Nocturnal Obsession (4 page)

Pressed for time, he abandoned his current method and activated his keenly perceptive senses. His second sight, a sort of infrared, scanned the teeming crowd for her. He continued walking and craning his neck as he swept the party, quickly jumping 23

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from one aura to the next in search of hers. Less than ten minutes into his search, he found her. Through his second sight, she was a curvy black silhouette surrounded by vibrant, pulsing rainbow rings. The pure power that reverberated through Desi’s aura was quite a thing to behold, but as soon as he switched back to his normal vision, he was completely floored by a most seductive sight.

Dressed like a naughty beer wench, Desi wore a miniature version of a German peasant’s frock, red with black and green embroidery, over a white ruffled, short-sleeved top. A frilly white petticoat hung a fraction of a centimeter lower than the skirt of the dress, which barely skimmed mid-thigh. The corseted dress braced her midsection, lifting her breasts and displaying them over the daringly low white top.

Braids, sexy white thigh-highs and a pair of black patent-leather Mary Janes completed the flirtatious ensemble.

He watched as she threw back her head and laughed gaily at some remark made by her friends. The gentle arch of her neck and back presented the heaving crests of her breasts, and he inhaled a sharp breath. His cock leapt and he consciously quelled the rush of need that coursed through him. He was overwhelmed by the need to bury his face between her breasts, to palm a cheek, to stab his cock into her tight channel.

More importantly, Ian suddenly realized that he wasn’t the only one beguiled. He jealously eyed the group of men surrounding her and almost came unglued when one of them dared to reach out and sweep one of the braids off her chest, touching her bare arm in the process. As far as he was concerned, she belonged to him—and he wasn’t one to share what was rightfully his.

He used his powers of persuasion to mentally push the mixed group of guys and girls to leave Desi’s side. Most of them scuttled off within seconds of the time he implanted the thoughts in their weak minds, but Lauren, the roommate, was a tougher sell. Before he met Desi, Lauren was exactly the kind of girl he would have preyed upon, and in that Little Bo Peep outfit—complete with itsy-bitsy pink dress, pink fishnets and white hooker platforms—she was quite a visual delight. And yet, he gave 24

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her very little thought beyond wanting to shoo her away from Desi. Eventually, she too succumbed to his mental will, and soon, Desi was left standing by herself. Self-assured, she didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her solo status and happily sipped her drink.

He carefully considered his plan of attack. In any other situation, he would have relied heavily upon his incubus powers and simply planted a suggestion in her mind, but not tonight. He needed her to choose him of her own volition, without coercion.

Sure, he could coax her with gentle words and soft caresses, but ultimately, she had to choose to make love to him. He could only hope that the many nights of pleasure had influenced her trust in him. Right now that was his only advantage.

He sucked in a long, cleansing breath and strode toward her. It was now or never.

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Desi tipped her glass and finished the final few drops of her Texas Sunrise. Since she had lost the coin toss for designated driver, the nonalcoholic version was the closest she would come to tasting a Tequila Sunrise tonight. She was just about to head to the bar for another when she thought she heard her name over the din of laughter and music. Forehead wrinkled, she tilted her head and listened but didn’t hear anything other than the normal sounds of a crazed co-ed party.

“Fraulein Desi?”

Startled by the sound of that oh-so familiar British voice behind her, she tensed and her heart jumped into the back of her throat.
No fucking way
, she thought. This was not happening! She was not standing there in some slutty beer wench costume while Dr.

Ian, the ringmaster of her filthiest dreams, stood right behind her.

“Desi?” His warm fingers touched the naked skin of her shoulder and electricity jolted through her.

Gulping nervously, she twirled to face him.
Oh god
, she thought, knees weak. He looked positively sinful in that Hugh Hefner getup. The paper lanterns strung overhead cast their light upon the opening of his smoking jacket, highlighting the rippled ridges of his incredible abs. She wanted to trail her fingers down that washboard tummy, play with the blond happy trail that she imagined lay beneath the folds of the jacket and follow it straight down to his rock-hard—

Focus, Desi
! she harshly reminded herself.
Words. Now.

