Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Beck
My lust reflected in the incubus’s eyes. Those vibrantly violet orbs pulsed every time I pounded into him.
I’d covered his mouth, intending to silence him and to stop myself from putting my lips on him instead. Then he flicked his tongue across my palm like a viper scenting the air and—shit—I wanted to be inside that hole too, fucking and gagging him until all he felt and tasted was me.
I thrust my fingers past his teeth into the chasm of his mouth.
He gave a surprised cry and bucked beneath me, but I pressed in deeper, levering his jaw open as I reached farther down his throat.
He gagged and jerked again, but the garbled cooing sound that followed sent vibrations straight to my cock.
His eyelids fluttered, and his purple irises rolled back as he wrapped his tongue around me and started to suck.
The horny bastard purred and moaned and arched up into me while drool made tracks down his face.
His perfect fucking face.
I’d gone into this with the plan to forget him, but I already knew that image would be burned into my mind long after the night ended.
Cherry drew a sputtering breath, half drowned by the saliva he struggled to swallow with my fingers invading his throat. Gulping, then gasping, he tightened every muscle in his lithe body while his ass clenched around my dick.
I came fully inside him, burying my release so deeply he’d be feeling it for days. As reluctant as he’d been at the start of this, he was beautifully responsive now. Just beautiful, really, in a way men rarely were. From his soft jaw and upturned nose to his pink lips puckered around my fingers.
His climax was pure rapture, everything I’d hoped to see when I turned him over. Fucking him from behind would have been expedient, efficient.
But I wanted this view.
The incubus’s hole clamped onto my shaft, and he cried out as milky cum spurted across his belly. It didn’t quite get on his face, but it covered me, and I couldn’t stop a near-primal growl from rumbling out.
I stayed in him longer than I should have, captivated by his mewling sounds and the suction of his throat until stabbing pain overtook everything else.
Agony spiked in my fingers as Cherry’s fanged teeth broke the skin.
They grated against my bones, and I shouted, trying to free myself from a bite that made me wonder if I was balls deep in an incubus or a snapping turtle.
“Damn it, kid, let me go!” I bellowed.
I’d seen those double canines when he smiled. I never imagined I’d feel them too.
Cherry stirred from his reverie, and his entire face went slack. His mouth fell open, leaking drool tinged red with blood.
Liberated, I lurched away from him, staggering back from the mattress that barely passed for a bed and crashing into the dresser.
My fingers throbbed with aching heat from deep puncture wounds.
They were dripping already, dotting the floor with crimson while I scavenged my discarded clothes, looking for something to staunch the flow.
I grabbed my jacket first and wound it around my hand before scowling at the incubus.
“What the fuck?”
He looked wrecked. Scarlet hair frizzed loose from his ponytail, and blush splotched his face.
His chest heaved with panting breaths, shimmering from the trail of cum that stretched from his sternum to his navel.
And there was blood too. My blood, being hastily swiped from his chin by trembling hands.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasped. Tears shone in his eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m a vegetarian!”
Despite my shock and the pain searing up my arm, his declaration startled a laugh out of me. “When I agreed to a quick bite, I didn’t mean it literally,” I said.
He certainly didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile. I almost felt bad for him, which was absurd since I was the one with holes in my fingers.
“You… you’re bleeding,” he said, stating the obvious.
I wrapped the suit coat tighter, wondering how I would explain the stains to my dry cleaner. “A bit,” I replied. “I’m just glad I didn’t put my cock in there.”
My gesture to his mouth caused his frown to deepen.
I retrieved the rest of my clothing and dressed while Cherry tucked up in the corner of his bed. He hugged a pillow against his nude form, no doubt getting cum all over the case.
The sight was as sorry as this room—this closet of a space with only the barest essentials and a void of comfort.
I’d wanted to flee the moment we arrived because the bars on the window made me feel uncomfortably enclosed.
I wondered if this was a room they merely used—shabby digs for Maslow’s venture into the Vegas skin trade—or if Cherry… lived here.
Once I was dressed, sans jacket since it was being used as a tourniquet, I glanced back at the incubus. I’d thought he looked pitiful in the executive suite, but this was exponentially worse.
I felt sorry for him. That was how this whole thing started, and also how it would end.
Worming my uninjured hand into my suit coat’s pocket, I located my money clip before asking Cherry, “What do I owe you?”
He looked up with his eyes watery and face flushed. “For what?”
