Taken by the Incubus (The Complete Erotic Story, including One Night with an Incubus, Revenge of the Incubus, and Taken by the Incubus) (3 page)

I come to in his arms, as he gently tucks me into his bed. I’m so weak, but I’m alive. Once more, I’ve survived, but so has he. Still, I don’t resist as he pulls a sheet over our naked bodies and drapes me over his chest with an exhausted sigh. He strokes my hair and whispers my name. “You are such a majestic creature,” he murmurs. “I’ve never, in all my years of existence, encountered anything like you.”

I know exactly what he means. My fingers trace a pattern over his smooth, hard
pec and he kisses my forehead. It’s almost loving. It’s almost regretful. “Why are we doing this?” I whisper. “It could never end well.”

Even if I win, it might feel like I’ve lost.

“We are hunters,” he says. “How could we possibly resist? It had to happen sometime.”

His hands are sliding over my curves, along my thighs, my hips, my breasts. His thumb circles my nipple, and I hiss out a breath. “I’ve never been with anyone who was as powerful as I am,” I say. And it’s not good, because I want him. Not only as a conquest. I can’t believe I’m thinking this way.

He tips up my chin. His eyes search mine
. Don’t ever be sorry for what you are,
his expression seems to say. Or maybe that’s him, whispering into my mind. He brushes his lips over the corner of my mouth and then bows his head and captures my nipple between his teeth. His arms become a cage around me as he sucks, addictive pulls that have me arching back, offering myself up. My body aches with fatigue, but I can’t resist him. He’s so quickly become something I need, not just something I want to defeat and devour and destroy.

“Stop,” I say. “Don’t.”

His hands move to my waist, and the tip of his tongue marks a path along my ribs. “Don’t what? Don’t fuck you like you want? Don’t give you pleasure beyond what you’ve ever experienced?”

The amused, casual tone in his voice sends anger blazing through me, turning my tender feelings to ash.
No,
I think.
Don’t make me kill you.

Because he was right.
I am a predator, and I’m not sorry. I am what I was made to be. A lioness among gazelles, a wolf among sheep. A ravening monster among the helpless. A thief of souls, a remorseless killer.

A smile tugs at my lips as his hand slips between my legs. Power surges through me, not much, but enough. His desire is fueling me now, and I can feel it as his hot, heavy cock bobs along my leg. He might be playing this game, trying to finish me off, but he’s caught in it, too. He can’t stop either.

I undulate against him, sensuous and hypnotic, closing my eyes against his impenetrable beauty, thinking only of giving pleasure. It’s in every part of me, this poison, this potion, this drug. I writhe against his cock, caught between us like a hostage. And then I turn over and push my ass against him, spreading my legs so my desire is slick against him. His hand clamps over my hip.

If we’re predators, animals, then we’re going to fuck just like this, and it’s how I will destroy him. I wedge my elbows beneath me and jerk against him, then grin as his cock slides along the crack of my ass, down to my pussy. My hard nipples scrape against the sheets as tremors of desire—mine and his—rumble through me. I know what he’s seeing, my ass and pussy exposed, spread wide and waiting for him. There is nothing more magnetic than that, and no matter how powerful he is
, he won’t be able to resist.

I look over my shoulder at him, my bottom lip between my teeth. His gaze is clouded with lust and raw, primal need. He’s stroking the length of his cock, anticipation building. I want to feel it inside me again, stretching me to the point of pain, drawing me tight and commanding me. “Fuck me,
Soren,” I say to him. “Show me who you are. Make me
want
to die.”

His breath rushes from him and his abs tense as I wiggle my ass. He slaps it with his cock, and I moan. “Make me beg you to end me,
Soren. Make me your slave.”

And with a terror that coils up my spine, I realize I mean it. He smiles like he sees that. His hand is a vice over my hip as his pelvis dips. The head of his cock slides into me, and I clench around it. His eyes squeeze shut. “You bitch,” he says. But then he grasps my other hip and rams into me.

It is primitive and mindless, painful and perfect. His body is a machine, pistoning into mine with domination and possession as its only goals. My pussy takes him eagerly, every stab of his cock sending pleasure jolting through me, spreading its jagged wings at my core, threatening and dark and completely addictive. My fists curl into the sheets and I hang on as he fucks me like a freight train, his balls slapping my clit with each thrust, zapping me with ecstasy until I’m reduced to only one thing, one desire, one wish.

