“You like that?” I asked, much louder than before. “You like being fucked by someone other than your wife?”
“God, yes,” he cried out.
“Tell me!” I turned so that I could face him and grabbed his face roughly with one hand. “Say it again.” I continued fucking him hard, squeezing my muscles as I reached his tip. My wetness grew with each thrust—so much so that I could feel it dripping out over my lips.
I slapped him across the cheek, perhaps harder than I intended to. “I
said,
tell me!”
“I love being fucked by you. You’re so much better than my wife.”
My itch raged on, worse than before, almost unbearably so. It wouldn’t be relieved until he came—my release would come when he did. I could tell by his suddenly larger girth stretching my insides that he wasn’t going to last much longer. I rolled my hips in circles over him, and his velvety tip rubbed just the right areas. The swelling felt amazing. He grabbed my ass and pulled me down onto him hard. His body trembled and his juices filled me. I groaned in delight at both his release and the life I was sucking from him. The orgasm was good, but the high from his soul was even better.
In a flash, I saw a movie reel of his life. Like a flipbook, I caught a quick glimpse of what was to come in Erik’s life and what the world would lack by my stealing a portion of it. I saw him playing catch with a little boy, signing divorce papers, and finally . . . I saw him sitting quietly in a rocking chair, eyes closed. I exhaled, and it wasn’t until that second that I realized I had been holding my breath. You just never know until that moment what exactly you’re taking from your conquest. Knowing he was going to die peacefully in his rocking chair allowed my stress to melt away.
Seconds later, my human form radiated with life—
his
life. Muscles deep inside me tensed, and the sweet release of my own orgasm squeezed every last drop from him. With a forefinger, he flicked my clit and I screamed as the tremors rolled through my body again.
Pulling away from his body, I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs. I put my other leg back up on his shoulder. “Lick me,” I demanded.
“But, I-I—” he stammered, staring nervously at his juices combined with my own.
“Shut the fuck up and
lick
me.” I spoke through clenched teeth.
More hesitantly than before, he brought his tongue to the dripping area between my legs, tentatively licking.
“Harder!”
His tongue stiffened, and the tension built inside me once again. My muscles pulsed, squeezing the cum out of me and onto his tongue.
“How do I taste
now?
”
“Still amazing,” he said. He slapped my ass, squeezing my cheek with one hand.
His sudden force caught me off guard, and I moaned as my body convulsed in yet another orgasm. After, I leaned down and licked the juices from his lips.
We finished dressing and he came up behind me, kissing my neck. “That was amazing.” He reached in front and caressed my breast through the material of my dress. “
You
are amazing. I had no idea it could be that great.” He tucked another hundred dollar bill between my cleavage. “Can I see you again?” He was speaking fast, and I could see the effects of succubus sex affecting him already. It acts as a sort of high, making my victims more manic and stronger than they normally are. One of the many ways we succubi keep them addicted, coming back for more.
I rolled my eyes, and even though he couldn’t see me, he probably sensed my annoyance. “Well, of course we’ll
see
each other again. You’re in the coffee shop every fucking day.”
He turned me around so I was face-to-face with him. I didn’t realize before how tall he was. My eyes were about level with his pecs. “That’s not what I meant.” He brushed a piece of hair from my face.
“I-I know.” I stammered slightly, feeling uncharacteristically bad for the man. “But I try to keep my two lives separate. My dancing life and the café life. Inviting you here was a . . . a momentary lapse in judgment.”
He tilted my chin toward his and gave a small tug on my almost black locks. “I like this look. Is it a wig?” Then with the same hand, he cupped my jaw. For a second there, I really thought he was going to kiss me.
“Something like that,” I replied.
“So, I can visit you here at the club?”
I nodded, sadness washing over me. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against mine. It was so intimate. So atypical for me. Intimacy was not something I experienced on a sexual level. It had been decades since I had felt that sort of sexual affection and actually acted on it. My stomach clenched; a rush of sorrow flooded me for . . . everything. For his wife. His deceit. Because of me, he would die a week sooner than he should have; I stole part of this man’s soul and suckered him into cheating on his wife. Okay, well, maybe I didn’t sucker him, but I certainly offered temptation. He may have gone his entire marriage without any infidelity if it hadn’t been for me. Maybe I was the reason he’d be signing those divorce papers in the future. I needed to get away from him—away from this club.
