SUCCUBI LIKE IT HOT

by Jill Myles

  My arms wrapped around his neck and I pulled his body close. His wet skin felt delicious against mine. My nipples were already hard as they brushed up against his chest, and I could feel his hard, thick erection against my belly. “Just a few kisses?”

  His hands slid down to my ass and kneaded it. “For starters. After that, I figured it wouldn’t matter if she was mad at us or not.”

  “You have a point,” I said, nipping his shoulder suggestively. “Want to soap me up?”

  His eyes flared to blue as they met mine. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I handed him the washcloth and body wash.

  Noah tossed the washcloth aside, then poured a big handful of body wash into his hand, his eyes on mine.

  The Itch flared with hunger at the thought of his slippery hands sliding all over my body, and I bit my lip to keep from attacking him.

  He raised his hand to my shoulder, dribbling a bit of the body wash on me, then slid his hand around the other side until the liquid dripped down my skin, smelling of gardenia and soap. His hands smoothed it onto my skin, rubbing my flesh gently.

  “My breasts are rather dirty,” I said helpfully.

  “Are they?” He chuckled and his soapy hands slid to my waiting nipples. “Very dirty,” he agreed softly. “This might take some extra time.” His slick thumb flicked across one hard peak, his other hand circling the globe of my breast.

  I groaned at the sensation, my hands moving back behind his head again, the urge to pull his mouth down against my body overwhelming. “Noah,” I said with a small, needy whimper.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, teasing the tips of my breasts with his fingers. The soap made them slippery, the flesh gliding over mine. “You asked me to clean you up, remember?” His fingers slid from my nipples and his hands circled my breasts, teasing their heavy weight and sliding over my skin, down my waist. “My dirty girl,” he said in a low, teasing voice.

  Lord, but that drove me wild. I tugged at his hair at the base of his neck, my nails digging into his skin to let him know how I felt. “Dirty all over,” I said softly.

  His wet hand slid between my legs. “Here, too?”

  “God, yes,” I breathed, wriggling against his hand.

  His fingers slid between my wet folds, searching, and when he hit upon my clit, I moaned, shuddering.

  “Feel good?” he asked, sliding them against it in a teasing back-and-forth motion.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice as I clung to him, my breath coming in shuddering gasps as he teased the flesh between my legs, playing with my clit until I felt the quick body-shudder of an orgasm. Hard, fast, and overwhelming with relief. A sob escaped my throat as I came.

  “That’s it, Jackie,” he said softly, sliding his hand away and then kissing my forehead.

  I nestled against him, letting him put his arms around me and stroke my back, the hot water pounding on us. It felt nice to be held by someone I trusted, after the horrible week I’d been having. To feel the relief pour through my skin and know that I was free of the mood swings and hormones for the next few hours. And to know that help was just a few hours away.

  I looked up at Noah and gave him a kiss, a smile on my face. “Best shower I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Kind of smelled like the only shower you’ve had in a long time.”

  I grinned. The heat of his erection still pushed against my body, nudging me with its insistent warmth. Noah would never ask for anything, though. That was just the way he was—all about others. All about me.

  I reached over and grabbed the bottle of body wash, pouring a large handful into my palm. “My turn,” I said with a wicked smile, then took a step backward.

  Noah’s body was big and tanned all over. I loved it: loved the thick play of muscles in his upper arms and torso, loved the thin line of darker blond hair that led to his groin. He let me smooth my soapy hands all over his body, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensation. My fingers slid over his shoulders, then lower to his shoulder blades, only to be met by a mass of rough scar tissue.

  He hissed at the touch and jerked backward. “Don’t, Jackie. Not there.”

  Not where his wings had been ripped from him.

