Page 15 of Demon’s Temptation
“Don’t.” His voice was nothing but a needy rasp, but he didn’t have the power to push her away. Her hands landed on his thighs and he hissed.
“So I could be anyone…and you’d react this way?” One of her small warm hands stayed on his thigh, the other trailing up over his abs then continued on to rest at the center of his chest. “Anyone could make your heart pound like this?” She continued her exploration until her palm landed on the frantic pulse at his throat, her fingers brushing the hair at his nape. “Could make your pulse race?”
He didn’t touch her, afraid of what might happen if he did. The hand resting on his thigh burned through the thin fabric of his trousers. The other gripping the side of his throat, her thumb smoothing over his skin, brushed his jaw. The hold was confident…possessive.
Fuck. He couldn’t move. Groaning inwardly, he fought to keep his expression neutral. “I spend ninety-five percent of every day ready to fuck, Chaya. It’s the nature of my demon.” His voice was deceptively steady, even though he had to lock every damn muscle in his body so his thighs didn’t tremble.
She leaned in so her breasts rested against his folded arms, her lips only an inch from his. “Bullshit,” she repeated, then her tongue darted out and slid across his lower lip.
In that moment, with that one touch, common sense deserted him. Adrenaline and hunger pumped through his veins like liquid fire. He was about to beg her to live out the dream that had tormented him the last two nights, when she stepped back suddenly, spun on her heel, and without a backward glance strode out of his office, shutting the door after her.
Chest pumping, he sucked down several deep breaths in an effort to get oxygen to his scrambled brain. To stop from getting to his feet and going after her. Instead, he kept his ass cemented to the desk and took a few minutes to get his mind and body under control.
He didn’t usually drink at work, especially if he planned on taking someone to his playroom, but tonight he needed one, a strong one. It took effort, but when he stood, he forced his feet to take him to his seat instead of the door and sat behind the desk. Slumping in his chair, he grabbed the whiskey from his drawer and took a shot straight out of the bottle.
Fuck.
He took another pull, the smooth burn a welcome relief. Glancing at his computer, he noticed several new emails in his in-box. One in particular caught his attention.
Parting was such sweet sorrow.
Opening it, he frowned when he saw a video was attached. He instantly recognized the room in the still frame. Shit, it felt like his heart had crawled into his throat.
He hit play.
A young male in his early twenties, mask covering his eyes, fucked a woman beneath him while another male fucked him from behind. All around them others stood watching. The male cried out…begged for more.
The young male in the middle was him.
New to his completely out-of-control incubus side, he’d been confused and afraid. Full of so much hunger and need, so much fear and pain, he barely knew which way was up.
This was filmed a week after he’d gone through his transition, a fledgling demi-demon. He’d been ruled by lust, afraid of his body’s reactions. Too far gone to fight for himself, to understand what was happening to him. One minute he’d fought, screamed for them to let him go, the next, lost in what he was becoming, he’d begged for it, ached for it.
The pleasure, the pain.
Their dominance.
He’d submitted. Every. Damn. Time.
Had craved it.
And that was what he struggled with most.
A message was typed underneath.
Don’t fuck with me or I’ll fuck with you.
Brent took another swig of whiskey.
Wrong, asshole.
He was not that same naive, lost kid anymore.
And, finally, he’d drawn the bastard out of hiding. Picking up the phone, he called an old friend, a demi-demon who had helped him search for anything with Garrett Industries attached to it and knew his way around a computer like no one else.
Time to intensify the hunt, track Garrett down, and finish this.
Chapter 5
