Still, it was a lot further than he would have expected. He’d need to take his victories where he could get them.
Ivan’s breaths steadied faster than Nix would have liked. “I need to take this,” he said, his hands finally releasing Nix’s hips.
“Of course,” Nix agreed, his voice throaty and low.
He shifted off Ivan’s lap slowly, and Ivan’s gaze dropped immediately to Nix’s bulge—impressive in its own right, and incredibly obvious in his tight leather pants.
Nix grinned widely, patting Ivan’s shoulder before he sauntered toward the door. “Thanks for the snack, boss. It was very,verytasty.”
5
Ivan
Ivan slammed his phone down on his desk, hanging up the thousandth call in however many hours. It was an insufferable task he shouldn’t have been bothering with in the first place. It should have been someone else in charge of all the moving parts. Someone well below Ivan in the organization. At the very least, it should have been Sergei.
But Sergei wasn’t an option right now, so it was up to Ivan to organize all the brutes, wasn’t it?
And now he had a headache forming between his brows, sharp and merciless.
Maybe he should have eaten like the incubus had suggested.
The incubus. Thefuckingincubus.
That incorrigible demon was the reason Ivan was hard at work with an intermittent erection, suddenly turned on by every stiff fucking breeze, like he was going through a second adolescence (not that he’d been allowed to be distracted by hormones during his actual adolescence).
Ivan had been tempted, after that display earlier—Nix’s firm weight on his lap, his mouth hot and searching on Ivan’s neck—to take his cock out and jerk off right there. To cover his desk with his cum the way he wanted to cover that demon’s stupidly pretty mouth with it.
But Ivan knew, somehow, that Nix would know he’d done it. And then Nix would think he’d won, that he’d beaten Ivan.
He hadn’t. Ivan didn’t lose, at least not in the long run. Maybe he had to concede in the occasional battle, but never the war.
He was only pent up; that was all. And Nix had whatever sex magic an incubus held on his side, messing with Ivan’s head.
So, yes, Ivan’s cock was full and heavy every time he pictured Nix’s absurdly attractive face, every time his mind wandered to the expanse of skin visible under Nix’s sheer fucking shirt. What of it?
So, yes, Ivan wanted nothing more than to slide his dick between those ridiculously full lips, to pluck at those nipple piercings, to order the incubus to suck, order him tobehave, until he swallowed down every bit of Ivan’s reluctant arousal. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
Ivan didn’t fuck men.
So Ivan would wait and jerk off in the shower tonight, like it was any other night, and if the demon dared to make any remarks, Ivan would blame it on the regular bodily functions of a healthy male human.
And he’d lock his bedroom door.
The matter decided, Ivan adjusted himself in his slacks and turned on his laptop, busying himself with work for a few more hours as he waited to hear from Sascha that the deed was done. Ivan’s brother and his demon were meeting with the Carusos tonight, ostensibly to discuss Ivan’s willingness to allow his ports to be used for the Carusos’ new shipments of human cargo, but in reality to allow Kai an opportunity to do away with Luca Caruso—the head of the family—and any men he brought with him, cutting their organization off at the knees.
It would have been a tricky maneuver with only mortal subordinates to rely on, but Kai was a warrior demon more than capable of slaughtering the lot of them without allowing any of Ivan’s men—his brother—to come to harm.
If Sascha had the gall to summon a demon behind Ivan’s back, the least he could do was to put the demon to good use.
But even after the sky had gone dark, hours after Sascha should have confirmed the meeting was over, Ivan didn’t hear anything from his brother. He didn’t hear anything from anyone. Not until his phone rang, the apartment’s security guard on the other line.
“Sergei’s here.”
Every muscle in Ivan’s body tensed at the announcement. He forced them to relax one by one before he spoke. “Send him up.”
Nix appeared in the doorway after a mere moment, having obviously eavesdropped on the last (and probably every other) phone call. He leaned his lithe figure against the doorjamb, cocking his head. “Is that wise?” he asked, presumably referring to Sergei’s imminent arrival.
(And now Ivan had to be grateful that, at the very least, his unexpected visitor served as a distraction from his own stubborn arousal.)
