Demons Within [For Love of Authority] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Rhiannon Ayers

  At long last, Allen’s voice rumbled through his chest. “I…I want…” He paused. Swallowed. “Want both…” but he trailed off, pressing his forehead against the metal doors hard enough to leave a mark. He was shaking in her arms, his knuckles shock-white as he gripped the elevator’s frame. A strangled, desperate sound dragged out of his throat, but no words followed.

  Sidri immediately tightened her grip on him, pressing against him full-length. The meaning of what he was trying to say hit her like a ton of bricks. For one agonizing moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t react.

  Holy fuck, this was it. What they’d longed for, hoped for, fantasized about from the very beginning. He hadn’t brought up the company because he feared retaliation or losing his job. Allen hadn’t brought up Tatum because of some noble aversion to cheating, or because he feared coming between Sidri and him. He hadn’t brought up himself because he didn’t feel worthy, or feared Sidri wouldn’t respect him.

  Hadn’t brought up threesomes because he didn’t want one—but because he did. Desperately.

  He wanted them. Both of them. He feared the fallout if anyone at the company found out about the three of them being together, not losing his job. He feared his own lust for another man, a man who happened to be the lover of the woman he also wanted just as much. And he feared that if Sidri realized Allen desired both of them—a threesome in truth—she would be disgusted.

  And yet nothing could be further from the truth.

  A million emotions washed through her instantly. Elation, lust, anticipation, and impatience ranked at the very top. She wanted to call Tatum, scream their good fortune from the rooftops. This was it, what they’d been yearning for. Allen was not only bisexual, he was attracted to both of them. Wanted both of them.

  The blaze of lust that shot through Sidri almost set her panties on fire.

  For a long, tense moment, she couldn’t find her voice. She hugged Allen to her chest, hating the tension that rippled through his gorgeous body but hoping, praying, she could find a way to make him believe, down to the marrow of his bones, that this was meant to be.

  Taking a deep breath, Sidri pulled her hands from beneath Allen’s shirt and stood straight. “Turn around, Allen. Look at me when I say this.”

  She waited, watching him tremble for a long, tense moment. Then his hands slowly released the metal frame, his shoulders sagging in defeat. Clearly, he expected her to condemn him, bury him in words of disgust and loathing. Schooling herself to patience even as his silent battle tore holes through her heart, Sidri waited. When he finally lowered his arms, he pushed back from the elevator door and slowly, slowly turned to face her. He kept his expression hidden, his focus on the floor at her feet. Well, she was having none of that. The moment Allen faced her fully, she reached up and took hold of his chin, yanking his face out of hiding.

  He looked like hell. Pupils dilated, lips drawn thin as little gasps puffed his cheeks with the force of his fear. Sidri tightened her fingers, forcing him to keep eye contact. She waited, expression holding nothing but love, lust, and understanding, while he studied her. The moment his eyes widened with the shock of realizing she wasn’t angry or disgusted, she nodded.

  “I want you, Allen,” she said in a quiet, firm voice. His eyes widened further, his breath sharp in his chest. She refused to let him look away. “I want you. And so does Tatum.”

  It took a long, agonizing moment for the words to register, but she saw the instant he understood what she meant. Shock, disbelief, confusion, and finally lust washed through his eyes. She stared him down, willing him to believe her.

  “We want you. Both of us. We have from the moment we met you. And if you can bring yourself to trust me, to believe in me, then in two days, when Tatum gets home, we’ll prove it to you. Together.”

  And then, unable to stop herself, she cupped both hands around his face and pressed her forehead against his. A breath away from his lips, she whispered, “Trust me, Allen. Believe in yourself, and believe in us. And while we wait for him, let me show you a tiny taste of what it could be like between us. Between you and me. Because make no mistake, I’ve been wanting this for two solid years, and I am not giving up on you without a fight.”

  His breathing was erratic now, his heart beating so fast it was like a drum against her forearms where they pressed against his chest. He stood there, completely frozen, staring into her eyes, searching for the truth of her words.

  Searching for the ability to believe.