“Dr. Cuvos,” Desi said, recovering quickly.

“Ian,” he smoothly replied. “I’m not your professor any longer. You should call me Ian.”

“Right. Sorry,” she muttered.

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He idly waved his hand, dismissing her apology. He gave her an appraising glance and smiled approvingly. “I love the costume, Desi. It definitely highlights your best assets,” he said, eyes lingering on the swelling crests of her breasts.

She blushed beneath his scrutinizing glance. Was he seriously checking her out?

She wanted to pinch herself to prove that she hadn’t just nodded off and this wasn’t simply another one of her erotic fantasies. Calm down. He was probably just being friendly. Best to play it cool.

“Thanks,” she managed finally. “I like the smoking jacket. It suits you.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Ian purred, his sapphire irises locking with hers. “Do you come to costume parties often?”

“More often than you’d think,” Desi laughed, loosening up around him. “You?”

“I seem to get quite a few invites to these kinds of things,” he said wryly.

“Because the frat boys idolize you,” Desi said without thinking. Her cheeks flushed as she realized her
faux pas
, but Ian laughed heartily, clearly amused by her candor.

“Is that so?” Ian asked, still laughing. “Care to explain?”

She considered playing coy, but that just wasn’t her style. “Come on, Ian, you know that you’re
the
epitome of a playboy. These guys see the way the girls drool over you.

They want to be just like you. They want girls crawling all over them. And let’s be honest here, you’re the perfect bait for luring girls to these parties. They hear you’re going to be here and bam!” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “They’re determined to make it here. The guys like that because it ups the odds that they’ll score.”

“Is that why you came here?” Ian squarely asked. “Because you knew I’d be here?”

“Hardly,” Desi laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Then why?”

Mulling her options, Desi met his unwavering gaze. She could lie, but there was almost a daring quality to Ian’s look. The hell with it, she decided. They were both adults. He could handle the truth if she could dish it out.

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“I came here to get laid,” Desi calmly, boldly explained.

“That’s quite a coincidence,” Ian replied without missing a beat, “because I came over here with the intention of seducing you.”

It took every fiber of her being to keep her jaw from hitting the patio. Did he just say that? Did he just admit to wanting to sleep with her? She thought about the implications of his admission. She could have sex with him,
real
sex. She was almost reduced to jelly at the thought.

“So what you do say, Desi?” He was still talking. He tipped her chin with a crooked finger and ran his thumb across her pout. “Stand here for another hour making small talk or skip right to the best parts?”

Her stomach somersaulted, but before committing herself, she gauged the sincerity of his statement. There wasn’t a hint of duplicity in his eyes. He was serious, she realized. He wanted her. They were surrounded by literally hundreds of horny, promiscuous girls, but he had approached her, chosen
her
. That realization thrilled her.

Her mind was made up.

“Skip to the best parts,” Desi stated, her voice surprisingly strong, considering the apprehension quaking in her stomach.

“Excellent choice,” Ian said, grinning boyishly. He extended his hand and as soon as her palm rested upon his, he curled his fingers around it. Without a word, he turned toward the grand limestone frat house like a man on a mission. She trailed closely behind, unable to hear anything but the deafening thud of her blood pumping past her eardrums.

As they walked, she noticed curious stares in their direction. Unwilling to be fodder for the campus rumor mill, she raised her hand, whispered a quick incantation for a veiling glamour and made an inconspicuous gesture to trigger the magic. The faintest buzz of energy ensued and Ian unexpectedly cast a glance over his shoulder, his gaze confused. Desi held her breath, hoping he hadn’t sensed her magic, and a second later he was facing forward again. Revealing her witch identity had always been a problem 28

Nocturnal Obsession

in the past, and she didn’t want to end this relationship before it had begun because of something beyond her control.

Once they entered the frat house, Ian hooked a sharp right. They walked through a sitting room, a den and a massive dining hall before reaching the industrial kitchen. In every room there were at least three, but sometimes five or more couples engaging in heavy petting and, in one case, full-on sex. The kitchen was packed with stacked kegs and pallets of bulk snack foods. Ian led her around the obstacles in their way, his body language transmitting determination. They passed a closed door, but Ian suddenly halted and retreated. He tried the door, finding it unlocked. He peered inside the room and Desi tried to see over his shoulder but couldn’t. He tugged on her hand, half dragging her into the presumably empty room.

