Richelle Mead - Succubus Dreams

An ornate wooden chair stood near the chaise. I moved over to it and knelt on its cushioned seat, pressing my breasts up against its carved slats. I peered back at Jude over my shoulder.

"Showtime," I said.

I expected hesitation or reluctance, but Jude had apparently overcome his initial reticence. Good. I didn't want to feel like I was raping him or anything. He clambered off the chaise and walked over to me. I had pushed his pants to his knees earlier, and now he finished the job, kicking the khakis off. Positioning himself behind me, he ran his hands along the sides of my hips, letting his fingers slide along the edges of the black panties I still wore.

I shifted, pressing my ass up closer to him. He sighed. "You are so sexy."

"I know," I told him impatiently.

He pulled the panties down, letting them rest near my knees. I ground against him even more and felt him push into me, the penetration forceful and deep. Gripping my hips, he began moving in and out, shoving me into the chair's hard back with each thrust. I moaned loudly, but whether it was for his benefit or the crowd's, I couldn't say.

And speaking of the crowd, I was now literally in a position to look at them, at the faces and eyes all directed toward me. I'd shed most of my self-consciousness over the years, and God only knew this wasn't the first time I'd had sex in public. Sometimes, I appreciated privacy, but tonight I loved being the center of attention. Maybe it was simply my longing for more life energy. I would have taken it under any conditions right now. Whatever the cause, I found myself getting turned on by making eye contact with different guys in the audience while Jude continued pumping away at me.

As I'd noted earlier, eye contact was a powerful thing. It took you away from the realm of superficial study and moved you into something deeper and more intimate. I favored the guys watching me with a heavy, sultry look—the look of a woman being fucked within an inch of her life and who wanted nothing more than to do it with them next. It thrilled me to think of all the men I was arousing, of all of them aching for sex—of all of them aching for me.

In meeting the gazes of my admirers, I almost forgot that it was Jude who was behind me. It could be any of these men, and their expressions clearly showed that they'd be happy to trade places with him. I looked from face to face, imagining what each man would feel like, how each one would fuck differently. The thrill of it was so arousing that my wandering mind soon fantasized about having more than one at the same time. One in back, one in front…

One of Jude's hands gripped my hair and jerked my head back while the other hand still steadied itself on my hip. The rough maneuver pulled me out of my daydreams, but I was so turned on now that I welcomed his aggression. He thrust harder, driving me painfully into the chair, and I hoped it wouldn't fall over. The sweetness of his life energy coming into me continued building, and I felt his thoughts stream into me as well. So good, so good, so good.

And it was good. The voyeurs around us and him fucking me on my knees had aroused me to dizzying heights. The whole act was dirty and exciting and thrilling.

"So good, so good," I cried, echoing his thoughts. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't—oh."

Talk about irony.

The trick I'd used on Bryce or Bruce or whatever his name was had worked here too. Only, I hadn't actually wanted it to end this time. Maybe this was Jude's normal style—short and sweet—and not actually my doing. Regardless, it was done, and I hadn't even come. Damn it.

But I'd gotten my energy fix, a burst of life and wonder that had exploded into me with his orgasm. Ecstasy or no, he'd felt a pang of guilt at the last minute, regret over this continued desire to cheat on his wife. That guilt had been a bonus for me. Sin was subjective, and often, the magnitude of a sin was in the eye of the beholder. I'd gotten him to sin—which Hell always liked and gave me bonus points for—and I'd cracked his morals, giving me more energy than I would have stolen if he were completely corrupt. I felt that life reinvigorate my essence, fueling my immortality and ability to shape-shift.

He pulled out. I stood up from the chair, catching his hand as he started to stagger. A few people whistled and clapped.

Jude wore a look of wonder—and exhaustion. I handed him his pants.

"Wow," he gasped. "That was…wow."

"Yeah," I said with a grin. "I know."

I hadn't realized how late it was until I showed up at Seth's around two. He actually wasn't writing for a change, and I found him sprawled on the couch, flipping through late night television programming.

"Hey," I said, dropping my coat and purse near the door. He glanced up from the TV. Its light cast ghostly shadows on his face in the darkness. "Sorry it's so late. Something came up."

"Yeah," he said, voice still flat. "I can tell."

Immediately, I caught his meaning. It was a sign of how well he'd come to know me and recognize subtle succubus signals. I was wreathed in Jude's life energy. Immortals would actually perceive it as a literal glow. Mortals couldn't see it, but they could sense something insanely alluring and attractive about me. Usually, they just wrote it off as a sign of my beauty. Seth knew better. When he sensed it around me, he knew what I'd been doing.

I hated for him to see me like this, but it was inevitable. "Sorry. It's what I do. You know that."

"Yeah," he agreed, sounding tired—mentally tired, not physically tired. He straightened up. "But did you have to do it tonight? You trying to punish me for standing you up?"

I sat down in the armchair across from him. The energy from Jude burned through me and made me feel alive. I didn't want a fight with Seth to ruin my good mood, particularly after I'd been so annoyed for most of the evening.

"I did it to survive. I wasn't trying to get back at you."

He sighed and stared off into a dark corner. "It's so hard sometimes."

I moved over to the couch, scooting up beside him. "I know."

He slid his arm around my shoulders and regarded me with a look both tender and exasperated. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against my neck. The small touch made my blood burn.

"God, you're beautiful. I just wish it wasn't the result of some other guy."

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

"Sorry I blew up."

"You call that blowing up?" I asked. "That was nothing."

"And I'm sorry I stood you up. That wasn't right."

Seth had moved up my neck and now nibbled my ear. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

"It's okay," I assured him. "Really."

"You're awfully forgiving."

"Hey, what can I say? Christmas love and kindness, right?"

He laughed and ran his fingers through my hair. "For someone allegedly so evil, you sure are good."

"Well," I said, pressing into him. "I'm not that good. I'm thinking some very bad thoughts right now."

"Yeah. Me too. If our thoughts condemn us, I think I'm headed straight for Hell."

"No, you aren't. Hugh says your soul's like a supernova. You're going straight to the pearly gates."

Warm love and desire enfolded us, supplanting the cold tension. Yet as we curled up and chatted about light topics, I couldn't help but morosely think this was a common scene between us. Fight. Brood. Apologize. Snuggle. In all the fantasies of a stable relationship that I'd harbored over the last millennium, this pattern had never been a part of them.

After a while, we sort of surpassed snuggling and moved onto something of a more adult nature. At least I did. Sometimes Seth could be coaxed into sating his lust, though it always made him incredibly self-conscious. Me, I loved watching him come. He was always so damnably blasé that seeing him lose control in an orgasm almost did more for me than my own climax.