Immortal Desire. Denise Tompkins
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She turned and laid a hand on the lock, stunned when he stepped in close and settled his hands on her hips.
He leaned down and rested his lips against her ear. “Now, Bailey.”
“I—”
“Now.” The deep growl in his voice said there would be no arguing, only submission.
Involuntarily arching her back, she ground against his cock. Shock froze her mid-grind.
“That’s what I thought was going on.” His hands tightened and pulled her closer.
Bailey groaned at the sensation, at the heat pouring off his body. And that smell. Sex. Pure sex. Stronger now than ever. Her mind raced through every raw fantasy that involved her boss. She wanted him, craved his nearness, coveted his touch. “Griff, please.”
“Please what, baby?” His deep voice rumbled through her back.
“I need...” She shuddered, unwilling to place her well-being in his hands. Trust was hard, mistrust easy. Life had proven that she shouldn’t, couldn’t, count on anyone but herself.
Strong hands distracted her. Fingers feathered over her hips and up, under her shirt, across her belly. Flat palms pressed her against him. His erection pressed into the seam of her ass.
Familiar distrust crowded her desire and whispered, “Why now and never before?”
Before she could ask, he bent over her, sealing his chest to her back and placing his lips behind her ear. “You can’t get off, can you?” he whispered.
The question burned through the haze of lust. “I... What?”
“I didn’t stutter, Bailey.”
Absolute confusion dragged the truth out before she could edit her response. “How did you know?”
“Let’s just say we have a few things in common.”
Those clearly capable hands roamed over her body, clouding her mind again. “Like what?”
“Later.” His breath washed over her, hot and suggestive. “What would you say if I told you I could cure your little problem?”
Tilting her head, she gave him better access to her neck. “I wouldn’t call it little.”
“You’d be right.” He nipped her ear.
Distrust tagged doubt, sending it into the arena and forcing her to ask, “Why are you interested in me now?”
“Why not now?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he placed a kiss against her neck. “You interested?”
She wanted this. Wanted him. Badly. He was worth the cost, whatever it was. Shaken, she managed a stilted nod.
“Let’s get those pants off.”
With one hand, she fumbled with the button on her jeans. Large hands settled over hers and Griff took over. The slow rip of the zipper mingled with their heavy breathing to create an erotic chorus. The sinfully delicious smell of sex wafted around them, intimate and suggestive.
Griff knelt behind her, fingertips skating over bare skin as he inched her jeans down. “A thong. I approve.” He punctuated his comment by nipping her bared ass cheek.
Bailey gripped the door handle so hard her knuckles were white. “What’s going on, Griff?”
“So many questions.” Another nip. “I’m going to show you what you’re capable of, beautiful.”
“Something’s wrong with me.” Even to her own ears, her whispered admission sounded ashamed.
“There’s nothing wrong with you that a night with me won’t fix.”
She tensed. “Arrogant much?”
“It’s not arrogance if I can deliver.” He traced an incredibly tactile tongue up the back of her thigh and licked the line between upper thigh and butt cheek. “And I can.”
What the hell. Worst case scenario, I end up with fodder for my fantasies. Best case? He lives up to his own hype. She shelved her misgivings for the moment and toed her sneakers off at the urging of his hands, making way for him to pull her jeans free. The silk thong slipped away from her vulva with silent promise. Air moved over bared skin. Pleas hung in the back of her throat.
“Patience.” Leather creaked. Something heavy hit the floor. A metallic clink followed.
Bailey couldn’t take the suspense. She looked over her shoulder and her mouth fell open. Griff had stripped. Completely. And holy shit. The man was more beautiful naked than she’d imagined. Thick thighs were corded with muscle. His abs tightened in a wicked eight-pack as he moved. That chest with its heavy pecs sported hard nipples. Her gaze dragged down his hairless body to his belly button where the thick head of his erection rested. He’d been impressive behind pants. Now? He was large enough to intimidate.
Turning slowly, she forced herself to meet his penetrating stare.
“Bend over the desk.”
She moved so fast she stumbled.
He grabbed her by the arm and steadied her. “Easy, Bailey.”
“I need...” Nausea made her bend forward and clutch her stomach.
“I know what you need, baby.”
She hoped so. Because if this got much worse, she was going to think she was dying.
* * *
Griff struggled not to throw Bailey down and drive into her. She clearly had no idea what was going on, but he’d known from the very second they met. Succubus. She hadn’t matured, though, so he’d waited. Impatiently at times, true, but he’d worked the bar far more than ever before so he could be around her. Somewhere along the way, he’d decided to see her through this. His maturation and shift from mortal to immortal was something he’d never forget and for all the worst reasons. If he could spare her that...
That’s all it is. Just doing what I’m programmed to and giving her what she needs. Yeah. Right. He’d craved her from day one. It had started as purely physical before evolving to something complicated. Not safe. Do this and get gone.
Bailey clutched her stomach. Sweat sheened her skin, a testament to both her pain and need. He caught her as her knees gave out and shifted her so she lay facedown on the desk. Kicking her feet wide, he moved in closer. Her scent drove him mad. The instinct to power into her without apology made his balls draw up tight as his cock wept crystalline tears. He’d help her achieve orgasm. Then he’d feed until the abysmal memories her Change had dredged up were buried again. Shaking his head, he cursed and stepped back.
Bailey moaned, the sound one of pure agony wrapped in crazed lust. Then she arched her back and presented herself.
He was lost.
Griff moved in behind her. Slipping the head of his cock into her cleft, he dragged it up and down her wet heat. “Sweet hell,” he muttered. “You’re so wet.”
A hard shiver was her only response.
He leaned forward and pulled her hair aside, laying his lips on her neck. “Only two rules. First, no kissing. Second, no strings attached.”
Her only response was to roll her hips in a way that wordlessly translated to desperation and stole his breath.
Gripping her hips, he pressed forward. His cock slid in a fraction at a time. She was so damn tight he was afraid he was going to tear her in half. It took every ounce of restraint to keep things slow and controlled when the dregs of his sexual hunger roared to the surface. He resisted the commands screaming through him to push her hard, to feed, to sate the emptiness that threatened to drag him under. The only currency his nature dealt in when denied was personal pain, so he kept working his way into her. The aches started up again. Heat burned through him like a wind-driven wildfire. Finally,