Chapter Twelve
Allie
My job sucked!
“No, I do not participate in any of the scenes,” I said to the greased up demon in front of me for the fifth time because he was refusing to take no for an answer. Getting hit on at work didn’t bother me, but pushy customers who refused to accept I wasn’t a prostitute pissed me off.
The leer on the demon’s triangular face revealed scary looking pointed teeth. Only other preternatural beings could see demons in their true form. While most looked human, many species did not, and some of them left me wishing I could see them through human eyes.
“Your boss said everything was for sale,” the demon argued, flicking his forked tongue out to play with his lip ring. “He also mentioned you’re a succubus, so why don’t you be a good girl and do what you’re told?”
If I didn’t need this job so much, I’d be tempted to slip out of my shoes and slam one of the heels into this demon’s temple. The other shoe, I’d save for Marcos’ balls. That slimy incubus was getting on my last nerve. This was the second time in the last month I’d had to deal with this shit, and if I complained, all I’d get was a raised eyebrow and a suggestion that I be more flexible. In Marcos’ mind, anything short of sleeping with the customers was being unreasonable and prudish.
The door opened behind me, and I was annoyed to see Marcos step in with a sleazy smirk on his face. “Sorry, my friend, but Al’s already reserved for the evening,” Marcos said as he grabbed my arm to lead me out of the room. I recoiled a little at Marcos’ touch, but I might not put my heel through his balls because he was giving me an easy out with this customer. I was completely shocked that he was saving me, since Marcos wasn’t the type to save anyone. He’d pimp his own mother to Satan to make a dollar.
“What about my scene?” the demon whined, his skin turning a bright shade of red, almost like metallic Christmas wrapping paper. That was how this type of demon looked when they were angry or aroused. I had no idea how anyone could have sex with someone that color. Even when their skin wasn’t begging for a shiny bow, the teeth and tongue always repulsed me.
“I’m going to send someone else in to help you,” Marcos assured the demon before guiding me out of the playroom.
“Thanks, Marcos,” I said once we were out of the room. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d need to call security on that one. He seemed like the type to push things.”
Marcos laughed, and it was not a nice sound. “He’d push it, but his money’s good, and he’d probably tip you well enough to compensate for any damage he did. The other girls say he’s pretty talented and has a cock that looks like a corkscrew.”
“Not a picture I wanted in my brain,” I muttered. How was I ever supposed to get turned on again with the image of a metallic red corkscrew penis in my head? I wasn’t sure if it made me want to giggle or gag more. “You’ve ruined sex for me,” I grumbled.
Marcos snorted. “I wasn’t aware you spread those legs for any man, so there’s not much to ruin, is there?”
With my fists clenched at my sides to prevent myself from punching my boss in the balls, I seethed in silence. Punching Marcos in the balls would definitely get me fired, but I was beginning to think it might be worth it.
If I didn’t know Marcos, I might find him attractive, like so many women who came to the club. Just shy of six feet tall, with a lean muscular build, brown eyes that seemed to have liquid gold swirling around in them, a face that made most women breathless, and long black hair which fell to his shoulders, one could easily be blinded by his beauty. That was only if they didn’t know him.
“You really need to loosen up,” Marcos complained. “I hire sex demons for a reason, and it isn’t so you can play demure virgin with the customers—that is, unless they want a demure virgin. Your job is to keep the customers happy using any means at your disposal.”
Since setting up scenes involved anything from prepping the room to showing couples how to use the kinkier sex toys, I’d hardly consider myself prudish at work. While I’d never done anything truly kinky, I could teach someone how to wield a flogger like a pro. An hour ago, I’d helped a demon strap a naked warlock to a St. Andrew’s cross, after which the couple asked if I’d be interested in participating in the scene. The difference between them and the demon is that they’d taken my no seriously and thanked me for my help.
“My job is to set up scenes for our customers, not prostitute myself,” I said angrily.