  I nodded and slid my hands back toward his front, playing with the flat discs of his nipples. The tips were hard and I flicked my fingertips across them, liking the reaction that got. It encouraged me to do more, and I slid my hands over his hips, then dropped to my knees in the shower in front of him. His quick intake of breath shot a thrill through my body. With my hands anchored on his hips, I tugged him closer to me, until the head of his cock hovered just inches from my mouth. The spray of water pounded on my body, on the back of my head, and showered me with distracting heat. I looked up at Noah, my eyes sultry compared to his blazing ones. “Dirty here?”

  His jaw flexed and he remained silent, though his hand went to my hair, digging into my wet locks. He wouldn’t tell me that he wanted my mouth on him, on the thick cock that twitched and jerked so close to my mouth, the head gleaming with wetness that had nothing to do with the shower. But the hand in my hair was all the encouragement I needed to know that he wanted it very much indeed. I leaned forward a little and brushed my lips against the salty head of his cock.

  Noah’s breath exploded and he swore softly.

  I took him into my mouth. The thick head of his cock at first, teasing it against my tongue, playing with it. His fingers dug into my wet hair, encouraging me to go deeper, and I did so, letting the length of him slide along my tongue, stroking him deeper, farther, until I was filled with the thick length of him inside my mouth. The head of his cock butted at the back of my throat, and I pulled back, then released him to let my lips play on the tip of his cock again.

  “Sweetheart,” he groaned over me.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a “keep going” or a “stop it,” but I was going to take it as an encouraging sign. My hands slid around to his ass, feeling the muscles in his buttocks as I slid my mouth down and over his cock again, pumping him with my lips and the warm, sucking cavity of my mouth.

  A few minutes later, he groaned my name loudly. So much for silence.

  Best shower I’d ever had.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  We parted ways to dress. I opted not to bother fixing my wet hair—the humidity would just make it a curly mess—So I dragged it into a wet ponytail at the top of my head and dressed in my borrowed skirt and blouse.

  Noah met me again in the hallway, his silver eyes gleaming in a proprietary way at the sight of me. He leaned over to give me a quick kiss on the cheek and took my hand.

  “Any word from Remy?” I asked. “I left her a voicemail, but no answer.”

  He shook his head. “We can try her again when we get back. Delilah’s getting started, so we need to leave. Let’s go, and keep it quiet.”

  Like I couldn’t be quiet? He didn’t have to tell me, much less make it a compulsion. I glared at Noah but let him lead me down the staircase and toward the front door.

  The sounds of chanting filled the house, concentrated back at the sitting room that we had left. Delilah’s high voice rose in the sound of a language that I didn’t understand. The hair prickled on the back of my neck and my natural curiosity got the best of me. I slowed, craning my head to look even as Noah shoved me toward the door.

  Delilah knelt in the middle of her quaint, old-fashioned living room. Hangings had been thrown over all the windows, and she sat in darkness before a candle-covered altar. Her face glowed in the darkness, deathly serious, and as I watched, she lifted a stick of incense, chanted more, and waved it in front of a few figurines.

  Shivers ran down my spine. I let Noah pull me out of the house, glad to be out of there and back in the open, bright sunlight of a New Orleans summer afternoon.

  “She’s creepy,” I said to him as we emerged onto the street. “And it’s not just because she’s practically jailbait.”

  Noah laughed. “Not ‘jailbait.’ Delilah’s
body is stuck at a human age of nineteen or so, but she is extremely old. Very set in her ways—the old ways of New Orleans. She knows a lot about voodoo and ghosts and vampires. My kind, too.”

  “Yeah, I noticed she was rather into you,” I said cattily as we crossed the street.

  He only smiled at my jealousy. “I remind her of her sire. She was deeply in love with him when he was destroyed by a gypsy warlock.”

  “You know, this ‘warlock’ word keeps coming up, and I’m afraid that it’s freaking me out a little.” Poor Delilah. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  “Warlocks take magic and twist it for their own needs. They’ve been around for as long as my kind and vampires. Longer, maybe.” He raised his free hand to hail a taxi. “Don’t worry about warlocks. They’re too rare for you to fret over.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked him as a cab stopped.