  “Be with me,” Sidri whispered, panting with the heat of having him pressed so close, and yet still so far. “Trust me, Allen. Trust me, and let me and Tatum take care of you. We will, you know. There is no limit to the ecstasy we can find together, the three of us. But even if you can’t quite imagine that much of it yet, be with me tonight. Let me prove to you how much I’ve wanted you all this time.” She paused, swallowed hard, and put every ounce of lust and longing she possessed for this one man in her voice. “Trust me.”

  Time stopped. Every single one of Allen’s muscles was tense, his whole body rigid. Sidri waited, heart pounding in her ears, chest bursting with need, love, and a million other emotions that had been bottled up inside her far too long. It nearly killed her, waiting for his decision, but she knew she had to let him make the choice.

  A heartbeat. Two.

  Then Allen kissed her.

  Chapter 8

  At the first touch of Sidri’s lips on his, Allen’s brain quite simply shut off.

  She was a goddess. Standing in front of him, proud and completely unrepentant about her state of undress, Sidri embodied every fantasy he’d ever had about women. Clad in nothing but that sexy black bra, those ass-hugger jeans, and neon pink sneakers, she radiated more confidence and sheer charisma than any ten women combined. And hearing her promise the fulfillment of every single one of his most secret desires with nothing but approval and lust in her voice destroyed any chance he had for holding back a second longer.

  And God help him, her kiss. He was in control for all of a heartbeat, a groan of pure need drawing up from his very toes. Then her hands clamped around his skull, and there was literally nothing he could do but go along for the ride. She owned him with lips, teeth, and tongue, fucking his mouth like a goddamned sex goddess, exploring every place she could reach. The dichotomy of her soft, luscious lips paired with the uncompromising control behind every thrust of her tongue nearly blew the top of his head clean off.

  Hands shaking, he caressed her bare back, the taut lines of her flat stomach. He wanted to touch her everywhere, all at once, but all she allowed were the gentle caresses on her exposed flesh. The moment he tentatively fingered her bra clasp, she broke their kiss with a gasp like a drowning woman.

  “Not here,” Sidri rasped, panting against his lips even as she stole another hard, hot kiss. “My office. Now.”

  He nodded, unable to think, to get a full breath. Sidri pulled out of his arms, grabbed his right hand, and hauled ass back the way they’d just come. Allen had all of ten seconds to feel embarrassed about his earlier flight, his terror in the face of confronting his lust for this woman. Then she was shoving him back inside her office, slamming the door so hard the whole damn skyscraper shook with the force of it.

  The click of the lock was like a gunshot.

  Allen shivered, licked his lips as he watched her stalking him, closing the distance between them like a hunter confronting its prey. His mind was such a turmoil of lust, anticipation, fear, and confusion, he could do nothing but watch her, waiting to see what she’d do to him next. That little scene at the elevator would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Feeling her pressed up against him, the way her gentle yet insistent hands explored his chest, sides, and back, the way she’d commanded him to stay still and refused to let him interfere with her sensual exploration, all hidden beneath his shirt…

  He felt like a Mentos shoved inside a bottle of Diet Coke, only kept from exploding because the lid had
been screwed on tight.

  And so he could do nothing but watch, burning with anticipation, as Sidri closed the distance that separated them. She slid both hands over his chest, up to his shoulders and beneath the lapels of his suit jacket. Held mesmerized, Allen gulped as she pushed the heavy fabric off his shoulders and down his arms, letting it fall into a puddle at his feet. He shuddered, waiting.

  “Take your shirt off,” Sidri breathed, the unwavering command beneath the sensual words sending chills down his spine. “I want to see you.”

  His fingers—his whole damned body—trembled as he moved to obey. With one hand, he reached behind his head, snagging the shirt’s collar and drawing it upward in one almost-smooth motion. Pulling it up and forward, he twisted both arms out of the sleeves and once again sought out Sidri’s gaze.

