Give him an inch and he’d take a mile.
Ivan had been drunk that other night when he’d pressed their lips together—not anywhere near a right state of mind. He’d been compelled against reason and unable to stop himself. But today? Now?
He’d been doing so well too. There had been enough loose ends after Sascha and Kai had taken down the Carusos that Ivan had been able to bury himself in work, keeping the incubus at arm’s length. If Ivan didn’t look at him, or touch him, or smell him, he could manage.
He should have known it wouldn’t last.
When Sascha had come by and dropped off the Book two weeks ago, he’d told Ivan he seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
And, hell, maybe Sascha was right.
Because, in spite of all his better judgment, Ivan found himself tugging Nix’s head down and claiming his mouth, forcing his own tongue in the moment they made contact. There would be no chaste press of lips this time. Ivan was going to lick all the mocking words right out of Nix’s mouth, suck the sass off his tongue, until he was as mindless as he’d made Ivan.
But Nix only moaned, sliding off the arm of the seat and onto Ivan’s lap, his hands delving into Ivan’s hair as he deepened the kiss. With that single touch, all the blood rushed to Ivan’s dick, and he was hard faster than he’d ever been in his life.
It was some sort of demon magic. It had to be. Sex wasn’t like this for Ivan. Sex was a release. An occasionally inconvenient necessity. It was never all-consuming. No attraction had ever haunted Ivan’s mind the way his attraction to this demon did.
How did one exorcise a demon like this? Ivan had only one idea—as Nix battled him for dominance, exploring Ivan’s mouth like he owned it—and Ivan knew it was a bad one.
He jerked Nix back by his ponytail, breaking the kiss, ignoring Nix’s frustrated whine. “Are you still hungry?” he asked, hating how raspy his voice came out.
The demon had claimed he fed on lust and desire. It could have been bullshit, but if it wasn’t…
Nix’s eyes lit with some inner fire as his tongue swept over his lower lip. “Famished.”
“Suck me off,” Ivan ordered. The damning words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Nix’s answering grin was smug enough to torment.
“Yes, master,” he purred.
Such a little shit. But even if the words were taunting, Nix’s actions weren’t. He slid off Ivan’s lap onto the floor in one graceful movement, eager fingers unbuckling Ivan’s belt in an instant.
Ivan leaned back, his hands clenching on the arms of his chair. He had the crazed thought that if he let go, even for a moment, he might do something unforgivably stupid—like tug the incubus back onto his lap and rip off all his clothes, press himself into that lithe body, and never come up for air.
Nix would let him too. He’d let Ivan fuck him for days on end if he wanted to.
It was possible Nix would let Ivan do anything he desired.
It was a fucking dangerous thought.
So Ivan kept his hands where they were, his gaze burning into the incubus’s absurdly beautiful face.
There was a man kneeling at Ivan’s feet. A man about to suck his cock.
Except it wasn’t a man at all—it was Nix, the infuriating demon seemingly sent from hell to torment Ivan. Like he was a test Ivan was destined to fail.
Ivan’s hands clenched tighter on their armrests as Nix pulled him out of his slacks. Ivan’s cock was fully hard, his foreskin retracted back far enough to reveal the angry red tip.
“Oh my.” Nix peered up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, his hands sliding up Ivan’s thighs. “Haven’t we been blessed?”
Ivan’s lower belly clenched. How fucking stupid, to fall prey to idle flattery. “None of your teasing,” he growled. “I want your mouth. Now.”
“Who’s teasing?” Nix countered, but he lowered his mouth and sucked gently on the head of Ivan’s cock, licking all around the tip like he was feasting on an ice cream cone. Even with that taunting touch, his mouth was an inferno, hotter than any Ivan had ever had before. It should have burned—should havehurt—but it only made heat lick up Ivan’s spine.
Nix raised his head and grinned up at Ivan. “Like this, master?”
Ivan gritted his teeth. “Deeper.”
“Oops.” Nix stroked along the inside of Ivan’s thighs, as if in apology. As if he wasn’t tormenting Ivan on purpose. “My mistake.”