  “Back to the French Quarter. We’re going to have some wine, some good Cajun food, and enjoy some music.”

  “That sounds like a date,” I said suspiciously.

  He gave me a smile. “Don’t you think it’s time we had one?”

  My heart melted, just a little. “I think so,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  I eyed the plate of crawfish in front of me with dismay. The beady eyes stared back at me. “I’m supposed to eat this?”

  He grinned at my expression. “They’re called mudbugs. What did you think it was?”

  “A cute name for something without limbs?” I poked one with my fork, and I could have sworn it moved. I shuddered. “I ate all those beignets at the coffee shop earlier. I’m not that hungry.” Dang, but I was a bad liar. Just the smell of hot food was making me drool, mudbugs or no.

  Noah ignored me, cutting into his food with precise motions. “You break off the head and suck out all the juices. It’s supposed to be excellent.”

  Yeah, well, I noticed he’d stuck with safe ol’ lobster tail. I batted my eyes at him and tried to look pitiful. “Can I have a bite of yours?”

  He shook his head and held his silverware in front of his food protectively. “You eat like a horse. If I let you have a bite, it’ll be gone before I even get a taste.”

  I poked the creepy-crawlies in my dish and scowled. Suck head, indeed. I eyed my handsome date. “You know, Noah,” I said, my voice soft as I slipped off my shoe and ran my foot up his leg. “If you wanted to see me suck head, all you had to do was ask.”

  His face purpled and he jerked in his chair, choking on his food. His eyes flared from silver to blue with desire as he stared at me.

  I laughed evilly and removed my foot. “Gotcha.”

  “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” He said with a half smile, and flagged the waiter down. “Can you please bring a second lobster tail? And more wine?”

  “More wine,” I agreed happily, finishing off my third glass. I gave Noah a dopey smile when he pushed his lobster tail toward me. “You’re a sweet man, you know that?”

  He shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at his mouth. “Just your everyday fallen angel lusting after a busty redhead with her foot in my lap.”

  I broke into giggles and pushed the plate back toward him. “Here, we can share until he brings the second one.”

  Noah poured me a new glass of wine. “Or I could feed you.”

  My own eyes flared with desire at that. Noah really knew how to push my buttons. I raised my glass of wine to him in a toast. “To New Orleans.”

  Noah lifted his glass. “To amazing company.”

  I blushed and sipped my wine. I had to admit, going on a date with Noah in the French Quarter was the most fun I’d had in a long time. Jazz music played in the background, and a festive mood filled the restaurant. I watched him over the rim of my wine glass. Maybe we’d have time for another shower before Delilah was finished with her ritual.

  I put my glass down as the new lobster tail was brought out for us. Noah thanked the waiter and I tilted my wine glass back again, enjoying the taste. I wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but Noah had ordered the most expensive bottle of something white, and it was extremely tasty.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move and I glanced over, thinking it was another server. A man walked past the bar and turned into a door in the back. He paused in the doorway and met my eyes with a smile before disappearing through it.

  I instantly recognized that lean, tall body, the almost too-pretty face, and the amber eyes.

  Luc had followed me to New Orleans. He knew where I was.

  My stomach churned, and my internal tuning fork—which had been vibrating so pleasantly—jarred me with uncomfortable sensations.

  “Noah,” I said, placing my napkin slowly on the table and focusing on the uneaten food there. “We have to leave.”

  He reached across the table and touched my hand. “Is everything okay?”

  I shook my head and whispered, “No.”

  The playful half smile on his face vanished in an instant. “I’ll find the waiter and pay the bill,” he said, getting up from the table. “Stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. You scream if anyone touches you. Understand?” He came around to my chair and kissed my forehead quickly, then disappeared into the crowd in search of our waiter.

  If anyone touched me, I’d wipe their minds.

  I wasn’t sure if that was part of the escape plan or not. It was nice that Noah sprang into action, though—no protests, no questions, just implicit trust. Gratitude rushed through me, reminding me that no matter how much Noah irritated me at times, he was there when I needed him.