It was a spacious laundry room with ten washers on one wall and ten dryers on the other. Multiple shelves holding laundry supplies sat along the far wall and long, stainless steel tables lined the center of the room. Miscellaneous towels, mismatched socks and a pair of green boxers were scattered across their surfaces, the remnants of careless frat boys.

She heard the door lock behind her and a moment later, Ian was embracing her, his smoking jacket already discarded. It was so bizarre, but he smelled exactly as he had in her dreams. The arms clenched around her body felt exactly as they had last night. His hands felt incredibly warm against her skin, almost unnaturally hot, but she chalked it up to his highly aroused state. His tongue insistently prodded her mouth and she welcomed it into her own, groaning as it swirled around hers. His cock strained against the flimsy silk fabric of his pajama bottoms and stabbed her soft belly.

“I want to fuck you so badly,” Ian growled, sucking on the curve of her throat.

“Oh god,” Desi moaned, overcome with lust. He sounded absolutely voracious, and she wanted him to ravish her. “I
want
you to fuck me, Ian.”
For real…

Ian spun her around and applied pressure to her back, bending her over the nearest table. Her breasts rested atop the surface and she breathed raggedly as he groped her 29

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ass, grabbing two handfuls of her girlie lace bloomers. One hand left her bloomers, snaking up to settle on her neck, and his lightly stubbled cheek rubbed against hers as he kissed the edge of her mouth. She panted loudly as his hand slipped inside her bloomers and followed the rounded globes of her ass. He tickled the cleft and she bucked. Her bloomers were damp and in a few seconds he would know just how hot she was for him. His fingers gripped the tops of her bloomers and he yanked them down around her thighs. Cold air met her blazing-hot ass cheeks. She lifted her feet as he pulled the bloomers down.

“Open your legs,” he instructed, his voice thick.

She complied. Her pussy contracted as she awaited that first touch of his fingers, but it didn’t come. She jumped when she felt his soft, wet tongue probing the folds of her pussy. She convulsed as slippery fluid gushed down the walls of her sex. No one had ever licked her from that angle, and it felt deliciously naughty. He dragged his tongue from the tip of her erect clit to the sopping wet hole and gently prodded it.

“Oh. My. God.” Her staccato cries filled the room.

“Not quite,” Ian said, a smile filling his voice as he paused his lapping to reply.

A split second later he was back at it again, licking and suckling the supple lips.

Clutched by instinct, Desi wiggled her ass in an effort to guide his tongue right where she wanted it. Her legs shook as pleasure knotted low in her tummy and she gripped the edge of the table to keep from crumpling to the ground in a heap of quivering ecstasy. Ian’s hands grasped her ample hips as he gave her pussy the licking of a lifetime. She was on the cusp of exploding when he abruptly stopped. His lack of action wrangled a tortured cry from her throat, but his only answer to her rasping plea was a flat-palmed slap across the fleshiest portion of her ass.

Squirming with need, she fought to breathe as his fingers nimbly flew through the lace back of the frock’s corset closure. When the last lace had been pulled free, he spun her around and, grasping the front of the dress, pulled it down. Her breasts spilled forth, the areolas dark, the nipples tight and stiff. As he toyed with her nipples, his 30

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mouth met hers. Tasting her pussy on his lips was an odd but welcome sensation. It joined them in a deeply erotic manner, and she swiped her tongue across his lips for more.

Consumed by the need to give him pleasure, she pressed on his chest, turning him until his back was against the table. She squatted in front of him and freed his erection.

It was fully engorged, dark red and quivering. A few glistening drops shined on the head and she swiped her tongue across them. Palming his balls, she took his cock into her mouth, taking him fully on the first plunge. His hand was immediately on her head, caressing her face as she used her other hand to stroke the shaft in the opposite direction of her mouth. She lavished his cock with a combination of her hands and mouth until he was tense and panting.