Soul Stripper (31 page)

T
he neon-colored lights were blinding as they swooped around the club like laser beams. First purple. Then green. Now blue. It felt like I was in the middle of a lava lamp, watching them spin around me. With the little stirrer straw, I sipped my Long Island Iced Tea and kept dancing. Sweaty men bumped into me from all angles, each attempting to brush my ass or breasts, in the hopes I might look up and give them even the slightest bit of attention. If only they knew just how deadly my attention could be.

Kayce, my best friend, grabbed my elbow and swung me around, our noses almost bumping in the process. Even with immortal hearing, I could barely make out what she was saying over the thumping of the bass. Grabbing the back of my head, she pulled me in closer, her lips on my ear. “I think I found two!” she yelled.

For normal girls on the town, this could mean anything—two seats, two bucks, two drinks. For two succubi on the town? It meant victims. We prey on the local men and women here in Las Vegas to satiate the raging itch between our legs and sustain our immortal souls on Earth.

With her hand still wrapped around the back of my neck, she turned me toward two college-aged guys, staring transfixed at us while their clammy hands clenched plastic cups, spilling over with cheap beer.

My head snapped back to Kayce. “They’re so
young,
” I said, noting their auras, silver and sparkling. These two were Heaven-bound for sure.

“I thought you didn’t care anymore?” Her gaze narrowed.

My stomach twisted, guilt trying to gnaw its way out as if some little animal had burrowed into there. I pushed the feeling aside. “I don’t,” I shouted over the music with a nonchalant shrug. I was bluffing. If Kayce knew I was lying, then she chose to ignore it.

“What do you say we give them a little something to look forward to?” she said as a devious grin crept its way across her face. She nestled her body into mine, bumping her ass from side to side to the beat of the music. Running her hands through my shoulder-length blond curls, she sent a wicked glance to the two guys watching, their mouths hanging agape. “C’mon girl,” she whispered, “it’s showtime.”

I moved to the music with her, running my fingers down her open, bare back. We turned in rhythm so that I was looking directly at the leaner college kid; he had surfer blond hair that flopped to one side and full lips. An itch surged through my core, shooting between my legs, and my mouth went dry. A droplet of sweat tickled its way down the side of my face along my hairline, and I quickly shapeshifted it away, making sure to settle my makeup, yet again. Drinking was making me sloppy with my appearance—and I had it much easier than most humans. With one hand, I swept Kayce’s curtain of jet black hair to the side and ran my lips ever so gently up her neck to her ear. My eyes stayed on the college kid as I darted out a tongue that barely grazed her earlobe.

Her fingers splayed against my scalp, weaving into my hair, and she tugged my neck back. “Which one do you want?” she whispered. With my eyes closed, nose aimed at the ceiling, I could feel her kisses as they trailed down my throat. When I finally opened my eyes again, I turned around, still on the beat, dropped myself down the ground, and swiveled my hips back to a standing position.

“Surfer boy. We’ve been staring at each other,” I answered, as simply as though I was ordering mustard on a sandwich.

“Okay, then,” she answered, “that leaves me with the mocha candy.”

The crowd on the dance floor had parted, and there was now a group of people circled around us, watching. Men gazed hungrily and women scowled, eyes red and angry. Their jealousy surged a bolt of energy into me. Even though I used to be an angel—that bad girl side wins out every time. An angel turned succubus—I was a creature no one in the demon or angel realm could explain. The succubus with a soul.

The song ended and Kayce took my hand, leading me to the two guys. “This is Monica,” she said, running a fingernail down the length of the other guy’s bicep, which bulged beneath his Hollister polo shirt.

Surfer boy took my hand in his. “I’m Paul,” he said. His palm was sweaty, and after the handshake ended I wiped my hand on my slinky, sequined dress, not caring if it stained. That’s the beauty of shapeshifting. It took a lot of my focus not to slink away, hoping that none of his other body parts were
that
sweaty.