Soren
.
I want him always, I want this always. I don’t want this to end. I want him to fuck me until eternity sweeps over us, obliterating us completely. My cries meld with his as he pumps his hips and throws his head back. I feel the powerful, merciless incursion of his body against my spine, rattling my bones, melting me down. I understand the power of an incubus. When I draw the soul from a man, it spurts from his cock, one pulsing surrender all focused to one point. But when Soren does his work, he draws a woman’s soul from everywhere, from her very being, pulling it from every cell, every thought. He’s doing it to me now, his every breath acting like a magnet, drawing me out of myself.

But I’ve got his cock inside me. I clench and pulse, I twist and fight like I’m resisting, but really I’m drawing him deeper, making him wilder, more determined to claim what he wants.
My power, my self.

He’s coming unmoored, losing himself in me. His thrusts are frenzied and relentless. His body is controlling him. His cock is mine. I push back as he thrusts forward, my own climax a threatening undertow pulling at my consciousness.
No, I won’t, not yet.
If I do, I’ll never get away. These will be my last moments.

Soren’s
entire body abruptly clenches, every muscle going rock hard as he lets out a roar, and I lunge forward abruptly. He slides out of me with a grunt of surprise, and his cum, hot and silky, splatters across my ass and my lower back. I turn quickly and look up at him, naked and perfect, his chest heaving, his cock still jetting white, pearly liquid. His gaze is blank with shock, and I see the moment he realizes I’ve beaten him. His lips part, like he wants to say something, but the only thing that comes out is a strained whisper. “Mala …”

I roll to the side as he collapses next to me. His eyes
shut, his powerful limbs heavy and limp as sandbags. Dread wells inside me even though this should be my moment of triumph. My pussy still throbbing with unsatisfied desire, I reach for his throat, and when my fingers find a fluttering pulse, I sink onto the sheets, relief overcoming me.

His face is turned toward me. He looks young, vulnerable in this moment. And he is. I could kill him now. He can’t stop me. He’s weak as a kitten. But instead, my eyes trace over his sculpted cheekbones, his smooth, tanned brow, his straight nose, his generous mouth, and my hands move between my legs. My gaze locked on
Soren’s body, I stroke my clit, needing to finish what he started. My eyes fall shut as I think about what he does to me, and I slide my fingers inside my cunt, missing him already. It takes only a few moments to bring myself to screaming release, my body arched back, my legs spread, my cries falling on deaf ears.

Still trembling with the aftershocks, I rise on the bed and look him over, from his tight calves to his toned ass to the muscles of his back. An odd, tender feeling rolls through me, and I kneel over him, leaving a lingering kiss on his brow. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but I’m not.”

Pulsing with new power,
his
power, I get dressed. And I float out the window, leaving Soren naked, unconscious, and drained in my wake.

This guy’s tongue is like a living thing. It twists in my mouth, frantic and reaching, just like his hands. He’s pawing me like a teenager, even though he’s a wealthy stockbroker.

And it’s boring me to death. I let him
continue, drawing energy from him, but really, this is a fucking drag. I push against his chest and he comes loose with a pop of suction, panting. “What’s wrong?” he huffs.

“Go buy me a drink,” I say, and like a zombie—one with a prominent hard-on—he scoots his chair back and heads for the bar, leaving me alone in my shadowy corner of this private club. From this little table, I see the couples with their heads together, huddled safely in their romance, twining their fingers and giving each other coy looks. I see businessmen in their power suits, feeling invincible behind their fabric armor and their complete lack of knowledge about how the world really works, who the real predators are.

I lean back, sliding my hands along my thighs and up my center. Nothing has been the same since Halloween. I fled the city, desperate for new hunting grounds. I drifted through the days, feeding for need but not feeling the pleasure of it. It’s almost Christmas, and I’m lost. And restless. And pissed off. And knowing only one thing—one creature—can make this better.

Good thing I left him alive. Because I realized something as I left him there, defeated and unconscious …

A tumbler, amber liquid sloshing against its glass insides, drops onto the table in front of me. “Thanks,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and I look up with surprise.
Soren leans on the table, looking impeccably casual in dark jeans and a tailored button down that shows off his chest and shoulders. He lowers himself into the chair that was previously occupied by my groping “date,” and I scan the room to find the guy slumped over the bar.

“Did you kill him?” I ask, forcing my voice into steadiness despite the jittering waves of excitement rolling through me.

Soren looks over at him. “Nothing that permanent.” He returns his attention to me, that familiar, amused curl at the corner of his mouth. My gaze traces his face. He looks good, healthy and tan and eerily, unbelievably sexy. He must have fucked his way back to health. I wonder how many women he had to drain to look this good. And I wonder if he was thinking of me every time he rammed his cock into one of them.

