boom.
“You’re wondering why you can’t move.” I smiled, picturing all the things I was about to do to her. “You’re wondering what happened. I’ll recap.”
I stretched over her, ran my hand from her cheek down to her chin, her neck, her breast, her belly. “You were going down on me when your loving husband came tearing into the room.” I reached behind me until my hand found her crotch. Sliding between her legs, I ran two fingers over the whisper softness of her satin panties, felt the lips of her vulva quiver. “He was going to kill me, with help from you.”
She stiffened beneath me.
Grinning, I said, “That’s him on the floor. Had the audacity to die and not remove himself after. I’m afraid he’s going to stink up the place in another day or so.”
Her eyes slipped closed, and tears leaked through her lids. How touching. I pushed her underwear to the side and stroked my fingers over her clitoral hood, then pressed gently. Stroke, press.
“No worries, doll,” I said. “You won’t miss him for long.”
Stroke. I heard her breath catch in her throat, and I grinned as I pressed, lingering. Now her inner muscles tensed with my touch, seemed to reach for my fingers as I moved them away. Passion in the depths of despair. Sin at its sweetest. The smell of her fear was now spiced with desire. Demonic aromatherapy.
“I have a question for you. It’ll go easier on you if you tell me the truth. And believe me, I can smell the truth on you.” I rubbed her sex harder. “You do believe me, don’t you? Go ahead, doll. Speak.”
“Yes,” she said thickly.
“Good. Now then, tell me why you and Loving Husband didn’t try to kill me on our first Date.”
Shuddering from my touch, she said, “You were a surprise. We always pick our takes together. But you, you came on to me. He was out of town, and you picked me up…” Her voice turned into a moan as I reached inside her, nudging her toward bliss.
“So your man was away, and you decided to play?”
“You kissed me,” she breathed, “and nothing else mattered…”
Have to love the demon gigolo mojo. Gigolojo at its best.
“Actually, doll, you kissed me.” I slid my fingers out of her, then moved my hand up and down her inner thigh, tickling her flesh with her own wetness. She reeked of passion and panic. Mmm. Soon, soon, soon. “That’s how it works. You kiss me willingly, and then boom. Magic. But the fun starts when you call my name.”
She opened her eyes, looked at me as those fat tears kept winding down her cheeks. “Please,” she said. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, not you…”
“Uh, uh, uh. That’s a lie. Shame. Here you were doing so well until now.” I pressed the nails of my fingers harder against her plump thigh. “You and hubby, you were going to kill me good and dead, then do whatever it is serial killers do to celebrate. Champagne, maybe? A bloodbath? Tell me true.”
“Sex,” she whispered. “We have sex. We’re already sticky with your blood, and we kiss, tasting you on us…”
“Why, doll, that’s positively perverted. How impressive!” With my other hand, I cupped her full breast, feeling the hardness of her nipple poking through the silk of her dress. “How many have you killed? I’m just curious.”
“Seven…”
“A powerful number. So they say.” Now I had her other breast in hand, rolling the mound in my fingers, teasing her until the nipple was fully erect, begging me to have a taste.
“Please…Why can’t I move?”
I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “That would be because I commanded you not to move. Boom. Magic.”
She bit her lip—a nervous tic that reminded me of someone else. “You a magician?”
A quick suck on her earlobe, then a sharp nip. “I eat magicians for breakfast.”
She squeaked: a tiny, terrified sound. I nearly exploded in my pants.
“I’m an incubus,” I said, stretching the last s. “And do you know what an incubus does to fragile human dolls like you?”
Stinking of terror, she whispered, “No…”
I leaned over her until my mouth was barely inches away from hers. “An incubus sucks the life from you. An incubus fucks you and kills you, then takes your soul to Hell.”
“No…”
A quick kiss on her dry lips, wetting her mouth with mine. “So here’s where we are, doll. Your man is dead. Your life was already forfeited. Now it’s going to happen a bit sooner than I’d planned.”
“Please…”
I loved it when they begged. “Tell you what, my little murderess. I’ll give you a chance. All you have to do is not call my full name when I make you climax. If you can do that, I won’t fuck you to death.” I’d break her neck. But what was the point of telling her that? “What do you think? Tell me true.”
“I…” She swallowed, said, “I don’t know your full name.”
“But you do.” I licked the hollow of her throat, kissed the sensitive flesh. “In their souls, all humans know the nefarious. What do you say, doll? I’ll screw you so hard you’ll see stars.” Between her legs, my fingers danced over her slit. She groaned, tried to move, groaned harder when I pressed down. “Think you can keep from calling my name when you come?”
Gasping, she said, “Yes.”
“Wonderful.” I kissed her neck, worked my way down to her breast. Debated whether I should let her move beneath me. I gave her fifty-fifty on being able not to call my name. She was evil down to the core; I had to admire that in a human.
She was mine three minutes and forty-nine seconds later.
Chapter 2
Stalling
“I’m dead.”
Bloody Hell. For the umpteenth time, I said, “I know.”
“I’m dead.”
“I still know.”
“I’m dead.”
My client was also a buzzkill, so I ordered another shot of Jager. On the other side of the ebony bar, Randolph acknowledged my request and made with the pouring. I didn’t know why a nonmagical human mixed drinks at the most popular interplaneary pub this side of the Astral Plane, and I didn’t care. So what if he always wore an expression of wide-eyed terror and his mouth was set in a frozen scream? As long as he didn’t spill the booze when he poured, Randolph was all right in my book.
And he was eye candy, in an androgynous, Goth kind of way. Me, I’ll always prefer the ladies. But in my