  “Jesus fuck, you are perfection,” she breathed, her whole face alight with hunger. Allen’s shoulders heaved as he tried forcing air into aching lungs, but he could not deny the sheer appreciation in her eyes as she looked at him. With just her index finger, Sidri ran a line down the center of his chest, causing his cock to jump and leak a river of pre-cum into his shorts. The closer that single digit got to his belt buckle, the more he began to shake, so much pent-up sexual frustration boiling beneath his skin he was afraid steam would start shooting out his ears. But just as she had at the elevator, Sidri stopped short of his desire.

  Taking a half step closer, she spread both hands over his burning skin, a hum of approval dancing from her throat. Allen swallowed hard as she began to circle around him, leaving trails of fire with the passage of her fingers. He waited, knowing what she was about to see, fear and anticipation forming a knot in his gut.

  “Jesus Christ,” she breathed suddenly, her hands stopping their torturous caresses.

  “Michael and Lucifer,” he corrected with a strangled laugh.

  Allen closed his eyes, waiting to hear what she thought of his tattoos. He knew what she was seeing. It was his design, after all. His whole back had been used for the canvas of the elaborate tattoo. He could still remember the awed look at the tattoo artist’s face, hear the reverence in his voice as he admired the results of their labors.

  “Good and Evil. Faith and Betrayal. The strength of the Gods and the weakness of the flesh. It’s a work of art.”

  And it was.

  An angel and a demon, forced to battle eternally in the confined real estate of one man’s body. On Allen’s left shoulder, the Archangel Michael was depicted in glowing tones of white and silver. His right wing curled up and over Allen’s shoulder blade, forming a protective arc that swept from the center of Allen’s back, up to the point of his shoulder, and down to the small of his back. Every feather was lovingly detailed, every line and shadow sharply defined and so realistic one almost expected to feel the softness of each and every spine. Most of Michael’s body was hidden behind that wing, only his head, arm, and shoulders visible. In the angel’s right hand, a wicked dagger had been drawn in bold, black lines, filled in with metallic flecks of silver. The blade had a single drop of ruby-red blood dripping from the tip, but the determined expression on the angel’s face said there would be more bloodshed to come.

  On Allen’s right shoulder, Lucifer faced his eternal foe, his beautiful face locked into an expression of lustful anticipation. Where Michael had been picked out in shining whites and silvers, the demon was outlined in unforgiving blacks and reds, with touches of gold used to highlight everything. Lucifer’s left wing was an exact mirror image of Michael’s, but instead of glowing white feathers, his was a grotesque, moldering bat’s wing, all sagging black skin and stark, burnt-bone frame. It was hideous, like the decaying flesh of a zombie, with reddish-black ichor dripping from rents in the skin. In Lucifer’s hand, a bladed mace was spattered with droplets of silvery-blue blood, obvious evidence that the demon had scored at least one hit against his most hated enemy.

  The combined effect made it seem as if Allen himself had a pair of wings—one a beautiful white angel’s wing, the other a disgusting black devil’s wing. Good and evil. Two sides of the same soul.

  Across the top of Allen’s back, beneath his nape and low enough so that a normal shirt collar hid them, words had been scrawled in flowing script letters.

  “What do they say?” Sidri whispered hoarsely. She hadn’t moved since laying eyes on the art that depicted his inner turmoil.

  Eyes still closed, Allen took a deep breath and said, “Angel without. Demons within.”

  Those weren’t the literal words, but it was the basic translation. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her…

  “On your knees.”

  The whip-crack of command in Sidri’s quiet words had Allen’s knees buckling long before his brain decided to obey. Stunned by his own instantaneous reaction, Allen blinked and started to turn around and face her, but she moved too fast. Before he could process her intent, Sidri had straddled his legs, bracing her thighs against his back before slipping a hand beneath his chin. She yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at her, fingers bruising the tender flesh beneath his jaw as she held him in place. With a gasp, Allen’s hands whipped back and circled her ankles, tangling in the fabric of her jeans as he sought an anchor.

  Other than the hand at his neck and the pressure of her thighs against his spine, there were no physical restraints. Yet Allen felt as if he’d been nailed to the floor, held captive and completely unable to move. He stared at Sidri’s upside-down visage in complete shock.

