How to Kill an Incubus: A Rae Erickson Story (6 page)

“I’m good, Ren,” I told my best friend, living in the now. “Just starving.”

“Why didn’t you say so, hon?”

So she drove me over to her house where her husband, Lorenzo, was making his famous lasagna and playing Tupac, at low volume, of course, on the CD player in the kitchen.

“I’m seeing a ghost,” he declared when I stepped into their small but cute kitchen, “because Rae Erickson cannot possibly be standing here in my kitchen, here in little old Sallow Bay.”

“Very funny,” I muttered, going over to him and throwing my arms around him.

He reeked of cheese, spices, and herbs, and looked pretty much the same—the same cropped black hair, same dancing emerald eyes and the same tall, athlete’s build—as the last time I’d seen him, which was a while ago. Barefoot and in a red-and-white flannel shirt and faded blue jeans, he looked relaxed and at home in the kitchen, which was good because Renée couldn’t cook for shit.

“Hey, sweetness,” he said when he pulled back, holding me at arm’s length so he could examine me with critical sea green eyes. “I need to find you a husband. You’ve lost weight.”

I rolled my eyes at him and Renée laughed. “You’re just not wearing your glasses, handsome.”

“I got contacts now, so shut up. I have a cousin that I think you’d…”

“Hell, no!” I cut in, holding a hand up.

I loved Lorenzo but his entire family was batshit crazy. They were a handsome Italian bunch, originally from Naples, and all of the men were blessed with sexy olive skin, curly black hair, and bodies chiseled from stone. Half of them were cops and the other half lawyers. Lorenzo was the only firefighter. I’d been to a few Marino family reunions at the Bay and I’d witnessed firsthand their batshit craziness at its finest. Lorenzo’s mom, admittedly, always did good Adam Sandler and Chris Rock impersonations, and his grandfather, Papa Marino, was dating Ukrainian twins only just over half his grandson’s age, which meant we had fun making bets on when he was eventually going to get slapped with a child molestation lawsuit.

“Come on, Rae. He’s a cop. You’ll like him,” Lorenzo promised, turning away from me and fixing his attention on the delicious smell coming from the oven. “His name’s Paul.”

“Yeah, babe,” Ren seconded, handing me a glass of chilled red wine. “You’ll like him. In fact, if I wasn’t married to his mediocre cousin, I’d tap that ass.”

“You want a spanking, Renée?” Lorenzo threatened without looking at her. He was busy taking the lasagna out.

“With your hands or a belt?” Renée teased.

“My hands.”

“Bring it, baby. I love it when you punish me.”

“Oh, Lord,” I mumbled, sitting myself down at the tiny four-piece kitchen table. “Can’t you wait until I leave?”

“Seriously, though,” Renée murmured, plunking down opposite me as her husband moved around the kitchen behind her. “Something’s wrong and I think a relationship, or one-night stand, would help. Paul would be safe.”

I swallowed the remainder of my wine. “I think I’m done with men.”

“Thinking of getting with females, huh?” Lorenzo shot me an adorable grin. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Pig,” Ren shot at him.

“You love it.”

My best friend sighed, giving me her full attention. “I’m worried about you, hon.”

“Don’t be,” I said flippantly. “I’m good.”

“I know you too well,” she said sorrowfully, shaking her raven-haired head, “So I know you’re lying.”

Guilt pricked at me, but before I could say anything stupid, Lorenzo proudly announced, “Lunch is served, ladies.” And hunger took precedence over everything else.

I was finally getting my first good night’s sleep, when I felt the left side of the mattress beside me dip. Holding my breath, I mentally counted to five.

Deep breaths… Deep breaths… Deep…

Lips touched the bare skin of my shoulder and, even half-comatose, I knew they were Andrei’s. Trembling, I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling his hands travel the length of my back. Now, I was wide awake.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

His hand stilled. I took that opportunity to kick the covers off and slip out of bed, aware that I wasn’t helping my case by being completely naked.

Andrei slowly and gracefully got off my bed and stood, his staggering height intimidating me for a millisecond. His hair was tamed into a low ponytail, his chest was strained in a tight black tee, and black denims hung low on his hips. In short, he looked like something on the menu of good sex—a menu I wasn’t allowed to look at.

“I’m not your toy,” I spat, grabbing the nightgown that was thrown over the armchair beside my bed. I furiously shrugged it on. “So you can get out. Now!”

His eyes were navy, a navy I was already all too familiar with. “You think you can order me around?”

“I think I know that you don’t need to have sex. I think you’re running on full tank. You don’t need me.”

He cocked his head to one side and I still felt naked. “You’re right. I don’t need it.”

A thought suddenly occurred to me. “How’d you find me anyway?”

He held up one of my ankle bracelets, the one I’d had in my toilet bag in Vegas and hadn’t gotten around to wearing. “I had this,” he said, stepping around the bed and making his way to me. He shoved it into his pockets. “There’s no place you can run to where I won’t find you. It’s like a compass.”

I swallowed, more terrified than I was willing to admit. “Should I bow to you? I mean, you are a king. Is that what you do? Get a sex slave every twenty years? Am I the chosen one?”

His brow furrowed. “Who told you?”

I assumed he meant the first part, since I was being sarcastic about the last. “I wasn’t supposed to know?”

“I don’t particularly like mortals knowing my business.”

“Oh, now you believe I’m human?” I snorted, and he grabbed my wrists and pulled me to him.

