Happy to Burn (Dark Desires)
Read Happy to Burn (Dark Desires) Online
Authors: T.J. Batts
Tags: #Paranormal Romance, #Paranormal Erotic Romance, #Urban Fantasy
Copyright, disclaimer & cover credit
Happy to Burn
(A Dark Desires Story)
By
T. J. Batts
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Tivi Jones Media
All rights reserved.
Cover design and formatting by Tivi Jones Media.
Acting on your big ideas is a risk.
This one is for the risk-takers.
"The only true guide is your heart.
Nothing less than its supreme desire can help you."
Saphira,
Eragon
, Christopher Paolini
Chapter 1:
Spencer
Amber body spray. Vanilla shampoo and a green apple lollipop.
I inventoried in my head.
And then there was the deliciously musky smell of her pu—
“Relax,” she said. Her voice was low. Dark and sexy like the lingerie she wore.
My eyes drifted down to the body part in question that was making my incubus-side so crazy, then drifted up to the pulse rat-a-tat-tatting in her neck. My vampire-half obviously wanted to play too.
Sometimes I hated being a NightDweller.
I switched my camera to my other hand, wiped my brow and adjusted my black-framed glasses on my angular face, hoping the budge in my pants wasn't too noticeable from her perspective.
My first lead photoshoot and I had to photographer Delilah Silva, of all people. A cruel blessing, indeed.
I took a deep breath only to regret the sexy taste of her that caressed my tastebuds. My heightened senses were a curse on days like this.
“Relax, Spencer. You’ve seen me in my underwear plenty of times.” Delilah stretched cat-like on the white satin sheets of the prop bed. “I’m sure it’s nothing new for you.” There was a hint of a question in her voice, her green eyes sparkling as she rolled them, then she peeked up at me.
I cleared my throat to dislodge the lump that had seize my speech since she'd changed into to the lingerie. Usually my boss, Samuel, was there to lead the shoots and they were always during the day, when it was easier to control my urges.
“First time flying solo tonight.” I said vaguely as I snapped a few candid shots of the gorgeous model.
My beastly nature, that I’d successfully contained for most of my preternatural life, was so far from my current “mild-mannered, 31-year-old, magazine junior staff photographer Spencer Rake" identity and it was
thisclose
to breaching the surface.
She gripped her thick black hair and arched her back, pushing her breasts into the air. She gave me her most seductive expression. Her lips pouty. Her caramel skin glowing against the white sheets.
I snapped the camera, part of me wishing that look was for me. The other part, the saner part, knew it was better if it wasn’t.
I loved my job as a photographer, it was calm, easy-going, often solitary, which kept my NightDweller, half-incubus, half-vampire, nature in check…but
this
shoot just might kill me. If a man could die from unfulfilled arousal.
“You’re the boss today, Spencer.” She rolled over, pushing her lace-clad bottom into the air. I swallowed hard and adjusted my belt. “Samuel is sick and you—” She eyed me from head to toe and winked. “—are pretty good with that thing.”
My throat went dry.
Everything she says sounds so seductive.
I turned away from her under the ruse of checking the pictures on the computer.
I couldn’t remember ever being this sexually frustrated in my 105 years of living.
I could feel my canines elongating. Feel my normally brown eyes turning purple with arousal. Any more pouting or teasing from her and I’d be full-blown NightDweller, fangs, purple eyes and all. Not to mention, at full attention in my jeans.
I sat down onto the bar stool at my desk, plugged in my camera and pretended to check her pictures on the computer.
I glanced over the computer screen at her. She was still on her hands and knees making pouty faces at herself in the wall of mirrors behind the prop bed.
It should be a crime to be that hot.
She was—
"Christ—" I breathed, trying to invoke as much help as possible. I didn’t think there was a word for what she was.
Trouble.
Yep, summed it up nicely.
“Afro-Brazilian heritage” her credentials boasted. She had toasted skin, thick dark hair that waved around her face and sparkling green eyes.
My head canted to the side as I watched her.
And a sweet ass.
I checked myself in the mirror to make sure my eyes had returned to normal, though I could still feel that my fangs were still slightly elongated. My cock was still painfully hard. I thrusted a hand into my short, messy, black hair, looking into the mirror from myself to the model I was supposed to be shooting tonight for the magazine’s upcoming lingerie spread.
Besides the near-sighted eyes— which totally autocorrected in NightDweller mode— my paranormal genes had been good to me.
I should have been concentrating on my job and getting the hell out of here as soon as possible, not fantasizing about fucking the hottest model in Katharine, North Carolina.
“Spencer.” The way she purred my name made my cock throb. I tightened my lips to hide my canines.
She was watching me in the mirror, wiggling her butt from side to side, her eyes seeming to see into me. She always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
“Are we going to finish this anytime tonight? I gotta get home to feed my cat.” She made another pouting face.
My vision flashed purple as I watched her butt sway from side to side.
I’d like to feed your cat.
I thought, then shook myself and cleared my throat.
“Yeah, D-Delilah.” I got up and walked back over to her slowly, holding my camera in front of my crotch until I was close enough to the wrought iron foot rail of the bed to use it to hide my arousal.
She continued watching me in the mirror and wiggling her bottom. “How do you want me?” She teased before winking again.
My motherfucking cock sat up and wagged like hungry, and eager puppy. The decadence-hungry incubus was dying for a little fun.