Kayce already had a leg wrapped around the other guy, pressing herself against him to the beat. I grabbed Paul’s hand and pulled him off the dance floor. I wasn’t quite the exhibitionist Kayce was. The bathroom was an extremely modern design with clear glass walls that fogged over as soon as you locked the door, so that no one could see in. I tugged Paul inside, locking the door behind me. The glass fogged, encasing us, looking as though the entire club surrounding the glass filled with a mist instantaneously. He grabbed me from behind and turned my hips back to him, his hands squeezing my waist in a way that suggested a carnal need. Our lips rushed to find each other’s, and his hands cupped my jaw. Bright blond hair flopped forward into his face, and I brushed it back, my fingernails running through the silklike strands. My tongue found his, and they twisted around each other.

With my eyes closed, it was easy to pretend for a moment the hair was Drew’s—my human manager at the café where I worked during the days. I pretended that those lips were fuller, with a tiny scar slicing across the top. Pretended that this college boy’s hands were more calloused and weathered from years of hard work as they circled and caressed my body.

An apelike grunt pulled me back to reality. Cool air tickled my puckering nipples, and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized he had pulled my dress down over my breasts. A raging erection was poking through his jeans against my belly, and the contact sent a jolt of electricity through my blood. I needed his life—this wasn’t about passion or even sex; it was survival. Never mind that I had had sex the night before as well. Never mind that I chose Paul because he had a slight resemblance to the man I loved but couldn’t have. Never mind I probably could have gone two weeks without another conquest with all the Heaven-bound men I’ve been seducing lately. Right now—all that mattered was the life force in front of me. A morality so strong that its power pushed on my gut, causing the air to gush out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.

I shoved Paul against the opposite wall, wrapping my legs around his waist. As I propped myself on his hips, the dress slid up above my ass and I shapeshifted my panties away. One of the glorious things about having more sex than I need—I have plenty of power for superfluous shifting.

A finger slid inside me, and I tensed my sex around him. Again, I captured those pretty-boy lips in mine and drank him in. His soul was glistening, shimmering. He was going to be an amazing fix—the high would be electrifying. Much more so than the assholes and Hell-bound men I used to sleep with. And what’s a week off their life in order for me to not be condemned to Hell? A week off their life so that I could maintain a human body and not be a drifting soul in the bowels of Hell. And in exchange, they get a night with me—sex extraordinaire. It’s an even trade.

Okay, maybe not even, but it’s the closest I can get to justifying my actions. Besides, my broken heart is still on the mend. Anonymous sex speeds up the healing process. Not only did I discover Drew was still in love with Adrienne, but now she was the apprentice to my Julian. My old mentor back when
I
was an angel. I lost both the loves of my life to the same woman.

I shook the memory away, concentrating again on the fix that stood before me. I’m not against falling in love—but I am against getting involved with humans or angels
ever
again. Demon dates only from now on. And the biggest downside to dating demons—they’re a bunch of fucking assholes. But Paul was here in front of me. He was hot. And he wanted me. My job is to corrupt souls for Hell and steal their life force. I used to fight my duties . . . but these days, I was becoming friggin’ Employee of the Year.

His arms, which had been holding me up by the ass, released me back to the ground. We both scrambled to get his pants off. I tore the pale blue polo shirt from his head and threw it on the floor. His hands entwined through my golden, soft curls and just as I thought he was going to pull me in for another kiss, he grunted and pushed me to my knees.

Under normal circumstances, this sort of overt lack of regard for my sexual needs wouldn’t fly. But, right now, I didn’t really give a shit. If I was training him to be a consistent lover at my beck and call, then I would have taken the time to fight it. But for now, fuck it. I flicked a tongue out and ran it along the tip, then up and down the length of his shaft. His fingers still twisted in my hair, tightening its hold on me. He pulled my face closer to his cock—he clearly didn’t want the teasing. Done with the appetizer, he wanted the entrée.

