Incubus Moon
Authors: Andrew Cheney-Feid
Copyright © 2014 Andrew Cheney-Feid
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 10: 1463674066
ISBN 13: 9781-463674069
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011911431
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, South Carolina
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
I’d never done anything like this before. Was I actually going to go through with it?
The trembling in my legs and my accelerated breathing was becoming more difficult to hide with every anxious step I took toward the old house. Why didn’t I bail on the ride over when I had the chance? It would have been easy to ditch the car following me.
Too late now.
The record-breaking chill that had descended on Southern California a few days ago, coupled with the late hour and thin denim jacket I was wearing, weren’t doing much to help calm my jittery nerves, either. Winter might not officially begin for another two weeks, but the outside temp graphic on my cell phone displayed thirty-two degrees. Hardly unbearable for many parts of the country, but by Los Angeles standards it was damn cold.
I let out a ragged breath and watched it spiral up to vanish into the cloudless, star filled night.
You started this, Austin. It’s Piper time
.
So I steeled my questionable resolve and glanced over at the man in the black Stetson and Sherpa suede jacket standing next to me on the walkway, the outline of his hat and chiseled profile etched by silver moonlight. A self-assured smirk played across his lips as he scanned the dark, wraparound porch for movement. Then he lifted his gaze to scrutinize the unlit upper floors and steeply pitched roof of the impressive-yet-creepy
three-storied Craftsman that seemed to rise up out of the ground and lean in toward us; almost as if it was daring us to make a move.
The cowboy turned his head in my direction and gave a slow nod of approval, his grin lengthening to an all out smile. “Let’s do this.”
A few neighboring properties still glowed with cheery icicles and multicolor Christmas lights, despite the Holidays having drawn to a close a full week ago, a fact which leant a more sinister air to the shadowy grounds surrounding us now. It certainly helped to ratchet up my sense of anxiety (and excitement) over what we were about to do.
What if someone sees us and comes over to investigate? Or worse, calls the cops?
I could have sworn I saw the drapes part and close again in the old Victorian across the street.
The cowboy took a few shuffling steps back along the concrete walkway to better appraise the house and whistled loudly. “Sure is a big one.”
I winced at his carelessness, but also couldn’t help thinking,
So is he
.
At six-six, the man stood half a foot taller than I and was broader through the chest and shoulders. That he bore a striking resemblance to a handsome Texan television star, right down to the square jaw, hazel eyes, and honeyed Southern drawl shouldn’t have meant a damn thing to me. And yet, here I was about to do something dangerous, unpredictable, and completely out of character for me—and all with a man I’d met a few short hours ago, and whose name, thanks to way too much tequila, I could no longer remember!
Again, I had to remind myself,
You started this, Austin
.
“She all yours?” he turned to ask with the same lopsided smile.
With a final, hesitant glance over my shoulder at the now dark Victorian across the street, I stunned myself by hustling a perfect stranger onto the covered porch and through the front door of a house that had belonged to my family for five generations.
“Right down to the oak floorboards,” I told him, kicking the door closed behind us and giving an impatient tug to the waistband of his jeans.
The Texan gave a throaty laugh and removed his Stetson, tossing it onto the foyer bench.
I should have been more freaked out. Hell, I shouldn’t even be standing here with this guy in the first place! But something inside me quickened. An inexplicable shifting of energy that I’d experienced, albeit to a lesser extent, earlier in the evening at the sports bar where I’d met this man. It suffused my body and mind, compelling me then, as it was doing right now, to bait him into conversation, and then lure him home with me to explore something about which I’d never even fantasized let alone acted on!
We stumbled from the entry into the darker living room, bumping into a wall or piece of furniture along the way. On most nights, I could navigate the rambling old house with my eyes closed, which I was pretty much doing now. It was just harder to plot a course when you were shit-faced and playing tonsil hockey with a hunky cowboy.
Kissing another man for the first time went beyond mind-blowing. Everything about what we were doing, what we were about to do, was terrifying and also beyond thrilling. The electric sensation of his stubble rubbing back and forth across my chin and jaw, the primal heat continuing to build between us, coupled with the intensity of the pure male aggression driving us, had given me one hell of a hard-on.
I moaned into his mouth, savoring the faint oaky taste of whiskey on his tongue. I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him, until a series of deep gongs broke the spell.
I stiffened in the darkness, but soon realized that the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway was the culprit. It was heralding midnight and the official end to my membership in the Twenty-Something Club. I was thirty now, and marking the occasion by making out with another man. A decided
WTF
moment if ever there was one!