  Her green eyes were hard, suddenly cold. Her fingers tightened.

  “You will not lie to me,” she said in a deadly voice. “Not now, not ever. Answer my questions truthfully, honestly, no matter how much it may hurt on the way out. Do you understand me?”

  Allen shuddered against her hold, his mind gone blank. He swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob against the unforgiving pressure of her hand at his throat. He had no idea what had just happened, why he suddenly felt…owned.

  He swallowed again, hard, and finally found voice enough to rasp, “It’s Latin. The literal translation is, ‘Being an angel on the outside doesn’t mean there aren’t demons hiding within.’” He paused, licked trembling lips. “I had it tattooed there so I could never forget how easy it is to mistake evil for purity.”

  The confession, drawn up from the very depths of his tortured soul, tore something on the way past his lips—yet somehow, it was a good pain.

  Sidri’s hard stare held him motionless for another breath. Then her fingers gentled, her hold at his neck become a caress that promised a million different delights yet to come. His cock, already painfully hard, screamed for release. He couldn’t help the whimper that rattled right up from his toes.

  She released him, stepping back and starting to move away, but not before a touch on his shoulder assured he was steady enough to remain upright without her support. That tiny gesture, taking care of him, broke something deep in his chest. Allen moaned.

  “Hush. Stay where you are.”

  He obeyed, of course. He knelt facing the door of her office, away from the interior. Interesting sounds, small thumps and bumps, came from somewhere behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. Couldn’t turn to look. She held him captive with just the sound of her voice, that sultry siren’s song having wrapped his entire psyche in silver chains of lust and longing. He waited, anticipation building to painful proportions, for her next command.

  At long last, she spoke. “Stand up, and face me. I want your belt undone before you turn around.”

  Heart slamming his ribs like a jackhammer, Allen complied, amazed his numb knees could hold his weight as he stood and pivoted. He had his belt undone in a single motion, tongue and buckle clutched in either hand as he took in the scene before him.

  What he’d always taken for a couch in Sidri’s office was, in fact, a futon. In those tantalizing moments when he’d had his back turned, she’d managed to pull it out and straighten it, forming a bed large enough to hold bot
h of them. Sidri reclined in the center of an expanse of white suede, propped on one elbow with her legs drawn up beside her. She still wore both bra and jeans, but the sneakers were now on the floor in front of her. The sight of her white-socked feet peeking beneath the hems of her jeans made saliva pool in his mouth. He drank in the sight of her, like a modern-day Cleopatra in denim and lace, watching him with indulgent yet anticipatory lust in her green eyes.

  “Take the belt off,” she said in a sexy purr. “Pull it out, one loop at a time. Then I want you to undo your button and zipper, slowly, and slide those fucking sexy slacks to the ground. Leave your shorts on.” She paused, licked her lips. “For the moment. Those I’ll be removing myself.”

  Christ God Almighty, this woman was going to kill him with her overwhelming sensuality. Throat gone dry as sandpaper, he complied, taking hold of his belt buckle and pulling outward slowly. The tug of the hard leather as it snaked along his waist, the sensual glide of fabric as the tongue passed through each loop, made his head spin. The way Sidri watched him so intently, the hitch in her breathing with every inch of belt that pulled free, made his cock even harder. Though it was his own hands creating the motion, it felt like Sidri’s fingers caressed every centimeter of flesh around the circumference of his body.

  Who knew taking off a belt could become something so sensual? So sexual? He trembled.

  The belt came free, fell to the carpet at his feet with a dull thunk. He reached for the button at the top of his fly, fingers shaking and clumsy with anticipation. She was doing nothing but watching, hadn’t moved an inch since delivering her quiet command. Yet every time her appreciative gaze passed over his body, he would swear someone caressed his skin with hot, wet velvet. The blaze of pure, unadulterated desire in Sidri’s fiery green eyes left him with no doubt whatsoever how incredibly sexy she found him to be.