Sex and Trouble (4 page)

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Sex and Trouble

Her hand flew to her throat as a burst of air pushed out. “No. No no and no. I don’t want that. You are free. Go away. You do not belong to me. I command you—”

Ros grabbed her by the shoulders and cut off her command by kissing her. He only meant to stop the words, but the sweet taste of her burned against his lips. More. He needed more. That was all he could think of as he pressed her back until something stopped her. When he felt her body pinned between his and the unyielding surface, he wanted to howl with pleasure. Too long. It had been too long since he’d felt a woman soft and hard against him.

Even through the thick robe he could feel her breasts pushing against his chest. Her head dropped back under his assault in silent invitation. He met her tiny darting tongue when she went to explore his lips. Soft tentative strokes as she mewled her pleasure.

Hands kneaded flesh. He lost track of who was touching whom. The earth shifted under him and his nose was filled with her fragrance—a teasing mix of something floral and green and her own tangy, musky arousal.

“Yes,” he murmured. Her eyes opened. Suddenly everything changed. She pushed against him.

“No.”

“I don’t think you really mean that, but I will respect the spirit of the word.” His voice shook with the effort of pulling his lust back in. Nearly unleashed, his Demonae energy raged against his skin. Demonic blue balls hurt. He winced as he moved back from her.

“Do not command me unless you know exactly what you mean to say. Your words have power over me, Mari. Let me tell you exactly what I am. I am what you humans call a sex demon. It’s a crude term. Incubus is another word for it, but my people find that word derogatory. We call ourselves Hedonae. The Demonae have many races just as you humans do.”

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Marilu Mann

He watched as she took a gulp of juice followed by another bite of cheese. How she could eat that processed flat piece of yellow pseudo-plastic, he didn’t know. Her hands shook slightly. When she said nothing, he continued.

“You can command me to go. You can command me to attend you. You can also command me to come.”

Her choking response as her face flushed scarlet warmed his evil inner twin.

“You cannot command me to be free. I am bound until I gain your release.”

He finished his speech with a flourish of his hand and a bow.

“My release? How does my freedom equal yours?”

He sighed. “You humans really need to work on your vocabulary. Release is not the same thing as freedom. It is different. And in this case, it is very different. What I need from you, Mari, is sexual release.”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t break and run, although the last piece of cheese did hit the floor unnoticed. “So I give you a hand job and you can leave?”

Laughter burst from him. Something he also hadn’t experienced in quite some time, not counting the question last night about him being her father’s lover. There hadn’t been much to inspire humor in the last several years. “It’s not quite that simple. It’s not my release that will gain me my freedom. It is release for me and my partner. I must sexually satisfy my partner to such an extent we gain a simultaneous release. This must happen three times for me to be completely free.”

Her eyes widened as he continued his little recitation. Her breath came faster and her pulse rate and body temperature rose. He wasn’t sure if it was his words or the thought of him pleasing her to the extent that she had multiple orgasms that brought on such a reaction, but he felt the urge to tease her a bit.

“So you see, Mari, I will need to stroke your skin, first with my hands, then my tongue.” He took one step toward her.

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“I’ll need to touch you, taste you, bring you to the brink of orgasm and then I’ll start all over. I will need to spread your legs and play with your clit, tease you with my tongue and my fingers.”

Her eyes grew even wider as her mouth dropped open just a bit.

“If you like, I’ll fuck you with my tongue. I can imagine your taste in my mouth.

You’ll be sweet, Mari, sweet like peaches and cream.” One more move and he would be close enough to drag her luscious body against his chest, but he waited.

“But it’s your cream I want—I need. I want to make you to squirm, to scream, to have your juices running down your thighs.” Ros closed the final gap to her as he finished his speech.

Slipping his tongue against the silk of her earlobe, he trailed one hand lightly down her back to stroke her buttocks.

