Sometimes, one man is not enough.
Samuel Driver was a thug, a thief, and a career criminal — until the moment he got himself killed. His violent escapades guaranteed him a place in Hell, but his fighting spirit earned him a reprieve, and a chance to walk the Earth once again.
Contracted to become a male Succubus — a reaper of human life forces — Sam discovers a hidden talent for seducing men. He becomes so proficient, his demonic caseworker singles him out for a series of special tasks, which promise to improve the conditions of Sam’s demonic contract.
But with each amendment comes increasing difficulty. This time, Sam cannot hope to achieve the task alone and must engage the skills of other professionals to have any hope of fulfilling his side of the bargain.
Reader Beware: This story will plunge you into the world of gay orgies as orchestrated by those who would profit from the pleasure of others. Could be fun.
PUBLISHER NOTE: M/M PARANORMAL ROMANCE. 35,800 words.
I took Max’s hand in mine. “Let me buy you a coffee.” The offer of coffee was part of my plan to keep Max around until he agreed to accept the case, but something was growing inside me, a genuine liking for the guy. Coffee would allow me to enjoy more time with him, not simply keep him nearby. What was wrong with me? I hadn’t felt a genuine attraction to a man this side of my death.
“Let me get the coffee.” He freed his hand carefully and headed to the back of the office, where a glass coffee pot lurked on a hot plate.
“Thank you,” I said again. “It’s so good to meet such a genuine—” I stopped as the door opened behind me, and footsteps approached. The timing was perfect because I’d been dangerously close to spilling my innermost feelings.
“Hey!” Max turned and grinned at the newcomer. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” A man walked past me and kissed the detective on the lips. “We have company,” Max whispered past the kiss.
“If he’s booked an appointment with a gay detective agency” — the guy turned to face me — “one little kiss shouldn’t be a shocker.”
I stood up and extended a hand. “You must be Mister . . .”
“Eric, silent partner of Spyglass Detective Agency,” he explained.
“Keeping things secret, huh?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Not everybody understands . . . us.”
I gave his hand an extra squeeze. “Don’t worry, I do.”
His grin widened. “Cool.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Tell me why you think Mister Penistone has committed an illegal act. Did he try to seduce you as he did the others?”
“He didn’t try,” I said. “He did, along with my colleagues.” Max wrote quickly, nodding when I relayed new facts to him. Group sex had been commonplace, and gang sex was encouraged.
“And they all took turns using you?” As Max asked, a prominent bulge appeared in the front of Eric’s pants.
I glanced at his face in time to see him lick his lips. “Guys would circle me, touching my body until I was hard.”
Eric blew out a long, slow breath. “Sounds . . . terrible.”
“I was taken to a sofa, bent over and they lubed me up. I think nine guys used me, but I lost count in the end. I was left as a limp, sweaty and sticky mess.”
“Oh. My. God.” Eric’s hips rolled as he tried to ease the discomfort of his erection. “Did they even let you come?”
“I had to do that myself.” I met his gaze. “I hate doing it alone, don’t you?” Eric’s eyes shifted from side to side, and he nodded. “There’s something special,” I continued, “when someone else does it for you.”
“Oh, I agree.” His eyes widened minutely, and he glanced at the door. I rose to my feet and Eric escorted me to the stairs.
“Going down?” Eric asked with a smile.
“I’m definitely going down. All the way.”