  I could see Noah from my chair at our table. He waited by the end of the bar, talking with the waiter as he handed him a credit card. His gaze flicked back to me twice, but other than that, there was no sign of distress.

  Me, I was a bundle of nerves. I stared at the door in the back of the restaurant, waiting for Luc to appear again. Waiting for him to approach me or do something. Anything. Every time the door swung open and a waiter came out, my breath caught in my throat.

  “Ready to go?” Noah’s hand touched my arm and I stifled a yelp.

  “Ready,” I jerked to my feet and tucked my hand in his arm. “Get us a cab, fast.” I clung to him, scanning the crowd.

  He led me out onto the busy French Quarter streets. The crowds had come out as twilight loomed, and the festive lights dangling from every roof were lit up. Before, I’d thought the crowd in the streets was fun. Now it just seemed dangerous. Luc could be anywhere, could step around any of the laughing, drinking couples and grab me. I stared at the setting sun with anxiety—Noah would be down soon for his evening nap, and I’d be alone with Delilah. With Luc somewhere in the city, looking for me.

  It wasn’t until we were safely in a cab again and heading back to the Garden District that I exhaled.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Jackie,” Noah said, his voice low, his still-blue eyes searching mine.

  “I’m being stalked,” I said. “Someone’s following me. They have been since Colorado.”

  He looked at me thoughtfully. “I thought you said it was nothing?”

  I winced. “Well, I thought it was nothing. I thought I’d ditched him back in Mississippi.” I clasped my hands in my lap and stared down at them. “Plus, I didn’t want you to know about him,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “What was that last part?”

  “I didn’t want you to know about him,” I repeated louder. “You can be a bit jealous at times. I didn’t want you to know about him because I’m not exactly thrilled about it. Okay?”

  Uncomfortable silence fell in the car. Noah’s mouth drew to a tight line of anger. “He was in the hotel room with you. Back in Oklahoma.”

  “Yes.” I flinched when Noah looked away from me, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “We didn’t do anything, though, Noah. Remember how bad I was in pain when you found me a little while later?” I touched his arm softly, trying to soothe him. “I think he was just trying to help me, in some weird wa
y.”

  Noah glanced back at me. “Then why are we running from him?”

  “Because he’s the one I hitched a ride with to get here. And I ran when I found out he had no intention of taking me to New Orleans after all.” I shivered in recollection.

  “What was he planning on doing with you?” His voice was cold, angry. Even murderous.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

  He exhaled, then he put his hand over mine. “We’ll talk to Delilah and see what she thinks. If he’s not a vampire or a Serim, that doesn’t mean that he’s not dangerous. Warlocks are human, too.”

  Good to know, I suppose.

  Back at Delilah’s house, we found the young succubus still in front of her altar. After we had left, she had pulled up the old-fashioned carpet over the wooden floors and had drawn all kinds of symbols in white chalk on the floor around her. It made the hair on my arms stand on end, but I followed Noah into the room anyway. Her chanting had stopped, and she turned to us with a grave expression as we entered.

  “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing at the sofa. I plunked down in my seat. Noah sat as well, though with more grace.

  Delilah’s eyes were dark blue with the Itch, and she frowned as her gaze roamed over me, searching my appearance. “The loas do not tell me much about your curse,” she said, studying me. Her gaze flicked over me one last time and she turned back to her altar, where small figurines and dolls were intermixed with the incense sticks and candles. A Virgin Mary figurine loomed over all of it, her arms spread in a benevolent gesture to encompass the altar. As I watched, Delilah snuffed one of the candles with her fingertips. “They tell me that your curse was cast by one who knows you.”

  Well, that was kind of a big Duh. Can’t see a lot of strangers cursing other strangers just for shits and giggles. “So what else do they tell you?” Anything helpful? I wanted to add, but kept my mouth shut.