Succubus Heat. Richelle Mead

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      I didn’t hesitate. He leaned back against the couch, and I took him into my mouth, letting him fill it up and nearly touch the back of my throat. My lips slid back and forth on him as his hands tangled in my hair, pulling hard. I sucked more urgently, letting my tongue dance and tease as I moved. He’d been hard when I started, but he swelled even more as I brought him in and out of me.

      “Harder,” he grunted.

      I met his eyes, which were filled with a primal desire that exalted in putting me in such a submissive role. I sucked him harder and faster, my lips hitting his body over and over as they glided along that hard length. His breathing became heavier, his moans louder. I felt him grow in my mouth until it seemed like I couldn’t take anymore. He suddenly shifted forward to the edge of the couch, letting him thrust his hips forward and take control. Still holding my shoulders, he shoved himself into me, fucking my mouth as hard as he could. I gave a surprised muffled grunt that seemed to turn him on further.

      Then, with a great groan, he gave one last hard thrust and abruptly pulled out so that he came half in me and half on me. It left my skin and breasts warm and sticky. Still gasping, he pulled me up and ran his hands all over my body, uncaring of the increasing mess. His fingertip traced the edges of my lips, and I kissed it.

      A look of supreme satisfaction crossed his features. Still keeping me standing, he slid a hand between my thighs and up my skirt. His fingers slipped under my panties, thrusting deep within me. He exhaled with pleasure.

      “God, you’re wet. Kind of wish I’d fucked you now.”

      I kind of wished that too, but his fingers were going a long way to make up for that. I burned and ached for his touch, having grown more aroused than I’d expected to. He slid his fingers out of me, then moved them up to my clit and the center of my desire. He stroked and encircled, and I felt heat build up, ready to explode. I leaned forward, resting my hands on his shoulders where he sat. This put my breasts right in his face, and he leaned forward, sucking hard on one of them, teeth nipping at that sensitive skin. It wasn’t going to take much to make me come.

      He pulled his mouth and fingers back at the same time. I whimpered, wanting—needing—him to touch me again.

      “You want that? You want me to get you off?” His voice was soft and menacing.

      “Yes…”

      “Beg me,” he said menacingly. “Beg me to.”

      “Please,” I begged, my body arching back, straining to get closer to him. “Please…”

      His fingers and mouth returned, and like that, I exploded. The orgasm made my body spasm as I struggled to stay upright. My knees and legs were weak, but I knew if I collapsed, he wouldn’t be able to touch me anymore, and I wanted his fingers to keep stroking me as I came, bringing me to further and further heights of ecstasy.

      Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I gave in to my trembling muscles. I sank to the ground and rested my head against his knee. His hand found my hair, stroking it gently this time. The couch made for an uncomfortable respite, so we retired to my bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.

      Sighing, Dante lay back against the covers and half-pulled the sheet over him. I hadn’t taken up much energy from him, but he still wore the exhausted, blissfully lethargic look of so many men after sex. I didn’t feel particularly wiped out, and upon realizing I’d left my cigarettes in the other room, I promptly climbed out of bed to retrieve them.

      “I almost believed it this time,” he said when I reached the doorway.

      “Hmm?” I asked, pausing and glancing back.

      “That you were into it,” he explained. “I almost believed you were.”

      I narrowed my eyes. “Are you accusing me of faking?”

      “No, you never fake. But that doesn’t mean you’re always into it either. Sometimes I get the feeling you sleep with me simply because you’ve got nothing else better to do.”

      “That’s not true,” I said. “There are plenty of guys better than you.”

      He crooked me a smile. “But none who are as convenient or who can provide the illusion of a regular partner and bed warmer.”

      “Man, you sure do know how to ruin the afterglow.”

      “Nah, I’m just being realistic, that’s all. I don’t mind you using me.” His joking aside, I could see the underlying affection. Bitter and cynical he might be, but the look he gave me was filled with sincere caring.

      I rolled my eyes. “I’m not using you.” But as I walked off to the living room, I wasn’t sure if I believed that myself.

      Chapter 7

      “More Timbits?”

      I shook my head for the third time. If I’d learned anything about the Satanists—excuse me, the Army of Darkness—in my breakfast meeting with them two days later, it was that they really liked donuts. A lot. They kept trying to force food on me and seemed particularly fond of the aforementioned Timbits, which were like donut holes except with a cuter name.

      “No thanks.”

      After the donuts, a large part of the meeting focused on me. They all wanted to know who I was, where I’d come from, how my own group operated, etc. I spun lies out as fast as I could, rapidly building up a backstory for my Seattle Satanist group. The Army listened eagerly, and I hoped I’d be able to remember everything I was saying if quizzed afterward.

      “You’ll just have to come visit us sometime,” I said, hoping to allay the questions. “That’s the only way you’ll really understand. For now, I mean, Kristin wanted me to come here to talk about you guys.”

      The mention of Kristin sobered them up. Evan nodded. “Georgina thinks we maybe need to expand our activities.”

      There were six total gathered here, the truly “active” members. They ranged from 20s to 40s in age, and like Evan, they had that same sort of pleasant demeanor that was more suited to helping you pick out a DVD player or lawn mower than sacrifice a goat. Maybe it was just a Canadian thing. One of the members, a tiny blond college student named Allison, frowned. “But why? We’re already doing what the Angel wants.”

      They all looked at me, and I saw conflict on their faces. I’d slept with a man far more moral than Dante last night and was in the full throes of succubus charisma. I could tell it affected them. It was part of why they were so intrigued by me, and it would give me leverage here. Yet, I also realized, no matter how powerful they thought Kristin was and no matter how much they respected her endorsement of me, I was still an outsider and not necessarily to be trusted, appealing or not. Again, I marveled at the strength of their conviction.

      “Well, I don’t want you guys to stop…” That was, of course, exactly what I wanted. “But most of what you’re doing is scaring people.” That wasn’t exactly true, but how else could I describe it? “It seems like now that you’ve established yourselves, you should use that strength to start influencing people toward the Angel’s will. Surely you’ll best do his—her bidding by actually leading people into darkness.” I made eye contact СКАЧАТЬ