The pickings at the office break room were slim late on a Friday evening. I brought Eddie a glass of orange juice, and he gulped it down in one go.
I ached to hold him. I told myself it was just to make sure he was okay, but as his gaze sharpened and his eyes lost the glassy, hazy quality of the post-orgasmic lethargy, I had no excuse.
He braced himself against the wall with one arm and slowly stood.
“I’m good.” He nodded to himself. “I’ll go home now.”
“Let me get you a cab.”
“No, I should go. We shouldn’t leave the building together.”
The night receptionist. But surely, he wouldn’t suspect something just because we left at the same time? There were multiple companies in the building, and he probably didn’t even know which one we worked for. Besides, colleagues went in and out in groups all the time.
Eddie seemed eager to put distance between us, though.
“Okay. I’ll wait a few minutes.”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t look at me anymore as he packed his things. He murmured a soft good-night and stalked out, his head down and shoulders slumped with what could only be shame and regret.
I couldn’t make myself regret anything. In fact, I was already trying to come up with a way to taste him again.
And there was no way I could wait four weeks.
9
TEMPTATION
EDDIE
Historians agree that the myths about theincubusandsuccubusare the product of human-vampire interaction. During clandestine times, vampires have used their superior strength and reflexes to enter human homes to feed. Whether this intrusion was welcome or not was highly individual.
A unique perspective is offered in the diary of the Castilian Prince Philip, the second son of King Charles VI. The diary details Philip’s relationship with a being he described as the incubus who visited him at night over the span of at least a decade. The unusually well-preserved eighteenth-century writings were considered fake until a modern analysis provided significant proof that they were likely genuine, and that the prince was of a sound mind when he wrote them.
Prince Philip was betrothed to Isabella Theresa from the royal Habsburg family, but it is possible that the marriage was never consummated. Instead, Isabella’s seven children have been fathered by her many lovers, with Philip’s knowledge and support. Philip even arranged suitable men for his wife, recruiting them from less influential aristocracy and clergy, and binding them to secrecy under threat. About his own love life, Philip wrote the following:
“Had I ever thought him a demon? He’s an angel. The nights I’m alone, I lay awake, begging God to send him to me. When he finally climbs into my window, I fall to my knees and kiss his feet and loins. That is my prayer. I worship his divine shaft and swallow his seed for it is the elixir of life. The pleasure he gives me is greater than anything else my earthly presence can offer. I don’t want the kingdom, not now and not in afterlife. I give my body to my angel to consume, to drink from it and to possess it, and only when he enters me, I am whole.”
The book was not helping at all. I considered throwing it out, but instead, I kept returning to it and even rereading some passages. When I finally put it away and closed my eyes, Russel’s lips wrapped around my cock, sliding to the base, replayed like a video on a loop in my head. And so, I’d barely slept for the past three nights.
I dreaded seeing Russel at work on Monday, and a part of me—the self-sabotaging, stupid part—couldn’t wait to see him. Would he pretend it never happened? Could I? It was what we’d agreed to do.
But then, in the 10:30 meeting, our gazes met, and his look was all too knowing. We had a secret—it felt like he and I were co-conspirators now.
The best solution would be to see each other as little as possible, but we’d be working closely together for the upcoming months and not just on the Black-Snyder account. Two other projects Anthony had entrusted us with were on a need-to-know basis, with only Russel and me involved.
I couldn’t avoid him, not even for a single day.
“Eddie, a word?” Like a shot in the back.
Nobody would find it weird that he asked me to stay behind. I cringed, nonetheless. It felt as if everyone in the room must know he had his mouth on my cock just from the way he said my name.
Cat closed the door after everyone filed out of the conference room, and I reluctantly turned to face Russel. My hands were shaking.
“Are you okay?” he asked, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
“Yes, of course.” My reply came on autopilot, but I sounded breathless. No way would he buy it.