I broke free from his kiss and headed toward the door. “I’ll see you around, Erik.” It was the first time I said his name without dripping sarcasm.
As the door clicked shut behind me, I instantaneously felt Lucien’s presence. Seconds later, he stood before me. And he did not look happy.
“My office, Monica. Now.”
2
T
he scowl Lucien sported was definitely his
don’t fuck with me
glare.
“Hey, boss,” T shouted over the hum of bar noise. “You ain’t heard from Crystal lately, have you? She was supposed to swing by and pick up her last paycheck a week ago.”
Lucien’s glare shifted from me to T, and in an instant Lucien held the three-hundred-pound man by the shirt and kicked the stool out from under him so that he was dangling by his collar. His power crackled around us, sucking the oxygen from my lungs. In a low voice, he snarled, “Shut your fucking mouth about my girls. Let’s not broadcast to the whole motherfucking bar that she’s no longer here at the club.” He let go of T’s shirt, shoving him to the bar, knocking over an empty pint glass. He snapped his fingers, pointing in the direction of his office. “Monica,” he whistled as a gesture for me to follow him.
A sarcastic laugh caught in my throat and I crossed my arms, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?” I tapped my foot, waiting.
He growled and slowly turned back to face me. “I’m
sorry,
” he said with sarcasm that would put mine to shame. “Monica, would you mind joining me in my office for a moment.”
“Please?”
His jaw clenched and he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Please.”
“Well, of course.” I smiled at him as I sauntered through his office door. Once we were both inside, I lit another cigarette sans the vintage holder. “So what the Hell was that little display out there about? Where’s Crystal?”
I watched as he fiddled with his pen, a nervous tick he’s had since the day we met, flipping it back and forth over his fingers. “Don’t you worry about Crystal. Just needed to remind T who the boss was around here.”
I rolled my eyes at that. “Right. As if you let any of us forget.”
“Only you, my
love
.” I smirked at him in a prepubescent way while narrowing my eyes. He ignored my childish reaction and went on with our meeting. “I need to talk with you about your performance lately. You know I’m judged on the souls you acquire, too, right?” Lucien folded his arms and sat on the edge of his desk. “And why are you smoking those things? They’re disgusting.”
I shrugged, feeling a bit like I was a schoolgirl being yelled at by the principal. “I’m immortal. It’s not like a few smokes will hurt me.” I ashed the cigarette onto his rug defiantly.
He snorted in disgust. “Yes”—there was no hesitation in his voice at all—“but it does affect the mortals who surround you. Secondhand smoke and all. For someone who used to be an angel, you don’t have much regard for those humans you
claim
to care so much about.” He paused, staring at me with cold, dark eyes. “Besides, you were immortal as an angel—and you didn’t smoke then.”
I sighed. “Things were different back then.” I didn’t take another drag, but I didn’t put the cigarette out, either. He was right and I knew it, but that didn’t mean I had to admit it in front of him. “I assume this D.A.R.E. lecture isn’t the only reason you wanted to speak with me? You mentioned my performance. . . .”
“Yes, right.” Lucien leaned closer toward me, and even though we were only a foot away from each other, I could feel his presence thicken the air. He was sexy if you went for that sort of look, I suppose. Black hair pulled into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, dark eyes, olive skin. He looked Romanian or of some sort of Eastern European descent.
His voice, sharp with authority, snapped me back to reality. “I know your reasons for choosing the souls you steal. I get it, I do. But we both have a job to do here. And the execs down in Hell are beginning to notice a lack of . . . success . . . in my jurisdiction. Especially now that a couple of my succubi are MIA.”
“What? Who?” I asked, growing concerned. I hadn’t heard anything about that. A surge of panic caught in my throat. “Kayce?” I thought of my best friend and fellow succubus.
