher and higher. My body burned with it, nearly to the breaking point. Before that crest crashed over, before our connection broke, I caught one more thought from him, plain and simple: mouth or face}

  Ah, men.

  He chose mouth, moaning loudly as he came. Warm, bitter liquid flooded over my tongue as his body spasmed and his nails dug into my neck and scalp. I waited until he finished, then swallowed because I knew it was what he wanted me to do. It was what every guy wanted. And really, it was the least I could do for him, because with his orgasm came a climax of my own.

  The full force of his energy hit me like a bolt of lightning at the same time he felt its loss. I broke from him, gasping at the feel of that power, swimming in that bliss, invigorated and alive. He, however, stiffened and paled, suddenly weak and confused at losing something he hadn't even known he had. He groped blindly for support and caught the edge of a table as his legs gave out underneath him. The table saved him from completely falling over, and I caught his other arm, balancing him. Carefully, I eased him down so he could sit and lean his body against a chair.

  His eyes struggled to stay open as the shock of his energy loss pulled him toward unconsciousness. Another cardinal succubus rule: the stronger the guy, the stronger his loss would be. "Oh my God…what's wrong with me?"

  Pushing aside whatever kindly feelings or sympathy I might have, reminding myself he'd—eventually—recover, I stared down at him coolly and rearranged my clothes. "I think you drank too much." I leaned over and tugged up his pants. "I'll go get help."

  He started to protest, but I was already out the door. I strode back to the dance floor, haloed in his energy. I felt like a goddess entering a temple of worshippers, and many sets of eyes seemed to regard me as exactly that. A few quick searches, and I found his friends from earlier. I told them he'd passed out downstairs and left them to deal with it.

  "This one's on me," I heard Hugh say when I walked back up to the bar. My post-sex glamour would be especially obvious to him.

  I ordered a shot of Jagermeister and chased it with another shot of Goldschlager. Nothing like funny-named liquor to top off an evening.

  "Does it make you feel better?" the imp asked. He inclined his head toward the two empty glasses.

  "No," I said. "But sometimes it helps me not remember as much."

  I went home after that and cooked myself in a long, hot shower, trying to wash away the feel of sex. My buzz soon yielded to my second headache of the day and a slightly nauseous feeling. I had just settled down on the couch for mindless TV watching, back in my normal shape, when Seth showed up.

  "I wanted to see how you were doing," he explained, sitting down next to me.

  "Better," I told him uneasily. "Sort of. I went out with the gang."

  "Ah. Sounds fun." He didn't sound entirely sincere
. I think "the gang" still kind of weirded him out a little.

  He leaned his head on the couch and stared at me for a long time, not saying anything.

  I laughed in spite of myself. "What?"

  "I don't know," he said, face serious. He reminded me of a child staring at the tree on Christmas morning. "It's weird. It's just you're so…so beautiful tonight. I mean, you're always pretty, of course, but tonight, I don't know—I can't take my eyes off of you. I want to…" He didn't give voice to the urge.

  "Must be the wet hair and pajamas," I said lightly. "Always a turn-on."

  But I knew what was bedazzling him. The guy from the club. Or rather, that guy's stolen life. Humans couldn't resist it. Immortals couldn't resist it. Racking my brain, I realized Seth had never seen me so soon after a fix. He'd seen me the same day sometimes—and also commented on my attractiveness then—but this was the first time he'd received its full effect. It made me feel guilty to see him looking at me like this.

  His hand reached for mine, and I tried not to flinch as he took it. Even after the shower, I felt dirty and cheap. I didn't want him to touch me after what I'd done, even if it had been in a different body. I didn't deserve such love.

  Seth sighed, still enchanted. His long fingers traced warm, whirling patterns on my skin. I felt my breathing grow heavier. "I wish I could put your beauty into words. But I'm not that good of a writer. Guess I need some work."

  I stood up hastily and tugged at his hand. "Now you're just being silly. I think you're the one that needs to go home and rest."

  He blinked. "Oh. So no more, uh, attempts at sleeping?"

  I hesitated. I wanted to do it again but still didn't trust myself. Or Seth actually, not with the way he kept watching me with such rapt admiration, that heat burning in his eyes. One would have thought a backroom fling might have sated my lust for the night, but I wanted Seth just as much as ever. Of course, in retrospect, maybe that wasn't a surprise after all. Said fling hadn't exactly addressed my physical needs.

  "No," I told Seth. "Not yet. Too soon."

  He looked like being separated from me would hurt him physically, but he finally conceded when I let him kiss my cheek. It was long and lingering, more sensuous than one would expect, making me inhale and then exhale a long, shuddering breath. I wouldn't return the gesture, however. Not with these lips. He waxed on about my beauty a few more times before finally leaving, and I went to bed shortly thereafter.

  Lying there, I told myself over and over that I had done the right thing at the club. I had done what I needed to do to keep myself strong and capable. After all, Seth had said he loved my "whirlwind." Sex was the means of keeping it strong. I had done the right thing. And I had done the right thing with Doug too. Everything I'd done today had been for the best.

  And yet…if that was true, then why did I feel so terrible about it all?

  CHAPTER 9

  "Nice glow," Bastien told me when he answered the door the following afternoon.

  "Yeah. Tell me about it."

  I traipsed into his house wearing the Tabitha body, and pulled up a stool at his kitchen counter. He handed me a Mountain Dew from the refrigerator.

  "Why so glum? Couldn't have been all that bad."

  "It was okay. In that sleazy, backroom sort of way. Seth came over afterward and couldn't stop telling me how pretty I was."