“How did you find me?”

His lips twitch. “How do you think? You escaped with most of my power and all of my will. I know myself very well.”

And I’m carrying part of him inside me. How did I not realize this? He can sense it, and he can find it as easily as he can find himself in a mirror. “So what are you going to do now? I defeated you once already.” I lock my gaze with his as I raise the tumbler to my lips, inhaling the smoky burn of whiskey. It slides hot over my tongue and smooth down my throat. “I’m too bored to do it again.”
LIE.

His green eyes glint with challenge. “You owe me a rematch.”

I push my chair back from the table. “I owe you
nothing
.” I stand up, though my legs are unsteady and my cunt is already slick with desire. I need to get out of here before he smells it.

His nostrils flare like he already has. “Mala, you will never be rid of me this way. There’s only one way this can end.”

“With me draining you dry and leaving you for dead again? Maybe I should have killed you and put us both out of our misery.” I take a step back from the table, but my body is threatening a mutiny. I have to get away from him.

He watches my retreat. “You’ll come back to me. You won’t be able to stay away.”

You’re wrong
, I almost say, but somehow, I can’t. My eyes slide from his chest to his lap. The bulge there tells me he’s ready, relentless, merciless, unwilling to accept anything but victory. And my own rebellious pussy responds with a rush of liquid desire. He takes a sharp breath and chuckles. “I’ve missed you, too.”

I nearly trip over my own heels as I take a halting step forward and then stagger back. “Fuck off,
Soren.” The grip he has on me is terrifying, sending hard chills of fear right down my spine. I clumsily pivot and march toward the door.

“I’m going to win,” he calls after me.
“Only a matter of time.”

I glance over my shoulder at his gorgeous face, his dangerously magnetic body. Then I rip my gaze away and head for the door. But a smile is playing at my lips.

The chase is on, then.

I burst into the crisp night air, letting it swirl around me in invisible eddies, lifting my dark hair and chilling my cheeks. I laugh at the sky, power and excitement pulsing from me.

I’ve never felt more alive.

By Folia Deux

I watch him from across the dance floor. His dark hair curls at the nape of his neck. His skin is deliciously tan, and his fitted long-sleeve shirt shows off his sculpted muscles. He’s gorgeous.

He’s not Soren. But he’ll do.

By the way he
dances, I can tell he knows what to do with his hips. From here, I can smell him. Sweat. Lust. He’s grinding against a redhead who looks like she has no idea how she got so lucky. But she could never satisfy him. Not like I can.

I make my way over, dancing in a way that raises the temperature in the room and makes everyone else just a little more eager to be fucked tonight. That’s my power, the gift of the succubus. I can draw them to me, make them want me. And tonight, I can’t seem to contain it. It bleeds into the crowd, whipping them into a frenzy that draws a smile to my lips. Mouths clamp onto shoulders, cocks swell with blood and need, cunts throb, hands clutch at tits and slide beneath waistbands. I inhale, drawing in the energy caused by that desperate friction.

I’m hungry, though I shouldn’t be. Last night I drained a perfectly virile victim, left him pale and naked and drained of his soul, and I walked away, his cum still slippery between my legs, humming with life, overcome by power, … and still vaguely unsatisfied. Ever since I met Soren—the incubus who would have fucked me to death and drained all my power if I hadn’t left him unconscious in that hotel room after one amazing, terrifying night—nothing has been the same. I expected him to chase me down. So I’ve been running.

He hasn’t come after me.

Don’t pout, Mala. He’s a killer.

But so am I. And though I know
Soren wants nothing more than to end me, I … miss him. And I’m pissed at the thought that he’s moved on.

So I’ll fuck his dark-haired stand-in and pretend. I move alongside him and the redhead, matching their rhythm. Dark-hair looks over at me and the breath rushes from his lungs as his gaze traces from my thigh-high boots to my micro-mini to my corset, which barely contains my full, round tits. His rhythm falters. I smile at him, and then I reach over and run my finger down the redhead girl’s cheek, making her pupils dilate and her plump lips drop open. She lets go of her dark-haired dance partner as I tangle my fingers in her hair and kiss her, sliding my tongue into her hot, bubblegum-flavored mouth, feeling the blood rush beneath her skin, scenting the desire slicking her pussy. Her hands clutch at me, but I pull her away from my mouth and speak into her ear. “You need a drink. Go sit at the bar until someone buys one for you.”