He held up a hand to quiet me. “Kayce is fine. Don’t concern yourself about the missing succubi. But, while I’ve tried to be supportive of your reasons, when it comes down to your ass or mine, I choose my own, got it?” We both knew this wasn’t true. Lucien had a sort of big brotherly love for me. If we were a majorly dysfunctional family, that is. He had definitely chosen my ass over his in the past.
“Erik wasn’t that big of a loser. And I did get him to cheat on his wife.”
“And you look stronger than I’ve seen you in months.”
I glanced in the mirror and saw how bright my shifted image was, suddenly ashamed that only seconds ago I had been bragging about my conquest. I looked to the ground, hiding my eyes from Lucien. “There has to be a loophole, Lucien. There has to be some way to regain the magic that allowed succubi to enter a man’s dream and steal his life that way.” I thought of all the stories Kayce told about succubi several centuries ago. We didn’t use to require physical sex with anyone to steal their souls. Until Saetan discovered that by actually having sex with our conquests as opposed to entering their dreams, we got the job done quicker and more effectively. Lust in the flesh is much more dangerous than lust in your fantasies. I shut my eyes and imagined how amazing and easy the job would have been, not having to wear the sin of my job like a halo around my body.
“Monica, you need to let that go. That’s the old way things were done, and it’s been a long time since a succubus has entered a man’s dreams. Saetan changed the rules; the magic just doesn’t work that way anymore. Besides, don’t feel too guilty about Erik. He was destined to cheat. It was in the cards already; you just sped up the process.”
That did make me feel better. A little.
Lucien went on, not even noticing that I was still standing in the same position, frozen. “So, Erik was a better catch than you normally get. Kudos. But most of these losers you sleep with are already Hell-bound. Saetan practically has their souls in the bag already. He doesn’t need your help corrupting them. Now, a guy like Drew, however—there’s where He could use the help.” He smiled at what he knew was a jab in my gut.
“Leave Drew out of this.” I snapped at him a little too quickly and his eyebrows arched in amusement. I looked away for a brief second, studying the awful carpet in Lucien’s office. I continued more calmly, “I’ll never sleep with the good guys. I refuse.”
“Never say never, Mon. You’ve done it before, you’ll do it again. Even little corruptions can help our team gain power.”
I folded my arms across my breasts, the cigarette still burning, getting closer and closer to my fingertips. “I think you’re missing the point, Lucien. It would be sentencing them to an eternity in Hell. I can’t do that to the men who are Heaven-bound.”
“Christ, Monica. It’s been over two centuries since you were an angel. When are you going to get over this whole ethical inner battle of yours? You’re on our side now. Start playing for our team, or you’re going to begin to feel the penalties. I can’t protect you from everything.”
I walked over to him and put out my cigarette on his desk. His glare deepened. Staring at me over his rigid brow bone, he growled. An actual growl like he was some sort of vampire or something. I almost laughed, but I knew that would have been a huge mistake. Despite his growl of a threat, I lowered my voice and leaned in close to his face. “Lucien, I’m not going to change. Get over it. Just because one of Saetan’s minions managed to lure me into bed back in my Cherub days doesn’t change the fact that I’m still an angel at heart.”
An angel having sex with anything Hellspawn is a big no-no. But apparently, angels simply having sex isn’t necessarily a big deal. Who knew? I just learned it the hard way.
With his long finger, Lucien reached over, lifting the bottom of my dress revealing my sex, still glistening. “Yeah, you’re a real angel, huh?” He smirked at me as if he’d won some sort of small victory.
I slapped his hand away, heat burning my cheeks. I knew it was silly—a succubus feeling embarrassed about sex, but I couldn’t help it. I turned away from Lucien’s gaze, unable to match his stare. “Without the evil, there would be no good to measure by.” This was the mantra I told myself over and over to justify my actions in any way I could.
He touched my chin, pulling my gaze back to his. “Monica, you know I don’t like pressuring you into anything you don’t want to do. But at some point this starts to reflect on my abilities as your boss. I just need you to step it up a
little
bit. A good boy every now and then—maybe one a month—and it will keep the authorities down there”—his eyes flicked to the floor—“off both our backs.”
He was being reasonable—I knew that. But I still couldn’t forgive him for bringing up Drew. I pivoted on my stilettos and walked toward the door. “Anything else?” I peeked back over my shoulder and saw frustration in his furrowed brows.
