Page 11 of The Demon in Him

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So when he invited me back to his place for a drink, I didn’t hesitate.

I didn’t fight him this time as he held the car door open for me and latched my seat belt. I liked the brush of his hands over my body as he drew the seat belt across my chest and the touch of his fingers on my outer thigh as the buckle clicked into place. Mike’s eyes met mine, and again, there was that moment that lasted just a touch longer than expected of two casual acquaintances, a look that promised so much without saying anything.

The urge to kiss him then and there was strong, but I held back. As he drove, I rested my hand on his thigh, a touch that made him start slightly and swallow nervously, the first hint I had seen that he wasn’t in as much control as he portrayed.

I liked that side of him, and part of me wanted to make him lose control, to see what animal lay beneath the suit.

Mike’s penthouse apartment was almost as intimidating as the restaurant—picture-perfect like it was straight out of a catalog, every piece of furniture in its place, all perfectly color and style coordinated, exactly as you would expect for someone of his wealth. But there was something off about it. There wasn’t a personal memento in sight, not a framed photograph or an out-of-place knickknack, such as when someone gifts you something, and although it doesn’t match your existing décor, you display it anyway because you love it and the person it came from. But there was nothing.

“Nice place,” I said, shrugging off my jacket and looking for a place to hang it as we crossed the threshold. Mike ushered me in gently with a warm hand on the small of my back. He took the jacket from me, laid it carefully over the back of one of the dining room chairs, and moved away to make drinks.

Mike smirked. “Thank you, but I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“Not exactly, I don’t think. I guess it just doesn’t feel like there’s anything of you in this place, nothing personal.”

Mike’s movement paused in his ministrations of mixing bourbon-based cocktails, and he seemed to be rolling my statement around in his mind, trying to figure out the correct response. Had he had it pointed out to him before? Surely, he’d had other men in his apartment, and it wasn’t exactly hard to notice.

“I don’t like to get attached,” he said finally.

It was a hint and a warning that wasn’t lost on me. He might as well have said that tonight was a one-night stand and nothing more. If I were being honest with myself, I would have admitted this disappointed me—there seemed so much more to Mike than what was on the surface. But the chemistry between us was electric, and if that’s what I needed to agree to for a chance to get my hands on him, then I would do what he was comfortable with.

Approaching the small corner bar, I leaned my forearms on the counter as Mike slid my drink to me, the sound of the glass on marble cutting through the silence and the anticipation. We sipped our drinks in silence for a few moments, not breaking eye contact, each daring the other to make the first move while equally enjoying the self-inflicted torture of the tease.

Visions of getting Mike naked flashed across my mind, and it became impossible to push the thoughts away. A particularly strong image of Mike looming over me while he penetrated me had my breath hitching, and I coughed slightly on my drink. Mike’s eyebrows shot up, and his grin suggested he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. Coming around from behind the bar, Mike dragged his glass along the counter as he approached, and when he was chest to chest with me, I stared up at him, begging my body not to betray my need and start trembling before he had even touched me.

My lips parted slightly, but I had no idea what I planned on saying.

Mike merely watched me, and I got the sense he enjoyed the game.

“Isn’t this a conflict of interest?” I whispered, half joking and entirely not caring if it was.

“I don’t give a fuck about work right now. I have other things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

Oh God, I wanted to hear this man talk dirty to me.

A low growl rumbled through Mike’s throat, and he took a half step forward, forcing me to move back. His hand swept around my lower back again, holding me against him so every breath caused my chest to brush against his. “Like how you’d look tied to my bed, naked and begging for my cock.”


There weren’t any words, and even if there were, I don’t think I could form a complete sentence right now. My mind was a mess from his proximity, scent, and body’s heat against mine. The bedroom seemed too far away, and I wanted to pull him to the floor now, but Mike’s grip on the back of my shirt made it clear he was in charge. He was going to lead this night, to take control and give the orders, and I was there only to give and receive pleasure.

Yes, please.

“Mike…” I whispered. He had lowered his face close to mine, and the words were a brush of air against his lips. When he kissed me, it was slow, hesitant, and decadent. He was taking his time tasting and touching, his little finger brushing my back where he held my shirt, now slightly bunched under his hand and lifting from my pants. A few more inches and his hand would be on my bare skin, and I wiggled slightly, trying to speed up the process. Mike chuckled against my lips, increasing the desperation of the kiss, using his tongue to claim, and sending my heartbeat skyrocketing. When he ran his fingers through my hair, a growl moved through his chest again, and I groaned against his lips.

“You want to be used, don’t you?” Mike crooned, and when I moved to nod, his grip on my hair tightened, holding my head still. “Good.”

With only the slightest pressure, he encouraged me to drop to my knees, and my hands were on his belt buckle before I had even reached the floor. The marble was cool, and felt good on my skin even through my pants, and the metal of his belt buckle warmed up quickly under my eager fingers. Mike brushed his hands through my hair, touching his thumbs against my cheeks and lips as I undid his fly. When I went to pull his pants down, his grip on my head increased, and he barked, “No. Leave them on.”

Whatever. I got it. Some guys liked to remain fully dressed—it wasn’t something I hadn’t encountered before. From my experience, remaining clothed was a power thing, especially while your partner is naked. So, I loosened his pants just enough to pull his waiting cock free, already hard and ready for me, the tip dripping with precum. Mike closed his eyes and tilted his head back as I licked from the base to the tip, taking my time the same way he had with the kiss, and he let me.

For a while.

Soon, his grip on my hair got tighter, and when I teased him again with another lick, flicking my tongue over the head, he growled, thrust forward, and shoved his length into my mouth.

Use me.