She nods dreamily and walks away, and I turn to my dark-haired quarry. “Hi there,” I say. “I hope she wasn’t important to you.” I lay my palm on his stomach and feel it quake beneath my touch.

“She wasn’t.” His arms slide around my waist, his gaze riveted to my breasts. “I’m Eric.”

“I don’t care,” I say, letting my hands slide to his ass, muscles bunched and tight.
Mmmm
. I want to dig my fingernails into him. Eric laughs and moves rhythmically, and our bodies twist in time to the music. He’s hard and ready, and as our sweat mingles and his head bows over mine, I look into his brown eyes. “Let’s go somewhere.”

That’s all the convincing he needs. Eric takes my hand and practically drags me through the crowd. He’s been here before, then. He knows about the room in the back. Me, I’ve never been to this place in my life, but I can sense it, the air laced with ecstasy and salt, the soft slap of flesh on flesh … my instincts never fail. So when the hallway winds left then right, when he walks through one door and then another, I’m not surprised. We enter the back room, where several couples are already taking advantage of the space. A girl with a mane of curly hair is sucking off a muscular bald guy on the couch. A dark-skinned guy with a gorgeous dragon sleeve tattoo has his fingers in the cunt of a platinum blond. A blond guy kneads the ass of a slender Asian girl whose hair falls past her waist as she tips her head back beneath the weight of his ferocious kiss. There’s a pure sexual energy in here that fill
s my lungs as I inhale. It wraps around me like a sensual blanket, welcoming me, caressing my skin, sliding like a fingertip up my thigh to my clit.

Eric looks around like he’s seeking the perfect spot, but I point to a chair in the center of the room, since most of the wall space is taken. “There.”

“Doesn’t look comfortable, but—” He stops arguing as I shove him toward it, then reach for his belt as he sinks onto it. It’s a simple wooden chair. Not the place for a sensuous connection, but that’s not what either of us is looking for, and I’m starving. I unbutton his pants and unzip his fly, pulling his boxer briefs down. He lifts his hips and I practically rip his pants to his ankles. Kneeling before him, I take in the view. His cock is nice and long, an elegant sort of tool with a plump head, curving slightly toward his belly button. I stroke it, licking my lips as he moans and reaches for my breasts. I squirm and let him pull them up from my corset top. His thumbs run over my nipples and his cock turns to steel. He loves tits, this boy. I rise on my knees, and he fits his dick right between the two creamy swells. His head falls back as he clutches my breasts and pushes them together, forming the perfect tight space around his cock. He pinches my nipples while he bucks his hips and fucks my tits, the tip of him nudging beneath my chin as I watch.

But I want a taste. I put my hands on his thighs and bow my head, taking him in my mouth. At the first firm stroke of my tongue, his groan is so loud that the other couples in the room pause to look. The energy in the room changes, coiling around me
, zinging along my skin like a warm electric current. I bob up and down even as the tall, blond guy behind Eric disentangles himself from the Asian girl so he can watch me. She’s too drunk to care and sinks onto a couch. As Eric leans back, lost in the pleasure I’m giving him, fucking my mouth with insistent jerks of his hips, I make eye contact with the blond guy, whose gaze is hazed with absolute lust. I can see his prominent hard-on through his pants. And suddenly, I want more than I’m getting.

My lips come off Eric’s cock with a pop of suction, but before he can complain, I climb into his lap, spreading my legs on either side of his. His hand slips under my skirt and he curses when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. I look down at him. His mouth is hanging open, like he has no idea how he got here, like he doesn’t know what to do. It’s just another reminder that he’s not
Soren, and in spite of myself, I feel a pang of disappointment. Suddenly irritated, I reach between us and fit the head of his cock between my pussy lips, and then I plunge down. He fills me nicely, long and hard. And as I bounce on him, focusing on my own needs, Eric is too tempted by my jiggling breasts to hold back. He takes one in his mouth and clamps down on my nipple with his teeth, drawing a hiss of pleasure from my lips.