“Release, Mari. Sweet release for both of us. Yours and mine. That’s what I need, what I crave, what I desire. And I will ensure your pleasure, darling Mari—all three times. Each time we reach that peak of sexual release, you will know it’s me.” Tugging her even closer, Ros kissed her again. Softly this time, light sucking kisses, teasing her with just the tip of his tongue. Mari leaned against him, her hands stroking up his chest to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair.

Smiling against her mouth, Ros stepped closer and pushed his leg between hers, sliding one hand down to the belt of her robe. He untied it and slipped his hand inside to stroke her stomach, then her side. His hand moved slowly from her hip to the side of her breast, enjoying the feel of her soft gown under his fingers. She curved in a way so many American women didn’t.

Cupping her breast, he just enjoyed the weight in his hand before he slid his thumb over her nipple, feeling it bead and tighten. Just as he plucked at her taut nipple with his thumb and forefinger, Mari gasped and jerked out of his arms.

“Stop. I don’t want this.”

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“Your body does. Let me give you pleasure, Mari.” Even as he raised his hand to capture hers, she shoved past him and moved to the kitchen door.

“No!”

He could hear her feet pounding on the staircase then the distant slam of the master bedroom door.

“Damn me.” Rosier slammed his hands down on the counter. Throwing a plate or two might satisfy his need for destruction, but wouldn’t do a damn thing for the raging erection in his pants or the flush of heat from his arousal. Fisting his hands, he raised them to his face, banging them against his forehead in frustration. As he lowered them, he noticed that his skin was ruddier than normal, even this pale human tone taking on color. Grabbing his head with both hands, he squeezed his temples for a moment then took a deep breath.

He hadn’t blown it. There was no way he’d blown it. She’d come around, he’d make sure of it. But to refuse him, a Hedonae demon of his experience? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch?

Mari locked the door behind her. What was going on? She had to accept that this was real. The man—no, demon—in her kitchen could not be gotten rid of until she came? Perfect. Just perfect. The Ice Queen was his only hope for escape from this slavery her father started? She wondered if crying would help.

How would she tell him that she couldn’t? That she did not have the ability to have one orgasm much less three? Would he even believe her or would he be like the last so-called lover who’d finally given up on her with bitter anger?

“Ice Queen? More like Popsicle Bitch. They were right. You are the worst fuck ever, Mari.”

His words still echoed in her ears. The tension in her body continued to build. As usual, everything had seemed to work but she knew she had to end that encounter in the kitchen before he learned the truth. She might pant and moan but she would never 28

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feel what all those books talked about. Pussies clenching. Shuddering muscles. Heads thrown back. Cries of ecstasy.

“I am more than my inability to orgasm. I can enjoy sex in other ways.” Dutifully she repeated the words she’d read in one of her sexual self-help books. A tear slid down her cheek as she thought of Rosier. She wanted to help him but couldn’t. What cruel trick of the universe was this?

A book flew off one of the shelves to slam into the wall beside her. Startled, Mari yelped. And there he was. Immediately. Unavoidably male and in her father’s—no, her—bedroom.

“Are you okay?” Rosier’s voice rasped, deep and rough. She hoped it was with concern but a quick downward glance revealed arousal still held him in its grasp.

She nodded as she bent down to pick up the book. “Yeah, I’m fine. Apparently things fly around here?”

The question in her voice made him look at her sharply. Shifting the book so she could read it, she laughed out loud.

“What? What is so funny, Miss Greenlea?”

So it was like that, was it? She was Mari in his arms in the kitchen, but he reverted back to the cold last name now. Fine. She would see how cool he was when she read him the title of the book.

“Tantric Magick.” At his blank stare, she waved the book at him. “The title. It’s Tantric Magick.”

“I heard you the first time. What is funny about that?” She could have creased jeans with the crispness from him. He seemed almost offended.

“Don’t you know what tantric sex is? I mean—”

He interrupted her with a downward slash of his hand and a dismissive sniff. “Of course I know what that is. It’s a waste of time and energy and is considered 29

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punishment amongst the Hedonae. Expending all of that time on nearing an orgasm but never achieving it? What is the use of that? Stupid humans.”