I tipped my chin toward his bed. “Pleasurable company. A midnight rendezvous. A tryst…” I trailed off, unsure how I could make it any clearer. “For letting me fuck you,” I concluded flatly.
His mouth made an O shape, and he nodded. “Umm… It’s uh… it’s on the house.”
I snorted. “That’s a lousy business model. I doubt Maslow would approve.”
At the mention of his boss, Cherry’s features hardened. “It’s fine,” he mumbled.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
He hugged the pillow tighter, looking small with his knees tucked on either side of it and his chin resting on top. “Yeah. Positive.”
I crossed my arms, trying to make the bulky bandage of my coat look more natural for my impending walk of shame through the club. Assuming I could find my way out of here. Cherry seemed pretty settled in, and I wouldn’t have expected him to escort me, anyway. His job was done.
Turning toward the door, I made it one step before Cherry’s voice chased me.
“Please don’t tell him.” I glanced back as he clarified. “Maslow, I mean.”
I shook my head. “Kid, I’m not telling anyone about this. Your secret’s safe.”
Retracing my steps down the hall, then the stairs, I skulked back into the crowded club. Blacklights shone on the stage, illuminating the dancer, Hemlock, posed in patent leather with his tail wound around the pole. He had the crowd fully under his spell, so no one paid me any mind.
I emerged from the building and into the muggy Nevada night. Livingston was long gone, but the limo was parked right where I’d left it. Colette was there too, smacking a wad of bubblegum while she lay across the hood, watching traffic crawl by on the Strip.
She stirred at my approach, raising her blonde head and turning toward me.
“It’s illegal, you know, leaving your dog in the car.” Her French accent gave the words a musical lilt, one of a few holdovers from her human life.
I kept my jacket-wrapped hand tucked against my chest as I wandered up beside the limo and leaned against the front quarter panel. “You could’ve come in.”
Her eyes slid sideways, the whites glinting in the club’s glaring neons. “And join the masses ogling nubile demon boys dancing to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!?’” Her nose scrunched. “It’s an experience I won’t miss.”
“You sound like me.” I huffed a laugh.
“Mmhmm,” she agreed. “Spending a few hundred years with someone will do that.” Swinging her legs around, she pushed off the hood to land with a crunch on the parking lot grit.
“What kept you?” she asked while dusting off her slacks.
“Livingston left an hour ago, looking less than pleased.” She drew closer to me, then sniffed the air.
“What’s that smell? Sweat, shame, and… sex? ”
My smile turned tart. “Funny, I thought you’d pick up on the blood first.”
“Blood?”
My finger throbbed dully as I unwrapped the jacket, then raised my wounded hand to the glow of the lot light. The flow of blood had slowed, but my skin was smeared with remnants of red.
Colette dipped in, grabbing my forearm and bringing my hand to her line of sight. “Did you get into a fight?” she asked, then bared her teeth in a wolfish grin. “A sex fight?”
“I don’t get in fights,” I replied as she released me.
“Oui, I know. That’s why you hired me.” Her chest puffed with pride before she sobered. “We should put something on that. I have first aid.”
Circling to the passenger side of the Lincoln, Colette opened the glove box and pulled a small metal tin from inside. After locating the essentials, she urged me to sit while she crouched beside the car.
She unwrapped an alcohol wipe and set to work scrubbing dried blood from the lines of my fingers. I tensed as she neared the puncture wounds around my knuckle, waiting for the impending sting.
“So, I’m no expert,” she mused, “but this looks like a bite. Do they have animals in there, or…”
“No animals,” I replied. “Just a very hungry incubus.”
Colette’s ponytail bounced as her head snapped up, and she grinned. “The new kid!”
I sighed. “One and the same.”
She daubed a bit more before palming the stained wipe. “So, you and he…” Her grin turned wily as she stabbed her index fingers together, tip to tip.
“What’s that supposed to be?” I asked.
“Making the dicks kiss.” She gave one more press to emphasize her point. “Très romantique.”
I scoffed as she opened a cloth bandage and measured it against my wound.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Livingston left, you stayed, and the incubus bit you… why?”
“He was hungry.”
The image of Cherry clinging to my coat hem in the executive suite, looking at me with round, anguished eyes, remained poignant.
He’d given me the full Oliver Twist, “Please, sir, I want some more” act, and I’d believed him.
His pale skin was almost sallow, and the stage makeup didn’t quite mask the gaunt shadows on his face.