She had to know I found her attractive.
Was she exploiting that?
I closed my eyes for a moment to calm myself. An aroused NightDweller was a lot less dangerous than an angry and aroused NightDweller.
I’d only ever went into a full-blown NightDweller rage once in my life. Luckily my cousin Cainon had been there to clean up the mess. I hadn’t see Cainon in years, so it wouldn’t do me any good to lose it now.
“Stop playing, Delilah.” I managed a short laugh, but I could feel the tension rising in my body.
She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly. She watched me for a moment with a strange expression then shrugged, muttering “I’m not playing.” She turned around, crawled closer to me and drew up on her knees running a hand through her hair.
The scents of amber and vanilla blasted through my nostrils. I clenched my jaw.
She spread her knees wider on the bed and —
Motherfucker—
I had to grip the foot rail to keep from jumping over it, ripping off her underwear and burying my face into the aroma that had quickened my pulse to dangerous speeds. The sound of my own blood pumping to my crotch was deafening in my ears.
My vision was full on purple as I watched her. Her mouth was moving. I watched her lips purse around words I couldn’t hear and I imagined them pursing around my cock. I squeezed the rail tighter.
She titled her head slightly and raised a brow and I thought her lips formed words that I knew.
“W-wh-” I swallowed hard. “What did you say?” I asked, prying my hands slowly from the rail. I could feel the finger-shaped grooves I’d left in the iron.
Her eyes flicked to the rail. She looked back at me with little change in her expression. Maybe she hadn't noticed the damage to the bed rail.
“I asked were you OK, Spencer?” She leaned closer and touched her hand to mine gently.
Warmth flooded me at her touch, quickly followed by lust. For a moment, I pictured her in front of the mirror, on her hands and knees with me behind her. Breasts spilling from black lace as I pumped into her from behind.
I imagined how her hair would feel on my neck and chest as she leaned back against me and ground her ass into my crotch with pleasure.
I imagined her shuddering as I rubbed her clit while I fucked her.
My vision flashed to her letting me come inside her. Inside her mouth.
A low growl escaped me and I shook myself, snatching my hand away from hers and blinking hard to fight back the vivid fantasy. I’d always preferred face-to-face sex and I wasn’t sure why I'd imagined doggy-style, but —damn.
I was sweating, breathing heavily and Delilah was eyeing me with interest.
Chapter 2:
Spencer
Delilah took a long, slow breath and her lips parted slightly. She put one hand on her hip and touched the other to her mouth. “My, my, Spencer…” She trailed off and smiled slowly, seductively. Mockingly, as if she’d just read my mind and saw all the naughty images that raced through my head.
I stiffened and stepped back. “N-no, no.” I stammered. “I, uh, —” I stepped back again. I needed to get far away from her. The purple haze over my eyes hadn’t receded. I was surprised she hadn’t noticed my dark purple, dilated pupils. I was close to losing it and it would not be pretty.
“No,” she snapped, grabbing my arm roughly, her nails digging into my skin, with a surprisingly strong grip.
Shit—
“I gotta g—” I broke off in a completely undignified yelp as a deliberate pressure stroked my crotch.
For a moment my eyes dumbly snapped back and forth from my crotch to Delilah.
She licked her lips and touched the foot rail with her free hand, while she stroked her other along the ridge in my jeans. Her lips parted on a moan.
“If I’d known this was all it took to get you to stop acting like a nervous virgin around me, I would have done it months ago.” She purred. There was a teasing note in her voice that challenged me to reply.
Holy. Shit.
Was all my mind could manage.
If I’d had any blood left in my brain I would have told her “nervous virgin” was an inaccurate assessment given my century-plus of living.
I would have pointed out that I was merely giving her wide berth to prevent ripping her clothes off every time I saw her. I would have told her she was playing with fire at this very moment and I’d be more than happy to burn her.
I would have, but my cock was being stroked by the hottest woman I’d ever met and I didn’t want to be distracted from that fact.
Her eyes narrowed, probing into me. “You aren’t a virgin, are you, Spencer?” She didn’t stop her stroking.
I swallowed and managing an honest shake of my head.
She massaged her thumb into the head of my cock through my jeans and I shuddered, my lids lowered and I tightened my lips around my fully elongated fangs.
I was going to fuck Delilah Silva. Give her the ride of her life.
“Pick up your camera, Spencer.” She stopped stroking, hooked a hand onto my belt and led me around to the side of the bed. My cock led the way.
“Camera.” She reminded, settling into a seductive pose.
I shook myself out of my daze and brought the camera back up to my eyes.
It took me a moment of distractedly taking pictures of her to realize that she’d just been playing with me. It had clearly been a ruse to get me to do my job. My jaw tightened in embarrassment as I wondered if she did this to all of her photographers.
I never heard any stories about Delilah, not like some other models, but look at her…
She ran her hands down her sides, took her bottom lip between her teeth and looked into the camera. Those green eyes shining brighter as they focused on the camera and not me.
She obviously used her looks to her advantage.
I managed to snap a few pictures despite being painfully aroused. My crush on Delilah, the crush I’d had since the day I met her, was beginning to fade…and was being replaced with dangerous NightDweller rage.
“Did you like it?” she asked after a while. She wore a devilish grin as she arched her back again. I swallowed hard and tried not to look at her breasts.