Narrowing her eyes, she gritted out through clenched teeth, “Well, I suppose you demons know everything then, don’t you? If you’re so smart, how did my father trap you here?”

Immediately she wished she could take the words back. The flash of something in his eyes made her wince. Not a mean girl normally, Mari didn’t know what it was about Ros that made her lash out like that. She held out a hand.

Rosier growled.

“Are you growling at me?” Her disbelief cracked her voice. “Actually freakin’

growling?”

The burst of laughter made her jump. Taking a step back from him, she watched him. From offended to growling to laughing? The demon had a serious emotional problem. She was sure of it.

“No, Mari.” The softness in his voice echoed the sexual tenor he’d had in the kitchen. “No, I’m not mad—not crazy-mad anyway. But I am sexually frustrated. I’ve been sexually frustrated for twenty-three years because of your father. I told you how you could release me. You let me get worked up. I thought you meant it when you said you didn’t want me here. But then you left me in the kitchen with an aching cock and throbbing balls.”

Suddenly he loomed over her. How did he do that? She leaned away from him as he bent his head toward her. Heat shimmered off his body—or was it from hers? Mari wanted him to kiss her then. Wanted it so badly her breasts ached with need. But he didn’t touch her. Not with his hands anyway. His voice caressed her like a wild summer wind teasing that a storm was coming soon.

“Do not do that again, Mari. I can’t stand the pain. Seeing you writhing under my touch… Feeling your breasts press into my hands when your back arches with 30

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passion… Knowing it is me doing that to you and knowing how good it will feel to sink myself so deep into you… I must have you. I will have you.”

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her will. Focus was her only defense against the sheer overwhelming sensual net he wove with his words.

“You need to know something, Rosier.” The use of his name seemed to break the tension. He didn’t actually move but she felt the heat receded. She hurried into the breach. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. It’s that I can’t.”

His scoff of denial as he turned his head from her hurt. “No, it’s true. I am sexually dysfunctional. My exes tell me I’m an ice queen or a Popsicle.”

She left off the bitch. She knew he’d use it eventually when he realized what she said was true. Ignoring the bile rising in her throat, she waited until he looked back at her. She met his gaze unflinchingly. Let him see the truth in her eyes.

“You mean to tell me you actually believe that lie?” Rosier’s voice ratcheted down a full octave at least as he finally touched her. The press of his hand on her shoulder sent sparks zinging through her like a pinball machine. She wondered that he couldn’t hear the bells ringing.

His response was not what she expected. “Damn it. Who is that?”

Mari nearly wept with frustration. Why wasn’t he kissing her? What was wrong with her?

He gave her a slight shake. “Mari? Are you expecting anyone?”

Then it hit her. Those were real bells—chiming softly but insistently. She had a visitor. Shrugging off his molten touch was not her first choice, but she knew she had to. This was her house now. Someone had to answer the door. His look told her that he was as ready to get the door as he had been the lawyer’s tea so she didn’t even bother.

She made herself move away from his heat then went downstairs to open the door. A handsome stranger smiled at her.

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“Hello. You must be Marielle, Augustus’ daughter. I’m James. Your father and I were associates—fellow collectors of rare and strange things. I wanted to stop by to offer you my sympathies.”

Mari gripped the door handle, letting the cool metal keep her grounded in reality.

Darkly exotic, the man in front of her could have modeled for any vampire hero she’d ever read about. His sable black hair was swept back in a ponytail from his pale face. Ice blue eyes gazed at her with some inner amusement. His sensual lips curved up on one side as if he knew a joke she didn’t. He wasn’t that much taller than she was, but seemed to take up much more room. His aura, or presence, or something made him seem almost larger than life.

He cocked his head at her. “May I come in?”

“Oh, of course! Please come in. It was kind of you to come by…I’m sorry. What did you say your name was?” Gesturing for him to follow, she led him to the sitting room just off her father’s office. She did not want to be behind a desk talking to this man.

In a pleasant tenor, the man held out his hand to her. “I am James LaPierre. Perhaps your father spoke of me?”