The Texan broke from our kiss and took a few disoriented steps away from me. He leaned against the newel post at the base of the stairs to the upper floors to catch his balance and shook his head a few times, as though trying to wake from a really strange dream.
I knew the feeling.
He took in his surroundings, seemingly unaware of where he was. Then our eyes met and I saw all traces of bewilderment fade from his expression. In its place, raw desire reignited inside him. I could actually feel it taking him over. Talk about fucking bizarre!
It jumped from him to me again; this new
something
that proved more powerful than my own will to fight it. More to the point, I didn’t want to.
I approached the Texan with slow, deliberate steps and reached both hands out toward his waist hidden within the dark suede jacket. His body was warm beneath the heavy fabric and I ran my palms along the firmness of the sides of his torso up to his thick lat muscles, before working them across his pectorals to the inner shoulders of the jacket. He knew what I was trying to do and dropped his shoulders, making it easier for me to push the Sherpa lined coat back and down over his arms, where it dropped to the floor behind him. Then I let my fingertips travel down the hard planes of his chest and stomach to caress the cool, metal longhorns of his belt buckle, holding his gaze while I did so. Desire reflected back at me. Hot. Longing. Ravenous.
This was it.
“You won’t be needing this for a while,” I said with a snap and a quick tug.
He opened his arms wide and grinned down at me.
About to unbutton his jeans, a rush of dizziness hit me with such force that I lost my own balance and lurched forward, falling smack into the guy. Not the smoothest move, but one which allowed the firm warmth of his muscular chest and arms to break my fall.
God, his heart was beating so fast against the side of my face through the denim of his shirt and the rich, woodsy scent coming off of him sent a body-shuddering jolt of lust rippling through me that obliterated any lingering doubt I might have concerning what I wanted to happen between us. My skin literally hummed with need, as if tiny, electric impulses were racing just below the surface of it to fuel my inexplicable hunger for this man.
“Y’all feel that?” he said with a hoot, pulling me in tighter against the line of his body.
Raw, irrepressible yearning? Oh yes, I felt it!
My dizziness was further compounded by the abrupt rise in temperature in the room. It was like standing in a sauna fully dressed. The hot, sticky press of clothing against my skin was maddening. Especially when all I could think about was stripping off and getting this handsome stranger naked and in bed. I longed to feel the crush of his muscular body on top of me, to feel its warmth press against and glide over my own.
Never mind the white elephant in the room with us; that I’d not once in my life sought physical intimacy with another man before tonight. Or, the fact that I’d been about to approach a petite, curvy brunette I’d been eyeing at the bar when the Texan stepped between us to order a beer. My focus slipped. Suddenly shifted. It demanded the handsome stranger exploring my body with his large, insistent hands right now.
Another wave of heat and desire collided inside me. It was as if a nuclear reactor of lust was churning at my core, its intense energy a living, pulsating thing that was pouring out of me and funneling into the Texan, whose breathing had sped up, and whose body now pressed hot and desirous against mine.
There was nothing I could do. Nothing I wanted to do more than give myself over to this energy. So I transferred every ounce of burning
need to his mouth and savagely kissed him, savoring that same oaky tang of whiskey on his tongue and the slight saltiness of his lips, as he returned my advances with equal enthusiasm.
He breathed his excitement into me, breaking the kiss solely to grab my hand, which he rubbed in a slow back-and-forth motion across the fly of his jeans.
“Jesus H, you’re like walkin’ Viagra,” he leaned in to breath into my ear.
The thrilling surge of sexual power continued to thunder through my veins. “Today’s my birthday,” I told him in a voice thick with desire.
“S’pose that makes me your present then.”
I popped the top button of his jeans. “Only if I get to finish unwrapping you.”
“Gotta catch me first.” He jerked his head toward the darker second floor and took off.
I sprinted up the stairs after him and he let me corner him midway. Laughing and groping each other, we stumbled to the second-floor landing, where I stripped him down to boxers and socks. I still had my jeans on, but they were unbuttoned and riding low on my hips.
“You sure are pretty for a dude,” he whispered, nuzzling the side of my neck, his stubble a riot of pleasure against the moist heat of my skin.
I laughed again when he bent down, hoisted me over his shoulder, and then set off at a trot.
My laughter quickly died when I realized he was rushing us toward the thin seam of light seeping from beneath the closed door at the end of the hallway. “Wait! That’s not—”
He bumped open the door with his hip and we were through it and into a room I hadn’t been able to bring myself to enter for close to a month. The lamp was hooked to a timer and turned on and off automatically at the same time every day.
