Page 20 of Inviting Bedlam


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“I can’t think about them when you’re on top of me.”

Oh, Ivan. Baby.Did he even know how that sounded?

Nix’s lips curled into a catlike grin. “Then think of me. Or think of nothing. Just feel, hm? Close your eyes. Let your demon do the heavy lifting.”

He half expected to be tossed off—and not in the fun way—but Ivan surprised him, closing his eyes. Nix closed his as well—reluctant as he was to take his eyes off Ivan’s handsome face—leaning back and focusing in on those little tendrils of desire pulsing from Ivan’s core. A few more than usual had appeared when Ivan had been remembering his past dalliances, but they’d multiplied considerably when Nix had climbed on top of him.

Nix fed them with his own energy.

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked, his voice rough and low.

“Shh.” Nix shifted in place, enough to feel that Ivan was hardening underneath him. It would have beensodelicious to grind down on that bulge. But even Nix knew that would be pressing his luck. He’d be good.

Sort of.

Nix leaned in close again, breathing in the desire he’d stoked. Now that he’d coaxed a little more out, strengthened what was there, it was all feeding on itself, arousal begetting more arousal.

And fuck, did arousal smell good on Ivan.

Nix hummed, running his nose along Ivan’s neck, drinking it all in. Ivan’s hands landed on his hips, locking him in place.

Nix grinned at the touch. “Tell me, master, how long has it been since you’ve fucked?”

Ivan’s answer was husky. “Too long.”

“Poor baby.” Nix nosed along Ivan’s chin. “I bet you’re vicious in bed.”

Ivan’s eyes shot open, narrowing. “I’m not a monster. I don’t hurt my partners.”

Nix hummed. “You could hurt me a little. I wouldn’t mind.”

Nix’s human definitely needed a healthier outlet for all that pent-up aggression, and Nix wasn’t opposed to being the recipient.

Ivan’s hands tightened on his hips, and Nix purred, “Just like that. As hard as you like. I won’t break.”

Images flashed at Nix again, but they weren’t of the blondes this time. There was Ivan, fucking Nix over that horrid white couch in the living room. Nix on his knees, sucking Ivan off under his desk. Nix in Ivan’s bed, stretched out on his stomach, ass tilted upward.

Nix breathed in deep, practically intoxicated by the rush of desire. He nuzzled even closer, until his lips were on Ivan’s neck, his hands buried deep in Ivan’s hair.

Ivan groaned.

Nix rocked gently in his lap, testing, beyond thrilled when Ivan rocked back up against him. That was it. That wasit.

He moaned, latching onto Ivan’s neck and sucking hard. Nix wanted to get in there. Inside Ivan’s mind, inside his skin. To bathe in all the complex deliciousness of his soul. Forget subsisting on a mere little piece—Nix would take the whole fucking thing.

Ivan was growing even harder underneath him, forming a bulge that promised all kinds of goodness. Would he let Nix take him in hand, stroke him to completion right at this very desk? Ivan could use the release, and Nix wouldn’t even ask for an orgasm of his own. He’d be good. He’d be so very, very good.

A buzzing sound broke through his fog.

Nix froze. Ivan froze.

There it was again. Ivan’s phone.

Nix’s tasty mouthful jerked away, Ivan leaning back and away from his touch. But Nix wasn’t pushed off just yet. Ivan held him there, on his lap, staring at him while his chest heaved withhaggard breaths. His pale hair was mussed, and a dark bruise was already forming on his neck.

Nix wanted to kiss him. He couldn’t, could he?

Fuck.Fuck. He’d been socloseto a real meal.