  "Of course he did." Bastien was sporting a glow of his own today. "How could he help it? He's a weak mortal, just like they all are."

  I ignored the jibe and took down half the can in one gulp. "On the topic of 'weak mortals,' how'd your football game go?"

  "Ridiculously boring. Bill must have fantastic speech writers because his conversation is on the same level as that cupboard's over there. But, on the bright side, I did talk to Dana several times, and I think I repaired the damage you did."

  "Ye gods, will you get over this? I didn't do anything. You have no one to blame for that but yourself."

  "Hey, I didn't fall down the stairs. Anyway, I took your advice and played sympathetic brother. She really seemed to go for it. Except…"

  "Except what?"

  He frowned, blue eyes perplexed. "She seems to like me well enough. She asks about my job, she asks about you. But something's weird. I just don't feel like…"

  "Like she's going to throw herself at you any time soon? Huh. I never would have guessed."

  His expression hardened, doubts banished. "It's just a matter of time, that's all. Like that convent in Brussels. Remember how well that turned out?"

  I grinned. "Just a matter of time. Sure. So what are your plans today?"

  "Nothing. I'll probably go out later, but now I'm just sort of hanging around. Mitch is supposed to be at work, after all."

  "Well, let's sneak you out and go see a movie or something."

  Frankly, I was eager to do something semi-fun. I had finally made it to my day off, and it hadn't come a moment too soon. The only thing that bothered me was not knowing what had happened at the bookstore when—or rather if— Doug came in this morning. If Warren or Paige had been around, they might have banned him for a while. But I certainly didn't have that power, and I hated to lose the coverage anyway. I'd finally resorted to calling Janice, telling her to ring my cell immediately if there were any repeat problems. I hadn't heard anything so far.

  Bastien allowed himself grudging interest in a movie. "Anything good playing?"

  The doorbell rang before we could check.

  "Geez, Bas. It's like Grand Central Station whenever I'm here."

  "Probably a Jehovah's Witness," he decided, checking out the door invisibly. "Huh. It's Jody. Wonder what she wants."

  I supposed Dana visiting would have been more serendipitous, but I found Jody's presence a relief. "Well, let her go. You're supposed to be at work."

  He nudged me. "You answer."

  "Me?"

  "Sure. Make up some reason to be here. She's chummy with Dana. You can do some reconnaissance."

  "Oh, for goodness—"

  The doorbell rang again, and Bastien looked at me pleadingly. I had a good opinion of Jody, but I didn't like him mixing me up in his affairs. Grumbling, I went to the door. Maybe she was just dropping off more baked goods or something, I thought. Her face burst into a grin upon seeing me.

  "I was hoping it was you! I thought I recognized the Passat."

  I smiled back at her. "Good memory. Did you need Mitch? He's at work."

  "No, not really. I just saw the car and wanted to say hi. Are you hanging out here?"

  "Uh, yeah. It's my day off, and I promised him I'd…do some yard work."

  Bastien, hovering invisibly nearby, got a kick out of that.

  "It's a great day for it," she agreed. I supposed it was, in that crisply sunny sort of way that sometimes shows up in winter. At least we had no rain today. "What were you going to do? It looks like the lawn service took care of most of the leaves."

  That it had. I tried to think of something superfluous that suburbanites wouldn't have already underpaid someone else to do. "I was going to plant some flowers."

  "Oh!" She clasped her hands together, brown eyes alight. "That's a great idea. Do you want some help?"

  "Uh…"

  Beside me, Bastien nearly had a seizure. He nodded his head vigorously and mouthed the word reconnaissance.

  Yard work was the last thing I wanted to do on my day off, but now I'd gone and boxed myself in. "Sure. I don't really know what to do anyway." That had to be the understatement of the year.

  "Let me grab my coat, and we'll go to my favorite nursery," she squealed. "This is going to be fun."

  She dashed back to her house, and I glared at Bastien. "I hate you."

  "Don't I know it." He clapped me on the back. "I'm sure you have a green thumb somewhere, Fleur . If not, you can shape-shift one."

  "You owe me. Big time."

  Jody drove us to some gardening place that looked like a maze of greenery to me. Actually, greenery wasn't quit
e the right word. Many of the trees and plants had lost leaves, turning brown and yellow as winter deepened. A maze of vegetation, I guess.

  "They're still alive," she told me, assessing plants with an expert eye. "Although, this isn't exactly the best time to do plantings. Still, we should be able to manage something since the ground isn't too hard yet."

  I grimaced. "Sounds dirty."

  She laughed. "How'd you get slated for this?"

  "My brother doesn't…always think things through. And he's pretty persuasive when he wants to be." And annoying. And pushy.

  "I can see that. He's pretty cute too. Bet he gets women to do anything he wants."

  "You have no idea."

  This made her smile again. "Well, hang in there. Once you get started with this kind of stuff, you get into it. And it's not that dirty. You want dirty, I'll tell you about Guatemala someday."

  "When were you in Guatemala?" Whoa. Somehow I managed her circle picking places like Malibu and Paris for vacations.

  "When I was in the Peace Corps."

  "You were in the Peace Corps?"

  "Yup. When I was younger."

  I stared after her as she continued checking out the selection. Jody had been in the Peace Corps and worked as an art teacher. She was clearly talented creatively. She was smart and had a good personality. How the hell had she gotten mixed up with Dana?

  We ended up buying several plants she called Christmas Roses, plus some bulbs she warned might or might not come up in the spring. Once back at Bastien's, we bundled up in coats and gloves and set to digging in his front yard. I saw him peek out the window and wave at me at one point; I stuck my tongue out at him when Jody wasn't looking.