“I’m not asking you to prostitute yourself,” he ground out. “I’m asking you to take that self-righteous stick out of your ass and have some fun with my customers. Sure, that’ll make me money, but what the hell does it really hurt? You’re a succubus, which means sex is your whole fucking life. Getting a little dick at work won’t hurt you.”
“Are you saying I have to let your customers screw me?” I asked, knowing he couldn’t legally tell me that. The preternatural community might not frown on prostitution, but they frowned on anyone being forced into prostitution. There was also the fact that my dad would destroy Marcos if he even suggested something like that. At times, it paid to have a powerful father.
“Of course not,” Marcos said with an innocent grin before grabbing my arm and guiding me across the club.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, suddenly worried I was about to get fired. Even though Marcos insisted I didn’t have to screw around with his customers, I suspected he’d fire me for refusing eventually.
“Didn’t I already tell you I have a request for you?” he asked irritably. “This guy has paid me some serious money to have you to himself for the next three hours. He wanted the whole night, but I have to let Lara leave at ten. Some bullshit about her mother’s birthday. I expect you to make this guy very happy, Al.”
I stopped and dug in my heels. “Are you telling me you expect me to have sex with this guy because he paid you?” I demanded. Hadn’t we just argued about this very subject?
“He didn’t say anything about having sex with you,” Marcos said with a shrug.
“What’s he getting out of this deal?” I asked.
“Not my problem,” Marcos replied. “He insisted he wouldn’t hurt you, as if I really give a fuck, but it should make you feel better about the whole thing.”
“Glad you’re worried about my safety,” I grumbled.
So much for thinking Marcos was rescuing me. Sure, I might get lucky and this guy might just want my exemplary skills helping with a scene he had in mind for his partner. Yep, and I could also spout wings and a halo. Marcos had only pulled me from the demon because he’d been offered more money by another horny asshole. At least this horny asshole had promised not to hurt me. Something told me the demon I’d left would have made no such promise.
The playroom Marcos led me to was one of our more vanilla rooms. It was also one of the few with a bed. That wasn’t the only furniture the room had, because even housewives who’d never tried anything other than missionary were turned on by the thought of playing BDSM games. For that reason, there was a padded spanking bench, and some of the tamer toys were hanging from the walls.
There was only one man in the room, and his back was to me. With the dim lighting, I shouldn’t have been able to recognize him from behind, but I knew who it was. I’d recognize Dylan’s presence anywhere, and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or furious. Probably both. While I was glad Dylan’s arrival had saved me from having to fight my way out of the last playroom, I was still angry that he’d had the audacity to buy time with me like I was some kind of whore. Worse than that, I was feeling hot and achy just from the scent of his cologne.
Marcos’ grip tightened on my arm as he leaned down to speak quietly in my ear. “Don’t fuck this up, Al,” he warned.
Without waiting for a response, Marcos walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Dylan. That’s when Dylan turned toward me. I’d been expecting some flirty smile, or maybe a cocky grin. Instead, Dylan looked seriously pissed.
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“Will your partner be joining us?” I asked, looking away from Dylan because it was impossible to look at him without thinking about all the things he’d done to my body. “I can start getting things set up for you while we wait for her, or him, to get here.”
“Why did you sneak out of my house this morning?” he asked, and I felt the heat from his body. He’d moved closer, much too close.
I turned and looked up at him, working hard to keep my breathing under control and my expression blank, as my traitorous body reacted to his proximity. “Last night was fun, Dylan, but it was just sex. Why would I stick around for the uncomfortable morning after talk?”
“Just sex?” Dylan asked. “Fuck that! We had a great time last night, and it was more than just sex. I enjoyed spending time with you, and you felt the same.”
I had, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “About the scene,” I prompted him, even though what I really wanted to do was beg him to bend me over the bed and fuck me.
Dylan laughed, but it wasn’t the same fun-loving laugh as last night. Goosebumps rose, and I swallowed hard, realizing I might be in over my head.