“Yes.” His glare softened, though only a little. He walked back to his desk, picked up a file, and riffled through his papers. “There was some British guy out there looking for you not too long ago. His name was, um . . . Willis, maybe? William?”
“Wills?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think that was it. He looked familiar.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this sooner?” I asked, my voice so shrill, it could shatter glass.
He shrugged, looking at me over some paperwork. “Damn, calm down. Maybe if you hadn’t been
late
to work, someone would have had time to tell you. Then afterward you were a bit occupied.” He gestured to the back room where Erik and I had our private time.
“Were you listening to me? When I was with Erik?” I leaned into the doorframe and crossed my arms.
He smiled back playfully. “Yes. Though don’t let that go to your head. The whole goddamn club could hear you.”
Despite our playful banter, I stood there in his office, stunned. Wills was here—in my club. I hadn’t seen him in years—decades. Since I lived in London in 1939. Wow, he must be ancient by now. . . . What the Hell was he doing in Vegas, and why was he looking for
me?
Poor old coot must have Alzheimer’s. But more importantly, what was he doing still alive? I slept with him continuously for quite a long time. I
saw
him die in my visions on the battlefield. I must have taken years and years off of his life . . . and yet, he’s here in Vegas. And I look exactly the same—not a day older than I did in 1939. Shit. I really should adjust my looks at least every few decades. If he hadn’t seen me dance, I could just change my looks altogether. At least I have the dark hair tonight. I’ll have to tell him I’m Monica’s granddaughter or something.
Lucien coughed. “Is there anything else I can answer for you, Monica?” He was practically reading my thoughts.
“Can I sit for a moment? Collect myself before I go out there and explain to Wills why I still look exactly the same as I did back in the 1930s?”
He was already submerged in whatever he was reading, barely noticing I was still in the room. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He gestured to a seat with his pen. “Just not too long.”
I sunk into the chair near the door. Focusing on my breathing, I studied Lucien’s office closer. Such a typical, boring office. Like the kind a CPA would have. Faux wood paneling straight from the seventies. Gray carpet. Cherrywood desk with a gold nameplate and one of those Newton’s Cradle desk toys with the five silver balls that swing and strike each other. I had heard a rumor once that those toys actually started swinging on their own when they sensed another higher immortal’s presence. I just threw it into the rumor mill along with the claim that stones could trap power and tin foil hats prevented mind reading.
“Hey, Lucien, is it true what they say about those desk toys?” I nodded toward his. “Does it really start to swing in the presence of a higher immortal?” I mean, why else would he own one, right?
He didn’t look up at me from over his laptop. “Yes. It’s true.” There was a soft
ding
from his BlackBerry signaling that he had a new message. He looked down to read it, a look of concern flashing over his face briefly.
“Really? Why isn’t it swinging when I’m present, then?”
He sighed and slapped his pen down onto the desk hard enough to let his annoyance be known but not so hard that the pen broke. He rose from his chair and walked over to me as he spoke. “Because it’s linked to me, therefore it calibrates higher immortals based on my power gauge. I swear, you’re like talking to an inquisitive toddler sometimes.”
Lucien grabbed my elbow, forcing me to my feet and leading me in the direction of his door. “Why don’t you go have a quick nightcap before looking for your Brit? It will help you think.”
He opened the door and escorted me out. His fingers unclamped from my elbow, and I noticed just the slightest bit of perspiration breaking out along his hairline. “You sure everything is okay, Lucien?”
“Yes, yes. Fine. I’m just . . . stressed.” But his words didn’t match the cadence in his voice. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow . . .
on time.
”
And with that, he shut the door in my face. I leaned my ear against the door to listen for anything dramatic. Partly because I was concerned for Lucien’s well-being and partially because I was nosy. I heard a familiar
crack,
the sound of Lucien teleporting to another location. I listened for another ten seconds just to be sure he had actually left and let my cheek rest on the cool door.
From behind me, there was a familiar, warm accent. “Monica? Monica Lamb? That’s you, isn’t it? I’d remember those legs anywhere.”