Once Eric’s found his rhythm, his hands on my ass and his mouth on my tit, I look at the blond again. He’s shoved off the wall and made his way over to us, so he’s just a few feet behind Eric. He’s got a confident, arrogant sort of vibe, and he’s already unzipped his pants and is stroking himself. I reach over Eric’s shoulder, hook my finger through the
blond’s belt loop, and draw him close. I lean forward with Eric still thrusting between my legs, and the blond steps up, offering a taste. His cock is thick and veined, with a pearly drop of precum at the tip just to tempt me. I open my mouth, and he slides it inside. With one cock in my mouth and one in my pussy, I’m in ecstasy. This could be it, exactly what I need.
Finally
. I tangle one hand in Eric’s hair, holding his mouth to my nipple, and with my other, I pump the shaft of the blond, letting my saliva lubricate every slide. We’re frantic, one living creature made of sex. The blond has his hand on Eric’s shoulder, leaning, but Eric seems barely aware of him, though my mouth is slipping up and down the blond’s thick cock right next to Eric’s ear. His hands are iron over my ass cheeks, squeezing hard enough to bruise. And the blond is fucking my mouth beautifully, tapping the back of my throat with each snap of his hips. I want this to go on and on. I’m going to come this time. It’s going to be good. I’m sure of it.

Except … Eric makes a choking noise beneath me, and deep inside me, I feel him throb and pulse. He’s having trouble breathing, because I haven’t been paying attention, and I’ve been taking too much energy from him. I close my eyes and concentrate on not draining him dry, on not taking what he’d give up so easily if I let him. I don’t need it, not tonight, and in this public place, it could get complicated. While he jerks beneath me, I clench my pussy around his throbbing shaft and focus on finishing the blond, who winds his hands into my long, dark waves and grunts with each desperate thrust. He’s not being gentle or considerate. The more aroused he is, the more he wrenches my head and pulls my hair, forgetting that I’m more than a blow-up doll … or maybe never understanding that in the first place. But I know how to handle men like him. I siphon all that violence and
greed, that wicked exuberance, sucking him mercilessly.

He goes tight, and his salty cum jets down my throat. I drink it down, savoring the life inside but not taking everything. I swirl my tongue around the tip of him, licking him clean. I give him a gentle shove and he stumbles back. His shoulders hit the wall behind him, and he slides boneless to the floor, where he sits, slumped, like he’s had too much to drink. Eric lets go of my breast and slides out of me as I get up. I use his t-shirt to wipe between my legs and step to the side, smoothing my hair and straightening my skirt.

Every set of eyes in the room is riveted on me, every mouth hanging open. I pull my corset up, encasing my breasts once again. My movements are quick and frustrated.

I haven’t had a single decent orgasm since I was with
Soren, and it is
pissing
me off.

Eric looks down at the slick mess in his lap and then up at me. His face is pasty pale and his lips are tinged with blue, but he manages to say, “Can I have your number?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I let out a breath and look around. “What are you all staring at?” I snap, gesturing at each of them. “You came here to fuck, so fuck! I’m not your entertainment.”

I spin for the door as someone starts clapping, a slow, ironic cadence. It freezes me in the doorway, my hand on the wall. Chills roll down my spine as laughter overlays the percussion of each clap. I would know it
anywhere, that laugh, that voice.

“
Soren,” I whisper. He’s been here the whole time. Watching. I rest my forehead on the doorjamb, biting my lip.
No wonder I was so hungry.

“You didn’t climax, Mala. That’s not like you.” God, the vibrations of his voice remind me how badly I want to come with him inside me, how easy it would be … and how my wanting could make me fatally vulnerable. I look over my shoulder. He becomes visible in a dark corner, his green eyes glinting with amusement.
“Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong. I’ve missed you.
“Everything’s perfect. Eric just gave me the ride of my life.” But it’s not loud enough, not strong enough to convince anyone. Especially Soren. His mocking laughter makes me want to scream.

My mind is spinning with options.

Run.

Jump him.

Fly.

Rip his clothes off.

Get the hell away.

Fuck him hard.

Don’t be an idiot. He wants to kill you.

I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’m powerful. I beat him last time. He’s the one who lost himself. He’s the one who drowned in pleasure, whose addiction to my pussy nearly killed him. So why does the sight of him make my heart pound? Is it the confidence in his laugh?
The seduction in his eyes? The pure, predatory essence of him? The way my body quivers at the thought of him holding me down and thrusting into me?

I’m not ready to face him, not tonight, so I step into the hallway and disappear. I’m so full of power that I slide into invisibility easily, grateful for the ability to hide in the ether.
Soren can’t find me here.

But I don’t run. He’s close, and I realize that’s what’s gotten me so frenzied tonight. I can sense him, smell him,
feel his current on the air. And I’m addicted to it. So when he strides out of the back room, handsome and sleek, a living, breathing god of sex, I trail him. Silently. Invisibly. It’s time for me to watch
him
.