I grabbed his balls, squeezing perhaps a little too tightly, to where pain turned into pleasure. A gust of air whooshed from his lips, the sudden change from gentle to rough proving too much for him. Amateur. I took his entire length into my mouth, wrapping my lips tightly around his girth. My teeth just barely grazed against him as he fucked my mouth. With the skill of an expert, I used my other hand to grip the base of his dick, rotating my head with a swirl as I reached the tip. His head slammed against my throat.

“Fuck me with those stunning sucking lips, gorgeous.” He was growing in size; I could feel him getting bigger against my tongue. There was no way I was letting him get away with not doing any work. I lowered his hands from my hair and placed them on my breasts. His thumbs rolled over my pebbled nipples, sending shock waves through my whole body. The ache between my legs grew, and I pulled my mouth away before he could finish.

He groaned and tried to pull my head back toward his cock. Slapping his hands away, I stood, bending over the sink. I flipped my dress up past my hips. “Don’t you want this instead?” I pulled my ass cheeks apart, allowing him a view of my everything.

His eyes grew wide and he licked his lips before approaching. Two large hands wrapped around my hips and the sides of my ass. The tip of his finger teased my opening, wet and slick and ready for him. The same hand traced around the curve of my ass and spanked me. It wasn’t a hard slap, but I gasped in an exaggerated way. Finally, he pushed himself into me. Reaching around front, he flicked at my clit. My knees buckled with the small but effective motions. I could feel the tension building, and I gripped the sink, my body trembling, an orgasm rolled over my body.

The itch between my legs was fierce, reminding me that though it was pleasurable, this fuck was a necessity. I could come a hundred times for him, but until he spilled his seed on me, his soul—his energy—was safe.

Thanks to my succubus senses and inhuman reflexes, I saw him unlock the bathroom door before the fogged walls cleared. Within those milliseconds, I shifted my face to look like someone else. Modesty might seem silly—being that I corrupt souls by fucking countless men each week—but I didn’t like my Hellish duties to cross over into my day job. And even though most of these people here in the club were visiting from out of town, I didn’t want to be known and recognized as the girl who was publicly getting it from behind. I did the same thing with my night job as a stripper—shift my looks slightly so that most people wouldn’t necessarily recognize me during the day.

The walls around us cleared. See-through. “Oh, yeah,” Paul grunted, and slapped my ass, squeezing it hard enough to leave a mark. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulled my head back and pushed into me with one final thrust. Sliding out just in time, he came all over my ass. It dripped down into my folds, and the rush of his life force was like walking into an air-conditioned room after sweating outside on a hot summer’s day. It momentarily took my breath away. His life reeled before my eyes, like I was watching an abridged version being projected before me. He’d graduate cum laude, move to Chicago, work in a boutique marketing firm before marrying and settling down in the suburbs. And last, he’d die of a heart attack.

Finally I released the breath I’d been holding, thankful that I hadn’t stripped too much of his life. I pulled my dress back down over my ass and looked into the mirror above me. I was glowing, radiant with the new life force. Paul’s life force.

I turned to face him, not bothering to shift back into my original features. He was so drunk on cheap beer, he wouldn’t even notice I looked slightly different than before. I glanced quickly out at the line of people formed to watch our little performance, then touched his cheek, running a finger down his jawline. “Thanks, Paul.”

His pupils were dilated, eyes wide, ready to party some more. Just a side effect of my poison. He was high on me. “Who says it has to be over?” He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me in for another kiss. I could taste myself on him. The crowd of people watching outside whooped and hollered. I let him kiss me a moment longer before pulling away and handing him his pants.

“I do,” I said quietly, reaching for the door. “Oh, and Paul?” When I looked back over my shoulder, he still had the energy, but a dejected look was etched on his pretty, boyish face.

He straightened as I turned around, eyes wide and expectant. “Yeah?” he said, hopeful, zipping up his pants. Like a puppy, I imagined two floppy ears perking up.

“Never shove a woman’s head to your dick without reciprocating the act yourself.” His face dropped, all color draining quickly away. On an exhale, my shoulders slumped slightly. I spoke again, a tad more quietly this time. “And lay off the red meat, okay? I mean . . . it’s just, it can be bad for your heart.”