“Ah,” Nix said, like he understood. Like he realized Ivan was too turned on and desperate to make this anything but rough and ugly. And maybe he did understand. He seemed to understand too much, always. Blasting through Ivan’s defenses like they were made of tissue paper.
Ivan couldn’t afford to fuck men? Apparently Nix would rearrange his entire empire for him, help him take a firm enough command that he could parade Nix around naked with a collar and no one would dare question it.
Nix groaned, arching his back so Ivan’s already rock-hard cock slid against his crease. “Oh my,” he murmured. “Now there’s a naughty thought.”
Ivan tugged at the base of Nix’s tail, committing to memory the soft, velvety feel of the skin there. “Stop reading my mind,” he scolded.
Nix gave a throaty chuckle. “Stop wanting me so badly.”
“Ican’t.”
“I know.” Nix sounded smug. Satisfied that he’d finally driven Ivan to the edge, maybe.
“Do I need to…stretch you open?” It wasn’t Ivan’s first time with anal—some of the divorcées had been more adventurous than others—but it was his first time with a self-lubricating sex demon.
“If I were human. As it is…” Nix spread his palms flat against the door, creating an arch in his back that would put a porn star to shame.
Ivan tugged once again at the base of Nix’s tail, moving it out of the way. The rest of the tail whipped off of Ivan’s leg, wrapping around Nix’s instead, leaving his ass exposed to Ivan’s gaze.
Ivan spread Nix’s cheeks, staring intently at his hole. It was a darker purple than the rest of Nix’s skin, hairless like the front of him had been. And wet, just as Ivan had felt. He could see some sort of clear, slick substance leaking out of him.
Ivan wanted to touch. He wanted to lick. He’d never thought he’d want to taste another man’s hole, but he sure as fuck wanted to taste Nix.
But there wasn’t time now. Ivan needed to fuck Nix more than he’d ever needed anything.
He notched the blunt head of his cock against him, using a hand on Nix’s shoulder for leverage as he pressed in.
Holy fuck.
Maybe Ivan shouldn’t have listened to Nix. Demon or not, it was still a tight fit. And hot. So fucking hot. But Ivan persisted, pressing into Nix like he belonged there, as Nix whispered filthy encouragements (“Yes, Ivan. Deeper. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”), peppered with little breathy moans at each new inch.
Like he was just as desperate as Ivan.
By the time Ivan bottomed out, he was gasping for air, the hot clench of Nix’s channel around his cock somehow both infernal and divine.
He was going to be ruined for anyone else after this, wasn’t he?
“Why the fuck do you feel so good?” he asked, pressing a bite into Nix’s shoulder, mouthing at the soft skin there while he tried to get his bearings.
It wasn’t just the feel of Nix around Ivan’s cock, although that was enticing enough to drive a man mad. It was like there was a fog in the air. Something heady and smoky that had Ivan feeling almost drugged with arousal.
There was some measure of relief when Nix sounded almost as wrecked as Ivan when he answered. “I’m an incubus. Desire feeds more desire. You’ll be—” He moaned, clenching tightlyaround Ivan’s cock when Ivan bit at his shoulder again. “—be a puddle when I’m done with you.”
Ivan didn’t doubt it. He wrapped one arm around Nix’s middle, the other coming over his shoulder to cover Nix’s hand against the door with his own. They were close enough in height for it to have been awkward, if not for the way Nix was bending himself, canting his hips for Ivan’s pleasure.
Ivan withdrew slowly, reluctant to leave the warmth he’d found, then rocked his hips, groaning as he drove in.
He stuck with short, shallow movements, wanting to stay as deep within Nix as he possibly could. He put all his weight behind it, and the hotel door thudded with each thrust.
Nix wasn’t exactly quiet, either, keening and moaning and hissing at Ivan to go harder. He pressed back into each of Ivan’s thrusts, barely letting Ivan withdraw, as if he couldn’t bear the distance any more than Ivan could.
They were going to get security called on them at this rate.
Ivan couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he could focus on was Nix—his firm body pressed against Ivan’s, the smoky scent of his skin, the throaty sound of his moans.
Sweat dripped off Ivan, sticking his dress shirt to his skin. Nix had been right, of course. Ivan was melting. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause. Not even long enough to strip off his damned shirt.
Ivan wasn’t much for dirty talk. He wasn’t much for words, period. But an endless chant began to leave his lips without permission, timed with each thrust of his hips. “Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.”