“Yes, because I discovered who your mother is,” he replied glibly, his gaze undressing me and his touch scalding. “I also know that your father was a very unsuccessful hunter and I know that you spend your time making thousands of dollars off of jealous housewives.”

“Let me go.” I strained to get away and only ended up pressed against his hard, unyielding body. “I’ll scream.”

His erection strained against my abdomen. I felt myself get wet in response.

“The things I want to do to you,” he murmured in my ear, his hot breath tickling me. “Despite how much you fight it, you want to fuck me.” He gently sucked on my earlobe, eliciting a low moan from me. “You hate wanting me but you can’t help it.”

Crap!
I thought, my knees turning to jelly.

“What do you want, Andrei?” I gasped. I knew my lust, my desire, how I was so damn hot for him, was what he fed off on. I knew it and yet I couldn’t stop myself. “Tell me and get out.”

“I want my cock inside you.”

“Go to hell. That is not going to happen!” I screeched.

He released a low growl and scooped me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I writhed like a snake, screaming loudly, although there was no one anywhere near my house to hear me. It was isolated, just how my dad had wanted it.

Andrei ferried me to my bathroom, pushed aside the shower curtain of the old bathtub, and unceremoniously deposited me into it. I hadn’t had the heart to demolish the house’s original tub, and as a result, it was sitting tap to tap with the new, modern one.

“I’m going to kill you,” I snarled, standing and trying to launch myself at Andrei.

He held me back, simultaneously ripping my shower curtain off the rail. “Quiet.”

“Go to hell!” I spat, and he easily wrenched my gown off, flinging it over his shoulder. “Devil spawn!”

He got into the tub with me and, smoothly overpowering me, grabbed my arms, raising them over my head and binding my wrists to the rail with the shower curtain.

I bit back another scream, shooting him a death glare instead. Straining at the wrists was doing nothing, save for making the curtain dig into my skin. It felt like industrial rope.

Andrei was leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes drinking my naked body in. I was quite aware that my nipples were erect and that my breasts were aching to be caressed and kneaded to satisfaction. Furthermore, much as I tried to ignore the throbbing below my waist, my clit was so swollen it hurt.

I lowered my head, seething. Most of my anger was directed at myself. This kind of lust wasn’t healthy. Lusting after a demon wasn’t healthy. I looked up, scowling at him with my mouth firmly shut.

“You’re going to beg me for it,” Andrei said quietly, straightening up and tugging his T-shirt over his head.

My breath caught. He was playing dirty. Just the sight of his chest was enough to send me into a tailspin of unadulterated desire. I pulled at my restraints, but not to escape this time.

Andrei stood before me and cupped my breasts in his hands. The pads of his thumbs swept across the dusky tips of my nipples. I groaned, meeting Andrei’s darkened eyes.

He lowered his head, capturing an aching nub with his mouth. He suckled on it, his hands sweeping down my sides and meeting at my pulsing apex.

I released a moan, spreading my legs slightly. It was shameless and it was wanton, but at that moment, I didn’t give a damn. Andrei’s finger teased my entrance and nudged against my already sensitized clit. It felt like he’d knocked over my insides. I moaned, unable to say the words I knew he wanted to hear.

“She says no, but she…” He thrust a long finger deep inside me. “… says yes.”

I threw my head back and cried out, rocking against his hand as he slid another finger into me, feverishly thrusting and retreating, finger-fucking me until I couldn’t see straight. Another finger slipped in and I swayed on my feet, dangerously close to coming. Andrei chose that exact moment to withdraw from me.

I made a whimper of frustration, my entire body throbbing with the intense need to get off.

“I…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t say it. I just couldn’t say it.

“You what?” Andrei growled, cupping my face.

I jerked my head away. “No.” Begging just wasn’t my style.

“Very well,” he said in a low voice, and sank to his knees before me.

The sight of such a huge man kneeling before me—in a bath tub, no less—was such a turn-on, I thought I’d explode then and there. But he grabbed my thighs, angled his head and replaced his fingers with his tongue. He tortured my clit, the engorged bud of sensitive tissue weak in the face of such assault. I thrashed like a fish out of water, the shower curtain biting into my wrists, and screamed from the agonizing pleasure.

Andrei held me steady, his tongue flickering in and out of me, igniting a match somewhere inside my body. He licked his way up and down my slit and I pressed my opening into his face, wishing he could shove his whole face inside me and make me come just… like… that.

My orgasm was surging forward, building up inside me and threatening to liquefy me—but then, like before, Andrei pulled away.

I made an unintelligible protest, my knees practically giving way.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, looking up at me. My juices were glistening on his lips and I groaned in frustration at the hot image he presented.

Beg. He was probably used to people begging him. He was a king, after all.

Well, I had pride. I had never been bullied into doing anything in my entire life and I wasn’t about to start now with him.

“My arms hurt,” I said, my voice hoarse. Not to mention the fact that the iron rail was pressing uncomfortably against my wrist bones.

Andrei rose, his brows knitting together. “You’re stubborn.”

“I thought I pissed you off,” I said through clenched teeth, looking up at him defiantly. “Why do you still want me? You said you wouldn’t….” 

Then his lips assaulted my mouth and the rest of my sentence was cut off. His tongue dueled with mine, ever forceful. I moaned, vaguely horrified that just his searching tongue was enough to make me come. I shuddered, eyes shut, and could feel my juices trickling down my inner thighs, yet I wasn’t satisfied. Not even close.

My eyes opened in time to watch Andrei’s jeans come off and, as usual, he came with protection. Now that I knew that demons could have offspring with humans, I was doubly grateful.